Chapter 30
It wasn’t the confession of feelings she’d sought. It wasn’t a vow of trust or words of forgiveness.
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
But it was true. Real.
As true as the way he watched her, open and honest and humble. As if her granting him the right to touch her would be a gift. An honor.
As real as the way his thumb brushed back and forth under her ear. The fingers of his other hand moving down her arm, then back up to trail a wake of warmth along the side of her neck.
Any resistance Tabitha had blew away like smoke in the wind.
Oh, her doubts were still there, whispering in her ear. And her fears remained, as strong as ever, dark and heavy and intimidating.
But neither were any match for the hope that burned, big and bright and bold.
Or the want that vibrated, low and steady and warm, through her blood.
So, no, she couldn’t let this man touch her and not have her feelings involved.
But that was all right.
Because his feelings were involved, too.
Turning, she set the tote on the counter next to the sink, then faced him again. “I want you to touch me, Miles,” she told him, knowing he needed the words. Proud of herself for being brave enough to say them. “I want you to make me feel good.”
He inhaled, sharp and swift, his eyes flashing, and she thought for sure he would finally, finally kiss her.
He didn’t.
And it was hard to be disappointed when he grinned at her, slow and easy and so sexy it was a wonder her ovaries didn’t shoot off fireworks in honor of it.
Crossing his arms, he nodded at her shorts. “Take them off.”
Back to being King Miles. In control of himself and his actions.
In charge of her and her pleasure.
Her stomach tumbled with nerves. With excitement. The ache in her pussy intensified.
They’d played this game before. She knew the rules. Just as she knew who would wind up winning in the end.
And it didn’t matter that it wouldn’t be her.
She’d won other things.
Miles’s attention. His desire. A little bit of his trust.
And possibly, one day, even his forgiveness.
Who knew? She might even win his heart again.
That didn’t seem so far out of the realm of possibility now. Not nearly as much as it had a few hours ago.
Didn’t seem nearly as scary as it once had.
Holding his gaze, she slid her shorts down her legs. Unlike last time, when he’d watched her struggle to maintain her balance as she’d stepped out of her skirt, this time he steadied her with a hand under her arm.
Unlike last time, when she was unsure of herself and him, when she doubted her own instincts and his motivations, this time she trusted them both.
And after she stepped out of her shorts, she folded them into a neat square and handed them to him.
The heat in his eyes blazed hotter and brighter as he accepted his gift.
Oh, yes. She knew exactly how this game worked.
She couldn’t wait to play.
He set her shorts on the counter behind him without taking his eyes off her. “Pull your panties down. Slowly.”
She did, tugging the silky material of her lacy thong past her hips. Down her thighs.
“Stop.”
She froze, the elastic waistband of her thong holding them in place a few inches above her knees. Anticipation vibrated along her skin, strong and sharp, like electricity. Expectation and eagerness prickled the nape of her neck.
“So pretty,” he murmured. “The way you obey me.”
He finally touched her. Just his fingertips along the side of her neck, but it was enough to have her shaking.
“Look at you,” he crooned, eyes half-mast, smirk on his too-handsome face, a man well pleased with the sight before him. “Trembling for me.” He lowered his hand, sliding it just beneath the neckline of her shirt between her breasts where her heart pounded like a drum. “Such a needy, horny girl. I can smell how much you want this.”
She bit back a moan. Yes, she could smell herself, too. The potent, musky scent amplified her arousal.
Judging by the bulge behind his zipper and the way his breathing quickened, it amplified his as well.
Shifting toward her, he pressed his palm flat between her breasts, then gently touched her right knee with his other hand. He circled her kneecap, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to find some release.
He made a tsking sound. “Got yourself all worked up last night sucking my cock, didn’t you?”
She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. All her awareness was on his hands, the hot, heavy feel of his palm covering her heartbeat. The light, tickling sensation of his fingers on her knee. All her brain cells were working overtime, trying to figure out a way to keep functioning when the blood they’d been using for things like thought and reason had migrated to the pulsing point of her clit.
