My large hand encircled her much-smaller wrist, effectively stopping her from taking one more step toward the door. “No takebacks. Five minutes, I believe you said?”
She looked at my hand. Then at my chest. Then into my eyes. I knew she saw the conviction there. Good. It saved us both from wasting time and effort on futile shit. No more running. She’d started opening up to me, and I wasn’t about to let her close herself off again.
She nodded uncertainly.
“The clock starts the minute you put your hands on me,” I said, whipping off my shirt. It had the desired effect. Her eyes widened slightly and I heard her sharp intake of breath. Between my Ranger training and a lot of rehab, I knew I had the kind of body most women found attractive. Well, if she could look past the scars, anyway.
Before you judge me on my less-than-honorable tactics, consider this: how many women use push-up bras, micro minis, and fuck-me heels to accomplish the same thing? Besides, I was fully committed to this mission, willing to do whatever it took to make her mine forever.
I kicked off my boots and laid on the bed, face down. My eyes were closed, but I knew exactly where Hannah was and how fast I could get to her if she tried to bolt again.
It took a couple of minutes, critical minutes while she decided to stay or go. When she finally made her way over to me, I discreetly breathed a sigh of relief.
Her initial touch was light, tentative. “That’s not going to cut it,” I muttered into the bedding. “I thought you said you knew how to give a back massage.”
My gamble paid off. Hannah toed off her little ballet slippers and climbed up on the bed, straddling the backs of my thighs. I groaned in both pleasure and agony as her hands zeroed in with surprising strength and accuracy. I drifted off beneath the heat and gentle weight of her body as she kneaded the knotted flesh and released a set of endorphins I didn’t know I had.
“Five minutes,” she said all too soon, breaking into my fog of bliss. Five minutes couldn’t possibly have gone by that fast. It had been thirty seconds, a minute tops. I groaned again, something unintelligible and caveman-like. She laughed.
“Told you. Want more?”
I grunted an affirmative, losing myself under her expert touch for an indeterminate amount of time until my conscience finally got the better of me. I could have stayed there all night, but her hands must have been getting tired.
With effort I began to roll over. Hannah sat on the side of the bed, grinning like the cat who just ate a fat, tasty canary. “Good, right? You feel better?”
“Amazing,” I said, twisting and not feeling a single twinge of pain. “I totally concede.”
I looked at her face, tired but happy, and knew I could not just let her walk out of my room without giving her something in return.
“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” I said.
I tugged her down onto the bed beside me. I’d caught her by surprise, so she came along easily, but her body stiffened almost immediately. She wanted to run, I could tell, but I wouldn’t allow it. Not this time.
“Turn over,” I commanded. Hannah hesitated for several long moments, but she did it. I sat up and placed my hands on her back and began to move them, mapping out the contours beneath her baggy T. She was surprisingly toned and firmer than I expected, but soft, too. Lean, but not hard.
She relaxed under my touch, expelling a lungful of air in a giant whoosh. “Good?” I murmured.
“Mmmmmm,” she hummed. I felt the vibrations through her back.
She tensed when I slipped my hands up under the hem of her shirt, but after a minute or so, she relaxed again. I almost hissed at the feel of her hot, satiny skin beneath my rough palms, certain that I was enjoying this at least as much, if not more, than she was.
When she was sufficiently pliant, I skillfully unclasped her bra. She was so far gone at that point, I don’t think she noticed. She did start to stir, though, when I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her baggy sweats and began to caress the upper regions of her perfect, tight ass. Her body started to lift from the bed, and I took immediate advantage, sliding my other hand around to cup her breast.
She gasped in surprise, but no one was more surprised than me when her ample breast spilled over my palm. How the hell had she managed to hide those?
A moan escaped her lips as she arched into my touch, assuring me that she was right there with me. I moved the first hand down along the cleft of her ass and between her legs, groaning myself when I discovered how wet she was. My cock swelled farther, throbbing with a new intensity.
