by Noelle Adams
“I know. And I really do appreciate it. I am trying to work through all of my issues, but I’m so afraid I’m going to mess things up with you in the process. Or that I'll end up losing you by taking so long.”
He could see that she meant it. See that she was terrified. And Caleb actually found the knowledge rather gratifying.
He wasn’t used to having a woman not want him. He wasn’t used to being insecure. But at least this was proof that Marissa really did want to be with him—so much that she was genuinely frightened of losing him—even if she didn’t yet want to be with him.
“You won’t.” He wished he knew what to do. How to fix this. “How hard is it? To be with me, I mean. I'd hate to think you were suffering whenever we're…close."
“It's not like that at all. Caleb, I love being with you. And I’m sure you know by now that I love all the kissing. I only start to panic when what we’re doing begins to feel like sex.”
God, it hurt every time she said it. What had happened to her as a child, that sex was so traumatic? And why the hell wouldn’t she just tell him?
Clearing his mind of the emotional confusion that had no immediate remedy, he focused purely on their practical dilemma.
“Why don’t we try this?” he suggested. “We’ll agree in advance that for a certain length of time we won’t have sex. And then we’ll make sure we hold ourselves to that. That way you won’t have to panic whenever things start getting more intense. You’ll know we’re not going to have sex, so you can just try to learn to enjoy it.”
“Maybe that would work. But what if we really get into things and decide we want to have sex right away?”
If only such a thing would happen. “We still wouldn’t have sex,” Caleb said calmly, hoping he wasn’t telling her another lie. “If we leave the possibility open, then you’d still panic, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah. I probably would. All right. Let’s try it. We’ll agree not to have sex for a while and try to work our way into it slowly. How long do you think? A month?”
Caleb swallowed. Prayed that she didn’t insist on a whole month. It sounded like a nightmare to him. “Why don’t we start with a week? At the end of the week we can agree for the following week. That way we won’t trap ourselves for too long.”
Sounded perfectly logical. Didn't sound desperate at all.
Marissa chuckled, her face looking relaxed and natural again. “Optimistic, aren’t you? You think you can get me into bed in a week?”
“You might be surprised by how much I can accomplish in a week.”
When Marissa blushed in response, Caleb felt some of the tightness ease in his chest.
Perhaps it was atypical to need a plan to consummate their relationship, but it actually encouraged him, helped him see what was waiting at the end of it.
They could do this. He could do it.
Surely seducing Marissa wouldn’t be the hardest work of his life.
* * *
Six days later, Marissa was reclining back against a cushion on the arm of her couch, and Caleb was pretty much lying on top of her.
The evening had begun innocently enough—a little Chinese take-out, a little TV, a little tame cuddling—but it had eventually deteriorated into a full-fledged make-out session.
They’d done pretty well this week. Caleb had been purposefully reining in his desire. Taking it slow. Making himself leave whenever he started to lose control. It was difficult and frustrating, but he convinced himself it was worth it.
He was not going to do what he’d done last week—give into lust so completely that he lost sight of everything else. He'd had her pushed up against a wall last week and had barely noticed that she wasn’t with him in it. If she hadn't stopped him, he would have just kept going.
He would have …
He wasn't going to do that again.
This evening, however, they’d gotten a little carried away. Caleb's only comfort was that Marissa had been the one to start it.
Now they were both sprawled out on the sofa. Kissing—open-mouthed, urgent, deep.
He made sure to assess her reactions this time. And tonight her tongue was just as seeking as his was. She wasn’t just clutching his shoulders this time. Her arms were twined around him, trying to pull him down more fully on top of her.
She tore her mouth away and turned her head to the side, gasping frantically for air.
Caleb knew he needed to back off, since she’d made the first move to end their embrace, but he couldn’t seem to part from her body yet. “Okay?” he asked hoarsely, wishing he didn’t sound quite so overcome. Wishing his groin would stop throbbing for a minute so he could actually focus on Marissa and what she needed.
“Yeah,” she panted, her face still turned away. “I feel kind of crazy—like my insides won’t settle down. I feel like screaming.”
He couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or not.
Bracing himself above her on the sofa and ruthlessly ignoring the urge to thrust his hips, he asked, “So do you want to stop?”
She turned her head back toward him—her skin damp and flushed and glowing. “God, no. I like it. I want more.”
She pulled him back into a kiss.
His tongue darted into her mouth, playing with hers. One of her hands slipped up to the back of his neck, stroking his skin to the rhythm his tongue had established.
Caleb moaned deeply into her mouth at the sensations from her touch.
Unconsciously, his hands inched up toward her breasts, and without thinking he eased his chest off hers so he could palm the curves over her shirt.
She released a little squeak as soon as he did.
Freezing, he scanned her face. Her expression looked strange and twisted. “No good?” he gritted out, willing himself not to keep fondling the luscious flesh under his hands.
She squirmed beneath him, and her eyes appeared bewildered. “No, it is good. I'm sorry. I just feel claustrophobic again. I’m so sorry.”
With a grunt, Caleb made himself pull off her. He adjusted on the couch until he was sitting on the edge beside her sprawled body. Winced a little as his erection got some uncomfortable pressure from the movement. “Don’t be sorry. Baby, you know you don’t have anything to be scared about. This isn’t sex. We’re not going to have sex.”
She nodded and stared at him, her eyes wide and naked. “I know.”
He gently slid one of his hands up her belly and then over one breast. He rubbed it gently, feeling the texture of her stretchy shirt and the hardening nipple beneath his palm. “I just want to touch you,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice soothing, hoping he was going about this the right way. “Let me try to please you, Marissa. Please give me a chance. I promise we’re not going to have sex.”
She nodded again, and then arched her back slightly as he continued to move his palm in little circles against the taut peak of her nipple.
Caleb wasn’t sure how much of her agreement was sheer determination and how much was actual desire, but he wasn’t going to complain.
If only she would let him show her how good he could make her feel, then maybe all of her worries would start to dissolve.
If only it could be that easy.
When he felt the tension in her body relax, he moved his second hand up to her other breast. The flesh was soft and full under his touch.
His erection was still pulsing insistently, but he tried not to think about it. They weren’t going to have sex. They’d made an agreement. Even if Marissa begged him to take her now, he should keep his word and say no.
That was their plan, after all.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of his actually refusing her.
She jerked her face away from him, toward the back cushion of the sofa. He couldn’t see her expression very well, but could tell her face was contorted and her eyes were squeezed shut.
He had no idea if it was from pleasure or discomfort.
“Marissa,” he said softly, one hand slipping back do
wn to rub her flat belly. “You need to talk to me. Tell me if you like this or not.”
She made a strange gasping sound and arched her back again when his thumb unconsciously started twirling her nipple. “I like it.”
Caleb released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Are you sure? Are you still scared?” he asked, still moving his hands slowly over her body.
“Yes,” she admitted, despite everything a sparkle igniting in her eyes. “A little groping—even your quality of groping—isn’t going to instantly fix me.” She hissed as he took her other nipple between his finger and thumb. “But I’d call this definite progress,” she finished breathlessly, her face tense with pleasure.
Almost strangling on his relief, he leaned over but then stopped, compelled to kiss her but worried that his weight on top of her would make her claustrophobic again.
“It’s okay,” she said, reaching up to pull him down over her again. “Poor thing—you look like you’re trying to defuse a bomb.”
That was exactly how he felt. Like he was trying to disarm an explosive with absolutely no training. And trying to do so with a raging hard-on.
But he tried to focus on keeping Marissa calm. “Why would I defuse it?” he drawled, attempting to remember the seduction techniques he used to be so proud of. “The explosions are half the fun.”
He’d expected her to roll her eyes at the weak pun, but instead he saw a strange, sad look. He furrowed his brow, about to ask what had upset her.
But before he could get any words out, she pulled down his head and claimed his lips in another kiss.
In the sweetness of her mouth, Caleb forgot about everything else. Only tried to contain his urgency—since he knew this wasn’t going any further tonight.
She made little sounds in her throat as they kissed, and a warmth flooded through him as he realized they were sounds of pleasure.
Surely this was some sign of how pathetic he’d become—that he was so childishly proud that his touch was finally pleasing her.
But he was. Childishly proud. And shamelessly excited. And achingly aroused. And swept with a primal dominance that urged him to rip off her clothes and claim her in the most primitive of ways—by sinking into her tight, hot body.
It seemed impossible for him to feel all of these emotions at once. But he did. All of them.
As their kiss deepened even further, he heard himself grunting something in return—instinctively responding to every pretty whimper she made.
Now she was rocking beneath him, her shoulders, back, and hips caught up in rhythmic, unconscious motion.
He knew it was a sign that she was growing aroused, was mirroring the motion of sex. And he also knew it was a sign they needed to stop.
If they didn’t stop now, he wasn't sure how he could hold himself back.
Tearing his mouth away from hers, he lifted his head a few inches and panted, “Marissa.”
The skin on her face and neck was beautifully flushed, and Caleb couldn’t help but exult at the hot look in her eyes. “We should stop,” Marissa gasped, her hips still rocking a little—as if she couldn’t keep them still. “I know.”
Because he wasn’t nearly as selfless as she apparently thought he was, he made sure not to close down all possibilities. “It’s up to you. But if we don’t stop now…”
“I know. We should stop now.”
***
Caleb finished his lengthy, late evening workout session by pounding the hell out of a heavy bag in the gym of his well-equipped apartment building. As he threw punch after hard punch, he tried to work out another week's worth of frustration.
He really did need to get it together. Soon. So he’d gone a few weeks without sex. It had happened before. He was certainly capable of holding himself together until Marissa was ready.
Not that he felt capable. He felt like a volcano about to erupt. Had eruptions—of the solo variety—at least twice a day for the last couple of weeks.
They barely took the edge off.
