by Roni Loren
“That’s the thing. I don’t think. I know you are. But I’m not the one who has to be convinced. I’m not the one who’d have to take that leap of faith and put that much trust in me.”
He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his forehead, some of the heat that had flared between them going chilly. “I don’t know what to say, Sam. I just don’t think I can.”
A touch of sadness wrapped around her. She could hear the resignation in his voice. Even though the idea held some appeal for him, it had been too far out, too much. The demons were bigger. And somber reality settled in. It didn’t matter how they felt about each other. Some hurdles were too high. He couldn’t take that leap, and she couldn’t be a secret. Where could they go if those two things were immovable? Nowhere.
She needed to accept that. Had to. Otherwise they’d both be hurting each other even worse—over and over again. If they weren’t right for each other, they had to move on. Stop holding out, stop avoiding other relationships. She would make herself let go. She should be good at that by now. She’d done it enough times in her life.
She grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles, letting the heartbreak move through her. “Hey, it’s okay. Some things just aren’t meant to be, right?”
He closed his eyes. Defeated.
“Let’s not think about any of it anymore, okay? Not right now.” She was grateful her voice sounded ten times stronger than she felt. “Remember what we said yesterday. Real life can’t touch us here. This is the magic house where that can’t interfere. So right now, this moment, is still ours.”
“Baby.” He said the word like it hurt, his eyes opening to meet hers.
Her throat burned.
No. No, they wouldn’t do this. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to say good-bye. She didn’t want to feel this way tonight. Later. She would deal with it later. Alone. Not now.
“Come on. No more heavy stuff.” She tugged his arm and rolled onto her back, forcing him with her. “Let’s not give away these last few hours before the sun comes up. Make love to me, Gib. Like you offered in the bar. No roles, just me and you. Cool sheets and hot skin.”
He braced himself on an elbow, looking down at her, lines deep around his mouth. That pirate smile replaced with the gut-wrenching look of longing and loss and inevitability.
“Let’s give ourselves this. One more great memory.” She swept her fingertips along his jaw. “But when I wake up again, I need you gone. I promise I’ll call a friend to come out here and stay with me. But I don’t want good-bye. I have my own hard limits.”
His expression twisted into anguish, but she didn’t want that, didn’t want this to be a sad moment. She’d learned in life that sometimes things just weren’t meant to be. She’d accepted that long ago when she’d lost her mom and then her grandmother, when she’d seen those around her get adopted, when she’d seen kids with their happy families. Just because you wanted something, didn’t mean you got to have it. The universe was random and often cruel. So she’d learned to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy, those days, hours, minutes when things were wonderful. She wanted a few more minutes of wonderful with Gibson. She’d hold on to that. That would have to be enough.
So she lifted her head and kissed those lines of pain off his face and then found his lips. Once her mouth was on his, he relented. Maybe they weren’t meant to be, but their connection was electric. Anytime they touched, everything else seemed to fall away.
So though she rarely had vanilla sex anymore, she didn’t try to make this more complicated. Right now all she needed was him inside her, joining with her, giving her a piece of himself. Being there in the moment and knowing that on some level, they would always be connected in this way.
Gibson kissed her and braced his body over her, pressing his hot skin to hers. Hard against soft, rough against smooth. His hands roamed her body, her hair, her face, this undercurrent of desperation to every touch, like he was trying to memorize every part of her for safekeeping. She let herself get swept away in it.
“Sam, Sam, Sam.” The murmuring of her name was a steady plea on his lips, a prayer of reverence. And as he kissed along her throat, his cock grew hard and thick against her thigh.
She let her hands move along his back, through his hair, over his ass. Then finally, when she couldn’t wait any longer, she reached between them, taking the smooth length of him in her palm and stroking, rubbing her thumb over his slit and spreading the fluid there.
He groaned into her touch. “Need you.”
She shifted beneath him restlessly and positioned him against her, trying to convey the same words with her body. Need you. Need you. Need you.
He rocked his hips, dragging his length against her, driving pleasure up her spine with long, purposeful strokes, his body huge and hungry above her. Back and forth, back and forth. The heat of him grazing her clit with every thrust.
She writhed beneath him and finally pounded his hip with her fist. “Please, Gib.”
He nuzzled the spot behind her ear and nipped at her neck, the crescendo of his thrusts building. He shifted his weight and she thought he would enter her, but then he stilled. Tension rippled through his muscles.
“What’s wrong?”
“Condom.”
Fuck. They were in her bag on the other side of the room. She didn’t want to break the moment, didn’t want reality to encroach. Everything felt so fragile, the moment built on brittle, thin ice. She didn’t want to plunge into the cold waters beneath. Not yet. “I’m on the pill and just got tested last month.”
His breath puffed against her throat. “You know how long it’s been for me. I’m clean.”
Relief moved through her. Not until that moment did she realize how much she craved him bare, skin to skin, his release pulsing inside her. Even though this would be their one and only time, she could mark him and he could do the same to her. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Please, Gib. Fuck me before I flip you over and take it from you.”