One of us growled -—I think it was me -—and then her pants were down around her ankles and I was rolling her over, nuzzling my face between her breasts. Did I mention I’m a breast man? Hannah’s were perfect. Naturally shaped, full and firm, with the prettiest dusky pink nipples.
I drew one into my mouth while she worked blindly at the clasp of my jeans. I swear I almost came in her hand the moment she touched me. It felt that good.
I kicked off my jeans and fitted myself in the cradle of her thighs. “No, not like this,” she said. It took my lust-saturated mind a few seconds to realize she was sliding out from beneath me and going up on all fours. Fuck! It wasn’t how I’d envisioned our first time. I wanted to look into those beautiful eyes, watch them lose focus as I gave her pleasure and took my own. But ... fuck. That perfectly rounded ass was right there, and all previous plans flew right out the window.
I placed myself over her body, caging her with my arms and thighs. A low, feral growl ripped from my throat as my cock bobbed and strained for her wet heat. I rubbed it up and down her slick folds, in awe of how soft and silky she was. And wet. Incredibly, soaking wet. Lubed by that and the precum she’d already drawn forth from me, the blunt head slipped in before I even realized it.
It felt so incredible that I knew immediately something was wrong. It took me a moment to realize that I’d neglected to don a condom. That had never happened before. Even shitfaced, I’d never been so caught up in the moment that I’d forgotten something so important. I started to pull back to remedy that, but then she started wiggling and pushing back onto my cock, making these mewling noises that drew my balls up high and tight and I was lost. I’d never had sex without a condom before, and the difference was mind-boggling. Two inches in and my eyes crossed. At three, I was ready to lose my fucking mind.
Between that and the results of my last blood test, I knew I was clean, and I’d bet my stack of commendations that she was, too. I’d just have to make sure I pulled out when the time came.
I grabbed her hips and pushed forward, impaling her with one powerful thrust. She clenched around me like a vise, nearly making me spill right then and there. Then she cried out my name, my fucking name, into my pillow and I was beyond the point of no return.
My eyes moved upward from her perfect ass, taking in the incredibly feminine curve of her small waist, then the gentle flair of her rib cage to her surprisingly full breasts. Her hair was loose, tumbling haphazardly over her shoulders and down her back, and for the first time, I noticed the sun-sourced streaks of coppery red. She was so beautiful, my chest hurt just looking at her.
She squeezed her thighs together, making her already tight sheath even tighter, lifting her ass higher for me. I grunted and pulled out almost all the way, slamming into her again with even greater force. I was so hard, and she felt so good.
The harder I pounded, the tighter she became. At first, I thought it was her body’s natural reaction. I mean, she was so small and tight, and I was bigger than the average guy (I’m not bragging, it’s just the way it is). But then I began to think that maybe it was something else. Instead of opening up, surrendering herself to me, she was pulling away, putting up a wall between us.
“Come for me, baby,” I commanded as I landed a hand on her ass. I spoke through clenched teeth as I was trying really hard to hold back my own climax. It wasn’t easy. Did I mention how fucking perfectly she sheathed my cock?
She muttered something, I couldn’t make it out, and then she was slamming her ass back onto me, tilting her hips in a way that made me see stars. Her inner muscles squeezed and rippled and before I knew it, my vision went black and I was shooting my load deep inside of her.
I won’t lie. It was the most amazing thing I ever felt in my life.
I’d barely finished, weak after what was arguably the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had, when she rolled away from me. I reached out and snagged her hand blindly. She tried to pull away.
“Did you just come in me?” she asked, her voice harsh.
I opened my eyes. “Yeah. You’re on the pill, right?” I knew she was, of course, courtesy of my earlier recon into her bathroom, but at this point, it wouldn’t have mattered if she wasn’t. As far as I was concerned, she was mine, and I’d spend the rest of my life taking care of her and ours. That’s how absolutely sure I was about this woman.
“Hell of a time to ask,” she spat back.
