Then he came back to himself, sprawled heavily on top of her. The silence in the room was deafening.
He lifted his weight up off of her. There was no sound but for their ragged breathing. Her face was turned away, only the delicate curve of her flushed cheekbone was visible. He felt irrationally afraid, as if he had ruined something as it was trying to bloom. Something as soft and fragile as a butter-fly.
He rolled off her, and she drew in a great, shuddering breath of air, her breath hitching in her lungs as if she were crying. He searched for something soothing or gentle to say, but his mind was blank, wiped clean by that mind-shattering orgasm.
She rolled away from him and got up off the bed. Her trembling legs buckled beneath her. She steadied herself against the wall and hurried to the bathroom.
The door lock clicked, loud and harsh.
He hissed softly through his teeth and sat up, burying his face in his hands. When a woman locked herself in the bathroom without a word after sex, it was not a good sign.
The rationalizations started immediately—hey, she'd been willing, every step of the way. It had just gotten out of control at the very end.
When it counted the most. Damn.
The silence was driving him nuts. He pulled off the condom and disposed of it, then lay back down on the bed, arms behind his head. He prepared to wait, for as long as it took. No way was he going to let their tryst end on this note.
It was a matter of pride.
Chapter 6
Raine crouched in the bathtub, shaking so hard that she could barely keep her balance. She lunged up for the shower nozzle, missed it and slid back, falling with a painful thud against the cold porcelain.
Shaken to bits.
This had been nothing like her fantasies. Nothing like the rude reality she had lived with Frederick. But the Frederick episode had been stupid and embarrassing, an error to forget and move beyond. Not like this. Not earth-shattering.
Her fantasies of how sex would be with a talented lover had been soft-focus and candlelit, glittering with tints of rose and gold like love scenes in the movies. Seth had turned on all the lights and left them burning: No soft, romantic dimness for him. Every detail of him was harsh and blunt and clear, his heavy, steel-hard body, his immense strength. His big penis, probing and penetrating her. His rough commands, his restless, ravenous masculine energy.
She felt ravished, plundered. She'd had no way of knowing that it could be like this to give herself to a man. No notion of how vulnerable her helpless, writhing response to him would make her feel. And now she couldn't stop shaking, couldn't calm down. She couldn't fall in love with a man just because she went to bed with him. She barely knew him. She wasn't even sure yet if she liked him. For God's sake, she was twenty-eight years old. She knew better.
And he was waiting out there on the bed, as lean and hungry as a panther. God only knew what he was thinking. She had to go out and face him. She clutched the sides of the tub with white-knuckled hands, shaking in silent convulsions; she couldn't tell if they were laughter or tears. Both, maybe. She had never felt so intensely alive. Seth had ripped a veil off from the world as she knew it, and every detail glittered with unnatural brilliance. The bathroom light blinded her, the white porcelain of the toilet and sink glowed as if lit from within, the plain metal faucets blazed like sunlit platinum.
She was coming unglued.
She finally managed to snag the shower nozzle, and bit her lip as she rinsed gently between her legs, wondering if it were always going to hurt that much. She had thought that Frederick had relieved her at least of the technical unpleasantness of losing her virginity, but she was not to be so lucky. Maybe there was something anatomically wrong with her. She wouldn't be at all surprised.
Granted, Seth was much more generously endowed than Frederick. But she'd been so excited. She was still shivering with unrelieved tension, despite the stinging between her thighs. The man was addictive. Even if it hurt again, she wanted more of him.
If he was still there. It was completely quiet in the room outside.
The thought slipped into her mind with the sneakiness of a cold knife between the ribs. Maybe history would repeat itself, and she would come out of the bathroom to find the room empty.
She turned off the water, held very still, and listened.
Nothing. She finished washing up with mechanical motions. Whether he was or whether he wasn't, she would know as soon as she opened the door. There was no point in working herself into a state.
Time enough for that later, her sarcastic inner voice commented.
She flung her hair back over her shoulders, unlocked the door, and marched out into the room.
He was there. Oh, God, was he ever. The whole lean, dark, muscular length of him, lounging on the bed, and managing somehow to look both relaxed and dangerous. A smile of pure joy and relief took control of her face. His heavily muscled arms were folded back behind his head, showing off thick, silky tufts of dark armpit hair. His big, thick penis was flushed and erect against his flat belly, swelling and stiffening before her eyes.
“You OK?” His dark eyes were keen and watchful.
She nodded, trying to wrestle down the silly smile on her face.
“Did I hurt you?”
She hesitated, and his eyes narrowed, silently demanding the truth. “It's all right,” she said shyly. “I know you tried not to.”
He sat up, his expression darkening. “I'm sorry,” he muttered.
“No, really, it's OK,” she hastened to reassure him. “The first part was wonderful—”
“Which part?”
“What you did with your hands and, um, mouth,” she stammered.
A smile dawned slowly on his face. She blushed, and took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue. “And the rest was... intense. Exciting,” she finished, in an embarrassed little rush. “I loved it.”
The grin changed his face completely, making her realize how habitually grim his expression was. His smile lit up the room. She couldn't help but smile back at him.
He held out his hands. “Grab some condoms and get over here.”
A hot glow of anticipation pulsed between her legs “Already?”
“I just want them handy, that's all,” he said. “There’s no rush.”
Raine licked her lips nervously. “How many?” she whispered.
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “You tell me, sweetheart.”
Hah. He would learn what it meant to challenge a pirate queen. She scooped up a double handful of condoms and stalked towards him. She flung the condoms onto the bed and looked down at him with what she hoped was a cool, challenging expression.
“No, Seth. You tell me,” she said softly.
His grin faded and was replaced by a look of total concentration. She drew herself up, resisting the urge to cover her body with her hands, and quietly bore the weight of his scrutiny.
His eyes narrowed, as if he had discovered something unexpected. “You're no butterfly,” he said, almost to himself.
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“Not a flower, either.”
Raine gazed down at him, trying to interpret his cryptic remarks. “I don't understand,” she said
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “You're not as fragile as you look,” he said brusquely. “That's all I meant”
She felt a bright, warm stirring of pleasure. He could not have given her a compliment that would have pleased her more.