Only

by HelenKay Dimon

  The extended foreplay took its toll. The orgasm hit her before she was ready. Energy rolled through her and she flushed with heat. Just as her breath caught, she felt him stiffen on top of her. His head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder and his pace quickened. She inhaled one last time and clenched her muscles tight, and her body let go.

  Her last thought was that this night was worth the wait.

  SIXTEEN

  Elijah picked up his cell then put it on the desk again. Tomorrow he’d move in to Bast’s downstairs apartment. He’d take a step that meant moving on. While living in the cheap hotel, not having furniture or possessions of his own, he could pretend it was temporary. That he’d somehow get back into Wade’s bed.

  That was before fucking Shawn showed up again.

  The fucking asshole.

  But that kiss. Eli closed his eyes and remembered every second.

  He wiped his hand over his mouth. Could still taste Wade. Feel the heat pour off him as their bodies touched. A flood of memories sent his mind racing back to the days before. The sex. The comfort of living together. The simple things, like eating breakfast or watching a movie.

  They’d been in this bubble where Eli couldn’t leave the condo and Wade ventured out only to work. The enforced closeness made their relationship move in double time. And that’s what it had been. A relationship.

  They argued a lot at the end, almost always about Becca. Over Eli’s worries about her being in the building and being a traitor. Those fights colored everything. Eventually destroyed it all.

  Eli spun his phone around, letting it thud against the wood as it turned. When it stopped he swiped his finger over the screen and entered the lock code. Finding Wade’s number only took a second since he was right there in his favorites. One call, maybe a pathetic hookup for old time’s sake, like with that kiss. Something to hold on to the bond.

  But Wade had made it clear it was Shawn’s turn now. He admitted he’d go there next. That the kiss meant good-bye.

  With a groan, Eli swept the phone off the desk and heard it crack against the floor. Now he’d need a new phone. He’d already been given a new life and a chance not to be on the run. It should have been enough.

  It wasn’t.

  • • •

  It didn’t take long for Bast to realize Kyra left the bed and he had to go searching. The delay in satisfaction made him grumpy. The warm bed upstairs called. The time he had her on her hands and knees, a palm pressing her back down as he entered her, kept running through his mind. Taking a second run at that position appealed to him.

  The memory led to his dick getting hard. Made him wonder why the hell he bothered pulling on his briefs to go downstairs. When he found her, he’d likely take her. He had a condom in his hand just in case. Which, the more he thought about it, had a creepy vibe.

  He got to the bottom of the steps and rounded the banister to head toward the kitchen. A flash of movement caught his attention and he stepped into his library instead.

  For a second he just stood in the doorway and watched her. She hummed as she reached for a book on a high shelf. The stretch had his dress shirt riding up and flashing her impressive ass. God, her body fucking killed him. So tight and the fluid way she moved had his cock in a permanent ready-to-go state.

  As if she sensed him, she turned and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Did I wake you?”

  That smile, so warm and full of life. He wondered how he kept away from her for as long as he did. He wasn’t the scouting-for-younger-women type. He preferred women who knew the score. Enjoyed sex and a good time.

  But with Kyra he didn’t get easy and smooth. She demanded time and attention. She refused to be forgotten or left in a corner or used only for sex. They’d reached an understanding and she’d somehow pushed him while still following the spirit of the thing.

  He should be panicked and ready to bolt. Instead, every minute with her made him want another. The sensation scared the hell out of him, but he wasn’t ready to back away. Not this soon.

  “You didn’t.” He stepped farther into the room and closer to her. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Checking out your library.”

  The whole scene struck him as ridiculous. Her wearing his mostly unbuttoned shirt and him in his underwear.

  When he laughed, she hugged the book tighter to her chest. “What?”

  “Sounded like a euphemism.”

  “For sex? I think you’re obsessed.” She set the hardcover on the shelf and leaned against his desk with her hands balanced on either side of her thighs.

  The way she stretched her long legs out in front of her. Those dark red toenails . . . she had to know what the lounging did to him. “With you? Definitely.”

  “I got that from the groaning and shouting an hour ago.”

  “That was you.” The sounds she made as she came would stay in his head for weeks. So earthy and guttural. So damn hot.

  “Yes, it was.”

  She shifted and the edge of the shirt slipped up, revealing the very top of her thighs, and his gaze zoomed right there. “You’re still not wearing underwear.”

  She flashed him. “Didn’t bring any.”

  “Good.” He walked over to the book she abandoned and put the condom down to study the spine. Seemed her taste ran to the classics. “You can borrow anything in here.”

  “This is amazing. Growing up I didn’t really have books.”

  He couldn’t imagine that. His parents filled the house with books and educational videos. They sent him to special classes and all the best schools. When a grade dropped to a B in a class, he got stuck in hours of tutoring with specialists. The Jamesons were all about proper. Even after they divorced, his mother kept up his father’s strict standards. She eased up the reins now and then but once Bast lost her the expectations from his father for his only son rose even higher.