My hand tightened around her wrist, my grip gentle but unbreakable. “Come here,” I growled, giving a good tug that landed her half on my naked body. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’m good,” she said. Even in my post-coital haze I knew she was lying.
“You didn’t finish.”
“How would you know?”
“Hannah, I’m not some untried boy. I know when a woman comes, and you didn’t.”
Something flashed in her eyes, something that near broke my heart. She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself, then gave me a tight smile. “Don’t take it personally, Ethan. It’s not you, it’s me.”
She pulled harder and I released her. She immediately put distance between us. I didn’t like it, not at all.
“What the hell are you talking about?” My voice came out harsher than I’d intended, but damn it, this was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. I wanted her snuggling in close, not moving farther away.
Had I hurt her? I didn’t think so. I knew she wasn’t a virgin. My muddled brain called up the replay, looking for what I’d missed. She’d been close, I’d felt it, and that’s when she’d started pulling away.
Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Christ, no. I’d never been good at dealing with a woman’s tears, but if Hannah cried I’d lose my shit.
“Come on over here, baby. Let me take care of you.”
My words had the opposite effect. She clutched her clothes close to her body and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ethan. This was a mistake. I’m so, so sorry.”
And then she was gone.
Chapter 11
Hannah
I fled to the safety of my room and locked the door behind me, just in case Ethan was of a mind to follow. He wasn’t.
“Coward!” my heart screeched.
“Survivor!” my brain countered.
“Ethan!” my pussy cried.
Yeah, I am the personification of messed-up. Look up “conflicted” in any college psych text and my picture should be right there. They probably used the one taken by the DMV, too, snapped while I was in the process of wetting my lips. One eye was kind of half-shut, having the overall effect of making me look like a stoned Chihuahua. But I digress.
Of the three internal voices, one was easy enough to quiet. I grabbed BOB and beelined it into the bathroom, flipping on the fan for background noise before I knelt down on the fluffy microfiber accent mat. My reliable BOB, always there when I needed him. How many times had we done this?
BOB slid in so easily, aided by the copious amounts of Ethan’s release clinging to the walls of my channel. I sighed in relief at the pressure, but my body rebelled almost instantly. BOB was not hot enough, not hard enough, not thick enough, not long enough.
BOB was not Ethan.
I yelled back at my body (internally of course) and told it to shut the fuck up. To add emphasis, I flipped both the rotation and the vibrating controls right up to the max, foregoing my usual gentle crescendo. Believe me, I needed no further priming.
Soon enough I rode the crest of climax, but it felt hollow, empty.
I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall. I wasn’t surprised, not really. Once you have filet mignon, it’s hard going back to minute steak. But the filet was just too costly, and I had a feeling I’d be paying the price of my momentary indulgence (temporary insanity) for a long time.
Ethan didn’t understand why I’d pulled away; I got that. That was probably a good thing. At least he’d noticed and cared enough to offer. Then again, Stephen had in the beginning too. And then, when he got too frustrated, I’d started faking and then taking care of business on my own later. It spared a lot of hurt feelings and made things so much easier. Every man thought he was King of Os. I justified my decision by telling myself that my fibs were no worse than propagating tales of Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy to those who really wanted to believe.
I supposed I could have done the same thing with Ethan, but the problem was, I didn’t want to fake it with him. Stephen never knew the difference, but Ethan would see through me in a heartbeat. Ethan was the real deal, right enough. The personification of those alpha male characters I loved so much. Gorgeous. Strong. Sexy. Skilled. And way, way too dangerous for me.
No, hooking up with Ethan had been a decided lack of judgment. I’d gotten caught up in the moment and lost sight of the bigger picture. All those private fantasies I’d been entertaining had gotten to me, and when the opportunity presented itself, I‘d been more than happy to take advantage.
Geez. The guy shows me a little compassion and the next thing I know I’m jumping into bed with him. And then, then, instead of giving myself over to his incredible skills like a normal, healthy, well-adjusted woman, what did I do? I ran.