But then those fingers on her knee stilled. That hand on her chest slid up to cup her throat and gently push her head back.
“Didn’t you?”
She swallowed, loving that he felt it under his hand. That she trusted him to touch her this way. That she liked it.
“Yes,” she whispered.
And his fingers on her knee moved again.
This time up her inner thigh. Slow. Steady. Each inch bringing him closer and closer to where she needed him.
He made a sound, a rumble in his chest that vibrated through her, when he felt the slickness coating her inner thighs. Rubbed it into her skin. “So worked up. But you knew better than to try and make yourself come. You knew this orgasm belongs to me.”
“Yes,” she repeated, this time louder. Breathless.
And was rewarded for playing by his rules with his fingers fluttering back and forth along her slit.
“Now,” he said, rubbing the blunt tip of his forefinger along her swollen pussy lips, “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers and you’re going to come on my hand and give me what’s mine.”
“Yes,” she said again, hands wrapped around the edge of the counter, all restraint gone. “Yes. Please.”
She’d give him what he wanted. Would let him have her orgasm. Claim it as his own.
Claim her in any way he wanted.
“Good girl.”
He dropped a warm, open mouth kiss on her bare shoulder.
And slid his finger inside her.
She groaned, her hips thrusting forward.
He pulled his finger out, keeping only the very tip of it pressed against her opening, and she grabbed his wrist, holding his hand still while she ground down against him, bringing him back where she wanted him.
His laugh was dark. Pleased.
“Like I said…” He tugged her shirt down, exposing her breast. Bent his head and flicked his tongue over her peaked nipple. She arched into him. “Needy, horny girl.”
He blew lightly on her nipple, causing it to pucker harder. Curled his finger inside of her, rubbing it against the bundle of nerves behind her clit. Her fingers tightened on his wrist and it took all her willpower not to fuck herself with his finger like he was her favorite dildo.
“Hands on my shoulders,” he demanded.
The moment she obeyed, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. Hard. Slid his finger out of her pussy only to push back with the addition of a second one.
She writhed against him, her hips undulating, her senses full of him. The sight of his dark head bent over her breast, his mouth pursed around her nipple. His low grunts of satisfaction and the wet, slapping sound as he worked her core. The hardness of his shoulders beneath her hands. The slow and steady in and out stroke of his fingers.
He twirled his tongue around her nipple. Lifted his head. “Hold on,” he said, his voice low. Guttural. “This is going to get rough.”
It was a testament to how much she wanted him, how desperate she was to come, that those words didn’t frighten her. Not even a little.
They set her free.
Last night she’d told him not to treat her like she was fragile and he’d taken that to heart then and now. He added a third finger, stretching her in the best way possible. Gently scraped his teeth along her nipple.
Then quickened his pace, plunging into her faster. Harder. Fucking her with his hand the way he’d fucked her mouth last night. With complete and total abandon. Treating her not like she was broken, but like she was whole. Not like she was some fantasy he’d wished for, someone to be coddled and protected, someone he needed to save.
But like she was his dream come true.
Using his shoulders as leverage, she bore down against his hand, grinding against him. She couldn’t take him hard enough. Fast enough. Deep enough. Her breath sobbed out of her. She was close… so close… pleasure was building, building, building, but it was just out of reach.
“Please,” she gasped, rotating her hips, digging her fingernails into his shoulder. So close… so close… “Please, Miles…”
As if waiting for her to beg, he bit down on her nipple at the same time he pressed his thumb against her clit. Rubbed small, tight circles over it.
She began to shake. Legs. Arms. Hands. She’d been on the verge since the moment he’d wrapped his hand in her hair last night, but she’d held off, had held back because he’d been right.
This orgasm belonged to him.
She tightened around him, pleasure starting at her core before exploding through her body. Wave after wave suffused her and she did her best to catch them, to ride them out, her hips driving against the hard, quick thrust of his fingers.
“Give it to me,” he growled, lifting his head, his breathing quick and shallow. “Give me what’s mine.”
