Take What You Want

by Jeanette Grey

  He hesitated. Reached out and stroked her hand where it lay on the bar. “Does it matter?”

  “I guess not.”

  But it did. He could tell from the stiffness of her features and her posture—to her, it did. Even though she was touching him, she pulled back in incremental ways. Put distance between them just as surely as he had.

  And suddenly his decision about which future to choose didn’t seem so smart.

  “Anyway, I’m a pretty simple guy,” he said, continuing. He needed to buy some time. If he could just get her to see him—to like him. Maybe when he told her the truth, she’d forgive him.

  Or maybe she’d still throw her drink at him.

  He mumbled something about liking football and video games, but she wasn’t tracking. He tilted his head and shifted to bring his gaze down level with hers. “You know what else I like?”

  “What’s that?”

  He nudged her chin with his fingertip, asking her to look at him. “You.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  The one corner of her mouth tilted up, and some of the blankness left her eyes. “That may be the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

  “But did it work?”

  “You know what?” Her smile grew even brighter, and for the first time all night, she leaned into him. Touched his chest, sending sparks across his ribs. In the most seductive tone of voice, she said, “I actually think it did.”

  “You want me?” he asked.

  They were in her bedroom, standing right at the foot of the bed. Both their shirts were off, his belt unbuckled, his skin on fire. Just like last night, the room was dim, lit only by a single strand of little lights. But it was all the light he needed.

  They were the same words she’d thrown at him, too. God, they’d made him so hard, but he was even harder tonight.

  She swallowed thickly and looked up at him. Nodded.

  Something too hot to name rose up in him, and he scarcely recognized his growl. “Tell me.”

  He was asking for more than he could say in words. He knew that.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me you want me.”

  She searched his face, shuddering, her fingers tight around his biceps. Her voice shook as she breathed out the words. “I want you.”

  His throat was dry, his need too intense. “Me.”

  No glint of recognition lit her eyes. No sudden understanding of who he really was. But still, she gazed right at him as she slid her hands down to grip his, then to the button on his jeans.

  “You.”

  It was enough.

  In the next instant, he had her pushed back on the mattress, legs open wide and her skirt riding up her pale, white thighs. Without giving her the time to argue, he unhooked the clasp of her bra and tore the fabric away.

  Her breasts were perfect, heavy and ripe. Mouth-watering. Indulging every impulse he’d suppressed the night before, he attacked them with lips and hands and teeth. Latching on above her nipple, he sucked soft flesh into his mouth, wanting to mark her. To leave something of himself there.

  She arched back and cried out, bracing herself with her arms behind her, presenting herself like an offering he was only too happy to take. He nipped and kissed and licked her rosy peak, reached between them to press his fingers to soaked lace.

  “You’re so fucking wet.” It made him ache.

  Panting, she laughed. “Told you I wanted you.”

  “Don’t worry, sweet girl.” He slid his mouth across her chest to her other breast and slipped his fingers underneath elastic, finding her slick and hot. “I’ll give you what you want.”

  Eventually.

  He teased until she trembled, until she was hovering on the edge of something he could almost taste in her moans. And then he eased off, edged her down and brought her right back up.

  “Fuck,” she cried. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Just… Please.” Her voice was a high whine, needy and so fucking sexy. “Finger me. Fuck me. Make me come.”

  He pulled his hand away, tore his mouth from her breast. Standing over her, feeling like he’d go out of his skin if he didn’t get inside her, he pulled his belt loose and opened up his fly. “Get naked.”

  She did just that, wriggled her skirt and panties off and then scooted herself all the way up to the head of the bed. When she started to turn over onto her stomach, he stopped her, though.

  “Don’t.”

  “But I—”

  “I said don’t.”

  He was going to look her in the eyes when he fucked her tonight.

  Her jaw flexed, her fingers twitching.

  “Not if you want me to make you come tonight,” he warned.

  A flash of vulnerability crossed her eyes. “And if I can’t?”

  “Then I’ll die trying.”

  He fished a condom from his wallet before letting his jeans fall to his knees. Shoving his boxers down, too, he took two long strokes down the length of his cock, spreading the pre-come around, and groaned. It felt so good. But not as good as she would.

  He put the corner of the condom wrapper between his teeth and tore it open, then climbed up on the bed and handed the circle of latex to her.

  “Put it on me.”

  With her gaze still fixed on his, she reached out for him, and he throbbed. After rolling the condom down, she lay back. But her body was tense. Uncertain.

  Josh took a slow, deep breath. He retreated long enough to toe his shoes and socks off and push his pants the rest of the way down. As naked as she was, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her hip. On each of her breasts. Then finally, softly, her mouth.

  “I’ll be so good to you,” he promised. He touched her gently, spreading her open and slipping a finger just inside. “I’ll make you feel so good, Ellen. Trust me.”

  She placed one hand on the side of his face and stared deep into his eyes. Something inside of her seemed to relax. “Okay.”

