Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
BIG PIZZA, big TV, big bed… That last part hadn’t been part of her thought process. Her conscious thought process anyway.
Somehow, it wasn’t weird.
When she’d walked into the darkened room, the lights flickered on, but gave them candlelight rather than the full overhead glow.
That was the moment she paused to wonder if this was a good idea.
Oh, if only she’d listened to herself.
Movies, pizza, being there with him again…
The credits rolled on the TV, that was the end of the second movie, the third?
She’d lost track. All she’d been thinking about for more than an hour was how well she fitted against her host. Tucked in at his side, head on his chest, this was home.
The strength of his arm across her shoulders felt so good that she didn’t want to give it up.
Neither of them moved.
Was Bastian asleep? She could do that. Close her eyes right there and live in the moment. They’d wake in the harsh light of day, sure, and she’d have to remind herself that Bastian wasn’t an option.
He wasn’t.
Yet he smelled so good, it was difficult not to turn her face against him and—her fingers opened, splaying against the stomach they’d rarely retreated from all night.
This was why staying with him was a bad idea. More than body heat sizzled between them. Static nipped and sparked in the air when his palm ascended her arm. Was that a conscious choice? If he was sleeping, it meant nothing.
If he wasn’t, it meant something, was that what she was saying?
Oh, men. Relationships. Life in general. Why did it all have to be so problematic?
His other hand met her knuckles on his stomach and started upward too. They came together cupping her face, drawing her up, like he just knew to capture her lips with his.
Not asleep. Very awake. And amazing. Completely amazing.
Rising, her leg trailed across his body, locking her pelvis to his as he sat up. His fingers ascended her back, coiling in her hair, pulling it back, exposing her neck to his tongue, his lips, his—
On an intake of breath, she meant to say his name, to say stop, but his hips came up, he grabbed hold of hers and—a long whine left her throat.
From way down deep in her center, the whine became a whimper, became a pant and, oh, he felt good.
His cock rubbed her just right, right there, that spot, over and over—oh.
She grabbed for his hand still gripping her hip as his other hand did the work of pushing her shorts aside and ah… Pure satisfaction became heat, need raced to be quenched, back and forth, up, he’d slide away and, mmm, ram himself deep.
Warmth, craving, it drove her to move faster until he flipped them over, took his place above her and hammered in fast.
This was them, the home she needed, the grounding point of him on her, controlling the pace, taking a piece of her, claiming it, claiming her.
What was wrong? Nothing. What was right? Him embedded deep inside her, plunging deep, stealing the oxygen that barely had a chance to reach her lungs.
She wanted—she needed—she—oh, she…
“Bastian,” she yelped, clawing at his neck, her body braced, frozen then, vigor returned in pure sated lust, a blissful moment where every atom in the universe clicked into its intended place.
All was right with the world.
Her muscles relaxed, her head sank into the bed and there it was, the spark in his eye, the dimple. Reality set in with rigid realization.
With a firm push on his shoulders, she wriggled out from under him. What was she thinking? Where was her sense?
“Babe?”
Showing him a halting palm, she swung herself off the bed. Oh, God. Why was she so weak? That was meant to be a judgment of her character, right up until her legs threatened to go from under her. Dropping, she sat on the edge of the bed.
She needed a minute.
When his fingertips met her waist, she flinched. Not in disgust but in frustrating desire. She wanted his touch, too much. Wanted it on her, everywhere, every minute. She wanted to go back to their Grand suite and lock the door for another four days.
This was dangerous.
Muscles tensed as her gut clenched and—she couldn’t trust herself and leaped up from the bed.
“Sweet…” he said, wary and slow. “Don’t panic, baby.”
Panic? Her? Closing her eyes, she raised an index finger and took a breath. What was she going to do? What would she say if…?
No. That wouldn’t go well.
She had to get out of there. Now.
“Harper!”
No. Rushing into her bedroom, she closed the door and flicked the lock. Had that been there the whole time? She paced away, back, away again. What was she going to do?
Fuck. Fuck.
“Sweet,” his voice again, right on the other side of the door. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
No. Her head shook as she went back to the door and rested her forehead against it.
“You did nothing wrong,” she whispered. “We did that.”
“We wanted it.” That he could hear her was some reassurance. Weakness surrendered her weight to the door. “We did nothing wrong. It’s not wrong to want this.”
“What we want has to be smart.”
This was messy. Too messy. They’d been lucky to free themselves the first time. What were they thinking repeating history’s mistake?
