Ursa howled in appreciative understanding.
“Shhh,” Z hissed, pumping like a madman. But Ursa thought she heard a trace of amusement and satisfaction in his voice.
“I can’t help it,” she moaned, dizzy with the pressure of him, the power.
“Then don’t. The sound is fucking addictive.”
He ran his hands over the length of her leg, seeming to enjoy the sensation as he thrust in and out of her. With one leg high in the air, and the other on the bed, she was spread wide to him, taking every ounce of what he had to give. Vaguely, she realized that the position gave him the traction he wanted without causing the headboard to bang so loudly against the wall. Plus, she could turn her face into the bedding and scream, if she should feel the need.
He pushed her suspended leg higher into her body, and suddenly, she felt the need times a thousand. He plunged into her with precise, forceful strokes while she screamed into the mattress. Those thrusts were meant to conquer, and they did. The friction was too much. She ignited, squealing into the bedding as climax rolled through her.
“Holy fucking… Jesus, that feels good,” Z muttered, sounding wild.
As pleasure tore through her, she felt him stiffen and lengthen inside her. She let out an anxious cry at the sensation, even as she shook in climax. Z’s shout started out low and rough, and escalated to a roar as he tensed, and began to come.
She clamped her eyelids shut, overwhelmed by the sensation of his warm essence pouring into her… mingling with her.
His pants in her ear sounded harsh. Slowly, she realized that he’d released her upraised leg and had collapsed against her. They lay entwined, both of them still pulsing in the aftershocks of what struck Ursa at the moment as violent, unstoppable desire.
Chapter Thirteen
“Is it always like this?” she asked in a small voice as her breathing finally began to slow.
Z didn’t respond immediately. She lay there, feeling his warm, still ragged breath in her ear. She loved the scent of him; the rawness of his being at that vulnerable moment. But anxiety mingled with her contentment when he remained silent.
Finally, he inhaled and pressed his forehead against the side of her temple.
“Not in my experience,” he said gruffly, his lips ghosting her cheek.
Her heavy breathing hitched. He hadn’t exactly sounded pleased by the admission, but he’d been honest, anyway.
“Never?” she asked shakily, straining to turn her chin so that she could gauge his expression. He spread his hand on her hip. He scooted back slightly in the bed and rolled her toward him, so that she faced him. His face was glazed with sweat, as she was sure her own was. His expression was somber when their stares met.
“I never finished saying what I meant to when I came here tonight.”
“What did you want to tell me?” she asked softly, suddenly dreading his answer.
His hand cupped her hip more firmly. He looked big and a little ominous in the shadowed hotel room, and yet… familiar, as well. Ursa found herself drinking in every nuance of this man who was both comforting to her, and an unexpected, thrilling mystery.
“I told you that I’d been kidding myself, trying to convince myself that this over the top lust I’ve been having for you was just because I’m abstaining from sex. Was abstaining,” he muttered under his breath, frowning as he caressed her hip. “Even though I told you I realized I was kidding myself, I don’t think I fully admitted the truth to myself until I turned back and stopped you from shutting that door.”
He nodded in the direction of the hotel room door, never removing his stare from his face.
“It’s you I want. Bad. I don’t understand it, but I can’t deny it, either. I’m going to end up hurting you. And what’ll we do then?”
Her heart skipped a beat as he stared at her from beneath a lowered brow.
“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. “You’d never do that.”
A flicker of frustration crossed his face. “I may very well end up doing just that. You’re not the kind of girl who should be with me. Especially at this point in my life. Especially at this point in yours,” he added, wincing.
The expression on his face made her heart ache. She reached and placed her hand on the side of his face. Z’s face: Beautiful. Hard. Intimidating.
Loved.
“I don’t think you know what kind of girl I am.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I’m starting to realize that. Still,” he said, opening his eyes. She saw the glint of worry there. Or was it warning? “You don’t understand me, either. And that’s your disadvantage. You believe it’s worth it, to be with me like this for now. That’ll change fast enough when I disappoint you.”
“How will you do that?” she asked earnestly, stroking the side of his face. The fierce tenderness she felt for him in that moment wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced in her life.
“By not being what you want. What you need.” He opened his mouth, but seemed to hesitate. “I’m not meant for the long haul when it comes to relationships. I’m not your knight in shining armor,” he said gruffly, his mouth twisting into a cynical smile. “That’s not who I am, Ursa. You’re the only person on earth who would ever think that.”
“So?”
He did a double take. “So? What do you mean, so?”
“So what, if I’m the only person who would ever consider you that way? That doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” she said, leaning up and pressing her lips against his. At first he didn’t move. She continued to coax him, plucking gently at his firm mouth, peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes to gauge his reaction. Then his hand tightened on her. He kissed her back with mounting hunger.