Eyes wide and on his, she spiraled higher and higher until she exploded, his name a moan, her body convulsing with her release, back arching, pussy squeezing his fingers. She let him see. See her most vulnerable.
Her most truthful.
Letting him see clearly and without any doubt, the power he held over her.
The power she gave him.
And as she came down, it was his touch that soothed her, his fingers still stroking in and out, but slower. Gentler.
His murmured, husky words that steadied her.
What a good girl she was to come for him.
How pretty she was when she did.
How he couldn’t wait to make her come again.
Slightly sore, mostly spent and completely satisfied, she collapsed against him.
Knowing he’d catch her.
He did. His free arm going around her waist. Trying to catch her breath, feeling suddenly, incredibly, inexplicably shy after opening herself to him that way, she pressed her face against his chest. Held on, her fingertips grazing the warm, soft skin at the back of his neck. The silky ends of his hair. Turned her head so that her ear covered the heavy, quick beat of his heart.
He kissed the top of her head—which made two kisses from him, neither close to her mouth, and yes, she was absolutely keeping track—then slowly withdrew his fingers from her center. She raised her head as he lifted his hand to his mouth. Watched as he sucked his fingers clean, his eyes shutting on a groan.
Her pussy clenched.
Guess she wasn’t so spent after all.
Or completely satisfied.
She reached down to cup him, but he stiffened and snagged her wrist. Jaw tight, he shook his head, the movement jerky.
Rejection slapped at her. Had her going cold and stiff, unable to move as he tugged her shirt closed, covering her breast. Slid her panties up her thighs. Keeping his hands on her waist, he leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing still erratic. “Don’t.”
She stiffened, curled her fingers into her palms. “Don’t what?”
Don’t feel like a fool? Don’t be hurt? Confused? Angry?
“Don’t think the worst. Not about this.” His voice dropped. “Not about me.”
She inhaled sharply. Oh, God. That was exactly what she was doing. Thinking the worst. Looking for excuses to put some distance between them.
Playing the same push/pull game she’d accused him of.
“You didn’t owe me,” she mumbled. “For last night. If that’s what this was.”
Just the thought of it, of him touching her that way, commanding her body with such ease and bringing her such pleasure when it might have been nothing more than a way to settle a debt owed, had her stomach churning.
“It wasn’t,” he told her.
“Are you sure? Because it sure seems like this was your way of making things even between us. Taking back that power you gave me last night after all.”
Lifting his head, he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not here to make us even. I’m here because I wanted to apologize for being a jealous asshole last night.”
“Oh. Well, in that case…” She waved her hand in a go on gesture. Crossed her arms. “Do continue.”
His lips twitched—she was getting closer and closer to that real smile—but his gaze remained serious. “I’m sorry for being a jealous asshole last night. I never should have acted that way.”
That was it. His entire apology. No excuses just… I was wrong.
It was surprisingly effective.
The truth often was.
“Making you come,” he continued, “had nothing to do with me owing you and everything to do with the fact that I can’t be around you and not want to touch you.” His voice dropped to a low, husky thrum. “And because I’m still a jealous asshole and I wanted to prove no one else can make you feel as good as I do. In case you were thinking of giving some other guy what belongs to me.”
He was talking about her orgasm, the one he’d wrung out of her, the one that had been all for him. But it felt like maybe that wasn’t the only thing he was talking about. Like she belonged to him, too.
Look, she’d come a long way in her personal growth. Had long ago stopped believing she needed a man’s attention to be complete.
But there was something about being claimed by this man that had her realizing that was only partly true.
She might not need a man.
But she wanted Miles.
After all these years and all their mistakes and all the obstacles between them, she still wanted him.
She was afraid she always would.
Was terrified she’d take whatever small bits of himself he offered her and convince herself those bits were bigger, more important than they really were.
“About your whole no one can make you feel as good as I do claim,” she said breathlessly. “I’m not sure we can categorize that as truth. Not without more evidence. Two or three more times should do the trick. Just to make sure.”
His eyebrows rose, his eyes turning the rich brown of dark chocolate as realization dawned and then he smiled.