“Well, don’t be tempting me like that.”
She smacked his ass in frustration.
He didn’t hesitate after that. He pushed her thighs wider and slid into her, his cock a sweet stretch of blooming heat inside her. His forehead pressed into hers. “Oh, fuck.”
Yes. Exactly. She groaned along with him and canted her hips. Not willing to beg but absolutely down with showing him exactly how much she wanted it. She dug her nails into the flesh of his backside, knowing those cane marks probably still stung, and his thrusts got harder, his sounds dirtier.
Her sweet, beautiful masochist.
The bed squeaked beneath him, the sound of skin hitting skin filled her ears, and everything else faded to the background.
She let herself fall. Into the moment. Into the sensation. Into the intensity of it all.
He battered her with his body. She battered him back. Tussling and rolling and fucking with a level of abandon that would leave them both bruised and sore tomorrow. Her lamp got knocked to ground, sheets came unmoored, hair got pulled. Then they tumbled to the floor, his body breaking her fall. He slipped out of her in the process but quickly she settled on him again, riding him and crying out like she was the one getting beaten. They needed the violence, the anger at the situation braiding in with the desire, turning it into something other, something uniquely them.
And when she screamed out his name, her orgasm steamrolling her, she pressed his wrists down hard to the wood floors and fucked him like she’d die if she stopped. He came hard inside her, his release flooding her with warmth and his gritty, sexy sounds filling her head.
The moment was perfect.
And beautiful.
And all too fleeting.
Hello. Good-bye.
And as they settled next to each other in bed a while later, sleepy and sore and somber, she couldn’t say
a thing. What was left to be said? Everything. Nothing.
She waited until he was asleep and then pressed her palm over his heart, letting it all come crashing down on her, letting herself feel it, letting it be real.
I love you, Gibson Andrews.
And now I have to let you go.
She rolled over, put her back to him, and after a long, tearful staring contest with the wall, finally fell asleep.
When she woke again, the bed was empty. He was gone.
A few hours after the sun came up, a crew of workman showed up at her door, all expenses paid, and took over her remodel.
Gibson could fix her grandmother’s house.
Just not what was broken between them.
Chapter 11
Gibson leaned back in his chair at the head of the conference table and massaged his forehead, trying to chase away the throbbing headache that had plagued him for days now. The meeting had been a productive one. His coworkers had been enthused about an upcoming launch and on board with his plan. He should be pleased. But he couldn’t muster up one positive emotion. So he was good at what he did. Yay, go team. Who the fuck cared?
Right now, he didn’t. At least he’d made it through the meeting without letting his foul mood show. Just getting through days lately had become some kind of mental decathlon. Since he’d left Sam’s place two weeks ago, it’d been a fight to focus on anything.
He tried to bury himself in his work, but as soon as he took a breath or closed his eyes, all he could see was her. Remembering how it felt to be with her. Imagining what she’d suggested over and over again. Sometimes it made him so hot and hard, he worried he’d ignite. His darkest, most shameful fantasy being played out. Force. Violence. Being at Sam’s utter mercy. Being hers.
But the reality of it, what the consequences would be—that could send him into a cold, wanting-to-vomit anxiety attack. Every time he’d picked up the phone to call her, that had stopped him in his tracks. And once, he actually had gotten physically ill.
He was such a fucking coward. He had a key to be with the woman he wanted most in the world, and he couldn’t get out of his own goddamned way. Weak. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and when that didn’t help, he slammed his fist on the conference table, the sound echoing in the empty room.
“Um, Mr. Andrews? You have a second?”
Gibson opened his eyes and turned toward the door to find Nicolette, a recently hired publicity assistant, giving him a tentative smile. She’d been the talk of the floor when she’d gotten hired—a former contestant on one of those reality dating shows. She’d made it to the final three or something, which apparently was a big deal. Not that Gibson gave two shits about that. She had a good degree from a tough school and knew how to be in front of a camera if needed. But half the male staff in the building and a few of the women looked ready to start a fan club every time she walked by.
Nicolette clutched her steno pad from the meeting close to her chest, obviously nervous.
Gibson tried to smooth his scowl into an expression more appropriate for work. “Sure, Nicolette. What can I help you with?”
Her gaze flicked down his body for a second then back up. Color stained her cheeks, and she pushed a long lock of blond hair away from her face. “I just wanted to tell you how much I’m learning from you. The launch you put together for the Victory Park location looks amazing. I never would’ve thought of half those things. And I can’t believe you got Wanderlust to play for the grand opening. That’s going to be such a draw.”
He smirked. “Don’t be too impressed by that last part. I have a good friend with connections.”
“Yeah, but connections are half this business,” she said, her voice earnest. “You’ve obviously built a serious network at a young age.”
“I’m not that young.” He couldn’t keep the wryness out of his tone.
