Uncovering You 3: Resistance (Uncovering You, #3)

by Edwards, Scarlett

  I feel a rumbling groan emerge from deep in Stonehart’s chest. His tongue battles with mine. Warmth is pooling in my core. I feel my body respond to his request in the most primal way.

  Clothes, I think rashly. Too many clothes!

  My thoughts are wild and scrambled. All I know is: I need to feel Stonehart’s hard body against mine. I need to have his scorching skin glide against mine.

  My hands move under the collar of his jacket and I help him take it off. Our lips are still connected as if some magnetic force links us. My breaths are coming hard and fast. In fact, they feel more like the giant gulps of air you take after surfacing from an icy pool of water.

  When I start to work on the buttons of his shirt, he pulls away.

  “No,” he growls. For a moment, I’m scared that I’ve made some grave miscalculation. But then his hand grazes over my cheek again, and he says, in a softer, much gentler voice, “No. Tonight is all about you.”

  That’s all the warning I get as he takes me by the waist and flips us over. My back hits the mattress and my hair fans out around my head. My chest heaves with every breath. I lift my head and look up at Stonehart towering over me.

  The darkness suits him. The shadows on his face make him look even more handsome. His cheeks are hard planes with their daily accumulation of stubble. His dark, wavy hair is disarrayed over his head—evidence of my greedy fingers. He looks absolutely stunning, like the image of a Greek god come to life.

  With lust pulsing through my body, and my brain dangerously low on oxygen, it’s almost enough to make me forget all the things he’s responsible for.

  I don’t have a chance to dwell on that as Stonehart dips down and presses his forehead to mine. My breasts heave against his firm chest. I tilt my head up to kiss him, but he doesn’t let me.

  Instead, he brings his mouth close to my ear. “Tonight, Lilly,” he rustles, “I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me.”

  I bite down the shiver of pleasure that cascades through my skin when I feel his rough cheek slide against mine.

  Any discomfort from those strangely intimate words is quickly forgotten as he begins to place kisses on my neck. I surrender to the physical sensations taking hold of my body.

  His smell fills my lungs. It’s earthy and raw and masculine. It reminds me of the fresh air you’d find in the heart of a forest at the dawn of a beautiful spring day. It scrambles my thoughts even more.

  At this point, I’d be lucky to tell up from down and left from right.

  Stonehart slides the top of my robe down my arm, exposing my shoulder. When he kisses the small expanse of skin, goose bumps erupt all over. I want nothing more than to grab his head and force him to kiss me again.

  Rationality? Gone. Common sense? Gone. Any type of proper response I might have to him is not coming. My body is opening up to Stonehart more and more. Damn the voice that’s screaming at the back of my mind that I should not be enjoying this. It’s overwhelmed by the toe-curling passion I feel flaring to life inside me.

  Gently, slowly, taking his time, Stonehart draws open my robe. His hand trails over my hot skin as he gazes at my body. I see the lust and desire heavy in his eyes. It makes my heart rate quicken.

  He positions himself over me, his hips resting on my legs. The growing bulge in the crotch of his pants fills me with a kind of diabolical excitement.

  “Look at you, Lilly,” he murmurs. His hands slide down the side of my body, leaving scorching trails over my skin as they go. “How is it fair that one woman can be so beautiful? I’ve never seen anyone in my life the equal of you.”

  Before I can respond, his mouth crushes mine. Our lips seal in a hot, fiery kiss. The rough fabric of his shirt rubs against my sensitive nipples, turning me on even more.

  I do all I can to inhale him. To breathe him in. He is equally vested in consuming me. Our kiss is filled with the most pressing type of passion. Nothing about it is at all similar to any kiss we’ve shared before.

  This one is not being taken from me. I am giving it freely, and hoping against hope that it will never abate.

  He pulls back. A giggle bubbles out of me, and immediately I feel like the biggest dork in the world.

  But Stonehart does not chastise me. He only offers a smile, then brings his hands up and starts to unbutton his shirt.

  I watch, transfixed, as more and more of his body is revealed in the parting V. When he slides his shirt off his shoulders, a miniscule but reverent gasp escapes my lips.

