by Tawny Weber
"Fine," he said. "Go pack a bag. We'll find a hotel."
Amanda gazed up at him from a face that seemed to pale in an instant.
Yeah, that's what he thought.
She didn't really want what she was asking for, and he'd just called her bluff. Two could play this little game.
"So, you're not quite ready," he said. "Fine, we'll wait as long as you want."
"No, now that I think about it, I want to get it over," she blurted out, then she made a face. "Sorry. I didn't mean... You know what I mean, right? I'm going to be nervous, and I'm hoping once that first time is over, and I know I can do it, it'll get better, easier. So, we can just do it, right?"
Well, shit.
He didn't think she was bluffing now. She was really scared, but determined, and there was no way he was going to let her risk playing out her little plan with just some guy.
Not with any other man.
She might get hurt. She might be scared. She might end up with someone who wouldn't be as careful as he would be. There was no way he could let her take a chance like that.
It had to be him. He felt like his brain had exploded inside his own head, one blinding fact overriding everything else.
He was going to have her, gorgeous and naked and wrapped up in his arms. Not for long, she was saying, but for a while.
Had his life ever been this good?
He didn't think so.
"So," he finally managed to think just a bit, to ask, "we're going to do this more than once?"
"We could. Would that be a problem? I mean, I hope it's not too awful for you."
"No, not a problem." He wanted more than one chance to get this right, for her to be comfortable, for her to be turned on, satisfied, happy. "What are we talking about here? A night? A long weekend? A few months?"
She shrugged. "How long will you be here?"
Will groaned, thinking of the possibilities. He had an open-ended plane ticket and a ton of built-up leave time.
She must have taken that groan the wrong way, because she said, "Okay, for now, a long weekend, to start. How about that?"
"Done." He couldn't agree fast enough.
Will had taken a taxi from the airport, so they took her car to her father's house. She packed a bag, wrote a quick note to her father—the man was going to love hearing that she was going away with Will for the weekend—and then they were off, driving into downtown Cincinnati to find a big, anonymous hotel.
He didn't have to ask if she was nervous. It showed in how still she'd become, how silent, how she held her body. And it all got worse the closer they got to the city.
So he took the wheel of the car in his left hand and held out his right to her. She took it, giving him a grimly determined smile that just about broke his heart.
He tried not to think that very, very soon, he might have his hands all over her, assuming this went well. It might not, not at first, but he thought they could figure it out, with enough time and patience. They knew each other, trusted each other, wanted each other... Yeah, they could do this.
They hit the heart of downtown, and he pulled up to the biggest, tallest hotel, let the valet park the car but declined the bellman's offer to take their two small bags. Will put them over his left shoulder and his right hand at her back. She didn't shy away from the touch, but the muscles in her back felt tight. She didn't lean into him, either, the way she usually did any time he touched her.
He felt anew the fury that someone had dared hurt her, scare her, but he could not think about that right now. It would not help him to do what he wanted to do.
She went into the hotel gift shop while he registered them for a small suite with a king-size bed and a whirlpool tub. Maybe that would help her loosen up a little.
He found her again standing outside the gift shop, back straight as could be, clutching a small bag in her hand. She looked up at him with huge, frightened eyes.
"Condoms," she whispered, holding out the bag.
"Good."
Once inside and elevator and alone, he thought about taking her in his arms and kissing her, but she looked so nervous. Would kissing her help? Or make her even more tense?
Will leaned in close and put his arm around her again, and then decided he just needed to hold her. She liked that, he knew. So did he. Holding her was always good, the way she felt so soft and perfect in his arms, how good she smelled.
He put the bags down and started to back her against the elevator wall, then decided no. He put his own back to the wall and leaned against it, feet spread a little wide apart, and then gently pulled her to him, wrapping her up in his arms.
She sucked in a breath at first, but when she realized he was just going to hold her, she started breathing again, her face pressed against his chest. She snuggled close, locking her arms around his waist, feeling so small and slight. He pressed her head closer, his chin atop her head, and realized she was trembling.
"Hey, we'll get this," he said. "It'll be fine."
She nodded, keeping her face hidden against his chest, and he found so many thoughts running through his mind. He wanted to protect her, but not just that. He wanted to clear a path for her to walk through the world without anyone or anything ever hurting her. He wanted to make her smile, make her laugh, make her nothing but happy.
No one could do that, he knew. Nobody got that life, but he wanted to give it to her anyway.
He'd likely have to settle for simply giving her what she'd asked for—getting her through this first time with a man since it happened. That thing he wasn't going to think about because it made him so mad.
He could do this for her, couldn't he?
Will decided he should at least act like he knew what he was doing. The trick was going to be keeping his own desire for her in check, not devouring her the way he'd like to. It wasn't going to be easy, especially if he needed to go excruciatingly slowly.
Which is how he expected this would go. She'd said she wanted to get it over with fast, but he wasn't going to rush her, and he sure as hell wasn't going to scare her.
