Eight Ways to Ecstasy

by Jeanette Grey

  Her breath stuttered as he slicked a thumb down the length of her slit. “Oh God.”

  “Hold on to that thought,” he murmured, spreading her open and leaning in.

  The taste of the condom mingled with her sweetness, but he worked past it, pursing his lips around her clit. It was his own fault anyway—too impatient to do this for her before he got inside.

  But there were benefits to her having already gotten fucked. She was so close to the brink, legs trembling around his head as he dove in, kissing her wet and sloppy, pressing his tongue inside before laving hot stripes over her clit. And she was open for him, too, taking three fingers easy. He fucked her with them as punishingly fast and hard as he had with his cock, and she cried out his name.

  He glanced up her body, and his cock, spent and done, gave a painful, wrecking throb. God, she was gorgeous. All pretenses at restraint and decorum gone. No protests on her lips, because he had taught her how to accept this. How to give herself over to it.

  With one hand, she helped hold herself open for him, while with the other she yanked at her hair. Her head was thrown back, sweat painting the exposed tops of her breasts, and he could do this for her forever. He would, so long as she would just…

  “Give it up,” he said. “Give it to me.”

  Her pleasure and her body and her fucking life.

  When it finally crested over, she screamed, and he hoped the whole world heard it, that everyone for blocks around knew he was ruining her, bringing her to heights no other man ever had or ever would. Chasing the pulsing clench of her pussy around his fingers, he licked and licked, until she reached down. Put a hand on his head.

  With one last kiss to her clit, he slipped his fingers free. He pressed his brow against the inside of her thigh and closed his eyes.

  The space around him spun.

  He’d had sex so many times before, and in far more comfortable locations. But it had never been like this—not with full awareness of how he felt and of what he stood to lose. It made something hot curl up inside his lungs, pressing too hard. Like it was aching to break out.

  When all he wanted to do was stay here. In this safe, defined place. With her.

  Kate still hadn’t quite gotten her balance back by the time they pulled up outside her building. Rylan shifted the car out of gear and turned to her. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light coming in from the streetlamps, and his throat bobbed.

  “So,” he said.

  She dropped her gaze, staring down at her hands as if they could hold the answer.

  By a lot of standards, it had been a good night. She’d gotten to see a lot of art and do a little bit of networking. She’d tried a new restaurant.

  She’d had incredible, strange, intense sex in the backseat of a car she was never going to stop having extremely inappropriate thoughts about. And it had been…different. Rylan’s touch on her skin had held a whole new kind of power as he took what he wanted from her, be it her body or her words. And then, when he’d been done, he’d come back to her. Made sure she got as much from it as he had—maybe more.

  Maybe less.

  The possessiveness in his hands and in his eyes had shaken her to her core.

  His. He’d begged her to tell him she was his, and in that moment, surrounded by him, speared by him, her flesh melting beneath the heat of his stare, she’d felt like she was. She’d given him the affirmation he’d seemed to need so badly. It was only after, while she was coming down, his face hidden against her thigh and their breathing loud in that tiny, silent space, that it had all come crashing down around her.

  She was her own. She had to be. She’d let him have her so completely back in Paris, and it had only brought her heartbreak. When she’d agreed to let him try to win her trust again, she’d promised herself she’d keep some part of herself. She’d sworn she’d guard her heart.

  But he wanted it all. And that was a problem, on so many levels.

  Starting with the shit show that had been his behavior around her friends.

  She’d held her tongue about it all on their silent ride home. But they had to talk about it. There were so many things that couldn’t go unsaid this time around.

  Picking at her nail, she took a deep breath. “So. Do you want to tell me what all of that was about?”

  He huffed out a dry echo of a laugh. “Which part?”

  “Liam is just a friend.” She had to emphasize that point. She was under no illusions that Rylan’s jealousy hadn’t been at the heart of the way he’d acted tonight. “Yes, he’s interested, and under other circumstances, maybe I could’ve been, too. But for now at least, that’s all there is to it.”

  “For now.”

  She shrugged. “Things change. I’m not going to promise I’m never going to consider him if this”—she gestured between the two of them—“doesn’t work out.”

  “I want it to work out.”

  “I know.” A part of her did, too. A bigger part still couldn’t trust it, though. Couldn’t trust his assurances. Couldn’t trust herself.

  She’d thought he was different the last time around, and just look where that had gotten them.

  She met his gaze for the first time since he’d parked the car. “I’m not going to stop being friends with him.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked you to.” The bitterness to his tone said he wanted to.

  “Really?”

  He lifted his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know I acted like a caveman tonight—”

  “Yeah, you did.” And it hadn’t just been that. “You were rude to him and you were…insane around me.” Hadn’t her mother warned her about precisely that kind of crap? Jealousy seemed flattering and sexy at the time, but when it cut you off from your friends…When it served to leave you isolated and dependent…“Don’t get me wrong, it was hot. But it wasn’t okay.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  The sincerity in his apology made her pause.

