Chapter 22
Hearing the worry in Claire’s voice cuts at me, but feeling her soft lips pressing against mine soothes that ache. I have her in my hands, and as I clutch her sides, I feel better just knowing she’s here, with me, and still holding this passion that I can’t shake off.
The very idea of her doing something to turn me away is ridiculous, but I’m not shocked that she’s taken that route of wondering and fretting about where things stand between us. Avoiding her like I have been, I’ve given her nothing but every reason to assume the worst of this situation.
But it’s not her fault. None of this is her fault. Shying away from the depth of my feelings for her is all on me, and I hate that I went so far to push her away.
“No,” I tell her again as I walk her back to her still-open front door. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She peers up at me with wide, trusting eyes. I see the vulnerability there. She has a shaky, iffy trust in me now, but she’s giving me hope at the same time. I’m glad she doesn’t protest and demand that we stand out here and talk. Instead, she’s open and willing, maybe just as desperate as I am, to be led inside her cabin.
I kick the door shut after we enter, and I waste not a second to cup her face and kiss her soundly. Her moans make my dick hard. Every time she pushes up to secure our mouths in this sloppy, messy kiss, I want to growl. And when she slips her tongue out to find mine and duel, I stumble through her living room.
I kick my boots off and leave them by the door; I don’t want to dirty up her personal space by bringing the outside in here.
“Then why—” She pants hard, catching her breath as we cling to each other and weave our way toward her room. “Why—” She’s not stammering or stuttering, but confused and torn. I wouldn’t expect any less of her. While she wants me, she’s not a pushover to forget about the way I’ve shunned her after Denver.
At the door to her bedroom, she fists my shirt and sharpens her gaze on me. “Why did you dismiss me? Was I too needy?”
I choke on a laugh, incredulous that she’d ever go there. Too needy? “When the hell did I ever suggest that?”
“When…” She licks her lips, reaching for my jeans and sliding my belt through the buckle. “When you took care of me. When you treated me so affectionately. Like I was fragile and delicate—”
I pick her up and carry her to the bed, where I drop her onto the mattress. She bounces and looks up at me, grinning as I stare down at her. I’ve never wanted a woman more, and I hope I’m not making a bigger mistake by going weak with her.
Claire just gets to me, and I drag in a deep breath before I rush it all.
“I don’t want you to view me as needy. As high-maintenance.” She crawls onto her knees and comes to the edge of the bed. Pulling up at my hem, she removes my shirt. “I want to please you, too,” she promises.
I grin and watch her drag her hands down my chest. She traces her fingers along my waist, going back for my buckle. I haven’t ever doubted what she can do. She does please me, a lot, but I’ll let her continue to show it. If she was worrying that she was demanding too much of me, a silly thought that doesn’t make sense, I’ll let her appease herself by showing me otherwise.
“You please me, baby.” I brush her hair back from her face as she unbuttons and unzips my jeans. “Never doubt that.”
“Hmmm.” She pushes my jeans down, rubbing her knuckles along my erection confined under my boxers. “I want you to know I’ll take care of you, too…”
I hold my breath as she crawls off the bed. She keeps her hands on my jeans, turning me to give her room to reach the floor. Once she’s on her knees again, she pushes me toward the bed. Then she takes hold of my boxers and pulls them down.
I’m unable to look away. My dick springs free. The tip is shiny with pre-cum, jutting out inches from her face. Her eyes lock onto the sight of me hard and ready for her, and with a slow, sexy lick of her lips, she hints at what she plans on.
“If you’ll let me.” She pushes, urging me to sit, and she follows me to the bed.
I’m glad I took my boots off after entering the cabin because as she presses her fingers at my knees, I part my legs and let my jeans and boxers fall to the floor. They hang off one ankle, but she merely nudges the mess aside to kneel closer. And closer.
The second she touches the tip of her tongue to my dick, I tense. My abs contract, and I brace myself for the many hits of need that strike through me.
Dammit, she’s hot. She’s a wet dream come to life—no, she’s my dream. A bold woman who knows what she wants. A sensual lover who’s not afraid to go for it, either.
As she closes her lips around my dick, I groan and watch her suck the head in. Her cheeks hollow, and keeping her eyes on mine, she hums in appreciation.
“Baby,” I croon, sliding my hands through her hair to hold her head. “Damn, baby. Feels so good.”
She smiles around me, and as I stretch her lips, she sucks me further down her warm, wet mouth. Even though she’s tormenting me, taking this so slow, I can’t bring myself to push into her. I want her to take the lead. It’s ridiculous for her to think I was turned off by her behavior in Denver. She wasn’t needy. I just wanted the freedom to worship and memorize her so I could hang on to the memories after she’s gone. But I understand why she might need to do this for me—for herself. For her own sense of pride and power over me.
I don’t care. As she sucks me off, using a damning pressure with her lips and throat, I get closer and closer to shooting my load into her mouth. I realize I have no power to say no to this woman, and if that makes me the idiot, so be it.