  He fit his mouth to hers again, tasting her tongue and her breath, and he didn’t stop. For ages, it seemed, he kissed her and touched her, until she was all softness in his hands. Only then did he pull his fingers from her flesh and place himself there instead. With his lips still pressed to hers, he pushed inside, exhaling hard at the gripping heat.

  How could she feel so good?

  Fully buried inside her, he tore his mouth from hers and opened it against her throat, eyes closed. It was too intense to look at her right now, too pleasurable and hot. He moved inside her in slow, short strokes, grinding up against her clit with every pass until she started to wrap herself around him, groaning and urging him on.

  “That’s it,” he urged her. “Take what you want.”

  “Josh—”

  “Take it all, baby.”

  Her legs tightened around him and her hands dug into his ass, holding him where she wanted him. “So fucking sexy,” he whispered as she pushed her hips up into him.

  He learned her rhythm, figured out which tilt of her pelvis was an invitation to thrust and which a plea to stay still and buried deep.

  “God, Josh, I’m…”

  “That’s it. Right there.”

  He bit down on her throat. Told her she was beautiful and sexy and so fucking tight. So fucking tight. When he was right on the brink himself, she finally dug her nails into his ass. Threw her head back.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted. And then she screamed.

  He buried his face harder against her shoulder as he felt her clamp down, begging him to fuck her and whispering his name. Telling him she’d never, not like that.

  And that was all it took. With a few deep strokes and the miracle of her body’s pulsing, he reached his pinnacle. Watched everything go black behind his eyelids as he emptied and released.

  They lay there together, his arms under her and hers wrapped all around him until he could breathe again. Still, she was the first to move, flexing her legs before letting each one fall.<
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  He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her jaw, then to her lips. Touching her cheek, he smiled. “Told you.”

  Her eyes found his. “Told me what?”

  “That you could.”

  With one more slip of lips on lips, he pulled away, groaning at the loss when he left her warmth. Just like last time, he cleaned up while she looked on.

  But this time, he didn’t get dressed. Instead, he sat down beside her, gazing at her with all the admiration he’d held for three long years.

  It didn’t matter which Ellen was looking at him. They were both beautiful. Both amazing and smart, and if anything, the duality between her studiousness and her sensuality only made her all the more attractive to him.

  He cleared his throat. And then, smirking, he told her, “So. I remembered my contacts case.”

  When the pillow hit his face, it shocked him.

  She sat up and clutched the weapon to her breasts, hiding herself from him. But she was still smiling. Widely.

  “Nice try, Mister.” She pointed toward the door. “But I believe you know the way out.”

  He did.

  And now more than ever, he was determined to find the way in.

  Chapter Three

  Monday

  Could nothing ever, ever be simple?

  The plan was supposed to have been simple.

  Months ago, when Ellen’s friends had first announced their idea to go to the Bahamas for spring break, she’d covered up her dismay with a tight-lipped smile, hugged them all and told them it would be amazing. She had to be careful with her budget just to make rent each month; the idea of spending that kind of money on airfare and a hotel room had made her breath tight and her skin itch.

  She’d been doing all right on the whole. Between financial aid and her job at the diner and the occasional checks her parents sent when they could, it had been tight but doable. She’d even managed to put a little money away over the summer.

  But the fresh reminder that she couldn’t always do the things her more fortunate friends could had lit a little spark of resentment. She was tired of being the one that couldn’t go out because she had to work or study. Of being the quiet one in the corner letting life pass her by. Of being so damned careful all the time. It was her senior year of college, damn it, and it wasn’t as if things were going to get easier when she went to med school in the fall.

  Then, the day she’d dropped the girls off at the airport, she’d had a flash. A moment of intuition.

  And the plan had been born.

  It had seemed simple, at the time. No, she couldn’t go to the Bahamas, or anywhere else for that matter. But she could still take a vacation of sorts—a vacation from herself.

  She’d raided her petty cash jar and gone shopping at someplace other than Target for once. Standing in front of the dressing room mirror, dolled up in clothes she would never have been caught dead in normally, she’d seen a flash of fire in her own eyes. All the resentment and stress had boiled over, and with it, her resolve had been set in place.

  For one week—one blessed week—she’d be someone else. With no one around to watch her flail or to remark on her strange behavior, she could do anything, be whoever she pleased. The confident woman who took what she wanted.

  Starting with the hot guy at the bar.

  And she’d taken him indeed. It had been the best sex she’d had in…well, ever. That it was the only sex she’d had in over a year hadn’t hurt either. Josh had left, and she’d fallen into the deepest sleep of the semester.

  And that was when things had stopped being simple.

  She’d woken up alone, still sated but empty, with images and sensations from the night before dancing across her vision, skittering hot across her skin. It had been maddening in its intensity, the flashes of heat and the craving. It hadn’t just been sex she’d wanted, either. All the memories were tangled up with that voice, that murmur of sweet girl as he’d touched her and his grunt as he’d come. The kind of eyes she could drown in.

  She’d gone ahead and done everything she’d planned, having brunch at a trendy café and trying her first group exercise class at a new gym before heading to work. She’d tried to put his face out of her mind, to stay busy, but by the time she’d clocked out at the diner, she’d lost herself to a different kind of hunger. To curiosity.