The elevator stopped. They found their suite. He unlocked the door and she stopped two feet inside the door, staring at the big bed that dominated the room. He'd hoped for a separate sitting area, so the room wouldn't be all bed. No such luck. The room did have a fireplace, a big, comfy chair and a love seat off to the side. But it was mostly a dark, modern-style bed, with pristine white linens and a big, fluffy, white comforter.
He left her where she was and put his bag down on a luggage stand by the chest of drawers and hers in the bathroom, which was as spacious and luxurious as promised. He thought she'd probably hide in there when she dressed or undressed.
"Jacuzzi in there," he said, when he walked back into the bedroom and found her still standing barely inside the door. "Want a soak?"
She shook her head.
He went to the small refrigerator, stocked full, including miniature bottles of wine that held about two glasses. Perfect size to help soothe her nerves. He held one up. "Drink?"
She nodded, took the wine he poured for her and downed half of it in a single gulp.
"Amanda?"
"Hmm?"
"We can make this anything you want it to be, anything you need it to be. All you have to do is ask. I'll do everything I can to make it what you want."
"I know. I don't think I could do this with anyone but you."
"But when you said you wanted to get it over with fast—"
"Yes, please."
He sighed. "Will you think about us doing it another way? Can you trust me that we'll get it done, eventually, and it'll be fine? No deadlines? I mean, would it be the worst thing in the world if we just enjoyed ourselves right here, right now? Whatever that ends up being like?"
She looked so sad. "It's just that I don't think my nerves are going to get better with time, just worse." She gulped down the rest of her wine and held out her glass. "One more? Just to take the edge off? I hope."
He poured it for her, emptying the little bottle, then watched her drink it down just as quickly. She looked scared, like she didn't know what to do next.
"Hungry? Want to get some dinner?"
Again, she shook her head.
"Didn't think so. I guess there's only one thing left to do," Will said, glancing over at the bed. "Come 'ere, honey."
Amanda thought if she could get to his side and he took her into his arms again, she might not bolt from the room, out of the building, out of the city. Maybe out of the country.
Maybe not.
She did want to be with him, and yet she dreaded it. She hoped she wouldn't throw up or have a panic attack or cry, and that she didn't end up begging him to stop before it was done.
Honestly, this was a stunning turn of events, from her despairing of him caring, of him so much as ever showing up again, to them here alone in a hotel room. It was hard to believe it was real.
She got to the bed, walked right into his arms. They closed around her, not tightly but firmly, reassuringly. This was the best place to be, the best place she knew.
He was big and strong, but in a way she found reassuring, not scary. His body was hot and hard, his hands big but gentle as could be, and he smelled so good. She loved having her nose against his skin, loved the way his jaw seemed to be permanently stubbled, finding that little abrasiveness felt so good against her skin. It made her think of his mouth everywhere with its contrasts, his lips and his tongue so soft, his jaw a little rough.
He was going to kiss her. Later, he'd have his mouth all over her, and she'd get to have her hands all over him.
She eased back into his arms and then found the ends of the T-shirt that fit him so perfectly, giving him an effortless, devastating sexiness. It wasn't tight, just form-fitting and soft, showing all the promise of what she knew she'd find beneath it. She tugged it off him, surprising him, pleasing him if that little dark glow of appreciation in his eyes was anything to go by.
Amanda stayed just far enough away from him to appreciate the view, the little whirls of dark hair on his chest, the way they narrowed into a sexy line of hair that cut down the middle of his abdomen and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
She wanted to trace that line, all those little muscles. She would, maybe not now, but before the weekend was over, she hoped.
Giving him a little push until he sat down on the bed, she said, "Take off your shoes and socks."
"Yes, ma'am."
It took her nerves up a notch, but she pulled the comforter back on the bed and piled pillows up against the headboard. He got his socks and shoes off, then sat there, looking obedient as could be, which she found amusing.
"I wouldn't have expected you to follow orders so well."
He grinned big then. "I don't, but I told you, you can have whatever you want. I meant it."
She patted a spot on the bed, right in front of the pile of pillows. "Right here."
He stood up, put a hand on the snap of his jeans, then looked at her. "On or off?"
She sighed. Was she ready for all of him, uncovered, unleashed? Even more skin and heat and muscles for her to touch? "I'm going to put on... something else," she decided. "While I do that you can take everything off and get into the bed."
"Yes, ma'am."
She disappeared into the bathroom to breathe for a minute. Breathing exercises. Counting her inhales and exhales. Trying to calm down. Her heart felt like it was about to explode.
When she could, she unzipped her bag, found a nightgown, nothing ridiculously sexy, just pretty, she hoped. It was a soft cotton shift that hung nearly to her ankles, with spaghetti straps and pretty, colorful flowers. Closing her eyes, she stripped and pulled the nightgown on. She didn't have to take it off to have sex with him, she told herself. The idea of having her bare skin against his made her shiver in a good way, but the thought of actually being naked made her feel so vulnerable.
She made herself go back into the bedroom before she could think any more about it and found him sitting back against the pillows, looking compliant as could be. She saw all that sun-bronzed skin against the stark white of the linens, heat in his eyes and a flare of appreciation as he looked at her.
