“Damn it, Sophie. You should never let someone come near you without a condom.”
“Duly noted,” she said, reaching her free hand around his neck. She tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge. She felt her heart stall as she met his gaze. The enormity of the situation crashed down on her. She was naked beneath this man, a man she’d been throwing herself at for weeks, a man who’d just watched her pleasure herself, and he was telling her no.
She closed her eyes and tried to think of a way out with a shred of dignity. Her breath caught in her throat as his hot mouth caressed her neck. She melted in the blissful feeling, the physical sensation and the emotional relief.
She arched, pressing herself against him, relishing the sensation of her bare breasts against the hard muscles of his chest. She stifled a whimper as he made his way down her throat, across her collarbone. He held his body above her, too far. She hooked her legs across his hips, tilting her hips off the bed, pressing herself against him.
He dropped his body down, pressing her into the bed. “Play fair, or I stop,” he growled against her skin.
Her skin cooled where it was wet from his mouth, heated where his breath caressed it. The sensation was amazing, almost making her forget how he had thwarted her efforts. And that he’d threatened to stop.
“I was trying to be fair.” The throaty tone of her voice surprised her. She arched up into him as best she could, given he topped her by over a foot and over a hundred pounds.
Using his hands to unhook her legs, he rolled off her. “I mean it, Sophie. I’m only human. I can only hold back so far.”
She rolled against him. “So stop holding back.”
…
He saw it then, the part of her he was trying to protect. The woman behind the bravado, the one whose hands trembled for a moment before she touched him. The one who bit her bottom lip before pushing ahead. The one he was terrified of hurting.
Sure, her words were bold, her actions brazen beyond her experience. And if she kept her eyes closed, he could almost forget what she was offering him. But when her eyes opened, he sensed her fear, all the way to her soul. She knew what she was doing, what she was offering, and she believed he’d do right by her. He didn’t deserve that kind of trust.
He’d been wrong to indulge himself with her tentative explorations. He’d pushed too far this time. He squeezed his eyes shut and searched for a safe exit. This was such a bad idea. Push her until she backs down? What idiot had thought of that? As if he had more control than she did.
Or was that just the excuse he was using to allow himself the indulgence of being with her? Because he couldn’t seem to walk away. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman, any thing. But he would not be her regret.
“Sophie,” he whispered, pulling her closer.
“Please,” she breathed against his ear.
He fought his desire for her with the last of his will. He tilted her head up to look at him. Her eyes were glistening with passion for him. A woman with more experience would have hidden that look of need, that honest response that was all her, without pretense.
If only she’d lived more for herself. Then they would be two adults enjoying chemistry that could light up the entire skyline. He wasn’t holding back because of some sense of loyalty to Craig anymore. He was holding back from her, for her.
“You won’t disappoint me,” she said, her voice breathy—a statement that robbed him of choice. He growled, flipping her onto her back. He didn’t disappoint. Ever. How dare she taunt him that way?
Turnabout was fair play. She had him on the edge of reason emotionally. He’d put her there physically. Spark her desire, build that flame of lust until she knew what she was asking. What it would really mean, not some fantasy she’d dreamed up of how it would be.
Threading his hands through her dark ringlets, he pulled her to him. He found her mouth, demanding more than stolen, teasing kisses. His demands were deep-throated and hungry. As hard as he tried to overwhelm her senses, she seemed to intuitively know where he was going. She matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch, until he realized he was playing with fire.
Slowing the frenzy, he kissed his way down her neck, savoring every inch of her. He discovered a place where he could taste her pulse as it jumped fast and thready beneath her skin. He let one hand drift down her cheek, over her shoulder, until he found the ripe swell of her breast.
He squeezed gently, his thumb teasing her nipple. Her back arched against him, thrusting her breast into his hand. The moans she choked out surprised him. She was so sensitive. Leaning his head down, he tasted the ripe bud, rolling it along his tongue. Her moans became whimpers as she fisted the sheets and bit her lip. Angling back to her face, he asked, “Sophie, relax, let go.”
She opened her heavy-lidded eyes. “I don’t want to yet. I don’t want you to stop.” The husky whisper caught him off-guard.
“Go ahead,” he said, filling both hands with her breasts. “I won’t stop.” As he skidded his thumbs across her nipples, she arched up off the bed. He slipped one arm behind her, lifting her to him. In one long pull, he sucked her nipple into his mouth and heard her cry out. Her responsiveness amazed him as she wove her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to her as she rode the wave of her bliss.
When her breathing slowed, she released her hold but left her fingers there, massaging his scalp, scratching with her nails. Did she know how close he was? How much he wanted to shuck his principles along with his pants and bury himself inside of her? He couldn’t now even if he wanted to. As close as he was, he’d never make it. He wouldn’t disappoint her with that.
He lavished his attentions on her other breast, memorizing every nuance. He kissed down her soft belly, deep enough that he felt the muscles beneath. His hands drifted farther down, molding to the sides of her waist. He ran his tongue down the curve of her hip. He stared in awe, noticing how perfectly his hand fit against the flare of her hip.