  I’ve never been able to appreciate his body before. Now, I can.

  His chest is wide and strong. His torso is rock hard. I can see the outline of abdominals beneath the trimmed layer of hair.

  Everything about him screams utter masculinity. This is the type of enjoyment I recklessly imagined when I met him in the lobby of his building. That day seems like a lifetime ago.

  He starts to dip down again, but I stop him by placing my hands on his chest. He frowns, and a spark of displeasure flutters across his face. I speak before he can verbalize it.

  “Give me a chance to enjoy the view,” I say. I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s heady and raw and full of need.

  Stonehart smirks. I trail my fingers over the front of his body and suck in an uneasy breath. The tight firmness of his muscles fills me with the most exotic type of female pleasure.

  “Had enough, yet?” he asks. There’s a playful, teasing quality to his voice.

  “Never,” I breathe without thinking.

  “Too bad.” He takes hold of my wrists and pries my arms apart. He leans forward to kiss my neck, then begins feasting on my breasts. My eyes flutter closed as I satiate in the rolling waves of pleasure.

  His tongue excites my nipple, and then he moves his head to pay tribute to the other one. The scratchy stubble on his jaw trails against my smooth skin, filling me with one of the most delectable sensations I’ve ever known. Heat flows through my core. I’m already more aroused than I can ever remember being in my life.

  Stonehart moves to kiss the valley between my breasts. He slides his head down, shimmying his way down my body. I am nearly gasping as his kisses trail toward the enflamed spot between my legs.

  He comes off the bed and grabs my hips to bring me closer. I lift my head to look at him. Our eyes meet for a split second.

  “Lie back,” he commands.

  His gruff voice makes me eager to comply, and though I want to keep staring into his beautiful eyes, I do as I’m told.

  “Have you ever had a boyfriend, Lilly?” he asks.

  “I—what?”

  “A boyfriend,” he repeats. “Have you ever had one?”

  “I… yes, once, but what—”

  “I’m going to make you forget all about him,” Stonehart says, and lowers his head.

  I squirm on the bed as cascades of pleasure roll through me. He spreads me open with his fingers and licks deep inside of me. Ecstasy washes over me.

  My fingers form fists in the bedding as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through my body.

  I start to moan without meaning to. The sound seems to spur Stonehart on. His tongue laps faster, darting across the most sensitive bundle of nerves I possess.

  “Oh my God, Jeremy! Oh my God!” The words trail off into a shuddery moan.

  “Jesus,” he breathes, “I love it when you make those sounds.”

  My reply comes in the form of a muffled sob as he dips his head back down.

  Before long, I can feel the pressure building inside. My release is close. Stonehart seems to sense it, too, though how he does I can’t begin to imagine. He redoubles his efforts, concentrating on the spot I desperately need him to.

  My hands fly to his hair, forcing him closer, tighter, nearer. I’m rewarded for the stroke of boldness by the rush of an orgasm.

  I soar high above, transcending the room we’re in. I leave every bodily sensation behind except my constant awareness of him between my legs.

  When I come back down,
I open drowsy eyes to find Stonehart staring at me. There is a hungry look on his face. The pale light from outside glistens off his pupils, making him look infinitely more intimidating than at any point earlier tonight.

  But, I’m not afraid. Right now, I feel like he can do no wrong. As he recognizes my mood, his intimidating gaze softens. He does not look at me like a captor having his way with his prisoner, but like a real lover, equal to me in every way.

  I know it’s an illusion. But, at the moment, I’m too drunk on Jeremy to care.

  “I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, slowly unbuckling his belt. His erection is prominent, tenting the front of his pants. “Lilly. This isn’t going to be like before.”

  I nod dumbly, not exactly sure what that means but too preoccupied by the sight of him to care. As he slips his clothes off at the foot of the bed, all I can think of is what a fine specimen of a man he really is. He clearly takes care of his body. The twenty-odd year difference between us makes no difference in the passion he can stir up in me.