  So she’d dressed herself up again, put on her make-up and her mask.

  For the better part of an hour, she’d waited for him, sitting in his chair and nursing a drink that tasted like sex to her now. The bartender had paid her more than her fair share of attention, and she’d just begun to resign herself to moving on, to seeing if she could scratch that itch with someone else, when she’d felt his heat at her side and heard his breath.

  She’d taken Josh home again, and it’d been even better than the first time. He’d known exactly where to put his hands, how to push into her to make her scream, and when he’d made her come with just the pressure of his hips…

  Why hadn’t she let him stay? Why?

  She still didn’t entirely know. Vengeance, maybe? Some petty fear in her heart born of how he’d walked away so easily the night before? Maybe she’d wanted to show him that she could walk away, too.

  Or maybe just because nothing could ever, ever be simple.

  Ellen slapped both her hands on the counter and hung her head. Why was it that she could never let things be simple?

  Ignoring the cook’s funny looks, she pushed off the counter with a sigh and reached for her apron. She’d just gotten it tied on when her manager burst into the kitchen. When he spotted her, he hitched his thumb toward the doors that opened out into the dining area. “Your first table’s up.”

  “Got it.”

  She took a second to check her image in the little mirror hung up near the punch-in clock. She’d kept it subtle, but she’d brought a little of the new Ellen with her, even to the diner. Her hair hung in loose curls, and she’d put on some light make-up. Her top was a little lower-cut, her jeans tighter, too. She grabbed her order pad and pencil and put her game face on before pushing through the doors.

  What she saw made her pause.

  Sitting there, at a booth against the window, framed in light, was Josh.

  For a minute, all she could do was stand there and gape. He wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be intersecting with her real life. She wasn’t ready for him. She wasn’t the person she had been when she’d been with him.

  Could she be that bold girl from the bar? Here? Now?

  Just as she was getting ready to turn right back around, he looked up, glancing at the front door and the counter before his gaze connected with hers.

  God, he looked good. She’d fucked him twice, seen him as up-close-and-personal as humanly possible, and yet never in daylight. She’d never taken in the hint of red to his dark brown hair or the rosy color of his mouth. And those eyes…

  “You gonna stand there all day?” Another server was standing at the register, popping gum.

  “Sorry, just…” Ellen didn’t bother to finish her sentence. She looked across the room at Josh before checking the seating chart. Sure enough, he was hers.

  A little thrill ran up her spine. She liked the sound of that.

  With one more smile at the girl at the register, Ellen made her way over to his table. He watched her all the while, and with every step she took, his smile broadened. Hers felt just as wide.

  “Well, hello again.” She put one hand on her hip and cocked her head.

  “Good morning.” He picked up his menu and shifted his eyes to its pages, smirking all the while. “You sure don’t make it easy for a guy to have breakfast with you.”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re implying.”

  His gaze darted up to hers. Low and sexy, in a voice she felt deep inside, he whispered, “I think you do.”

  The sound of her order pad hitting the floor was her first sign she’d dropped it. With her cheeks burning, she bent
down to get it, then rose, flustered. “Can I get you started with a cup of coffee or some juice?”

  “Just coffee. Cream, no sugar.”

  “Right.”

  She’d already started to turn away when he spoke again. “Oh, and Ellen?”

  He was gazing straight at her. In the light, his eyes were even more beautiful. “Just so you know, for next time… I make a mean French toast.”

  The next thing she knew, she was back in the kitchen with her head in the walk-in freezer.

  The man out there couldn’t possibly be real.

  Once her internal temperature had returned to something that could be remotely considered healthy, she stepped back and slammed the freezer door closed. From the prep table, the cook was staring at her again. She gazed at him levelly and lied. “Hot flash.”

  She stalked back out and grabbed the coffee pot and a couple creamers. Standing in front of Josh’s table again, she fought to not make eye contact or to let her knees shake as she poured him his cup. Before she could pull the carafe back, he lifted his hand and ran a fingertip along her wrist.

  “Ellen?”

  She shivered and jerked her arm away. “Yeah?”

  “Look at me.” His expression was so earnest when she finally brought her gaze up. “Did I upset you?”

  “No. No, I just…” She forced a smile. “Did you figure out what you want to eat?”

  “I don’t know…” He continued to look at her with a certain wariness, like he really wasn’t sure if he’d pushed too far. Like he was retreating to safer ground. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  She considered him for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an older couple being seated in another part of her section. While she was usually glad to have extra customers, it was oddly disappointing. It meant less time she could spend at this booth.

  Her whole posture softened. He’d come here for her. Yeah, he was coming on a little strong. And no, she didn’t know how to be herself and be with him. But she could try.

  Taking a conciliatory tone, she offered, face flushing again, “Well, the French toast is popular, but considering that’s one of your specialties, maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea. Maybe the blueberry pancakes? Or if you want something savory, the eggs Benedict is one of my favorites.”