He worried his hands might be too rough to touch such delicate skin, but her sigh reassured him. Her sensitive inner thighs were smooth and pliant beneath his touch.
Unhurried, he felt his way beneath her curls, parting her. So wet. He slid his thumb down one side of her clitoris, making a gentle swirl before gliding up the other. His fingers pulsed at her opening. He drew them up along the length to the pearly tip of her. Gently, he pressed on either side of the bud. Her hips rose, begging for more as he squeezed her clitoris and delicate inner lips between his fingers. He kept the speed of his strokes deliberate, varying the pressure until he made her gasp. He pushed inside her then, curling a finger inside, looking for the supple pillow that would take her home.
He slowed, realizing his own desire to taste her, to completely feel when she came again. He’d always avoided it. The act seemed more intimate than sex. Somehow it fit perfectly now. His mouth found the button of flesh he was seeking, the erect little nub he would use to coax her into screaming his name.
His fingers pressed as his mouth sucked, building her ecstasy until her gasps and moans intermingled with his name. It wasn’t long until he felt her spasms, tasted the fruits of his labors. He stayed with her, prolonging her pleasure until she shuddered and he felt her body go limp. Climbing back up the bed, he pulled her to him, not willing to walk away yet.
Curling around her, he pulled the blankets on top of them. He didn’t want her to be cold. He bowed her tiny body against his and held on. Never had he completely sacrificed his own pleasure. That could be what he gave back to her. That and enough mind-blowing orgasms to make her drunk with passion, to make her sleep so deeply that he could figure out just what was going on.
Chapter Nine
Sunlight blazed red beneath David’s eyelids. He sucked in a slow breath and squinted in the streaming light. What the hell? His eyes flew open. Too fast. He brought a hand to shield his stinging eyes. He was still there, still in Sophie’s bed, and the sun was up. He’d never woken up with a woman before. Nev
er been with a woman who might expect him to.
His heart tightened as he reached for her. “Sophie,” he whispered, swallowing hard against the rasp in his voice. Rolling to his side, he reached out, shivering at the cool sheets beside him. Sitting up, he looked about the room as his eyes adjusted to the light.
“Sophie?” he called out. She must be in the bathroom, in the shower. He smiled at the thought of her bare beneath the water. His morning erection jumped in response. Maybe…
The sensations of last night flooded through him as he swung his long legs off the bed. He was startled by the lush rug at his feet. He curled his toes in the soft red chenille and smiled. Soft and warm and unexpected. He looked out her bedroom window and marveled at the blue sky he could make out above the neighboring rooftops. Such a beautiful morning.
Looking around the room, he spied a pile of books on the bedside table—small red paperbacks with couples in provocative poses on the covers, Fabulous Fellatio, a Kama Sutra manual—and a tiny pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. Cute. His dreams last night would probably make those books pale in comparison.
Rising to his feet, he listened to the silence. He couldn’t hear the shower. Maybe she was taking a bath. His pants jumped again at the thought of her beneath a mountain of tiny bubbles.
“Sophie,” he called out as he shuffled to the bathroom. The door opened to a darkened room.
Drawing in a harsh breath, he spun quickly on his heel, racing against the inevitable. By the time he made it to the end of the hall, his heart was beating so fast it was hard to stand. She was gone.
He collapsed on the couch, his head falling all the way to his hands. This should make him happy. She’d given him the safest, easiest out in the world. He could just go. So why were his feet on the ground? And why did he feel everything but relief?
Lifting his heavy head, he looked around the room as if he might find her somewhere, hiding beneath the fern or peeking out from behind the palm. She could have at least left…a note. He jumped up, his feet barely touching the hardwood floor as he crossed to the kitchen table.
Sunrise yoga.
Didn’t want to wake you.
Sophie
His thumb wore a path over the tiny heart between her words and her name until the pencil line blurred. Not quite what he was hoping for, but still a relief. He made his way to the bathroom and flipped on the light. The bathroom held a claw foot tub, like the one he had imagined her in moments ago. He shook his head as if the act might dislodge the image. Placing his hands on either side of the pedestal sink, he leaned forward and looked in the mirror. Damned if he didn’t look well rested. It was as if he was staring into the eyes of a whole different man. What the hell?
…
“Honey, if you think your feelings will freak him out, then you’re in the wrong relationship,” a dulcet voice said slowly.
Sophie jumped as if the woman were speaking directly to her. She couldn’t help but overhear in the small steam room at Working It Out. But the petite blonde with the Southern drawl was obviously talking to the younger woman next to her. The women huddled closely together, too lost in the intimacies of their discussion to notice their audience.
“I know it can be tempting to settle for less when you really want to be with someone,” the warm voice drawled on, “but you need to have some respect for yourself.”
She opened her mouth to argue, to explain that there were compromises in every relationship, but she shut it as the woman continued. She’s not talking to you.
“Don’t feel sorry for him, don’t defend him. You need to raise your expectations. If he thinks you’re worth it, he’ll rise to the occasion. Men like a challenge.”