She rolled her eyes. “Right. I just want to like drop to my knees and beg you to teach me everything you know.”
He lifted a brow at her wording.
She cringed. “Wait, that came out wrong. Shit.” She grimaced again, her face going pink. “Yeah, and cursing now. Sorry. You make me hella nervous. Can I start over? I’ll leave out the begging and kneeling parts.”
He smiled, hoping it came across as kind. “Was there a question involved in all this, Nicolette?”
“Oh, yes, right. God, I’m so not good at this.” She straightened her shoulders. “I was just wondering if maybe sometime after work we could go, like, have a drink or something. I’d love to pick your brain. And, you know . . . get to know you better.”
Oh. Oh. He’d gotten a glimmer before, but now he got the full picture. Nicolette licked her lips, her skin fully flushed now, and her nipples were hard points below her blouse. She wanted to have a drink. She liked him.
Well, fuck.
So much of what she was sending his way was what he always projected he wanted. Classically beautiful. Sweet. Ready to sit at his feet and tell him how great he was.
Amount of interest mustered: zero.
“Nic—”
She shook her head and sighed. “Ugh, God. Sorry. I can hear it in your voice. Ignore me. I’m terrible at this. I think being on that show broke my radar for knowing if a guy’s interested or not. You were looking at me in the meeting, and I thought . . .”
Had he looked at her? He’d caught himself lost in thought a few times. Maybe he’d stared without realizing it. “Uh . . .”
“Yeah. And I apparently read way too much into that. Now I get to be super awkward around one of the executives I work with.” She gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Super!”
A pang of sympathy went through him, and he raised a palm, already liking this woman more and more. Just not liking her like that. “Seriously, don’t sweat it. No awkwardness necessary. I’m flattered. And I’d be happy to have a business lunch one day and we can talk networking. But as for anything else, I’m pretty sure I’m not your type.”
“Gay?”
He laughed. “No.”
She cocked her head. “So smart, confident businessman is not my type?”
He stood, saw himself reflected in her eyes, how she viewed him. He was the guy in charge, the one who made things happen at work, the one to look up to. The alpha dog in his department. He’d honed that image.
It was the truth.
And a bald-faced lie.
All at the same time.
Nicolette had bought the image wholesale. It’s what he thought he’d always wanted. She was the kind of woman he’d dated all his life, the kind he’d played with at the Ranch. But staring down at this perfectly lovely woman drove it home that this would never make him happy. At work, yes. At home, no.
“It’s not that.”
She looked toward the door and then lowered her voice. “Is it the kinky thing? Because . . . to be honest, it’s one of the reasons I’m interested.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I mean . . .” She got flustered again. “There are . . . you know . . . rumors about you and your brother. The dominant thing . . . Oh, God, if it’s not true, I literally am just going to give my resignation right now and save us both the trouble. I’m never drinking a glass of wine at lunch again.”
He blinked. She’d heard rumors. She was looking for a dominant. Of course she was. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “Nic, you are barking up the wrong tree. I’m more the type who’d kneel at the woman’s feet than the other way around.”
The words slipped out, a thought that had snuck past the formerly steel gates, and he wanted to snatch them back immediately. He froze. What the fuck? He never slipped up. Never.
Nicolette’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Well. Oh.”
He grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Not appropriate talk for a work conversation. How did we get here again?”
/>
She waved a hand. “Oh, no, it’s fine. This is completely and totally my fault. And I didn’t hear a thing. I won’t say anything. I didn’t mean to—”
“But that’s why you’re asking me out? You’re looking for a dominant?”
Her face was so red now, she looked like she’d roasted in the sun.
He lifted a hand. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.”
Kade popped his head into the conference room. “You done for the day, brother?” Then he noticed Nicolette. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Oh, no problem at all, Mr. Vandergriff,” Nicolette said quickly, obviously flustered by the conversation and the appearance of the CEO. “I was just leaving.”
Kade tilted his head, sending Gib a curious look, but didn’t say anything more. He stepped inside as Nicolette practically ran to the door and skirted past him with a tight smile. “Have a good evening.”
Kade watched her shut the door and then strolled over to Gibson with a smirk. “Was it something I said?”
“No. More like something I said. We went from zero to inappropriate in about three minutes flat.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She asked me out. Apparently there are rumors out there that you and I are kinky bastards.”
Kade tucked his hands in his pockets, his tie already loose in honor of the end of the day, and gave him a smug smile. “Well, we are. So what’d you tell her?”
He looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “I may have told her that I’m not her type because I’d rather be at a woman’s feet than have one be at mine.”
“No shit?” Kade asked, not hiding the shock in his voice.
“I don’t even know why I said it. It just . . . came out. I think it’s the lack of sleep.”
“You told her and the world didn’t end? Alert the presses.”
He peered over at his brother. “Shut up.”
Kade simply smiled. “Seriously, though, that’s a big deal. She could tell other people. Your whole department could end up knowing. Gibson the slave.”