  Or, for that matter, I in him. Not once have I done anything to actually seduce him, but the sight of me seems to be his personal aphrodisiac. Either that, or he has the sex drive of ten men.

  His cock is full and straining with blood. A thick vein pulses along the underside. I bite my lip in anticipation as he positions himself between my legs and slowly slides in.

  The intrusion is unlike anything I’ve experienced. For one, I’m not fighting against it. Two, I’m infinitely ready for it, even in the aftermath of the last earth-shattering climax.

  This isn’t him forcing his way onto me with no regard for my comfort. This is him sharing something with me.

  His hips tilt forward until he’s all the way in. His eyes watch my face for the first sign of discomfort. He won’t find it. My body is ready to welcome him as far as he pleases.

  The implicit acceptance I give is enough for him to get started. He begins to drive in and out of me. Little whimpers of pleasure fall from my lips. They combine with his heavy grunts. The sounds do as much to turn me on as the physical sensation. It doesn’t take long for me to start begging him to go harder, faster.

  He complies in an instant. His cock plunges deep inside, filling me to the brim with unfathomable pleasure. I can enjoy the wholly stretched feeling for the first time.

  Soon, both our bodies are bathed in sweat. I reach up and link his hands with mine. Our fingers twine together. It seems to make everything we’re doing more real. More solid. The shadows that run across Jeremy’s body are almost enough to make this feel like a dream. But the sensations rising in me let me know it’s not. The sounds that fill my ears let me know it’s not.

  Jeremy climbs on the bed and leans over me. His hands knead my breasts as he closes his mouth over mine. I gyrate my hips in rhythm to his, doing all that I can to extract every last drop of pleasure.

  When I feel the muscles in my core start to tighten, I know I’m coming close to my second orgasm of the night.

  Stonehart breaks away. “God, Lilly,” he pants. “Oh God, you don’t know how good this feels.”

  “Yes I do,” I say, urging him on. My nonsensical response is justified only by the fact that I’m lost in absolute bliss. “Keep going, Jeremy,” I urge. “Just like that. Yes! Keep going. Mmm… yes, yes, YES!”

  The last scream that is ripped from my throat is accentuated by a heavy roar as Jeremy pulls out and blasts all over me. Hot semen lands on my tummy and breasts. I’m too far gone in my own pleasure to notice.

  As I float down from the second, magnificent, stunning orgasm, all I can do to let him know how much I enjoyed it is to direct a sloppy, lopsided, grin his way.

  He collapses right onto me, giving no heed to his seed splattered on my skin. I feel his cock give one last twitch against my belly. I hold onto Jeremy tight, and close my eyes as I listen to his breathing slow by my ear.

  “That was… spectacular,” he says finally, lifting himself off just enough to press our foreheads together.

  “I’m… inclined to agree,” I say, mimicking his breathless voice without meaning to. His eyes constrict for a brief second. A horrible feeling comes over me. I’m afraid he might think I’m mocking him…

  The fear passes when he smiles. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, dropping a chaste kiss onto my lips.

  Then, he pulls me out of the bed and carries me to the bathroom.

  Chapter Five

  I wake up the next morning in Jeremy’s bed feeling completely refreshed and at peace with the world.

  There’s a tugging at the back of my mind that tells me I should not be this comfortable, but for the moment, I choose to ignore it.

  I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with the glorious, cool morning air. My whole body feels languid, like I’m floating on a cloud. The memory of what took place last night sweeps over me, and I allow myself an indulgent smile.

  I turn over, open my eyes—and am hit by a blast of alarm when I find the bed abandoned.

  Suddenly, the severity of what transpired last night crashes into me.

  Stonehart took me to bed. To his bed. And I lost myself enough not only to enjoy the experience, but also to fall asleep in his arms afterward.

  I remember the way I leaned into him and let him stroke my hair as I drifted off to sleep. For those few hours—from when he brought me to his room, until I fell asleep—everything seemed right. Everything felt right. Like I belonged here, beside him, cradled in his arms.

  Those feelings are wrong. Oh, they’re so very wrong. How can I be thinking that about the man who’s been manipulating my life since before I even knew his name?