He took ownership of the kiss, so much so that when she leaned back slightly to say something to him, he put his hand at the back of her head and kept her in place for his marauding mouth.
Finally, she broke the kiss, now panting all over again. She cupped his face with both of her hands and peered up at him.
“I’m an excellent judge of character,” she whispered.
“In my experience, people who think they’re a good judge of character usually just haven’t had that particular skill tested yet,” he said, squeezing her hip tautly.
“What do you propose we do, then? Just forget all this?” she asked, glancing down between their bodies. She was very aware that during their passionate kiss, his body had stirred to life again…
Just like hers had.
He didn’t respond for a few seconds, in which her heart started to beat in double time.
“I’m not sure if I can. I damn sure won’t be able to, knowing that you’re here in town. When are you leaving?”
Her hands dropped from his face. “That’s not a very nice thing to ask at a moment like this,” she reprimanded him, frowning.
“I just meant, what are your plans? You never told me. You just ambushed me at the café, and I haven’t been able to think straight since then.”
She gave him a dark glance to hide her discomfort on the topic…to disguise her ignorance. She’d never engineered an affair; this was her first attempt. Now she might have to admit she didn’t know what the next move should be. Sensing his expectant stare on her face, she lay back on the pillows and looked up at the ceiling, feeling a little panicked.
“Don’t get pissed at me, Ursa,” he said after a pause. “I’m just trying to understand what you hoped to achieve by coming here, and how long you were planning on staying in Columbia.”
“How long am I planning to stay here and torture you? Is that what you mean?”
He reached and softly touched her exposed breast. His fingertips flickered across her nipple. The shock of pleasure that went through her, all from the most fleeting of touches, left her speechless for a moment. Then, he was covering the bare breast with her nightgown
, frowning furiously as he pulled the fabric down to her thighs. Still, his hand strayed back, touching the now painfully erect nipple through the satin of her gown, as though he couldn’t stop himself.
He finally removed his hand.
“Torture is one way to put it,” he said. She glanced over at him uneasily, hearing the tension in his tone. It helped, knowing he’d been as affected as she had been by that simple caress.
“I planned to go to Tahoe on Saturday, for the Memorial Day weekend, like I usually do,” she said, resorting to the truth in her confusion and ignorance. “But I took a few days off beforehand, to come here. To try and set things right between us.”
They lay separate now, neither of them touching the other. Ursa found herself hating even that two-inch gulf between them.
“Is this your idea of setting things right?” he asked.
His question irritated her. “I’m just being honest about how I feel,” she countered. “What are you doing, Z?”
His mouth tightened at that. Crap. She’d pissed him off. Abruptly, he rose from the bed. She stared, dread rising in her, at the familiar, intimidating—awesome—vision of his naked backside as he walked away. He bent, picking up his discarded white boxer briefs from the floor.
“Z?”
“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Chapter Fourteen
She heard him close the bathroom door a moment later. The faucet started running in the bathroom. She sat up in bed, straining to hear what he was doing. It sounded like he was washing. Was he cleaning up in preparation to leave? Her heart started to run a race as she envisioned him walking out the door, once again. She put her hand on her chest and willed the uncomfortable ache to stop.
This is what he’d been worried about, a voice in her head said. This is why he’s so concerned about hurting you. And then she clearly heard his voice in her head.
“You’re like a little lamb looking for a BFF in the slaughterhouse.”
Z had been talking about those sleazy guys on Internet sites who took advantage of vulnerable women when he’d said that. But did he, in part, compare himself to those ruthless, self-serving men?
She jumped at the sound of the bathroom door opening. She watched him, wide-eyed as he rounded the corner. The hair at his temple and nape was damp. He wore the boxer briefs, the stark white color appearing to glow next to his swarthy skin. He came back to the bed and sat, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress. He looked around at her.
“What about after Saturday? What then?” he asked her point blank.
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean… what happens between us?” she asked in an unnatural, high-pitched voice.
He just nodded once, his expression achingly somber.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“That’s not good enough, Ursa.”
A thick silence seemed to press down on her as she looked into his glittering blue eyes.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll drive away. Go to Tahoe. And we’ll both try to forget what happened here, between now and Saturday. We’ll make a pact never to sleep together again. Never to speak about it. Is that the answer you want?”
“I don’t know what answer I want.”
“Well that’s not good enough, either,” she replied hotly.
She saw him grimace before he turned away, facing the wall.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she said. “I guess you’re thinking that I started this all, so I should make me intentions clear. Is that it?”
“Why would you?” he asked, turning to face her again. This time, she saw the hint of bewilderment in his expression. “Why would you come here? Start all this again? I mean, things will never be the same between us. We’re always going to be uncomfortable around each other now, in Tahoe, around family. Reno would have made it bad enough, but now—” His glance went down to the rumpled bed, and he made a scoffing sound. Ursa knew he was thinking of what had just transpired in that bed, and seriously doubting it could be forgotten.