Why did I run? Because being with Ethan didn’t feel like just sex. It felt deeper than that. Like we actually connected beyond the physical.
Holy shit. I think I’m falling for Ethan O’Malley.
Scratch that. I know I’m falling for Ethan O’Malley. The truth is, I have been, in tiny ignorable increments, from the moment he first called my bluff in the kitchen that day.
And therein lay the problem. I’d cared for Stephen, and his betrayal had hurt, but it would be nothing compared to what Ethan could do to me if I opened myself up to the possibilities.
Stephen and I were from two completely different worlds. He was Hollywood handsome, extremely wealthy, cultured -—in other words, everything I’m not. I’m not exactly a country bumpkin, but I will admit that having someone like Stephen interested in me was a heady thing. Looking back now, though, I think a part of me always knew it wouldn’t work out. I could never spend my life with a man who spent more time on his hair, nails, and clothes than I did.
Ethan, though... well, I’ve already confessed what I thought of Ethan and his rugged, capable manliness. But more important than that, I think Ethan really got me. We came from similar backgrounds. He’d seen me at my worst and didn’t blink an eye. I got a serious case of the sexy tingles whenever I thought about him.
He’d almost made me climax.
Almost.
Since sex wasn’t horseshoes or hand grenades, ‘almost’ didn’t cut it. I was so close, I was right there, and then all of the insecurities came rushing back in and hit me like a ton of bricks, putting an end to any hope I had of making it over that self-imposed hurdle. I couldn’t hand that kind of control over to him. I couldn’t give him everything. As long as I owned my own Os, I could save myself. When he got tired of my bullshit and moved on, at least part of me would remain intact.
Besides, there was no guarantee I could anyway, even if I wanted to. I’d really tried with Stephen, and that hadn’t worked out. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just incapable of giving myself to another so completely. There were worse things, I suppose.
In any event, I couldn’t allow what had happened tonight to happen again, no matter how much my heart (and other parts) rallied against my head. And clearly, since
he hadn’t come to my door (a fact which both disappointed and pleased me), we were probably in agreement on that.
I wondered if he felt any regret. Probably not. It was far more likely that my abrupt departure had been a relief (no awkward, post-climax pillow talk), and he was sleeping like a baby at that very moment.
I did a last call on my pity party, then pulled myself up and went to the sink, diligently washing BOB. It took longer than usual, covered as it was in both my and Ethan’s essences. Mentally, I calculated the days as Ethan’s words echoed in my head. You’re on the pill, right?
Was that an educated guess or had he gone snooping? If it was the latter, then he wasn’t nearly as thorough as a Ranger should have been. I opened the mirrored door to the medicine cabinet and stared at the outdated prescription. The date on the underside of the package confirmed that it hadn’t been refilled in over a year. Seemed kind of pointless after I left Stephen. I mean, it’s not like BOB had little swimmers I had to worry about.
But Ethan? Ethan was the very picture of virility.
Nothing I could do about that now. There was no use dwelling on the past, and my brief journey into fantasyland was so fifteen minutes ago. Whatever happened, I would deal with it.
I climbed into the shower and washed away the dust and cobwebs and the lingering scent of Ethan on my skin, then donned my usual sleeping attire -—an oversized concert T from my rebellious teenage years. I didn’t even bother with panties.
Exhausted beyond belief, both mentally and physically, I closed my eyes and succumbed almost immediately. I dreamed I was paddling through a series of jagged rocks and white-water rapids, rushing toward a huge Dali-like stopwatch while entire schools of determined sperm kept trying to leap into my kayak.
By the time the sun rose, I’d managed all the sleep I was going to get and went down to the kitchen, having made up my mind. Ethan couldn’t possibly know about my burgeoning feelings, so all I had to do was play it cool. As if it had meant nothing more than a convenient release for both of us.
Letting Go: A Contemporary Romance of Snark and Feels Page 11