  She’d been bracing herself. This was the kind of fight she’d heard her parents hash out over and over. Any time her mother tried to raise a concern, her father would escalate, throwing it back in her face, turning it around as if she’d been the one to do something wrong. She made him act the way she did—if she were only better, he wouldn’t have to get like this…

  As the silence stretched out, Rylan reached across the gap between their seats, taking her hand. The warmth of it, the soft kneading of his thumb against her palm, helped ground her.

  “It won’t happen again,” he promised.

  She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t just accept his assurances like that. She had to be clear.

  “Back in Paris,” she said, “it was so easy. It was just the two of us. No work, no classes, no…” She gestured in a broad circle at him, as if to encapsulate all the things he’d been hiding back then. “…companies. Or families. Or friends.”

  “It was amazing.” He flashed her a soft, nostalgic smile.

  “It wasn’t real.” Deep in her chest, something cracked. Because it hadn’t been. The whirlwind romance, the foreign locale, the abandon with which they had approached it all. “It was a fantasy.”

  A fairy tale.

  In the real world, you didn’t marry your prince. You threw out your remaining shoe and got back to sweeping your chimney.

  Voice gravelly, eyes dark, he asked, “Can’t it be both?” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he squeezed her palm, dragging her hand in closer so it rested in the space between their seats. “It may have been a fantasy, but for me. The things I felt. The things I feel. They were real.”

  Her heart did something complicated in her chest.

  What she’d felt had seemed real enough at the time. But now, she didn’t know. She’d loved the version of him she’d been allowed to see. Even that hadn’t quite been reality.

  “Whatever we feel…” She steeled herself. “Whatever we want to happen here. It has to happen around the rest of our lives. I—” Her words got al
l twisted up on her tongue, but she had to say this. She couldn’t let herself be her mother. She couldn’t be the old version of herself. Worrying the inside of her lip with her teeth, she blew out a rough breath. “I can’t be getting dragged out of art openings just because my—” And she got tripped up again. My boyfriend. Was that even who he was to her now? “Because the guy in my life doesn’t like the way other men look at me. All the other people in my program were watching. They were worried about me.” God, it was going to be such a mess explaining that on Monday.

  “I’ll do better,” he swore, swooping in, rescuing her from the mess she was making of what she needed to say. “It just…took me by surprise.” The corner of his mouth twisted, somewhere between a wry smile and a frown. “I knew you had a life. Friends. A career. I didn’t realize how it would make me feel to see it, though.”

  “How’s that?” Jealous, obviously.

  But instead, he answered, “Proud. And terrified.”

  She let that sit on her chest for a moment. “I like the proud part.”

  “Well, that part never goes away.” With that, he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there.

  Swallowing, she curled her fingers around his. “We’ll see what we can do about the terrified part.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He let her go, and she returned her hand to her lap to unzip her bag and pulled her keys out. By all rights, this was the point in the evening when she invited him in, and she wanted to. For the first time since their reunion, the idea of sleeping tangled up beside him, of letting him get that close, didn’t scare her.

  But she wasn’t quite sure if she could do it, either.

  Apparently, his thoughts had gone to the same place. “Would it be cliché to ask if I could come up and see your etchings?”

  Her art was one thing she definitely wasn’t ready for him to see, despite the confidence he’d expressed in her before. And that alone told her it wasn’t time yet to ask him to stay. “No etchings, sadly.”

  “A cup of coffee.”

  Her heart was heavy as she said, “Not tonight.”

  “Ah.” He set his hand back on the gearshift and glanced away.

  She wasn’t going to apologize for not being ready. “Maybe next time.”

  “All right,” he said, still not quite smiling.

  “Rylan…”

  He turned to her again, looking over at her side of the car.

  And she’d just said no to him. So if she wanted more…She didn’t have to wait for him to start everything.

  Screwing up her confidence, she undid her seat belt, then leaned over across the space between them. The slight rasp of stubble on his cheek bit into her palm as she cupped his face. Their lips met, and he let her direct the kiss. Let her keep it soft and sweet.

  Exactly the way she wanted it, after everything else.

  She pulled away after a long minute. “Good night.”

  His lips curled up, small but real this time. “Good night.”

  He waited until she’d made it into the entryway of her building before he pulled away. At the last second, she very nearly called him back. But in the end, she let him go. It was easier that way. Safer.

  It was a reminder that she was really still her own.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  You busy on Friday?

  Kate scrunched her face up at her phone, neatly dodging another pedestrian on the sidewalk. She was coming off a six-hour shift and heading straight to campus to see if she couldn’t get some work done.

  And because she needed to rip the Band-Aid off.

  The temptation to paint in the comfort of her own apartment had been especially hard to ignore today. But she hadn’t seen Liam or any of the other people from her program since Friday night at the gallery opening, and if she didn’t face them soon, how was she ever supposed to be able to?