It seemed brutally ironic and rather unjust. He’d gone years without lusting after Marissa at all, and suddenly, now that his feelings had changed, he was like a horny adolescent who could barely keep it in his pants.
Maybe this was some sort of cosmic payback for all the years he’d been fool enough to think he wasn’t attracted to her.
Trying not to lose his carefully controlled form and body position, he leveled another jab at the heavy bag. Then another. Hoped to eventually grow exhausted enough to be able to sleep without dreaming about her.
“Hey you,” a light, cheerful voice called from the other side of the gym. “Working out your frustration on that poor bag?”
He whirled around, startled by Marissa’s familiar voice. She stood in the doorway—looking fresh and pretty in blue and tan. Caleb was unsettled by her unexpected appearance.
She worried when he did things that might damage his hands.
Plus he was very, very sweaty right now.
His t-shirt was plastered to his back and chest, and perspiration streamed down his face and neck. “Hey. I didn’t know you were going to drop by.”
She’d been walking over toward him as he spoke. “Class got done early, and I hadn’t seen you all day. I missed you.”
He smiled back at her and went over to the table where some clean towels were neatly folded so we could wiped himself off and make himself more presentable.
Before he could follow through with this plan, she grabbed his wrist and pulled off the glove.
“My hands are fine, Marissa. I just hadn’t taped them well enough that one time.”
She shot him a narrow-eyed look before she focused on his hand again. Very gently, she untaped it and studied his fingers and palm.
It was redder than normal but not swollen or bruised.
“Told you,” he said.
This comment got the eye-roll it deserved.
To his surprise, she lifted his hand to her mouth and gently kissed the back of his fingers. “I just worry about you.”
“I know you do.”
“You don’t always take care of yourself the way you should.”
In that past, that had definitely been true, but he thought he was doing better now. “I’m fine, Marissa.”
She was busy unwrapping his other hand and inspecting its condition.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” he told her.
“I know. But I do anyway. I can’t help it.” Her blue eyes were very soft.
Her tenderness prompted a tightness in his chest he still wasn’t really used to, so he turned around to put his gloves on the table behind him.
Without warning, he felt arms wrap around him from behind. “You look all studly and filled with testosterone tonight,” she murmured, pressing her body into his sweaty back.
He chuckled, feeling inordinately pleased by her words and actions. He turned around until her arms had settled around his waist. “I thought sweaty might not do it for you.”
From the little she’d told him, her ideas about sex were that it was dirty and sweaty and ugly. He didn’t want her to even for a moment believe that was true of what they had between them.
She looked slightly embarrassed, but edged a little closer to him. “Honestly, I’ve never found it hot before.”
She pressed her little body even closer to him, in a way that guaranteed she wouldn’t stay entirely clean and fresh, and lifted her face to his even more insistently.
Marissa was obviously asking him for a kiss. Always obliging, he kissed her.
“God, Caleb,” Marissa gasped, when she pulled away. “I love when you’re like this.”
“Like what? Hot and sweaty and not smelling very good?”
She burst into rippling laughter. “I absolutely adore you, Caleb. You know that, don't you?”
“Yeah. And that goes both ways.”
* * *
“You’ve got to stop pushing me about this,” Caleb said into his phone, keeping hi
s voice down so the other musicians milling around wouldn’t hear.
The orchestra’s evening performance had just ended, and he’d noticed Baron James had called while his phone was off, so he returned the call immediately before he went to find Marissa. She was waiting for him in the lobby, since she and a friend had attended the performance.
“I’m not pushing,” James replied. “I just need to know if you’re serious or just stringing me along as a backup plan.”
“I’m not stringing you along, but I told you I need some time to think about it.”
“I know that. But you’re starting a new relationship, and it would make sense for you to not want to drop everything to tour for a year. You’re obviously my first choice for the band, but I need to make plans either way. I don’t need a final decision right now, but can you tell me whether there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance you’ll accept?”
Caleb felt suddenly put on the spot, and he hated feeling that way.
He had no idea whether the band was something he really wanted to do or whether it appealed to him just because it was different, new, far removed from the stress and complexity of his real life.
He’d stopped at the edge of the lobby so he could finish the conversation before he met up with Marissa, but she must have seen him anyway because now she was approaching.
“Yes, it’s at least fifty-fifty. Now I really have to go.”
He was able to hang up before Marissa reached him.
“Where’s Kelly,” he asked, reaching out to pull her close to him and kiss her briefly on the lips.
“She had to get up early tomorrow so she took off. She really enjoyed the performance, though.” She smiled at him affectionately. “So did I. You were wonderful.”
“If you’re tired, we don’t have to go have drinks,” he said, noticing that she looked a little pale and that there were dark shadows under her eyes.
“I am kind of tired, but I don’t mind going if you need to schmooze.”
“I don’t much want to, but I probably should.” He hated that aspect of being part of the orchestra, maybe more than anything else. He hated being charming with rich people he didn’t care a thing about, just to improve the chances of their supporting the symphony.