I breathe faster and harder, feeling my balls tighten with the threat of an orgasm ending the fun. I flex my fingers, losing hold of her head, and as I firm the muscles in my legs, she strokes her nails over my thighs. She slows her up-and-down bobs on my cock, and as she pauses, catching her breath, she licks my tip like she’ll never get enough of my taste.
“Can…” I swallow hard. “Can you ride me?” I scoot back on the bed, not waiting for her answer. “If you’re determined to rock my world, I wanna feel you around me. I want to feel you milking me.” As I lie back, she stands and strips quickly. Then she dips down, sucking me into her mouth again before she releases me and reaches toward the nightstand.
She returns with a condom, which she rolls over me. Before I can speak or move, she straddles me and sinks down in a brutally tight grip.
“Oh, yeah.” I grunt at the feel of her sheathing me, and I let my head roll back onto the bed as she lifts up to grind back down. “Just like that, baby.”
She sits up more, giving herself a deeper angle. I clamp my hands on her hips to guide her, but I’m lost in the sight of her ravenous, lusty expression and her gorgeous breasts bouncing and jiggling as she picks up her pace.
“Like…that…” I growl, lost for words. I can’t even think, and I’m not sure I want to try. All I can concentrate on is the sexy woman getting herself off as she tempts me to let go.
Come on. You’ve got to get there first. I can’t without it. I grit my teeth, willing her to come with me, but she grimaces and falters.
“Please, Sawyer.”
“Come with me,” I argue, always ready to quarrel with her.
“No, I won’t.”
“Come with me, Claire!” I dig my fingers into her hips, falling just that much more in love with her because she’s so driven to please me. As if watching her ride me like a wanton, wild woman isn’t the epitome of all I want.
She tightens around me, then cries out. Her head drops back, showing me the art that her body is. The slender length of her neck, the generous swells of her breasts, and her flat stomach, all the way down to here, where we’re connected. She’s magnificent and raw, so full of passion.
All for me.
I know this now.
I should have accepted it earlier instead of being a coward and worrying about how to treat her. It’s clear. This woman just very well could be it for me, and I’ll be damned if I ever give her another reason to doubt my feelings for her, as complicated and undefined though they may be.
I lose control, giving in to the demand to come, and with a deep groan, I push up into her. Every fluttering clench of her muscles sucks me in more, and as I release into her, shaking from the intensity of my orgasm, I catch her.
She falls atop me, shivering and trembling, and I hold her tight as I close my eyes.
What have I done?
Coming here because I missed her felt like an impulsive decision, but sleeping with her again is anything but. A harder question follows up the first.
What happens now?
***
Hours later, once we’ve showered without a word, we sluggishly end up back on her bed. This time, we’re under the covers. I just woke up, shifting to get more comfortable, but for some reason, I remain awake.
In Denver, I had nowhere to run but to get coffee in the morning. Stranding her there was never an option. Here, though, I feel caught by the indecision of staying or leaving. I don’t want to be a coward. I don’t want to struggle with how hard and fast I’m falling for her when we both know the odds are slim that we can last.
I’ll hate myself if I go, but I need space. I need time. I need a slight separation from her to begin to come to terms with this. So, I ease out of bed and slip my jeans on. I don’t want to alarm her or wake her, and heading out to the living room seems like the only alternative.
As I sit on the couch and try to compartmentalize what I’m doing by letting Claire into my life, I zone out and eye all her things. I guess it’s less of a living room now, taken over by the evidence of her work. She’s transformed this cabin into a dress shop, and I smile at the faint and faraway fantasy of giving her the real thing. Her own dress shop, here, not in Paris. It sounds stupid and corny, like I’m grasping at farfetched wishes, but the more I really think about it, it doesn’t sound that bizarre. Why couldn’t she have a dress shop here? I bet she would worry about not having the same types of clients as she might easily find in Paris or a bigger city, but since when does a thing like distance matter in the age of technology and the internet? She could have her dream shop here, with me, and still reach out to clients from any niche of the world.
I gaze at her sewing stuff, knowing she’s not that different from me. She’s meticulous and incredibly talented, and most of all, passionate about what she makes. Just like me. My “creations” are locked in place here as buildings, but I know I could help make her dreams come true here, too.
But would she even want that? I can’t tell, and it frightens me how quickly my heart is following this pull to her without letting my logical brain catch up. I still have so much more to learn about her, but the infectious hope of her staying here while seeing her dreams come true is too tempting. It’s all I can think about, and as I head back to the bed and crawl in beside her, I want to hold on to the chance of us working out. She sighs as I pull her against me, and even though she’s asleep, I treasure the way she automatically leans into me and seeks me out.
I’ve always been guarded. Ever since a big-city woman wounded me, I’ve been cautious not to let another girl get close enough to destroy what’s left of my heart. Claire is breaking me out of that guardedness, though, and I hope I can have faith in not only her but the depth of her feelings for me.