“I wanted to feel needed,” she told him impulsively. “I wanted someone to treat me like something other than a fragile virgin. And I wanted that someone to be you. Is that so terrible?”
“So you wanted a stud.”
“No! I wanted you, Z,” she exclaimed, desperate to make him understand. Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely sure why she’d gone to such extremes in forcing him to notice her. Engage with her.
Desire her.
He exhaled, his powerful back and shoulders slumping slightly.
“So what you really want is a few days and nights of sexual experimentation. Something to make yourself feel better as a woman,” he said, facing the wall again. “And you chose me, because—”
“I trust you, Z,” she said feelingly. He turned his head again. What she saw in his eyes this time killed her a little. Without thinking, she scooted across the bed and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Would it be so horrible? For you to love me that way, for the next few days and nights?”
She felt the air go out of his lungs and sensed his disbelief. “Horrible? Hell no. It’d be good, Ursa. Really good,” he added gruffly. “The horrible part would be what comes afterward, and you know it.”
She pressed her cheek against his back and tightened her hold on him. “What is it you imagine I’ll do? Make a scene? Refuse to let go?”
“No. I think you’ll start to resent me, once it’s over. It’s not the next few days I’m talking about. I’m talking about the rest of our lives.”
She leaned back. “Look at me. Look at me, Z,” she repeated urgently. She scooted back slightly in the bed to make room when he lifted his knee onto the mattress and faced her more fully.
“I am not going to resent you. I’m not,” she insisted when she saw his doubt. “I’m going to be thankful that you took the time with me. That you saw me as something different than fragile little Ursa. That you saw me as interesting and desirable and well…however you were seeing me when you carried me to this bed a while ago. I want that, Z. Even if only for a few days.”
“So this is all about you, then? About you feeling better about yourself?”
She faltered at that. Her gaze skittered away from his piercing eyes.
“It does sound selfish of me, doesn’t it?” she admitted after a pause. She looked up when he didn’t respond. “If you think that it could make you vulnerable to a relapse, or upset the balance of things that you’ve set up for yourself in Columbia with the new business and your new life, then you’re right. We shouldn’t do it. I want you to feel stable, Z. Happy. If this would help me, but harm you, then that’s not acceptable.”
“But would it really help you, Ursa?”
“I guess you think I’m being selfish,” she whispered, the harsh truth hitting her. She wasn’t used to being selfish. She was the one who always moved aside for another to pass her, who became quiet so that another would speak.
“I don’t think you’re being selfish,” he said impatiently. “That’s not what I’m asking. I want to know, would it really help you?”
She swallowed thickly, suddenly face to face with his simple, earnest inquiry. He clearly wanted the unvarnished truth from her in return. So she answered him honestly.
“I think it would help me. Do you know what it’s like? To exist in the adult world, like at my job, or with friends, or even with my sisters, and always feel a little bit like the outsider? The bystander?” She heard her own questions, and suddenly scoffed. “No. Of course you don’t. You were always the cool one. The one every guy wanted to be, and every girl wanted to be with.”
“I think your overshooting the truth by a mile, when it comes to me, anyway. Look at how badly I fucked up my life a few years ago. I’m hardly a glowing success story.”
“You are actually. You’v
e overcome adversity and achieved your dream: the bike business.”
“That story hasn’t completely been written yet,” he muttered wryly. “But forget about that. You were saying you feel like an outsider. Don’t you think part of that comes from being a child genius, graduating from high school and college early, and leaving the other people in your age group behind?”
“I’m not a genius. I hate it when people say that,” she said sharply, feeling edgy at the idea of Z marching to that stereotypical tune. She’d heard the word ascribed to her before, and always bristled when she did. It made her feel more distant from people… different, like they couldn’t relate to her or understand her.
Which maybe they couldn’t, but not because I had some super IQ.
“Sorry,” Z said, putting up one hand in a mea culpa gesture. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I’m proud of you for all you’ve accomplished. All the Esterbrooks and Becketts are.”
“Thanks,” Ursa mumbled, feeling a little melodramatic for snapping at him. “It’s just… I got those good grades and graduated early, not because I’m especially smart. I just worked hard. I studied hard. It’s all I did. And do you know why I did that?”
He shook his head.
“Because I learned from an early age to be alone. I was too weak to run around with the other kids my age. More often than not, I was too sick to attend neighborhood birthday parties at the beach or the skating rink. I couldn’t go to summer camp, like Sadie or Esme did, because the chances were, I’d be sick for at least some of the days while I was away. So I learned how to be alone. To amuse myself. One of the things I could always do was read. Dream… ”
“You always had a book in your hand when you were a kid.”
Wild, Wounded Hearts Page 11
