A shiver wracked his body, even though his skin burned against her hands and she knew he was as close as she was. He backed away and took her hand to lead her up the stairs but she slipped her hands beneath the elastic of his boxers and pushed them down his hips. Once again he did not disappoint and she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed, dragging a ragged groan from his lungs.
“Sophie, wait.”
“No. Here. Now.” She leaned against him and bit at his lip, her hand in the center of his chest, pushing at the rock hard wall of muscle. She held his gaze, on solid ground. This was sex. This she knew. “Now.”
She pushed him, straddling his hips as he sank to the steps.
“Sophie, not like-”
She cut off his words by covering his mouth with hers and lowered herself, taking him into her body. He was hot and hard and huge and she closed her eyes against the sensation of being filled. “You want me.”
“Yes.” His hands gripped her hips, his fingers dug deep.
“Then take me.” She arched her back, forcing him deeper, opening her eyes to watch his slowly close, his dark stubbled jaw clench, his beautiful body go completely rigid. Then she began to move, slowly at first, then hard and fast as she felt her own climax coming.
With a cry she came and slumped forward, catching her hands on the step above him. She kissed him hard and he groaned into her mouth as his hips jerked wildly. Then his back went rigid and he thrust with staccato beats of motion as he found his own peak.
Breathing like he’d run a race, he collapsed back against his elbows and let his head fall back against the stairs. For a few seconds neither of them said anything, then Sophie rolled away to sit on the step below him, feeling relaxed and… damn good. She lightly patted his thigh, but he stiffened, drawing away. Twisting to look at him, she found him staring at her, not with sated pleasure, but raw anger.
“What,” he said harshly, “the hell was that?”
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday, January 17, 12:05
A.M.
Sophie’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“You heard me.” He twisted to his feet, leaving her sitting naked on the step staring up at him. He grabbed his boxers and pulled them on, then disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back he was wearing his pants and carrying her clothes. He tossed them to her but she made no move to catch them.
Her whole body was numb, but no longer with pleasure. “Why are you so mad?”
He stared down at her, fists on his hips. “You’re kidding.”
“You wanted me. You had me.“ A wave of fury made it past the numbness and she lurched to her feet. “What is your problem anyway? Wasn’t it good enough for you?” The last she added with a sneer, because hurt was moving in, pushing her anger aside.
“It was damn good. But that-” he pointed to the steps, “wasn’t what I wanted. That was…” His mouth flattened and so did his voice. “That was fucking.”
The crudity hit her hard. “And you feel so used? You got what you came here for, Vito. If the delivery wasn’t to your liking, well, at least it was free.”
He faltered. “Sophie, I didn’t come here for… I came here to…” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “To make love to you.”
The very words mocked her. “You don’t love me,” she said bitterly.
He swallowed hard and seemed to be choosing his words. “No. No, I don’t. Not now. But someday… Someday I could. Sophie, have you never made love?”
She lifted her chin, tears dangerously close. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”
He exhaled. Then leaned over and picked up her underwear. “Put them on.”
She swallowed the lump that had taken over her throat. “No. I want you to leave.”
“And I’m not going to until we talk.” He was gentle again. “Sophie.” He shook his head and held out her underwear. “Put them on, or I’ll put them on you myself.”
She had no doubt that he would so she snatched them from his hand. She jerked them up around her hips and held out her hands, still nude except for the panties. “Satisfied?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Not even close.” He pulled the sweater over her head like she was five years old. She elbowed his hands away.
“I can do it,” she gritted. She pushed her arms through the sleeves and pulled on her pants. “I’m all dressed now. Now get the hell out of my house.”
He pulled her across the living room. “Stop fighting me.” He pushed her to the sofa.
“Stop being an asshole,” she shot back. Then she crumpled and the floodgates crashed, letting the tears come. “What the hell did you want from me?”
“Obviously not what you know how to give. Not yet anyway.”
Furiously she wiped her cheeks. “I haven’t been with a lot of men. Surprised?”
He still stood, fists back on his hips. He was still angry, but now his anger no longer seemed directed at her. Big fucking deal. Hers was still directed at him.
“No,” he murmured. “I’m not surprised.”
“But no customer has ever been dissatisfied with the sex. Until you.”
He winced at that. “I’m sorry. I wanted you and it had been a long time and… Sophie, what we just did was incredible. But it was… just sex.”
She drew a deliberate breath. “And you expected what? Moonlight? Music? To hold me afterward and murmur promises you don’t intend to keep? No, thank you.”
His eyes flashed. “I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”
“How gallant of you.” Then she dropped her head against the sofa, suddenly so weary. “You said you wanted it fast, so I did it fast. I’m sorry if you were disappointed.”
He sat beside her and she flinched when his thumb caressed her cheek. “I said I couldn’t go slow.” He slid his fingers through the hair at her nape and tugged her to face him. The smooth timbre of his voice had her heart pounding again, but she refused to open her eyes. “That’s different from racing to the end because that’s all there is.” He kissed her eyelids, then both corners of her mouth. “There were so many things I wanted to do with you. For you.” His mouth covered hers, sweet. Patient. “To you.” She shuddered and felt him smile against her lips. “Don’t you want to know what all those things are?” he teased and every nerve ending buzzed.
“Maybe,” she whispered and he chuckled, rich and deep.
“Sophie, any two people can just have sex. I like you. A lot. I wanted more.”
She swallowed hard. “Maybe I can’t give you any more.”
“I think you can,” he whispered. “Sophie, look at me.” She forced herself to look up, dreading what she’d see. Sarcasm and scorn she could take. This she knew. Pity would be harder to swallow. But her breath caught in her throat because what she saw in his eyes was desire, tempered with tenderness and even a little self-deprecating humor. “Let me teach you the difference between fucking like minks and making love.”
Deep down she’d known there had to be something more, that she’d never really shared what people in real relationships had. Deep down she’d always known she’d only… she winced. Fucked like a mink. Somehow it had always been simpler to keep it to that. But deep down, she’d always wanted to know the difference.
He nibbled at her lower lip. “Come on, Sophie, you’ll like it better.”
Sophie eyed the stairs. “Better than that?”
He smiled, sensing victory. “I guarantee it.” He stood and held out his hand.
She eyed his hand. “What if I’m not completely satisfied?”
“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.” He pulled her to her feet. “If you’re not satisfied, then I guess I’ll have to keep working until you are.” He cupped her jaw, his lips grazing hers. “Come to bed with me, Sophie. I have places to take you.”