  Then Bast got divorced. But not quietly, as his dad insisted. That led to the end of any father-son bond other than the one his old man turned on and off for show.

  “I’m assuming there wasn’t a lot of extra money to go around,” Bast said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

  “Have you heard about what life with my father was like?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He watched her foot swing back and forth and guessed this wasn’t an easy topic for her.

  Jarrett had filled Bast in long ago about Wade’s home life. Bast had stepped in more than once to keep Wade out of trouble and watched over Kyra from a distance. But that didn’t mean he knew every detail. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  “He didn’t spend money on books. On anything for us, really.” She stared at the shelves as her gaze traveled over the books’ spines. “I remember discovering the library at school. My breath jammed up in my throat and I wanted to race around the shelves touching each one.”

  “I’m trying to imagine you as a little kid.” She was so fierce and headstrong. Maybe she picked it up as a means of survival.

  Bast knew from Jarrett that she wouldn’t take money from Wade for school. She worked, she got loans. She took time off to collect what she needed and didn’t ask for help. He admired her independence, that she never complained about getting a raw deal in the parent department, even though she certainly had.

  “I was all long legs, constantly tripping over things. And bad teeth.” She laughed. “So crooked and messed up because I never went to a dentist. It cost me, with Wade’s help, a fortune to fix them a few years ago.”

  His dad qualified as difficult but Bast never worried about the basics. Never had to scrape together money for textbooks or to pay to fill cavities. “I’d like to kick your father’s ass.”

  “Prison didn’t change him. I doubt anything could.”

  That sounded like they still had a relationship, and that couldn’t be rig
ht. Wade broke off all contact and insisted she do the same when her father tried to pull her into his scams. “You still see him?”

  “I’m speaking in global terms.” She waved him off. “But I remember the librarian, this fabulous older woman named Mrs. Pillard. She’d set aside books for me to read and I’d sit there through lunch, when the doors were locked and no one was supposed to be in there, and cuddle up in a corner of the stacks.”

  The lifeline was something but she deserved more. “When did you eat?”

  “Food didn’t matter.”

  The urge to protect her surged through him. She didn’t need him fighting her battles but he wanted to step in with fists up. “Maybe I should kick your father in the teeth instead.”

  “You grew up with books.” She stood up and went wandering. Her fingers trailed along the edge of the desk and over the computer monitor. She fiddled with the pens lined up by the blotter.

  She moved with such grace she mesmerized him. “Yeah. Lots of books and expectations.”

  “Were you a bad boy as a kid?” She smiled as she said it.

  “A typical one, I guess. The school was strict.”

  Her head popped up. “What does that mean?”

  “I went away to boarding school. Came home on holidays and when my dad needed me for a work event.” The bitterness filled his mouth. He was gone when his father dumped his mother for a younger version. Gone when his mother died two years later from breast cancer.

  “I know it sounds weird, but going away and not being in my father’s house was my childhood fantasy.”

  “Compared to your home life, I bet it was.”

  She went to the fireplace and studied each photo on the mantel. “You didn’t like it.”

  “Not really a fan of being shuffled around and forgotten.” He shifted around to face her. He’d answer just about any question to keep her talking. To get to keep watching her.

  “You’re a nester.”

  Not really a word he associated with his life or personality. “Is that a good thing?”

  “You like home and hearth. You’re connected to friends and work and when you’re not with either, you want to be here. Where it’s comfortable.”

  “Good guess.” The assessment nailed it. He didn’t hang out in bars or look for women in clubs. He worked and ate with one of his partners, or with Jarrett and hung around the house. When he dated, it was short-term and usually with a woman he already knew.

  No surprises. No uncontrolled reactions. Nothing that made his blood simmer until he met Kyra.

  “An informed one, maybe.” Her gaze bounced from one corner of the room to the other. “You’re not that hard to read. For example, I bet this is your favorite room.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re in every inch of it. The house is organized and impressive but the desk looks like a real person works here. The stack of newspapers and magazines on the side.” She sent him a heated look. “I like that you go old-school for your news, by the way. It’s sexy.”

  Christ, her mouth kicked up and her eyes grew warm and his dick went into countdown mode. “Then I won’t cancel the subscriptions.”

  “The photos with Jarrett and . . . other people. Not sure who.” She leaned in closer as if studying them then stood up again and pointed to frames on the wall above the mantel. “These look personal. Like, I’m wondering if you took the photos rather than purchased them. Knickknacks you’ve collected. Books with turned-down pages, which means you’ve read them rather than just stockpiled them because they looked good in the room.”

  The inventory bordered on spooky. She got every fact right. “Impressive.”

  “It’s homey.” She rushed her hand over the top of the leather couch. “The house is big and expensive, located in a hoity part of town, but still comfortable.”

  “Hoity?”