  In the back of her mind, she kept picturing the look Liam had given her as Rylan had ushered her out. The worry that had furrowed his brow. She was still trying to figure out how the hell she was going to explain the whole thing to him.

  Keeping half an eye on where she was going, she hit the button to reply.

  No…Why?

  It was a minor miracle, actually. She never had class on Friday, and somehow or other she’d managed to end up with the entire long weekend off from work. It meant the rest of her week was going to be hell, but it might almost be worth it. She’d really be able to dig into this portfolio project, maybe. Get some space in her head at last.

  Or she could while it away with Rylan. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. The man seemed to have a sixth sense about the time she’d budgeted to spend with her sketchbooks and canvases. It was a tension that had plagued them since their first days together in Paris, and it showed no sign of going away any time soon.

  Yet another thing they were going to have to figure out if he wanted to try to make a go of it. Be a couple, here in the real world, navigating all the people and things and commitments their lives were filled with.

  She was really starting to believe he did.

  His reply came through a few seconds later.

  Move in day at the new place. Wondered if you wanted to come lift some boxes with me.

  Her brows rose about an inch. Did he expect her to believe he’d be doing the move himself?

  She’d scarcely thought it before her phone pinged again.

  Well, watch some movers lift some boxes.

  At least she appreciated the honesty.

  Will there be beer and pizza? she asked. Even if he’d hired guys to do the hard work, that was a tradition that transcended social class. Right?

  Consider it done.

  It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind for her weekend, but it might be sort of fun. She’d never gotten to see the actual place where he lived in Paris, and he hadn’t invited her over while he’d been staying at his sister’s apartment.

  She couldn’t decide if that bothered her or not.

  Another text came through as she was crossing the street toward the art building.

  Some of my friends will be there, too. Thought you might want to meet them.

  She considered that for a second. Your sister?

  Y, if she can manage to take a day away from the office.

  Her heart beat a little harder. He was really inviting her into his life here. For the very first time, he was asking her to peer behind the curtain. The whole point of this second chance had been for him to prove to her that he was the man she’d fallen for back in Paris—before she’d known the reality of his life. So far, she hadn’t gotten to see much beyond what he wanted her to see. Maybe this was her chance.

  Before she could second-guess herself, she messaged back, It’s a date.

  Their fourth date, in fact. Officially halfway through the seven he had begged of her. And it felt like they’d barely cracked the surface.

  Putting her phone away, she headed in and up the stairs. As she crossed the threshold of the painting studio, she shed her jacket and pulled her bag over her head.

  And then came to a screeching halt to find Liam right on the other side of the door.

  He looked the same as ever, sandy hair disheveled and tight jeans paint-streaked, but the way he looked at her was different. Not quite accusing but…

  Disappointed.

  Something turned over in her chest. She had plenty of experience with that particular look, thank you very much.

  “Hey.” He paused with his own jacket halfway on. “I was just about to go do a coffee run.” He gave her a pointed look. “You want to come with?”

  Dammit, she’d just gotten here. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself: Band-Aid. “Sure.”

  She got her own stuff tugged back on as she turned around. It was a short walk right across the street, and yet it felt like it took about a year. The whole way over, he held his tongue—possibly literally, based on the pinched expression on his face. When they finally
had their drinks in hand, he nodded toward an open table in the corner.

  He settled into the seat across from her and turned his cup around between his palms. Bracing herself, she sat there, ready to defend Rylan. He wasn’t usually so possessive or so antisocial. He was usually charming and insightful and—

  “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

  Oh. Or they could start with that.

  She shrugged, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve around her cup. “It’s new. Sort of.” She frowned. How much did she really want to get into this? “We had a—a fling, over the summer. We ran into each other a couple of weeks ago and decided to see if there was anything more to it.”

  He paused for a second, and then his voice dropped. “You could have told me.”

  She’d felt like shit every time she hadn’t. “I wasn’t sure how much there was to tell.” She hadn’t really thought it would last even this long.

  “Anything would’ve been nice. Here I was, thinking…” He trailed off. There was a bitter, wry slant to his mouth.

  They hadn’t exactly spoken about Liam’s interest in her out loud, but there it was, on the table between them now. They’d might as well get it all out.

  “I thought so, too. Maybe.” She took a deep breath. She’d resisted putting a label on what was going on between her and Rylan, or apparently even acknowledging it at all. But she couldn’t lead Liam on. Even if she had seen some potential between them, Rylan had walked back into her life and reclaimed this piece of her heart she hadn’t even realized was waiting for him. The piece he’d crushed, but which had started to beat again the second she’d seen his face. She was working to guard herself harder this time, but there were some things she couldn’t deny. “But I’m with Rylan.”

  If it fell apart again tomorrow, it still wouldn’t leave any room for anyone else. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever.