I watch him under the moonlight that illuminates the room. It’s sexually exhilarating—the way his eyes stay on mine. The way they communicate his desire and desperation.
“Turn around,” he instructs as he unfastens the buttons on his dress shirt.
I want to question him, but I know better. Instead, I turn so my back is to him, oblivious to what’s going on behind me.
“Jesus,” he growls. I hear shuffling behind me but don’t chance a look. The anticipation leaves me wet. Maybe this is part of his game—to cause an ache so intense I want to beg for him.
I hear his footsteps on the marble floors. I inhale a sharp breath when his hands cover my hips, sliding under the curve of my ass. On instinct, my head falls back against his shoulder, allowing me to sink into him. To give him the control I know he craves.
He kisses the side of my neck while his hands splay against my stomach. “Lila,” he murmurs against my skin. “Do you know all the things I want to do to you?”
His fingers slip into the front of my panties. I moan, rocking my head back. His actual touch is so much better than the anticipation.
“Tell me what you want. Tell me where you need me,” he demands, teasing me by sliding his fingers a little lower.
“Touch me,” I beg, wiggling against his palm.
“I think I’m already doing that. You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
He’s so in control, and I’m so out of it. I grip his wrist, placing his hand lower, exactly where I need it. He takes the hint, curling his finger into me. “Feel what I do to you.”
I whimper, wanting more. Fast, slow . . . I don’t care. He uses his body pressed against mine to move us forward to his bed. It’s the first time I panic, or maybe the wine is starting to wear off. When my knees touch the bed, the thoughts of the two other men I’ve been with flood my mind. It shouldn’t be this hard, but I just got over one, and then Blake . . . I still think about him all the time.
Closing my eyes, I push all those thoughts away, bringing myself back to the moment. Pierce isn’t Derek, and he’s definitely not Blake. I press my lips together to keep myself from stopping him.
He craves me.
If I let him have what he wants, maybe he’ll make me crave him too.
Before I get a chance to crawl on top of the bed, he unclasps my bra, letting it fall to the floor. His hands come around, rolling my nipples between his fingertips. I’m wound tightly, the pressure between my legs increasing.
“I have rules,” he says, still teasing my sensitive skin. “I don’t come until you come. Your eyes stay on me while I fuck you. And . . . you sleep naked in my bed when we’re done. That is, if we ever finish.”
I swallow, gripping the high thread count sheets between my fingers. “I only have one rule.”
His fingers still. “What’s that?”
“Don’t hurt me,” I whisper.
His hands slide down the curve of my back then curl around my hips. “I couldn’t,” he answers, pressing his lips to the center of my spine. His voice is smooth and comforting. I wish I could wrap my arms around it and hold it tight.
Without warning, he flips me on my back. He slowly stands back up, holding me to him with his eyes. I watch as his shirt falls to the floor first followed by his suit pants. My gaze falls to his muscular chest before going further to his defined, narrow abs.
“Are you staring?”
“Maybe,” I answer, squirming under the weight of his eyes.
He ups his game, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and slowly inching them down his thighs. He’s magnificent . . . there’s no other way to put it. Watching him is making my stomach twist into knots. I wonder how many women he’s had before me, and how I even compare.
“I see you thinking. Stop thinking.” He kneels in front of me, hooking his fingers in the side of my panties to slide them off.
This is it.
This is that make-me or break-me moment.
He comes back up the length of my body, peppering my stomach and breasts with soft kisses. “Just feel,” he says against my lips before moving back down. He laps at my breasts then sucks my nipples. I curve into him, threading his hair between my fingers. The light stubble that covers his jaw line feels amazing against my skin.
He moves down, brushing his lips over my stomach. I know where he’s going, and I want it . . . I want him. He slips down out of my reach, kissing between my thighs. I whimper, buckling under him. I literally ache for more.
His mouth works me perfectly, sucking, teasing with his tongue. The build-up from everything else he’s done only allows me seconds before the familiar tingle has me breathing faster, gripping the sheets tightly. Lapping. Sucking. He’s pushing me up Mt. Everest. I wrap my legs around him, throwing my head back as the orgasm rips through my body.
“Oh God!” I scream as the last current flows through me.
My body is pliant. He traces his tongue up my stomach between my breasts, and when he kisses me, I remember why.
“I love hearing you scream.” He nibbles on my neck, brushing his palms over my nipples.
He sits up, staring down at me. “Eyes on me.” I watch as he picks up a condom from the side of the bed, carefully rolling it on his hard length.
Something inside me shifts. I realize that for the last few minutes, it wasn’t Pierce between my legs. It wasn’t Pierce who’d carved his way into my subconscious. Old wounds haven’t healed enough to allow new ones.
Tears fill my eyes. What have I done? What am I doing? This girl is lost somewhere in a dark, unforgiving hole . . . and she just wants out.
I feel him at my entrance, and I panic, bracing my hands against his chest. “Stop! Please, stop!” I yell.
He’s paralyzed, looking down at me with concerned eyes. “Am I hurting you?” he asks, his voice trailing off.
“Yes,” I say honestly.
He flinches.
“It’s not what you think.” I pause, squeezing my eyes shut to hide from the disappointment in his eyes. “I’m not ready. I thought I was, but I can’t. I just can’t.”
He lifts off my body, withdrawing from me. The tears spill over. God, I hate this . . . all of it. Why couldn’t I have fallen for Pierce first? What if he would have asked to see me again when we got off the plane? What if I would have called him sooner? Life is a bunch of stupid what ifs.
“Does this have to do with him?” Pierce asks, standing with his back to me.
I could lie. Tell a figment of the truth, but I’m already lying naked in his bed. There’s no point in hiding.
“Yes.”
THIS HAS TO BE THE WORST silence I’ve ever experienced. Like a coward, I don’t want to wait to see his reaction. I carefully scoot to the edge of the bed until my feet hit the cold, hard floor. The room is dark, and my clothes are scattered everywhere. I pick up my bra and panties near the foot of the bed and put them on as fast as I can with trembling fingers.
My dress is in a heap on the floor where Pierce slid it off me. It was so hard to squeeze into in the first place; there won’t be anything quick about putting it back on.
“Here,” Pierce says, tossing me his dress shirt. I eye it curiously, not sure what he expects. “You’re just across the hall. I’m sure you can make it without anyone seeing you.”
I roll the soft cotton between my fingers, hating him for being so casual and mature about this.
I quietly watch him pull his pants back on, not bothering with his belt. I want him to yell, tell me I’m ridiculous for letting myself fall for Blake. He’s thinking it. He has to be thinking it.
Nervously, I slip my arms in and then fumble with the buttons. The first tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. I don’t want to be this woman I’ve become, and I can’t rely on a man to find me.
“Will you let me help you?” I hadn’t even noticed Pierce standing in front of me. I let my hands fall away from the buttons. God, why won’t he just yell at me and get it over with. I need it to erase some of my guilt.