by Hart, Holly
She jerks as I push in, muffling a cry. I slide my hand over her mouth: we’ve both had enough exposure for one week. I can feel her biting her lip, and fuck—I won’t last long. She’s so tight, clenching around me, and those little noises she’s making in the back of her throat...she never did that before. I groan and pull out all the way, thrusting in harder this time. Kate melts against the wall, suddenly boneless, and I catch her around the waist to keep her from falling. Something hot trickles over my knuckles—tears? Is she—?
“Kate?” I pull my hand away from her mouth. “What is it?”
She whimpers. “Keep—keep going. It’s fine.”
No, it’s not. She’s trembling all over, breath hitching. And she’s pulling her legs together, maybe not consciously, but—this is wrong. This is all wrong. I ease out of her, helping her straighten up.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head, a quick, jerky motion, and then she’s crumpling to her knees. Pulling her slip over her head inside-out.
“Kate. Stop. Wait.”
What did I do? What did I just do?
“It’s not you.” She tugs at her dress. It tears under my heel, just like I’d wanted, but— “Move, would you?”
I lift my foot. There’s a lump in my throat I can’t swallow. All I can do is watch her squirm back into her dress—wet, muddy, ruined—and button her coat over top. She looks irritated, impatient, but her cheeks are flaming red, streaked with fresh tears.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” She’s glaring at me, hands on her hips, and—oh. I’m in the way. I step aside to let her pass.
“Wait!”
“What?” Kate whirls on me, eyes blazing, and I have no idea what I was going to say. I lean down and pick up her purse.
“You forgot this. And you’re—I don’t know. Upset. Pissed. Was this not—” I cut myself off. Obviously, this wasn’t what she wanted.
“I told you.” She snatches her purse, so hard the leather burns my hand. “I fucking told you, and still, you humiliate me like that? You couldn’t—you couldn’t just give me a second, before you make a whole drama of it?”
Wait...what? “I don’t...what did you tell me?”
“Weren’t you listening at all?” Kate rolls her eyes. “I said there’s never been anyone else. What did you think I meant?”
Oh. Oh.
“So it hurt a little—so what? I just wanted....” She blinks back more tears. “Just wanted to feel you. To feel something, other than... I don’t know about you, but for me, the last two days have been this rotten, stinking gulch of shame and regret, and...and... Why couldn’t you—why—?”
I reach for her cautiously. When she doesn’t shrug me off, I pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry. I thought you were saying you’d never loved anyone else. I didn’t realize....” I bite my tongue. She deserves more than excuses from me. If I’d been listening, really listening, none of this would’ve happened. “Listen—you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I wasn’t listening. I fucked this up. Let me take you back to your hotel. We can get room service, talk, watch some Netflix—anything you want. Or I could leave you alone, if you’d prefer.”
Kate sniffles against my shoulder. “The hotel does sound good. I’m all...gritty. And wet. And unsatisfied—thanks for that.” She gulps in a deep breath. “Sorry. I....”
“Don’t apologize.”
She clings to me, a little tighter. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
“I won’t. I, uh.... I’d like to feel something else, too. Even if it’s just...comfort?”
Kate nods. “That sounds nice. Maybe we could call a truce, just for tonight?”
“Yeah.” I’m not up for another argument. I’m not even angry any more. More...confused. She loved me? Still loves me? She’s been waiting for me, all this time? It doesn’t seem possible, and yet...here we are. I’m missing a piece of the puzzle—I have to be. Why can’t she just spit it out? What could be so terrible, ten years after the fact?
Now’s not the time to push for answers. I slip off my coat and drape it over Kate’s shoulders. It’s every bit as wet as hers, but maybe the added thickness’ll warm her up.
Chapter 20
Kate
* * *
I turn off the hot water when the shivering stops, but it’s no use. The cold spray can’t soothe this emptiness. For so long, every fantasy I had, every dream of love, lust, affection, and everything in between—it was him. Always him. And tonight I almost had it, the real thing, only to be denied at the instant of my satisfaction. My face goes hot, and I crank the temperature back up.