All for her.
And definitely worth the wait.
“Baby, the only reason I don’t have you spread out on the floor devouring that sweet pussy of yours is because the next time I feast on you, I want to take my time.”
Laying her hand on his chest, she angled her body toward him, making sure her hip brushed the hard bulge in his pants. “You have somewhere to be?”
His hands went to her waist and he slid his hands under her shirt, his warm fingers branding her skin as he curled them around the upper curve of her hips, wrapping the elastic of her thong around his pinkies.
As if he wanted to keep her tied to him.
“Family dinner,” he said. “In twenty minutes.”
“Seeing as how you’re an expert at making me feel good,” she said lightly, edging closer so that the hard length of his erection nestled against her belly. “I’m sure you can get the job done at least twice more before you have to leave.”
“Well, now,” he drawled, wrapping the elastic of her thong around his pinkies again so that it stretched taut, digging into her lower belly. Pulling tight between the crack of her ass. “That’ll depend on you. And how long it’s going to take you to get ready.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” she promised him huskily.
He smiled again, this time warm and amused. “I meant how long it’s going to take you to get ready to leave.”
“Am I going somewhere?”
His grin turned rueful. “I meant to invite you to have dinner with me and my family after I gave you the ladder.” He drew her closer, his hands sliding back to cup her bare ass. “But I got distracted.”
Heart in her throat, she stared up at him. “You want me to have dinner with your family?”
“I want you to have dinner with me. It’s just that Sunday is family dinner night—”
“I know. Kat told me.”
“For someone who doesn’t like our family, Katarina sure doesn’t seem to have any trouble sharing information about us.”
“Not to worry. After that first night, she hasn’t bothered to say more than a grudging greeting if we so happen to pass each other.”
“Don’t take it personally. Katarina prefers to be alone.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tabitha said. “I think for some people it’s just… easier being alone. Less chance of getting hurt. I’m not sure many people actually prefer it.”
He studied her and she wondered if she’d said too much. If he somehow saw her loneliness and that was what this invitation was really about.
Pity.
Wondered if that would be enough for her to decline the invitation when she wanted to go so badly.
“I don’t like to skip it—dinner with my family,” he clarified, “especially with Verity leaving in a few weeks for college. But if you want, we can go somewhere else. A Slice of Sicily or The Oaks. But to be honest, you won’t get a better meal than whatever Toby’s cooking for us at Urban’s.”
That was when she saw the nerves in his eyes. Heard the uncertainty in his voice.
This wasn’t about pity. This was about him spending time with her.
Last night she’d told him exactly what she wanted, what she deserved. Effort. Trust. Forgiveness. And he was giving her all of them. Not with words, but in the form of a retractable fire escape ladder.
An orgasm that had left her seeing stars.
And an invitation to Sunday night family dinner.
She cupped his face, loving how his whiskers felt under her palms and the way his eyes shut momentarily at the contact. How he leaned his cheek into her touch.
Loving even more that she could touch him like this.
As if she had the right to.
As if he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.
“I would love to have dinner with you and your family.”
He blew out a breath. “Good.” His fingers tightened on her ass cheeks, the tips of his fingers fluttering against her crack. “It takes five minutes to get there.”
The gruffness of his tone, his hooded gaze and the way he was slowly, slowly dragging her thong down her legs once again, had understanding dawning clear and bright, like a summer day.
Basking in it like she would the sun, she settled her hands on his shoulders.
She was, after all, his good girl.
“I can be ready in eight minutes.”
“Seven minutes?” He lowered himself to kneel in front of her as he dragged her thong down. “Not quite the feast I’d imagined, but time enough for a quick appetizer. And at least two more orgasms.”
Eyebrows raised, hands still on his shoulders, she looked down at him. “Two? Someone’s feeling cocky about his abilities.”
“Not cocky,” he told her, lifting her left foot so he could take her thong off. He set her foot down and repeated the motion with her right one. “Confident.”
Then, tucking her thong in his front pocket, he looked up and shot her a grin, wild and wicked and warm.
And all for her.