“From my own apartment?”
The grin took on a mischievous slant. “Maybe from your bed. But look at you, still naked. I’m impressed.”
“I hope you were impressed before that,” he said dryly.
She sobered, the tiniest of nuances in her expression. Something he had no business noticing after less than two weeks. “There are a lot of things I could say,” she said, “but to be honest, I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
He forced a smile, then—because he knew she’d see right past that—he brushed back a strand of her hair and let his thumb trail over her cheek. And he wondered how, with all she’d done with her mouth, her lips could still look so perfectly pink. He hadn’t guessed that luscious color could possibly be her natural shade. He hadn’t guessed a lot of things.
“Just say it,” he said. “Whatever it is, don’t soften it.”
“I don’t think soft is much of a problem,” she said, her hand closing around him.
“And I don’t think that’s what you were worried about saying.” God, she wrecked him. He couldn’t have known ahead of time what he was getting into, but he should have. She was everything in bed that she was in life, only strikingly intimate. Everything wild and free about her had been his. And it terrified the hell out of him.
“Okay, fine.” She spoke softly, staring up at him from his jumbled bedding. From his pillow. “I didn’t think you’d go through with it,” she said, “and I figured when you did, you’d hate yourself for it. And I figured it might be awkward.”
He hadn’t thought it awkward then, but it had just taken a turn in that direction. And the fact that she actively stroked him didn’t do a whole lot to remedy that. But that didn’t stop him from getting hard.
Or wanting her.
“But it wasn’t,” she said softly. “It was amazing. Way too amazing for something that won’t last.”
And wasn’t that just the hell of it. He knew he couldn’t have her. He wasn’t ready for a relationship. He might have more questions about himself now than he’d ever had, but the one thing he did know was he wasn’t ready to let go again. Which meant now was the time to do it. Only she clearly had something else in mind, so rather than run from her, he kissed her. Just drew her in, felt the fires set around them, and pushed on, kissing her deeper, pushing away the ache and the uncertainty, knowing it would be back in force.
Knowing that because he knew it was good-bye.
He snagged a condom from her stash and rolled it on as he crawled over her, and before he could over think it and change his mind, he drove into her. The searing heat felt more like electricity. Like a blinding, beautiful thing where she was damn tight and he was a part of her and nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Just every soft curve of a body so essentially female, he couldn’t see her as anything less than perfect. He rocked against her, grinding that spot he knew she loved, while she clutched his hair, then she tore at the strands when he found her breast and sucked, hard. Despite his own body begging for the blessed relief of a frantic pace, he held on, pumping slow and thick, licking and sucking and driving harder, deeper, memorizing her every breath. She arched against him, then sank into the mattress, whimpering, when he found her other breast, then her neck, then her mouth. And still he held on, filling her so slowly, he thought he’d break.
And then he did. Fuck all, he shattered. Shuddering and losing it and so blown away by the intensity of his own orgasm that he could do nothing but hold on to the woman who’d brought him there. He wasn’t sure if the convulsions were hers or his, but either way they rocked through him, setting fire to his blood. Drowning him.
Awkward, hell.
It changed him.
He eased away from her, rolling over to land on his back. She didn’t move, other than to take his hand. It was enough.
It was brutal.
Because telling her they couldn’t do that again—not ever—didn’t seem like the best idea, he eased from the bed, losing her hand in the process, and pulled on his jeans. He didn’t bother to zip them, nor did he make the mistake of lingering on her sleepy, sated smile. At least not after the first time his gaze landed on her beautiful, perfect face.