"Nice." He grinned.
He had the covers pulled up to his waist, and the lights were dimmed but not out. He knew she was afraid of the dark. A condom waited on the nightstand.
She could do this, she told herself. It would be over soon. However this first time was, the next time would be easier, maybe even not terrifying. She was counting on that.
The walk to the bed felt a mile long, and his gaze followed her the whole time. She shivered, had trouble remembering to breathe. But she got there, somehow, and sat facing him on the bed, her left hip pressed against his right thigh, the covers between them.
"You can't get on top of me, okay?" She couldn't handle that, feeling trapped beneath his weight.
"Okay."
He waited, letting her take the lead. She could do this however she wanted, and that helped calm her down a little. So she did what she wanted, reached out a hand and pressed it against his chest.
"Mmm," he said, breathing deep into her touch, and she thought about her little self-therapy program, to get comfortable with her body again, her own hands on her body, always as she thought about him and imagined the hands touching her body were his. He might like to hear about that. Men seemed to love that kind of thing.
She hadn't thought, as she tried to turn herself on, about her touching him. Now that she was, she realized that worked beautifully. Taking the lead, she wasn't so afraid. She stroked her hands all across his chest, down to his abdomen, feeling the little hitch in his breath, the muscles going tight and quivering beneath her hand.
He practically purred, letting her know how much he liked that, and one of his hands settled low on the side of her hip, but didn't go any further.
"You can touch me if you want," she said finally.
"If I want?" He gave a short laugh. "You have any doubts about that?"
He traced one finger down her arm, setting off goosebumps in his wake. He stroked her hair, her jaw, down the side of her neck, her collarbone, as her whole body trembled, part in need, part in fear.
It was a mind game, she realized, a battle between two competing thoughts. She was turned on, but she was scared. She was with him, and yet a part of her wasn't. She just had to push one set of thoughts away and keep the other center stage in her mind.
Will. Will's touch. His mouth. His hands. That perfectly masculine body of his, the heated gaze, the gentleness, the patience, the willingness to make this whatever she needed.
But she was losing the fight. Iciness and fear were bleeding in.
They had to hurry, get this over with. She raised herself up and straddled his waist with her thighs, her nightgown and the sheet between them. His hands, big and reassuring, slid up her thighs to cup her hips.
In that position, she was completely open to him, his erection pressed intimately against her core. She pulled her nightgown up, and he pulled the sheet down.
They were skin to skin, heat to heat.
He gave a long, slow groan, his hands back to cupping her hips. She rubbed her body against his to see how scary that felt to her. Not bad. The heat was there. She felt that pleasant fullness of blood pooling between her legs, the tingling of awareness.
Looking into his eyes, she found that steady, confident heat, the smile that said it was going to be okay. She could feel his body radiating energy, and yet he stayed so still, letting her do what she wanted.
It was going to be okay.
She reached sideways and grabbed the condom, tore open the package and went to put it on him, but he grabbed it.
"Much as I'd love to have your hands on me, I think I'd better do it this time." And he did.
Which meant it was time. Right now. She rose up on her knees and eased her hips forward, looking for the angle she needed. She got there, felt the blunt tip o
f his erection pressing against the opening of her body and tried to sink down on it, to take him inside of her, but she was tight and, not dry, but not open and wet, either.
Amanda started to panic for real. He'd never get inside of her, if she was like this.
"Hey," he said gently, easily. "Give me a minute. I can fix this."
"A minute?" He thought he was that good?
"Okay, two?"
"Two minutes?" It was that bad-boy grin of his that did it. "Okay, show me what you've got."
He licked his lips, and she knew exactly what he was going to do to her. He pressed gently on her chest, sending her sideways and then onto her back on the bed, and he followed her, kneeling between her thighs.
A second later, he dipped his head. She felt his hot breath on her and then his tongue in long, slow strokes, so very gentle and soft there was no way to feel threatened by it. It felt exquisite, luxurious, as he teased, searched, found.
She put her hand in his hair to show him much she liked it.
"Mmm," he whispered against her body again and again, sounding like he wanted to eat her up.
It did the trick. She felt the rush of wetness she needed inside for this to work and was so grateful. It even felt good, really good. If he kept it up, maybe, she thought, just maybe... No. That wasn't what she wanted now. She had only one goal.
"Will?"
"Hmm." He didn't so much as lift his head, still working over her with that wonderfully wicked tongue of his.
Next time, she promised herself.
"Will?"
He raised his head and gave her a look, as if to say, I'm not done here, Amanda.
"Come here." She wanted him inside of her while she was still feeling good, still aroused.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn't, and then he was on his knees, between her legs, his hands planted on the bed at either side of her ribs, arms completely extended to keep his weight off her body.
"This okay?" he asked.
She wasn't quite sure. He wasn't holding her down with his body, but.... He must have picked up on her uneasiness, because he rolled onto his back, half sitting up against the pillows and took her with him, so that she was on top of him again. That time, when she got into position and tried to take him inside of her, it worked.