by Nikki Groom
This man can kiss.
Our breathing is hot and heavy, and the groans coming from my body are audible. I want more. Need more. Knowing we’ve already gone further than this is making me tremble with anticipation. I know it’s going to be good.
“I need you,” I whisper.
“And you’ll have me,” he answers, “but not yet. When you’re ready.”
“I’m ready. I am ready.” I try to put as much conviction into the words as I possibly can, but I know there’s a very small part of me that wants him for reassurance, for comfort.
“Ari, it’s too soon. Everything that’s happened, it’s too soon for you to make decisions like this. I don’t want you to regret it.”
I get it. I totally get it. But I’m also surer than anything that it’s something I wouldn’t regret.
“Let’s just get you properly settled, okay?” He cups my face with his hands and kisses my cheek gently. “Stop pouting, it’s taking every ounce of my self-control to do this but you need it, Ari.”
“Okay. I’ll sort things out and prove to you that I’m ready. It’s my mission.”
“Good girl. Now go and get some sleep.” He pushes off the door and frees me from being caged in-between his arms. He takes a key card from his back pocket and slides it in the door, pushing it open for me to enter. He tucks it back into his pocket and smirks at me.
“Just in case.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I have no response. I know he won’t misuse it or intrude when he’s not wanted. I trust him.
He enters, flicks all the lights on and checks the apartment. Seeming satisfied, he returns to me just inside the door and kisses my lips. It’s a firm kiss, but as platonic as he can make it. I can tell that he’s trying not to start anything again, but it’s hard to be near him and not feel charged.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Arianna. Go to bed.”
He leaves with his trademark dimple firmly in place. I’m still smiling from the inside, and I don’t move even when the door is closed behind me. Part of me expects him to come straight back in, but I know he has more willpower than this. I listen out for the sound of Denham’s door closing, then I move away and head to bed.
I get undressed and slip on a tank and boy shorts before climbing between the luxurious ruby-red sheets. I’m bone tired and sleep takes me quickly, but the night isn’t kind to me and my slumber doesn’t last nearly long enough. A spectrum of feelings and emotions swirl in my head in such a jumble it’s hard to make sense of them all. I toss and turn, trying to find some peace, but at 3am I finally give in and get up. The bright moonlight lights my way to the kitchen and I can just about find my way around the cabinets. I lift a glass from the top shelf but my hand catches on one of the other glasses as I take it out. As I panic in the dark to try and catch it, the glass I was holding slips out of my fingertips and falls too.
“Shit.” I mutter.
Both glasses fall to the floor and smash into hundreds of little pieces all around me, the sound is deafening in the quiet of the night and it takes a few moments before it is still again. I can’t move. I have bare feet and with only the moonlight I can’t see where the glass lays.
Another loud bang makes me jump, and the front door flies open, bouncing back off the wall behind it.
“Arianna? Arianna!” Denham shouts frantically.
“Denham, be careful there’s glass everywhere.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the kitchen,” I call out to him.
He flicks on the lights. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?” he asks, walking toward me.
“I’m fine, I just wanted some water and the glasses fell.” I gesture to the floor covered in spiky shards.
“Don’t move,” he orders. He’s dressed in loose fitting lounger bottoms—nothing else I watch as he starts to walk toward me, the muscles on his torso stretch and ripple as he moves.
“Denham, no! Your feet …”
He ignores my protests and navigates the large pieces of glass, but I don’t miss his body tensing as the smaller shards dig into his feet. He puts his arms around my back and dips before sweeping his other arm behind my knees and swinging my legs up, holding me close to him.
He walks back over the glass, being a little more careful now that he has me in his arms, and continues to carry me into the bedroom.
He places me down carefully in the middle of the bed and goes to the bathroom, closing the door without saying another word. He’s hurt, and it’s my fault. I give him a few minutes before I tap gently on the bathroom door.
“Denham … can I come in?” I don’t wait for an answer because I know he’ll tell me he’s fine even if he’s not. I crack open the door slowly and find him perched on the edge of the bathtub pulling tiny pieces of glass from one of his feet.
He looks up at me with a tight expression. “It’s fine, just give me a minute.”
“It’s not fine, you’re hurt. You’re bleeding.” I walk to the cabinet beneath the sink, knowing there’s a first aid kit there. I open it and pull out antiseptic wipes, then I rummage through my makeup bag and find tweezers.
I kneel down in front of him, taking his foot gently in my hand. “Here, let me.” I wince when I take a closer look at his foot. There are several nasty pieces lodged under his soft skin. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?”
He nods and I watch him clench his teeth as I pinch one of the shards with my tweezers. I pull gently, not knowing if it’s better to go slow, or get it over with quickly, but not wanting to cause any further damage also. When the piece is out, I wipe his foot with the antiseptic, pressing down firmly to stem the bleeding. He watches me intently, but I say nothing, not wanting him to stop me caring for him as he has for me.
After taking the last piece out and cleaning that too, I tidy everything away, then walk back to where he’s still sitting silently on the edge of the bath. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my head in his neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
His arms slide around me and his fingers find their way under my tank to rest on my back. “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything.”