He’s learned a few tricks since we were eighteen. The way he kissed me, the way his hands explored my body... I trail my own fingers up my inner thigh, just as he did. He was firm, but not rough, sensual and teasing—everything I wanted.
If that’s all I get, a little foreplay in a public park...it’s not enough. Can’t be enough. Ten years of loneliness and dread, of denying myself the slightest human contact—even if someone had caught my eye...why bother? It was always there at the back of my mind: if I fell in love again, would history repeat itself?—another note on the eve of another wedding? Another shattered future? It was easier to love a memory.
But he’s not a memory—not any more. He’s right out there, waiting on my couch. We’re going to drink hot chocolate and eat cake, and how am I supposed to look at him when all I can think about is snatching what happiness we may: a secret affair, a moment of make-believe?
Why shouldn’t we?
I shut off the shower and towel myself down. Maybe we should. Tonight’s...I don’t know. Outside time. We’re alone in a strange city, nothing to do till we can see Rachel. We’ve called a truce. It’s like our lives are on hold. If we were to fill the gap with something sweet...who would know?
Max tromps past the bathroom door. I hear voices, the rattle of ice, a squeaky wheel. Room service. I reach for my robe: it’d be rude to keep him waiting.
He’s already pouring the cocoa when I ease in next to him. Our elbows brush as he pushes the first cup my way. I take a long, grateful sip. It’s good: rich and bittersweet, with a warm froth that lingers on my lips. When I dart out my tongue to lick it off, I catch Max watching. He’s changed into a robe of his own, and I can’t help but admire the way it shifts to reveal glimpses of his body. I could just bite that thigh, right where the muscle swells; right where the hem of his boxers would be, if he were wearing any....
“Been a long time since I’ve had this.”
“Hm?” I look up, guilty. Max is smiling, one brow raised.
“Hot chocolate. The powdered kind sucks, and the real thing’s a pain to make, so....” He takes a sip. “Mm. Worth it.”
“Yeah. It’s nice.” But it’s not what I want.
“You seem distracted.” Is he mocking me?
Fuck it. “Horny, Max. The word you’re looking for is horny.”
He pauses with his cup halfway to his lips. “I, uh—” The tips of his ears are turning red. He puts the cocoa down. “Are you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Obviously. I just thought—”
“Don’t think.” I put my own cup aside and snuggle in close. “We can have this...can’t we? Just once?”
He slides his hands up my arms, palms rough and callused against my skin. And there’s that penetrating gaze again. There’s more than desire in his eyes—I can see the questions bubbling under the surface—but all he says is “Yes.” Then he says it again, and the kiss he plants on me is pure fire.
I climb into his lap. His hands settle on my hips, and I thrill at the strength of his grip. He leans back and lets me explore his body at my leisure, making no secret of his enjoyment as my fingers creep under his robe. I take my time mapping out not only his contours, but the places that make his breath come faster. Every gasp, every twitch or ripple of muscle, feels like a discovery.
Without the fear of discovery to goad him on, Max t
akes his time, leaning up for languid kisses, walking lazy fingers up my spine and letting them drag back down. I’m melting for him, leaning into the slightest of touches. His breath tickles my neck, just below my jaw, and I tingle all the way to my toes. Even when he cups my face in one hand and bumps the pad of his thumb over my stitches, I lean into it, not away. He’s looking at me with something very like adoration, and though I know it can’t last, an eager, hungry part of me is lapping it up. Storing it away for a rainy day.
He kisses the scattering of bruises across my neck and shoulder, a wounded little sound escaping his throat. “Whatever happens next,” he whispers, “I’ll be there for you. Keep you safe.”
“Me, too.” I take one of his hands between both of mine, kissing each knuckle in turn. “No more tragedies. No matter what.”
“Swear you won’t take any chances.” He turns those burning eyes on me.
