by Audra North
Warren groaned and brought both arms around her then, tipping her head back and bringing his mouth to hers in a hot, possessive kiss. When he broke away, though, he was shaking his head. “Beatrice…” He swallowed hard. “I wish I were a different man so I could give you what you want. What I want too, to be honest.”
She opened her mouth to ask him why it sounded like he was going to reject her when they both wanted one another, but he groaned and lifted his eyes upward, as though searching for something important. When he looked back at her, his mouth was drawn in a tight line. Resolved. “It wouldn’t be fair to you, though. I don’t have the kind of time that a—a girlfriend would need or deserve. You’ve already seen how scheduled my life is, and right now things are actually good. How hard would it get if one more thing happened? If I actually got hurt and couldn’t help out my family anymore? Everything would fall apart then. And you’d be the first person to go.”
It hurt to hear it, both the words and the way he’d said them. It was the first time he’d opened up any of his life to her, but all she could focus on now was, You’d be the first person to go. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. She barely knew the details of his days.
But she felt like she knew him. She searched his face, trying to find a break in that stony expression. “Can’t we at least try? Even if it is only an hour a week, Warren, it would still be better than nothing. I want you.” It bothered her, to hear the pleading note in her voice. She’d never pleaded for anything. She’d been taught it was unseemly, that a woman should accept what she got and be appropriately grateful.
“We still have tonight.” His mouth relaxed, and his hands skimmed over her back. “And after this, we still have another Wednesday. It’s what we agreed on, anyway.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, hating how her feelings for him had been reduced to things that could be somehow crammed into five Wednesdays. And yet, even though he was pushing her away, she couldn’t manage to say no, to turn him away tonight and end it any sooner than it absolutely had to. She’d already decided earlier to cherish the time she had with him, and she didn’t intend to change her mind about that.
She went up on her tiptoes, brought her lips to his chin and kissed it softly, feeling the stubble of his beard scraping against her lips.
“It’s all I can give you,” he whispered, his voice almost desperate.
That was what made her acquiesce completely. Fine, she wouldn’t push it anymore tonight. Maybe at the end of next week, the end of it all, she’d talk to him again. Maybe then things would be different.
She hugged him tightly, and her breasts flattened against his hard, warm chest. Wow, he was sexy. Sexy and wonderful and probably going to break her heart. “In that case,” she whispered in his ear. “Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”
* * * * *
Warren reclined on Beatrice’s bed, watching as she slowly stripped off her shorts. He’d never seen her like this, so casually cute. Even though she was in her pajamas instead of lingerie, she looked even sexier than ever.
She looked like someone’s girlfriend.
He’d thought about her the entire time he’d waited in that goddamn hospital room—he was going to kill Brewer for that—and practically sped all the way over here once he was released. It felt so good, not to have to think about what he needed to do next, what he was in charge of. She’d been there for him today, and he trusted her to be there for him now.
He was so relieved she’d decided to see their agreement through these next few weeks. By then, he was certain he would feel more relaxed, and although he would regret not being able to see Beatrice anymore, he would get over it eventually. Better that than turning his life upside down for her, only for her to realize a couple of years down the road that it still wasn’t enough.
He had stripped down in record time, practically jumping onto her bed, wondering what she had in store for him as she walked toward him. Tonight, her panties were white cotton, lovely against her creamy skin. Warren could feel the blood rushing downward, making his cock shift and stir against his thigh.
She was looking at it, a small smile touching her lips, and the attention made him grow even harder. Her delicate fingers grasped the hem of her tank top, lifting it upward, and he could feel his arousal rising along with the soft fabric.
“You’re so big,” she murmured, her hands pausing at her ribs, and he groaned, realizing she was talking about his dick, which certainly was big at the moment. Fully erect, jutting nearly straight up out of the wiry black hair at its base, so hard he could almost see it throb and jerk with need. She got to him so fast. He had no idea anymore if that was normal, but it certainly felt like she aroused him at an incredible speed.
He wanted to part her legs and push inside of her.
But they’d agreed on no sex.
Of course, he’d also said that kissing would be wrong, and that was already shot to hell. Not to mention the fact that she’d brought him to climax with her hand these past two times. He’d justified it somehow, telling himself her hand was merely a tool, separate from her real desires. That it wasn’t a sexual part of her. But it was getting harder to think that way about Beatrice.
Especially now that she’d confessed she didn’t want his money. That it wasn’t a business arrangement for her. He’d been using that to keep his distance, and now that it was gone, it was down to merely his will. No excuses. No crutches.
He tried to think of something other than how good it would feel to be inside of her—not just any woman, but this woman. Beatrice. He didn’t want to end this long stretch of sexless years by using her. But the way she was looking at him…
He wanted to feel every part of her, wrapped around him.