“It’s my fault your feet are cut,” I whisper, feeling guilty.
“Don’t talk crazy, Arianna.”
“Then why are you mad?”
“You think I’m mad? Ari, I’m not mad.” He shakes his head softly.
“Then why the silent treatment?”
He shrugs. “No one other than my mom has ever cared for me like that. I don’t think anyone has ever wanted to.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sad for him that no one has wanted to look after him the way he has me, but I’m also glad that no one else has done that too. Selfishly, I want to be the only one who cares for him. I want to tell him that I’d do it every day if he wants me too, but I don’t know where those thoughts are coming from and why. He’s right. There is a whole tangle of things to think through, but I’m certain of one thing. He makes everything easier just by being around. I’m happy to let him take care of me, and I want to take care of him.
“Come on, Stunner, it’s the middle of the night and you need to rest.”
“Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask without hesitation.
“Will you sleep better if I stay?”
“Yes, the bed is too big when I’m on my own.”
Historically, I’ve loved having a huge, plush bed to myself, but after having slept with Denham wrapped around me last night, my bed feels cold and lonely without him.
Denham turns all the lights out and we climb into bed. I wriggle until my back is flush with his front, and his arm pulls me in close, his fingers lacing with mine. Our even breaths synchronize and we drift into a very peaceful sleep.
I WAKE TO THE SOUND of a continuous dull thud. It takes a couple of minutes to clear the sleep fog before it dawns on me that I’m not dreaming and I can actually hear this repeated sound. I sit bolt upright, and try to
figure out where the sound is coming from. It’s not in the apartment, but it’s close.
Denham is still fast asleep so I shake him by the shoulder to wake him up. He groans and stirs but shows no sign of waking fully, so I whip the covers back. “Wake up, Denham, there’s someone out there.”
That gets him. He sits up fast and springs out of bed. “I think someone is banging on your door, it’s been going on for ages.”
“That’s it?” he grumbles. “Whoever is banging can wait. Or even better, they can go away.”
I watch his stomach ripple as he runs his hands through his now mussed up hair. The just got out of bed suits him very well. In fact, he owns it. I let my eyes roam down the angular lines of his jaw, across his broad shoulders and then down over his sculpted torso. The lines of his body seem to lead me to that sexy V which draws my eyes downwards under those cotton lounge pants which I just want to …
“Are you objectifying me, Arianna?” he questions.
Oh god. Ground, just open up and swallow me whole. “I … um, I …” I cover my now very red face with my hands and let myself fall backwards.
He climbs back in, and I feel him place his hands either side of my head as he straddles me with his legs and covers me with his body, pushing me into the mattress. He kisses my hands in turn so gently it sends shivers down my arms. “Look at me,” he orders softly.
I shake my head from side to side. I’m mortally embarrassed. I have no idea what just came over me, and even worse, I’m fighting with myself not to uncover my eyes and finish my visual exploration of Denham’s amazing body.
“I said, look at me.”
I spread my fingers and peek through the gap.
“Arianna.” He chuckles. “Take your hands away.”
“I can’t,” I mumble and screw my eyes tight shut.
Peeling my fingers back one by one, he takes my hands in his, then rests them gently on either side of my head as he tangles his fingers with mine. There’s no getting out of the firm grip he has me in.
“Open your eyes,” he demands softly. I open them slowly and I’m met with his golden gaze. He has soft creases in the corners of his eyes that make his face more handsome somehow. “You want to look at me?”
Oh, god … Yes, I want to look at him but I don’t know how to say yes. “Denham,” I protest and turn my head to the side in total embarrassment.
“Arianna, I don’t know who taught you that you should be embarrassed, but whoever did it is an asshole.” I turn my head slowly, making sure to look just at his face. “Don’t be ashamed of your desires. If you want to look, then look. I work damn hard to keep in shape and I like that you want to look at me.”
My eyes want to travel. They want to explore every inch. I don’t even know why I’m protesting so much. Sex has always just been sex. Even with Aaron it was just sex between two people. There was no mutual appreciation. I think we did it just because that’s what couples do. Don’t get me wrong, it was good at the time … I think. I didn’t really have anything positive to compare it to. It was a physical exchange. Not one I craved or needed. There wasn’t this electric charge I can feel thrumming through my body every time I even so much as think about Denham.
“Don’t zone out on me, Stunner. It’s me and you right now. Don’t let it be anything else. No past. No demons. Just us.”
He takes our entwined hands and places my palms flat on his chest. I feel his pulse accelerating under my touch and mine speeds to catch up.
“Close your eyes,” he says softly. I hesitate for a moment. “Trust me.”
I let my lids fall shut.
He covers my hands with his and guides them slowly over his skin … over the curve of his pecs … down the planes of his torso … Silky, soft skin covers hard, granite muscle and every sense is heightened as the pads of my fingers tingle with sensation, feeling every bump and ripple. I let him guide my hands over his body, each second getting easier.