“I won’t if you won’t.” I can feel the rush of blood under his skin, as my lips brush his neck. The heat of his body against mine. He’s so alive. So strong. The thought of him hurt, or worse.... “No doing anything without thinking it through.”
“Never.” His voice is thick with emotion. There’s something desperate in his caresses, the way he holds me tight to his chest, like he can’t bear to leave an inch of space between us. I realize I’m clutching him just as frantically, nails digging into his shoulders. He rocks up against me, and I feel his cock against my thigh, long and thick.
I reach down between us and run my fingers along the shaft. Max groans and bucks, and I close my eyes, dizzy with a feeling I can’t quite name. Elation, maybe—this is happening. Or pride: this is for me. I lift my fingers to my mouth to taste his precum, and he stiffens all over, a broken moan bursting forth.
“Oh, that’s not fair.”
“What?”
“You. You’re so....” Max shakes his head. “Come here.” He draws me in for another deep kiss, but this time, he lifts me into his arms, rising in one smooth motion and walking us to the bed. He carries me like I’m weightless and sets me down with care, nestling me into the pillows. I pull him down on top of me, relishing the bolt of pleasure that shoots through me at the idea of being pinned beneath his weight. He’s not actually resting on me, but his presence is overwhelming, that broad chest, those corded forearms. His robe’s fallen open, and I let my gaze rake over him, committing every detail to memory.
He shudders, and I realize I’m not just looking, but dragging the backs of my fingers down his torso, over his ribs, his navel, the line of dark hair dusting his belly. I keep going, skirting around his cock to graze his thigh with my nails. Max buries his face in my neck with a sigh, so I keep going, cupping his balls, teasing his perineum with my thumb.
“Ha...ah!” He jerks his head back. “There’s really never been anyone else?”
I give his ass a warning squeeze. “What are you implying?”
“Just...that’s good. Really good.”
I take his cock in my hand, testing the weight of it. It’s heavy, and so hot, throbbing with lust. “I never said I hadn’t thought about it.” His dick jumps and swells as I try an experimental stroke. “Never said I hadn’t pictured this, all the ways I’d like to touch you, taste you, have you.”
“I did, too.” He thrusts into my hand. Leans down to nip at my earlobe. I tilt my head to let him lick and kiss his way down the column of my throat. He nuzzles at the hollow of my collarbone, where the water’s still beaded on my skin.
I toy with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “How’d you imagine it?”
“How didn’t I?” His breath gusts over my shoulder. My toes curl at the sensation. “I pictured you riding me in my chair at work. Stretched out in my reflecting pool with water lilies in your hair. On your knees under the table, during a board meeting....”
I’ve thought of that one too. Earning his forgiveness on my knees.
“I used to dream of you....” Max pushes my robe aside. A shadow passes over his face—an unwelcome memory, perhaps. “Never mind. We’re here now. This is real.”
I close my eyes and lose myself in the moment. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The slight roughness of his dry lips on my breast, the shock of his fingers twisting in my hair, the friction of his body against mine... It’s electrifying. I arch my back and wrap my legs around his waist, hardly knowing what I’m doing. He responds hotly to my nails on his back, my tongue on the shell of his ear.
By the time his hand finds its way between my legs, I’m on the verge of unravelling. I spread my thighs for him, and he fingers my lips open, thumbing expertly at my clit. It’s almost too much: I don’t know whether to pull away or grind up against him. Eddies of excitement flutter through me, lighting me up all over. Every touch, every breath, feels like heaven.
“Don’t tease....”
A wicked smirk steals over his features. “Tease? What do you mean?” He circles a finger around my entrance. It still stings a little, from before, but the slight ache only stokes my appetite.
“Tell me you brought more than one condom.”
He holds one up, just out of reach. “Hm?”
“Give me that.”
Max eases a finger inside me. I bite my lip on a moan. The stretch is unfamiliar, but when he moves, it’s not discomfort I feel, but a deep, rich desire, warm and slow-building. I need more of that, more of him, immediately. I snatch the condom from him and tear open the wrapper, tossing it over the side of the bed.