“Baby, being with you—”
“Don’t make it worse,” she said, her hand rising to slap down though with barely any force. “Don’t use words.”
“If you open the door, I wouldn’t need words.”
Yeah, okay. Did he have to say that? In that tone? With that… Oh, her stomach flipped. The solid door between them made no difference. Hormones communicated without words or actions, pheromones breached the physical to consume her spirit.
Her body still vibrated with the climax he’d driven into her, out of her, in and out and—stop. Stop it. All the thoughts she’d pushed down—deep, deep down—were threatening to spill out. Some sort of peace shook within her, trapped and surrounded by quaking barbs threatening to keep it from freedom.
Keep her from freedom.
“We’re supposed to be friends. Friends don’t do that.” Not the kind of friends they were at any rate. “We can’t let this happen again.”
Because he had no idea. Talking to Carolyn and Keely, telling them she and Bastian were over, was difficult. Nowhere near as hard as it had been to walk into his office and play it like losing him was no big deal. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Sweet—”
“We can’t,” she said. Except how could they stop it? They never planned to have sex, it wasn’t like they talked about it. It happened all on its own. “It’s lazy. It only happened because we were both there.”
In a bed. In the almost dark. A man. A woman. What else did they expect? It was a foregone conclusion, biology, lizard brain and all that… Good try. Chemistry couldn’t be faked. Bastian was the only trigger. She’d be able to lie in bed with any other man and avoid getting intimate.
“It meant something to me.”
Damn, now she wanted the sexy voice back.
The disappointment laced through those words was almost enough to break her heart.
She hadn’t meant to let him down. It was a kiss.
He’d kissed her. Okay, so it was more than a friend kiss, but she’d been the one to mount him. God, he was right to be disappointed.
“Do you want me to move out?”
“I want you to open the door,” he said. “Sweet…”
The sexy voice was back. “That’s dangerous.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
Her sharp inhale came before her jaw dropped. On a step back, she grabbed for the door handle. Lock released, it opened and… there he stood, in the dark hall, on the other side of her threshold.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“In any way,” he said. With one sure step, he cradled her jaw with both hands. “I’d never hurt you in any way.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she said, guiding his wrists downward to free her face. He’d held her like that in his bed right before… “We act too much on instinct.”
He wouldn’t let go of her hand, so linked their fingers instead. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s not that easy,” she whispered, emotion suddenly welling on her lower lashes. “We haven’t known each other long, I know, but being without you… If you hadn’t shown up at my dad’s party…”
“Do you know how grateful I was for that invitation? I couldn’t function without you by my side. Family, work, it all—”
“If we want to keep each other, we have to stop doing… that.”
“You didn’t like it? ‘Cause I’m damn sure you—”
“I did. I did like it and I did…” Being close to him, just thinking about orgasm threatened to shove aside her resolve. “What happens when we wake up in the morning? When the sun rises? I shouldn’t be thinking about how good you feel…”
“Think about that any time,” he said with a whisper of swagger as he rested a shoulder on the door frame. “Sweet…”
“We’re making a mess of this. A mess of a good friendship with sex.”
“Great sex.”
“If I’ve figured out one thing this week, it’s that you’re my…”
What did Roxie call Zairn? She couldn’t—they weren’t. That wasn’t it.
“Your what?” he asked, boosting himself from the doorframe. “What am I, Sweet?”
What he’d been from the beginning. “My white knight.”
His suggestive brow relaxed. “And the white knight would never compromise his princess.”
His next step was backward. The wrong way.
No. No. That wasn’t what she wanted.
In the times he got closer, her heart raced as her subconscious sped through the tantalizing possibilities of what might come next. Until the moment of his partial retreat, she’d believed distance was good. Experiencing it was something else. And nothing about watching him back off was good.
“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted.
How bad she wanted him to stay was part of the problem. The biggest.
He raised an arm to offer her a hand. And that was it, the moment she had to choose. Did she take his hand or turn her back? It wasn’t even a choice.
“No words. No sex,” he said, conveying he’d respect her wishes, not that she’d ever doubt that.
“Just let me hold you.” She wanted that.
“I need you near me. Everything else can wait until the sun rises. And I promise you, Sweet, the sky will not fall, not while you’re under it.
I give you my promise, I’ll always keep you safe. ”
Tomorrow was coming, no matter what. Would she be ready for whatever happened next? Her arm rose and their fingers touched. While the dark still held them, she couldn’t resist the option. As long as his hand was open, she’d fill it with hers.