I want it.
I crave it.
I hold my breath as he traces his V with the tips of my index fingers and a soft growl escapes from his lips. He stops, holding my hands still and breathes deep when we reach the band of his pants. I don’t know if he’s bracing himself to continue or willing himself to stop. I slowly open my eyes to look up into his face. His eyes are pools of inky black, pupils dilated so I can’t see the gold flecks in his eyes. I watch his chest rapidly rise and fall as I wait on his next move, guided by him and not my embarrassment.
“So beautiful,” he whispers.“It’s gonna be so sweet, Stunner, and worth every second that we wait.” He groans huskily.
“Still set on that waiting idea, huh?” I joke.
“It might take every ounce of my self-restraint, but yes. We’re waiting until your mind is healthy and your heart is healed.” He kisses me hard on the mouth and climbs off the bed. “So what would you like to do today?”
“You wind me up, tighter than a coiled spring, then you ask me what I’d like to do?”
Nervous tension.
Sexual tension.
All the tension from the past few days is building inside of me and it’s starting to make me irritable.
“What’s up? You don’t have any self-restraint?” He snickers.
“You think this is funny?” I reply, my voice raising an octave. I hop off the bed and stomp toward him, poking him in the chest. “I asked you a question. Do you think that it’s funny to frustrate me then make me wait?” I dig him hard in the center of the chest with my index finger a second time.
“Well …”
I place a hand on my cocked hip and wait for his reply. His demeanor changes and the air suddenly feels chilly. I feel my skin prickle across my shoulders as his eyes hold mine in a hard gaze, then he takes a step closer to me, causing me to shuffle backwards until the back of my legs touch the bed.
“You think I would take pleasure in giving you any discomfort?” He snatches up my hand, making me jump. “You think I take pleasure in this?” He pushes my hand into his crotch and holds me there as I curl my fingers around him—thick, hot and hard.
Waves of pleasure push through my body and settle in my core. I don’t think I’ve ever felt sensations in my body like this. I’m turned on and wishing there were none of his stupid rules, wishing there were no layers of clothing between us.
He lets go of my hand, dropping his head and taking a deep breath.
I don’t let my hand fall away like I’m sure he expects me to. Instead, I push my palm further into him, stepping forward and tilting my head so our cheeks are touching.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I’m trying to prove to you that I’m not broken and I don’t need fixing.”
“What do you need, Arianna?”
“I need you to stop treating me like a fragile bird.” The flimsy cotton of his pants does nothing to conceal his arousal as I rub slowly up and down his length. His eyes flutter closed, getting lost in the sensation, and his pelvis tilts as he pushes into my hand.
I move closer and speak against his lips, “Stop being a gentleman, Mr. King. I need a man.”
His hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me away from his groin, making me gasp. “Don’t push me, Arianna,” he grits out “You are testing me … Christ, you would test the patience of a saint, and I’m trying to do the right thing here, dammit.”
He scrubs his hands through his unruly hair and pushes past me to the bathroom, then shoves the door hard with his foot. It slams behind him, the noise reverberating through the entire apartment so hard that I feel my insides rattle.
Ugh, I handled that terribly. I actually have no idea how to deal with feelings of lust and frustration because I’ve never had to. He’s the only man who has ever brought it out in me. The only man who has ever made me feel desired. I desire him too. So much. He treats me with respect, but I’ve pushed him. I don’t want him to do something he’s not entirely comfortable with and it dawns on me that I’ve been unfair. In my wants and de
sires I’ve been selfish and thoughtless.
I head to the kitchen and make a coffee. He needs space for a few minutes and I need to calm myself before I push him further away.
Taking up my usual position on the balcony, I rest my elbows on the wall and clasp the coffee mug in my hands. As usual, the world walks on by, seemingly trouble-free. What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me now? What if he finally takes my advice and decides it’s best for him to steer clear? He could cut ties and never look back. But could I?
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am broken. Maybe I was never really whole in the first place.
I hear gentle footsteps behind me and I stiffen, bracing myself for the ache that I’m already starting to feel if he walks away. I close my eyes and when I can no longer hear his footsteps, I wait for the sound of the closing door.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, bare arms snake around my waist and pull me in tightly as Denham nestles his chin in my shoulder and buries his nose in my hair.
“I’m sorry.” His apology is barely audible, but no less sincere. “I wasn’t trying to tease and frustrate you. I can’t keep my hands off you, Ari. I don’t want to keep my hands off you. But you’ve ...” He loosens his arms and turns me to face him, taking my coffee cup and putting it on the wall. “You’ve been through so much, Arianna. I just want you to know what you’re doing and not feel like it’s what you should be doing. You have a choice, you always have a choice, and I’m going to make you see that.” The lines of his jaw are still sharp and angular, but his features are soft. The look in his eyes is enough to get lost in and the little smile he is giving me hints that the best is yet to come.
I scold myself for immediately thinking the worst. I need to start ruling my past and not let my past rule me. “I’m sorry too. Can we start today over?” I ask hopefully.