He reached down and grasped the shaft, watching her face. At the sight of him touching himself, her eyes went wide, darkening with arousal.
“Warren?” She half whispered, half squeaked his name.
“Yeah.” He practically grunted it out. The pressure of his fingers, squeezing there, was making him think he’d been an idiot to give in to his masculine pride and take himself in hand to prove something to Beatrice that she already knew.
“Um, maybe—I mean, I know—I should have asked you this before, but do you—do you have any diseases?”
“What?” He nearly laughed at that, before the reality of what she was asking sank in. And then, when it did, he straightened, as though his body didn’t believe what he was hearing and had to take measures to protect itself from disappointment. “You mean, like sex diseases?”
She was blushing so hard he could see the tips of her ears were pink, even in the low light of the bedside lamp. But she nodded, and his blood surged at the very idea.
He allowed himself to laugh then, half pained with arousal. “No. I don’t have any diseases. I have to get a physical every year as part of my SWAT requirements, which was back in February. I was negative for any STIs.” But it was nearly July, and he knew that was plenty of time to get infected with something. He swallowed. “The thing is…even though the test was a few months ago, it has been three years since I’ve had any reason to consider, um, that kind of thing.”
At that, Beatrice’s mouth dropped and she gaped at him. “Are you—you’re telling me you haven’t been with a woman, like, in that way, in three years?”
Damn it, this was embarrassing. He never should have told her. But at the same time, he’d wanted to tell her. Shit. He forced himself to hold her gaze. “Yeah.”
But she regained her composure and gave a soft laugh. “It’s been about four for me. And I was tested last month as part of my regular exam. I mean, not that you should take my word for it. But I-I think we should at least have the conversation…right?”
Just like that, so casual, and yet he wanted to pass out from sheer anticipation. He was breathing fast now, watching her hands start to move upwa
rd again, revealing the soft undersides of her breasts. She’d kept her lingerie on every time he’d seen her so far, but this time…
Holy hell. He was about to see real breasts for the first time in years. His fingers tightened and he prayed he wouldn’t come the second her nipples appeared.
And then, her top was falling to the floor and there they were, dusky pink and pointing out toward him, moving slightly with the sway of her breasts as she walked toward the bed. When she leaned forward, he couldn’t stop from groaning at the sight of her luscious body stretching over him. He took his hand from his cock and brought it up to cup one soft, sweet mound in his palm, reveling in the way she moaned and pushed against him. But too soon, she was shifting away, out of his grasp.
“Close your eyes.”
It came out as a soft purr, but he didn’t miss the command in it too. “What are you going to do? God. Something that requires discussing diseases beforehand. Shit.” He was gasping for breath now.
She put one hand to his mouth, pushing a finger against his lips, and he sank down into the bed at just that light pressure.
“I love when you talk like that.” She followed him down to the mattress, gently lowering her body atop his and kissing him, his erection pushing up into space between her spread thighs. It was impossible not to thrust it up against those innocent-looking white panties, and when he made contact, she broke the kiss on a cry of pleasure before returning her lips to his jawline, trailing kisses down his neck, over his chest, moving down…
Oh hell. That’s what she was going to do.
He picked his head up off the pillow and placed a stilling hand on her arm. Brown eyes met blue. “You definitely don’t have to do this.” Even though, everything be damned, he wanted her to. So much.
“I want to,” she whispered, echoing her words from earlier. “Lie back.”
She was so sexy when she talked like that, so commanding and in control. She sounded like she could handle any problem, manage anything life threw her way. She sounded like—
“Fuck,” he huffed out, when she bit down lightly on his small nipple, which made him jerk and groan and thrust his hips up against empty air, seeking relief for the intense pressure building in his cock. He wondered what she was going to do to him. How far she was going to take this.
And then, she moved even farther downward and pressed her open mouth to the skin above his navel. Had he ever been touched like that, hot and wet with the barest hint of her teeth scraping over the sensitive area? He doubted it. He would have remembered something like that. It was already too much. And yet not enough.
Her tongue licked over his abdomen softly, while she stroked one hand along the path of hair that grew down, down, until her knuckles brushed his erection as her hand slid into the tight bunch of curly hair between his legs.
The sound he made in response was nearly inhuman, making her pull away and look at him, not with concern, but with pure, sexual satisfaction. And then she shifted her hand, moving it to grip the base of his shaft instead, where it jutted out hard and thick from his body, and he lost all ability to think, to see or hear or even feel anything beyond the clasp of her fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to thrust up against her hand, but it was already a losing battle.
The mattress shifted, something wet and soft touched the head of his engorged cock and he whimpered. Battle officially lost. Done. Over. Razed to the ground. He pushed his hips upward, sliding into her mouth. Her tongue licked around his flesh, and he made the mistake of opening his eyes to the sight of her pink lips encircling him, sucking him.