  “You have a driveway with a garage. Normal people, even those who live in Georgetown, do not have a driveway in DC.”

  “You have an interesting definition of hoity.” Though he had to admit he picked this place over two others because of the garage. Paid too much for the house, too.

  “It looks like the guy next door has a driver. And I’m pretty sure I saw a woman in a traditional maid’s uniform open the door across the street.” She walked to the front of the room and pulled back the heavy curtain he closed each night for privacy. “I almost feel like you should have snuck me in through the servant’s entrance . . . I’m assuming you have one of those.”

  The words piled up until they tripped an alarm in his brain. He spent most of his life ducking from the type of women who wanted to land a rich guy with a pedigree of sorts. Kyra seemed to want the exact opposite and merely tolerated his financial status as an unwanted characteristic that came along with him.

  So, he had to ask. “Does the money bug you?”

  She shrugged. “It adds a barrier.”

  Not the clearest answer but he got the point. Now he wanted her to understand his position on the topic.

  “Not for me. The ‘who are your parents’ and ‘what school did you go to’ thing is not on my radar.” Two topics many DC types, married and not, put a lot of stake in.

  “No, I guess not. Jarrett doesn’t act like a crazy rich dude either. I think you’re the same. Grounded despite all the flashy stuff.”

  Bast decided to take that as a compliment. “Jarrett has a lot more money than I do.”

  “Really?” She whistled. “Damn.”

  Bast could have stopped there. Should have . . . “And thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Seeing through the bullshit to the man beneath.” Not everyone could. He’d learned that the hard way.

  With that sexy smile and seductive walk, she came back to him. His shirt hung off her shoulder and barely hugged her breasts.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “The man beneath is pretty hot.”

  “We should see.” His hands slipped under the shirt to touch the bare skin of her waist.

  “What?”

  “How hot I am when I’m underneath you.”

  She ran her fingernails at the edge of his hair, right by his ear. “Wow, that was quite the segue.”

  In a short period of time he’d learned that she liked to touch him. It was like a subconscious gesture. One he loved and had already come to count on.

  He massaged her back. “Well, I do make my living using words.”

  “I can totally tell.”

  “I’m prepared to say some really dirty ones to get that shirt off of you.” He let go of her only long enough to grab the condom off the bookshelf.

  She snatched it out of his fingers and held it up in front of him. “Do you keep these all over the house in case of sex emergencies?”

  Since she sounded more amused than angry, he told her straight. “I brought it down with me.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “I’m not sure that’s a better answer.”

  “I know.” He looked around the room for the best place to lay her out. “I also know that you wanted to be on top earlier and I took over.”

  She managed a pathetic frown. Very dramatic. “I did want that.”

  “I stopped you. I’m sorry about that.” So damn sorry.

  “Are you suggesting we break in the couch?”

  He nodded toward the desk. “The chair.”

  “I like where your head is.”

  He walked backward, dodging the edge of the desk and stopping when his ass hit the side of the chair. He used his foot to hook the corner and spin it around. Just as he started to drop, she stopped him.

  “Not yet.” Her fingers trailed down his chest.

  “But soon, right?” Her hand stopped at the waistband of his briefs. “Well, damn. For a second I forgot I was wearing these.”


  “Let’s get them off.”

  He shoved them off and sat down in record time. “Done.”

  “Wow, that was quick.”

  “Not my favorite word in these situations, but I can ignore it.”

  “I don’t have any complaints about your speed in bed.”

  “Right back atcha.” He patted his thighs. “Your turn.”

  Rather than sinking down, her fingers went to the buttons of the shirt. She undid the few holding the material together and dropped it to the floor behind her with a whoosh. “Are you ready for me?”

  He would have answered if his tongue hadn’t gotten jammed in his throat. He went with a nod.

  The gesture worked because she slid down, balancing her knees on his outer thighs and bringing the heat of her body close to his. Her smooth skin had him staring and wondering how he’d ever attracted someone like her. He traced his fingertips over her collarbone. Somehow he’d missed how damn sexy that part of a woman could be.

  She reached for his hand and took the condom out of his fist. Never mind he’d forgotten he grabbed it. With the packet between her teeth, her hand slipped lower. Fingers wrapped around his cock and the slow pump up and down had his body primed. Within seconds she had the condom out and rolled over him.

  “I can’t believe what you do to me.” He didn’t question the awe in his voice because he felt it down to his toes.

  She brushed her lips over his forehead and down his nose. Across his cheeks. “Tell me.”

  “I forget everything.” He felt her smile against his throat. “I don’t care about anything but getting inside of you.”

  She sat up, bracing her palms against the back of the chair and rocking it back a fraction. “Can you feel how wet I am?”

  For emphasis, she curled her hips under and brought the tip of his cock right to her entrance. With his hand in hers, she guided his fingers to her and dragged one through her wetness. She swiveled her lower body, so his caress traveled.

  “Beautiful.” And by that he meant everything about her. Inside and out.