“Sure.”
“You’re still at the address you gave me last week when you called?”
“I am.”
They disconnected, and it was only after he heard her say “good-bye” that he started shaving again. When she walked into the bathroom, he watched her closely. He was still shaving, but his eyes followed her as she grabbed the toothbrush he’d put in the holder for her. She couldn’t shake his gaze, and every time she peered up to him, he was either looking at her or his focus moved quickly to her.
She hopped in the shower, assuming he’d be gone by the time she finished. It wasn’t that she wanted him gone, but he was off in some way. She was too, thanks to the phone call. She didn’t know how to answer Harold, and she didn’t know how to figure it out. Of course she wanted to stay in Savoy, but she also wanted to know there was reason for her to stay. She simply had no idea if things had actually changed since the last time she left. He felt sorry for her, and that was nothing to build a relationship on.
When she stepped out of the shower, he was there, sitting on the counter, naked, aroused, with his gaze searing into her with his dark eyes. She jumped, and he gave her no reaction. He looked entirely too serious given the state of his body. He hopped from the counter, reaching out for her hand. She gave it willingly as he pulled her to the counter, turning her around to face it. His silent, cool demeanor was both intimidating and arousing, and when he reached around her upper arms, pinching her nipples between his fingers, she let out a strangled cry and wet heat flooded her sex. He still remained quiet.
She could feel his arousal against her back when he closed the space between their bodies, and with a hand on her shoulder, he leaned her body forward. Not to the counter, just enough to push her bottom out but keep her upright. There was a throbbing wave of need coursing through her now, and when he reached between her thighs as he leaned down and bit her shoulder, she yelped. He pushed her thighs apart with his hand, and then his fingers were toying with her. He ran them between her lips, tickling and taunting. She was wet, and he hummed in her ear as he massaged the folds of her pussy.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” She didn’t really care if he was, so long as he didn’t leave her in this state.
“No.” Warm breath against her neck as he spoke heightened the intense warmth that was seeping from her body. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No.” He thrust his finger into her just as she said the word, and it came out on a gasp of breath.
“What do you want me to do to you?”
She whimpered. He was going to make her beg. “Fuck me.” Again it came out rasped through a groan as he plunged another finger inside with the first.
“Such language for a sweet little thing like you. Try again.”
“Make love to me.”
“Now, that I like.” He pulled his fingers from her, and when he started rubbing his cockhead through her moisture, he leaned to her ear, watching her closely in the mirror. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the sound of the word fuck when you’re moaning it as I pound into you.” He moved to her other shoulder, kissing it gently before looking back to her in the mirror. “But I’m concerned you may be confused on exactly what it is we’re doing together.” His voice was deep, slow, and simply oozing with masculine control. “Keep those palms on the counter.” She nodded, and then she felt the pressure.
He was pushing into her, distending her and slowly forcing his way up into her body. There was nothing quite like the filling sensation as he entered her body. She just watched him in the mirror over her shoulder. His hands were on her hips, and her palms were on the counter. His grip was tight, and he was holding her in place as he moved up into her.
She was quite certain she had no business allowing this to happen when she was so thoroughly confused about her place in his life, but with his erection planted firmly in her gut, there was no denying him. His eyes were intense, his expression was likewise, and as he pulled out, almost leaving her, his expression didn’t change. This was calculated torture—blissful torture.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” He pushed slowly into her again as he spoke.
She groaned. “Harold. My PO.”
“What were you talking about?” He slid gently back out again. She said nothing for a moment, and he sank back into her core. “Answer me.” He pushed marginally deeper, and it ached as he pushed her limits.
“Darren!” It was strangled as it came out.
“Tell me.” He froze in place, waiting. The fullness was almost painful but so incredible.
“He asked if I was returning to Memphis.” Darren’s lips twitched in a snarl for a moment before he pulled out of her entirely. His teeth nipped her earlobe, and she started panting. She was empty, and she hated it. He was trying to drive her insane, and he was doing a damn fine job at it.
“And what did you tell him?” He pushed just the head in, teasing her entry.
“Please.” She wasn’t begging him to stop questioning her; she was begging him to fuck her, and she expected he knew it perfectly well.
“No. What did you tell him?”
“I said I didn’t know.” She forced herself to hold his eyes. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
“Don’t you?” He inched in as he studied her and waited for a response.
“No.” He pulled her hips back as he ground his pelvis against her bottom.
He stilled, studying her, and she watched as he swallowed over a lump in his throat. She had no idea what he was thinking, but after he stared at her for a few moments, he gave up whatever the fight was, if one could call it that, and he started plunging, pounding, and forcing himself up into her. She kept her palms in place, and he used one hand to tease and rub her clit, while his other gently gripped the front of her neck, holding her body still with his chest to her back. He watched her in the mirror, never looking away from her eyes as he humped. She could feel his breath against her neck as his breathing sped and lurched. Hers did too, and when his jolting thrusts put her over the edge, and his fingers that were stroking her sent her mad, she collapsed against the countertop, spasming in torrents of pleasure. He thrust hard to her center one last time, and with gritted teeth and a pained look on his face, he came inside her.
He was bent over her collapsed body, breathing against the back of her neck. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her back, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart as he relaxed.
“Stay.” He stood, stepping away from her and moving beside her, clutching the edge of the countertop in his hands. He stared at his own reflection as he waited for her to say something. He looked horrified or maybe terrified. Whatever it was, it wasn’t happiness.
She righted her posture. She hated this. She loved him. She wanted him, and he was asking her to stay. She could have what she wanted. He was standing there, watching, waiting for her to give in, but there was no ignoring what wasn’t being said.
“Do you forgive me? Have I suffered enough to make up for what I took from you?” Her voice was shaky, and she could barely look at him. She swallowed over a lump in her throat, and she could feel her brow wrinkling. She waited, knowing this was going to hurt.
“I. . .” He shook his head as though he were stunned, confused. “I’m not angry . . . anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. I just. . .” His voice was lurching, and he was breaking her heart. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear—what she needed to hear. She hadn’t expected it would be.
“No, it’s fine. I understand. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her words were rushed out quietly as the knot in her stomach left her wanting to double over in pain. But rather than share her pain, she stood beside him for a moment. His body was rigid, and she was chewing viciously on the inside of her cheek to keep her reaction calm. “It’s okay.” She turned and walked out. It wasn’t okay, and it was never going to be.