Sophie’s tongue shriveled in her mouth, and her heart began to ache. Just minutes ago, she’d been humming—actually humming—as she made her way into the steam room. Last night had been more amazing than she’d dreamed. Not quite all she had imagined, but magnificent nonetheless. He’d literally knocked her out, for goodness sake.
It felt as if he’d made love to her, no matter the technicalities. They’d been intimate, even if his pants had stayed on, and he’d held her all night long, which was the best part. Though it had made getting out of bed without waking him a challenge. Still, she’d loved every moment.
And now? Listening in on the conversation of strangers, her stomach sank. She was throwing herself at him, had actually begged him. Had he been with her last night out of pity?
Heat rose from her shoulders to her hairline, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Even he was telling her she deserved more. She’d thought he was just being noble.
“You don’t understand him. He loves me the best he knows how,” the younger woman pleaded.
The older woman shook her head. “Why are you willing to settle for so little? Right now, is this what you want?”
Her heart beat in her ears as she listened for a response. She didn’t want the relationship she’d promised David, the no-strings, “no one has to know” affair. She wanted to change him, wanted to make him want the same things she did. Which wasn’t fair, because she was incapable of transforming herself into the easygoing, commitment-free woman he wanted.
“Oh, honey, how it is now should feel like what you want forever.”
“It could get better.” A thin voice croaked between sobs. Heat prickled Sophie’s own eyelids as she got up and turned to leave. The girl was her age, her friend holding her now as she cried.
Sophie tightened the towel around her as she made her way to the showers. She had long ago learned how to hold it in, to cry silently so no one would worry. She stood beneath the icy water, letting it ease the puffiness of tears before it began.
She wanted her mother. Right now, she would give anything to just lie down and have her mother stroke her hair and say it would all work out. She’d never once worried her mother with talk of boys, so had no idea if her mother would advise her to wait him out or cut him loose. But she did have those words she could never forget—“A full life. No regrets”—the words she used to make herself bold enough to do what she dared.
Why did the woman have to be so damn cryptic?
…
Sophie turned the corner toward her apartment with a sense of dread. She hung her head as she saw it, his blue Corvette still in the driveway. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago it had hurt to leave him. Now she was wishing he were anywhere but inside waiting for her.
She’d hoped he would be gone, that by some miracle he had a spare key hidden somewhere. What she really wanted to do was rewind time and remember to leave his keys on the table. She had completely forgotten about swiping his keys last night until she’d heard them jangle in her backpack when she reached inside for lotion after her shower. She might have ignored the entire situation if not for the three messages David had already left with the receptionist. The hour break she had between classes had left her with no excuse but to deliver them herself.
She climbed the stairs slowly, her feet heavy. She didn’t want to have a conversation about what had and had not happened last night. She was still trying to figure out just how she felt about it. Even so, the usual butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. It just wasn’t fair. Every second she spent with him, she fell harder, and he was immune.
Taking a deep breath, she chanted the words still echoing in her brain. Raise your expectations. If he thinks you’re worth it, he’ll rise to the occasion. She blew out the air in defeat. Expectations? She’d have to get some of those.
She pulled off her gloves and reached in her coat pocket for her keys. Her numb fingers fumbled with the lock. All too soon, he was there, pulling open the door and filling up the doorway. Involuntarily, she smiled up at him as they stood there, neither of them moving an inch. Her smile widened. She realized he didn’t want to have a conversation about last night any more than she did.
“Is your hair wet?” David asked, pulling her inside b
y the arm. “It’s too cold for you to be out with wet hair. You’ll get sick.”
As he closed the door, she reached a hand up to inspect her curls. Her hair had been too damp to pull on her hat before she left, but it was almost dry now. “That’s a myth,” she said. She plopped her backpack on the table and rummaged through it for his keys.
“What’s a myth?”
His rumored sexual prowess.
Where had that come from?
“That going outside with wet hair makes you sick. Viruses make people sick, not temperatures.” Sophie held up the shiny silver key ring engraved with his initials. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot I had them.”
“You mean you weren’t plotting to keep me trapped in your apartment all day awaiting your return?” He grinned, crossing the room.
She could only shake her head as he lifted the key ring from her finger, obviously careful not to touch her. Or was she being hypersensitive? She tried to catch his eyes to see, but he was watching the floor too intently.
“You shouldn’t leave someone to wake up alone, Sophie.”
Her heart leaped in her chest. Could he be just a little sad? Hurt, upset? Please, anything.
He cleared his throat without looking up. “It’s not safe for you to leave someone unsupervised with all of your things.” He looked up with a grin. “Somebody might try to unalphabetize your spice rack.”
Her heart slowed as it sank lower in her chest. Swallowing hard, she found she actually had a few expectations.
“That’s what you want to say to me, David? That it’s not safe to leave a man alone in my apartment.” Sucking in a hard breath, she continued. “Great. Thanks for all of your wonderful advice on dating.” She tossed the words at him like daggers and ticked off his rules on her fingers. “Never let a guy con you into not using a condom and don’t leave him alone in your apartment. You’re a wealth of information. Heaven forbid I might actually trust the person I’m having sex with. Or not having sex with, as the case may be.”
Compromising Positions (Invested in Love) Page 11