  I push myself up to a sitting position and try to calm down. Last night was more than wrong. It was dangerous. I’m not supposed to be harboring any good feelings about the man.

  The fact that I do—or rather, that I did—frightens me. I’m alone in his room now, with the sun shining through the many windows, but I feel as lost as I was when he left me in the shadows.

  I’m not supposed to enjoy anything Stonehart does to me. Did I take my role of playing the perfect prisoner too far? Could I already be succumbing to Stockholm syndrome?

  But, no. No, no, no. I think Stockholm syndrome is defined as having feelings of empathy toward your abductor. And I will never allow myself to feel any sort of warmth toward Stonehart.

  And yet… wasn’t that exactly what I felt in the afterglow of our lovemaking? When I thought of him as Jeremy? Not as Stonehart, but as Jeremy?

  I know that’s what he wants me to call him. And that’s what I do, in my speech, but never before have I thought of him by his first name. He’s always been Stonehart. Cold, impenetrable, manipulative Stonehart.

  The fact that I let my guard down enough to think of him as Jeremy scares me. Jeremy is a first name. It implies intimacy and comfort.

  It is completely the opposite of what I need to feel around him.

  Where is he now? I look around the room, but there’s no trace of him. He’s probably already at work. But, I can’t be sure. He might very well be in one of the many rooms of this mansion, waiting to ambush me the way he did when he left on his “three-day” business trip.

  I climb out of bed and hesitate before deciding on my destination. I feel suddenly dirty after last night. Guilt tears at me for how easily I allowed myself to enjoy what we did.

  I start for the doorway, then stop, turn around, and walk to the window. I make a point of ignoring the secret doorway I know is hidden on one wall. I don’t want to think about the surveillance equipment in there.

  I lean against one slim metal pillar and gaze outside. If Stonehart is still around, I want him to hear me moving. That way I can’t possibly get into any trouble for leaving the room without him knowing.

  I hate how every action I take has to be considered with regard to how Stonehart will see it. Something as simple as going down to the sunroom becomes an affair I have to contemplate and mull over to ensure it
won’t be taken the wrong way.

  I fucking hate it!

  I look at the glassy sea. It’s stretching all the way to the horizon. Today is a bright, beautiful, autumn day. There is no trace of the storm that raged yesterday. The sky is cloudless. The white sun shines on the water, making the waves and crests glimmer majestically.

  I spot a tiny sailboat in the distance. Seeing it makes me feel a pang of longing. The ocean represents freedom. The glass separating me from it is a cruel reminder of how far away that freedom is for me.

  I wonder who’s on the boat. I wonder what he sees when he looks at the shoreline. How many houses surround Stonehart’s? Could someone be looking at me from that boat, right now, without me knowing it?

  I sigh and turn away. Those are morose thoughts. Depressing thoughts. But, they fit my mood this morning.

  I walk back to the bed and perch on the edge. I look at the messed up sheets, another reminder of last night.

  I can hardly believe that I spent a night in Stonehart’s arms. That I slept in his bed. Willingly.

  I hear footsteps outside and look up. My heart starts to race. Is he back? Did he hear me moving? Did he—

  Rose emerges from the hallway.

  I sigh with relief.

  She smiles kindly at me. “There you are, dear,” she says. “I thought I heard you up and about. Would you like some breakfast? Charles has already set the table for you, but I can bring it up here, if you prefer?”

  Eating in Stonehart’s bed would fill me with an enormous sense of unease. Actually, staying in this room any longer than I have to already does that. Rose’s invitation is the perfect opportunity to get away.

  “I’ll come with you,” I say too quickly. For a split-second, I think I see Rose eye me curiously. Then she turns around, and the moment skitters away.

  “Come along, then,” she says, entirely too formally.

  I hate how I feel that I have to be on my guard around her. But my new suspicions make it necessary. If I get too comfortable with Rose, I could be playing right into Stonehart’s hands.

  I still don’t know how much Rose knows about my situation. It’s probably safer to err on the side of caution and assume she knows as much as Stonehart does.