He sits up halfway. “Put it on me?”
I unroll it slowly, a little clumsily. He seems huge, now the moment’s here: I could wrap both hands around him, and the head would still peek out. And he’s thick, and so hard: I give him a squeeze, and find him unyielding.
I look up shyly, half expecting to catch him laughing, but the look on his face is unreadable. He inhales like he’s been holding his breath, harsh and shaky. When he lays me back down, it’s with something close to reverence.
“You sure?”
I reach up to stroke his cheek. “I want this. Want you.”
Max closes his eyes, lips tight. An answering pang seizes my heart. Once this is over, what’ll be left for us? The shreds of a golden dream, and—
His expression shifts to one of concentration as he guides himself inside me, more carefully this time. It’s easier to relax into it when I’m not trying to balance in heels. It hurts, but not like before. I can feel that burgeoning pleasure underneath, the promise of satisfaction.
I arch against him and he starts to move, slowly at first, building up to a comfortable rhythm. But it’s not comfort I want. I urge him on with a toss of my hips and a smack to his ass. He shouts at that, a harsh exclamation of surprise, but the way he drives into me is perfect. I let my head fall back on the pillows as waves of pain and bliss crash over me. The competing sensations have me squirming. I cry out, and the word on my lips is mine, over and over again. And he’s not arguing. He’s giving me what I need: harsh thrusts. Gentle caresses. Kisses that threaten to consume me.
He leans close, and I hear words in his quick, sharp breaths—yours. Always yours.
I regret this already, and I want it to last forever. Oh, how I’ll pine for him, now I know.... A tear runs down my cheek, and it’s not mine. The next one is, and the one after that.
I love you.... Would he say it back if I said it aloud?
I don’t dare. Hearing it repeated, languishing in silence—either way, it’d rip my heart out. I throw my head back instead, concentrating on the delicious ache between my legs. He’s destroying me with those clever hands, one buried in my hair, preventing me from looking anywhere but at him; the other traversing my body, flicking here, pinching there, stroking and teasing and...oh!
My climax strikes almost without warning. It’s not like the ones I’ve had on my own. It surges up from the depths of me, wrenched from me, almost. I hear myself scream—never done that before—and then I’m panting my way through it, tossed helple
ssly from crest to crest. I hold fast to the feeling, moving against him as he follows me over the edge, and afterwards, as he half-collapses on top of me, cock softening inside me, but I can’t hold on forever. His grip loosens on my hair, and my leg falls away from his waist. He rolls off me, breathless, and the cold settles into me—the chill of the night, the chill of deprivation.
Missing him before he’s gone. Stupid.
He’s still here, warm and smiling at my side. I shift closer, and he gathers me into his arms.
“Can I sleep here?”
I look up at him, surprised. If he’d left me alone, after that.... Did he think I’d want him to? “I’d like that.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
I tuck my head up on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the quiet surge of his breathing. I don’t want to sleep. I want to lie here till the morning sun dispels our fantasy. Make the night stretch and stretch....
“Will you ever tell me why this isn’t our life?”
I find his hand and twine our fingers together. “I want to. One day.”
“I still....” Max shakes his head.
“What?”
“Nothing. I—just, the road ahead might be rough.” His hand tightens on mine. “Let’s not fight. I want... I think we can help each other.”
“You always did bring out the best in me.” I’m dying to know what he really wanted to say, but my eyelids are heavy, and his voice has gone deep and grumbly, the way it always did when he was about to drift off. Better to savor these moments for what they are.
Max mumbles something else on the edge of sleep, but I don’t quite catch it. When I raise my head in inquiry, he only shushes me, and the last thing I’m aware of is the soothing weight of his hand on my head, petting my hair.
Chapter 21
Max
* * *
The last of this morning’s contentment falls away, leaving me raw and cored out. If waking up next to Kate was a dream, this is a nightmare—the lingering kind.
