Now, though, I didn’t want the foreplay. This wasn’t about physical gratification. This was that primal, life-affirming sex you have after a close brush with your own mortality. Brian, lover-extraordinaire, figured that out without me having to tell him. See why I’m selfishly holding on to him even when I think he’d be better off without me?
He played with me only long enough to get the worst of the stickiness off my nipples, then got down to business. Straddling my legs, he sat back on his haunches to open his belt and unzip his fly. He didn’t bother to take anything off, just shoved his pants and shorts down far enough to be out of the way, then kneed my legs apart.
Normally, I would have insisted on a condom. I’m on the Pill, but I believe in practicing at least two forms of birth control at a time, just in case one fails. But after last night, I wanted no barrier between us — wanted to feel nothing but him, stroking me deep inside, loving me with his body and his heart.
When he slid into me, it felt so right I couldn’t contain my moan. I pulled his head back down to mine and devoured his mouth. His hips started to pump — hard, jarring thrusts. I wrapped my legs around him and moaned.
He didn’t make love to me, not this time. He fucked me. And it was perfect. I came so hard I screamed myself hoarse. I hope the neighbors weren’t home.
When it was over, he was embarrassed by what he termed his lack of finesse. Still breathing hard, I reached up to stroke his sweaty cheek.
“There’s a time and place for finesse. This wasn’t it.”
“Yeah,” he said, and rolled off me. I don’t know if he was convinced or not. But at that moment, the afterglow was so wonderful I didn’t much care.
The problems started when I asked if I could borrow a pair of Brian’s sneakers. He’s bigger than me, but my feet are real gunboats, especially when wrapped in bandages, so I figured I’d be able to keep them in his shoes. He hadn’t minded when I’d insisted on getting out of bed and getting dressed. This, he minded.
“What do you need shoes for?” he asked me suspiciously. “You need to stay off your feet.”
I needed shoes because I had to visit Adam and see if he could exorcize my hidden demon. I planned to keep that little tidbit to myself. Not that I thought what I was about to say would go over any better.
I wished I could have gotten by without having this conversation, but it was inevitable. I sighed and patted the bed beside me. He crossed his arms and glared down at me stubbornly.
“You’re not going anywhere, Morgan.”
I begged to differ. “I have to.”
“Bullshit!”
I jumped. I’m not used to him getting angry so quickly and easily. It made me think I was having a bad influence on him.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I think someone’s really trying to kill me, and I’m putting you in danger by staying here.”
That got his attention. Color drained from his face. He didn’t sit on the bed beside me, but he pulled over a chair and leaned his butt on its arm so his eyes were closer to my level.
“You mean someone other than God’s Wrath.”
I nodded.
“Who? Why?”
I sighed. “If I knew that, my life would be a hell of a lot easier.”
Once I started talking about it, it wasn’t hard to convince Brian that I was right. He had to admit it was unlikely all this shit was suddenly raining down on my head by sheer coincidence. I didn’t even have to tell him about the mess with Val, which was a good thing, because I couldn’t imagine how I could explain it without telling him I was possessed.
Brian is in many ways the quintessential modern, sensitive man. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the same primitive instincts as other men buried deep under his civilized veneer. You can just imagine how much a man likes hearing that his woman is in danger and she’s going to keep away from him for his own safety.
I don’t actually remember much of the argument. I think my subconscious is protecting me from the pain, because it got pretty nasty toward the end. Brian bellowed at me, his face red with rage. This from a man who almost never raises his voice. I, of course, bellowed right back. We were so angry at each other it was lucky we didn’t resort to fisticuffs.
I slammed out of there, hardly feeling the pain in my tortured feet, at a little after three in the afternoon. I had a duffel bag with a change of clothes in it, Brian’s credit card, and two hundred dollars of Brian’s cash. He’d literally flung it at me when he realized that nothing he said or did short of tying me up was going to make me stay. Pride insisted I couldn’t possibly take his money after this. Practicality told me my other options were limited.
Practicality won out, and I spent the next few minutes picking scattered twenties off the floor while Brian just stood there and glared. I expected him to say something like “and don’t come back” when I walked out the door, but he didn’t.
For a while, I thought I’d have yet another crying jag, but I managed to keep the tears inside. He’d taken it about how I thought he would, and I was just going to have to suck it up.
I checked into the Marriott at the convention center because it was conveniently located. Despite my agonizingly painful feet, I had to stop by the mall and buy some replacement shoes and clothing. I didn’t try anything on. Somehow, I just wasn’t in the mood for shopping. Go figure.
I couldn’t get over the image of Brian yelling at me like that, of the raw pain that shone through his anger. Every time I thought of it, my eyes prickled again.
He was brought up in a world surrounded by loving, supportive family. They’d taught him that there was no problem too great to be solved, that love conquers all, that virtue shall be rewarded. It’s not that he believes we live in a utopia, but he thinks it’s worth reaching for.
Me, I was raised in a world full of anger, resentment, and bitterness. I’d learned how not to compromise from some of the best teachers in the world. I’d learned cynicism by the age of thirteen, and it was a lesson that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
I could never be a part of Brian’s world. Once you’ve come over to the dark side, there’s no going back to the light. But I could drag Brian down to my world without breaking a sweat. Today’s fight showed me he was already starting to skid down that slope.
I couldn’t let that happen. It would be like destroying a priceless work of art. I had to let him go before it was too late. Even if doing it would destroy a piece of myself.
At the hotel, I pinched my nose and forced down a rum and Coke on the off chance a little alcohol would make me feel better. It didn’t. But whoever was after me wasn’t going to call it quits just because I was feeling depressed, so I called Adam’s office. Naturally, he wasn’t there. I tried to convince the guy who answered the phone to give me Adam’s cell phone number, but he flatly refused. My charm was slipping. I left an urgent message for him to call my hotel room, then lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
After fifteen minutes of that, I felt even worse than I had before and was seriously considering trying a little more booze. Lucky for me, the phone rang. I think if I’d drunk anything, I would have puked.
I refused to tell Adam what I wanted over the phone — you never know who might be listening in — but he didn’t press too hard. He’d heard about the fire, so I guess he was being considerate of my frazzled mental state.
He was at my door in twenty minutes. It occurred to me then that asking a good-looking guy to meet you in a hotel room might be considered a come-on in some circles. I hoped like hell that wasn’t why Adam had agreed to come without asking any more questions.
He frowned when he saw me.
“You look like shit,” he said.
I opened the door wider to let him in. “Thanks for the pep talk.” I turned to look at him, remembering how I’d had impure thoughts about him yesterday, then remembering how I’d torn Brian’s heart out of his chest earlier this afternoon. It was all too much, and I felt my eyes welling up yet again.