“Oh shit. Oh my God,” he gasped, trying now to pull away, but she followed his retreat, until there was nowhere else for him to go, and her mouth kept sliding down, taking him even farther into that sweet, hot wetness.
It had been too long since a woman had done this for him.
She took him deep, holding him there for a moment before sliding back up, and he groaned. Damn, that was so good. And the way she looked at him…
He could live for years on that image.
He slipped his hand into her hair, gently, loving the way her warm scalp curved beneath his fingers. Her hair was soft and thick, and it reminded him of the way she’d used it on his chest before she’d put the clamps on his nipples.
His cock pulsed.
Fuck, that had been good. Almost as good as what she was doing right now. Speeding up her strokes, dipping deep with every one. Her hand was tightening around the base of his dick, rubbing him, and he could feel himself getting closer, faster.
“Beatrice. That feels… God, that’s amazing.”
At his words, she sucked harder, sliding down to meet her fingers as they squeezed and pumped up his shaft, and his brain nearly exploded. He had to shut his eyes against the image of her taking him in her mouth so that he could hold on a tiny bit longer to the incredible feeling.
But not long enough. Too soon, he felt his release barreling forward, impossible to stop. He opened his eyes again and the sight of her hit him hard, making him groan, “Oh shit yeah. Coming now. Now.”
His cock pulsed hard then, and he groaned like someone was pulling his soul out of his body as he came, shuddering it out in intense jerks she swallowed down without protest. She kept him in her mouth even when the tremors subsided, even when his senses returned and he could feel the rest of his body again. Only when he started to soften and shrink did she ease off, sitting back on her feet and stroking his legs.
“That was so good. God, baby, that was—”
She turned away, and he stopped, frowning. What had he done wrong this time?
Fuck, this was getting complicated. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to end it. They still had one more week together.
When she looked back at him, her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
“Don’t you understand? I want you, Warren. I want you so much. You say you don’t have time for a relationship, but what do you think this is? An hour a week can still be a relationship. Is one. I’m not forcing you to do anything. I’m not taking your money, even if you want me to. You’ve managed to make time for this—for me, for us—and everything that has happened so far has happened with both of our consent. How can you kiss me and do something like this with me and call me baby and still insist that there’s nothing between us?”
That’s what had gotten to her? Him calling her baby?
If something as small as that upset her, then there was no way they’d be able to make anything more work between them. She had no idea. She had no idea what his life was like.
He scowled. “Are you really telling me this would be enough for you? An hour a week would be fine?”
It wouldn’t be. She’d leave him before it even began. He knew it.
But she threw it back at him. “Are you really telling me this is all you can give me? You say you don’t have time. That you have too many other responsibilities. But you won’t tell me what they are or let me in long enough to see if there’s a way we can make this work. I could help you. I could pitch in and help out and share some of your burden.”
A real partner will help make things better for you, instead of adding to your responsibilities.
Donahue had said that to him, weeks ago.
But he still couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t risk it. Not with Beatrice. Because if he took the risk and lost…
It would destroy him utterly.
He wasn’t going to be able to get through to her. God, this hurt. Did this mean it had to end early, before their last week together?
Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking that way, but he couldn’t consider an alternative.
He stood and began to dress. He felt awful doing this. He hated that it was ending like this, even though their hour was up anyway, and he needed to get out of there. He couldn’t deal with this right now, but he
didn’t want to walk out on her pain.
This was getting too complicated. Maybe it was better to end it early after all.
He finished dressing and slipped into his shoes. She stood and walked over to him, stopping an arm’s breadth away.
“I want you, Warren. I’m being honest. I’m trying to grab hold of my life, to be engaged in it. I’m trying to be open with what I want, and that is to be with you. Don’t go.”
She was looking directly at him. She didn’t beg. Didn’t whine. She stated it simply and directly, like she had commanded him in the past to take off his clothes or to get on the bed.
It was too much.
“Latte,” he whispered, even though it killed him to say it.
And he left her standing there as he ran out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
She’d considered calling in sick this morning.
Beatrice had cried for hours after Warren had left last night. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: that he’d confessed to wanting her too, but refused to even try, or that he’d used the safeword rather than stay and keep talking to her.
Either way, it was hard not to see it as a personal rejection.
She’d cried harder than she could remember ever crying in her life. She’d cried over things she’d thought she’d forgotten—memories that had been long buried, but had surfaced with a vengeance as she lay there in the bed, the sheets still warm from Warren’s body. And when she’d finally grown too exhausted, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep, only to wake up far too early.
She hadn’t wanted to see anyone. She hadn’t wanted to do anything.
Which was exactly why she hadn’t called in sick.
She might be horribly, painfully in love with a man who didn’t love her back, but if she allowed his rejection to destroy her life…
