Sanctuary

by Eden Bradley

  But he slid his hands down to her shoulders again, used his body to press her hard against the door at her back until she could barely breathe, gripped her shoulders again in that sharp, hurting grasp. She watched his face—his features had gone soft in a way she’d never seen before. She didn’t know what it meant, only what she hoped it meant, this alternately brutal and tender touch. The expression on his face.

  God, please just kiss me…

  When he looked up at her again, held her face in his hands, she wanted to cry. Why was he doing this to her? Torturing her, holding back, making her mind and her body whirl with the possibilities?

  He leaned in again, until she felt the whispering tickle of his dark goatee on her skin. His mouth was so close. She tilted her chin, but he shifted away, leaned his forehead against hers.

  She really did want to cry now.

  She asked quietly, “Shaye…are you ever going to kiss me?”

  His voice was a rough whisper. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He shifted and his mouth brushed against hers, just a soft feathering of lips. He did it again, and again, all the while holding her face in his hands as though she were a precious thing. His lips were so soft. How could any man have lips this soft and plush? And the gentleness of his kisses went right to her heart, making it swell and ache as much as her sex did, until she was a confused mass of sensation and emotion.

  A small sob escaped her lips.

  “Ah, Devin.”

  He took her face more firmly then, crushed his lips to hers, opened her mouth and dove inside.

  His tongue was hot against hers, twining, searching. And she was no longer in the role of submissive. She was simply a woman with a man she needed, a man she was falling for like a thousand stars falling through the night sky.

  Her arms wound around his neck. As hard as he pressed her against the door, his big frame pressed against hers, it wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer. She couldn’t take it anymore.

  She pulled back, and once more he gazed into her eyes as though he could see into her soul. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, brimmed against her lashes. She blinked, hard. He pulled her in closer, holding her head against his shoulder. She could feel the panting rhythm of his breath.

  He said in a low tone, “Goddamn it, Devin. I can’t do this to you. But I can’t fucking help it anymore. I tried…”

  She lifted her head, shook it mutely. What did this mean? Would he leave her there, like this? Wanting, needy, breathless. A tear spilled down her cheek.

  “I can’t…hell, I can’t not…,” he muttered, before he bent and pressed his lips to hers once more.

  The kiss was harder this time, his tongue driving into her mouth. His hands were everywhere: on her waist, sliding up over her ribs, cupping her breasts. He held his hips hard against her, his solid erection pushing into her belly. She moaned into the wet heat of his mouth as he began to pull her clothes off, then his own.

  Soon they were entirely naked, still shoved up against the door. She couldn’t believe how his body felt on hers, naked skin to naked skin.

  Every nerve in her body was singing. Her sex pulsed with raw, aching desire as he slid one hand down, pushed two fingers inside her. Her hips bucked into his hand, and he shifted to press his thumb against her clitoris. He never took his mouth from hers—they breathed into each other. She thought briefly, wildly, that this was the most erotic moment of her life.

  When she took his swollen cock in her hand he groaned. God, he was big. The velvet weight of it in her hand hit her like a blow that reverberated pure sex through her system—every limb, every part of her. And that wicked ring piercing his flesh was kink in itself.

  She ran her other hand all over him: his arms, shoulders, buttocks. He was taut, steel-hard muscle everywhere she touched. Lovely.

  He moved his mouth lower and sucked at that tender spot at the base of her neck, sending ripples of pleasure through her. She gave his cock a long, slow stroke, then another, moving in rhythm with his fingers inside her, with the circling of his thumb against her clit. She was so close…

  “Jesus, Devin.”

  “Please, Shaye. Please. I need you.”

  “Yes,” he murmured, then held her ass in his strong hands and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him, her sex soft and open to the probing head of his cock. Then he slid right in, impaling her.

  She gasped at the size of him, filling her, stretching her. It hurt almost as much as it felt good, his piercing pressing against her g-spot, driving pleasure higher, bringing its own small pain. It didn’t matter. The pain and the pleasure were all one thing to her.

  He gave her a moment, held still, his cock buried deep inside her. They were both panting, and her body was filling up with desire like a flood of molten heat. When he moved his hips, pulling out of her, then sliding slowly back in, she moaned. So did he. Tremors of excitement ran through her, starting low in her sex, moving deeply into her body, spreading through her stomach, her breasts, her arms and legs.

  Then he really began to pump into her. She held on tight to his shoulders, her body awash in pleasure, sharp stinging currents running through her.

  It wasn’t long before that pleasure crested, peaked, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her body exploded with a blistering heat, her sex clenching, her breath coming in ragged gasps. And before it was over Shaye groaned, his muscles tensing, and he rammed into her harder than ever, driving her climax on in deep, shuddering waves.

  He collapsed with her against the door, still inside her body, still holding her up, his arms strong around her. She trembled all over with the last remnants of her orgasm.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’m taking you to bed and doing this properly.”

  All she could do was smile as he carried her, wrapped around his body like a snake, into her darkened bedroom.

  * * *

  Sunday morning. Shaye stretched, opened his eyes to the dim morning light. He glanced at the clock. Not quite eight. He was surprised he hadn’t slept longer. He’d stayed up making love to Devin until nearly four.

  Making love? Is that what it had been?

  Jesus.

  He was in deep fucking trouble here.

  He glanced over at Devin’s sleeping face. She was too beautiful to be believed. So damn innocent in sleep. Not much more than when she was awake, really, which was part of the attraction. But there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. Last night had proved it, if he hadn’t known it before.

  Why the hell had he slept with her? He’d known he shouldn’t do it. Known he should never have taken her to Sanctuary. He knew what the rules were there: if he brought her there once, if she liked it, wanted it, then he would have to collar her before he took her back. He’d had the members’ approval of her, no doubt about it. He could take her back. But if he did, it would mean she belonged to him. It would mean the kind of commitment he’d never made to a woman in his life. One he never should make.

  He was his father’s son, after all, wasn’t he?

  He’d really fucked up this time. And now Devin would have to pay the price as much as he would. He could see it in her. She didn’t even try to hide her feelings. He knew last night had meant something to her. Hell, it had meant something to him, too. That was the fucking problem.

  As he watched her tranquil features, her long lashes fluttered, opened, and her liquid green eyes stared up at him. She smiled. It went through him like a knife to the heart.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Her voice was soft with sleep. She raised her arms over her head, stretched, the sheet falling away to reveal one perfect breast, a flawless globe of milk-white flesh tipped in a lush, pink nub. His cock hardened.

  Get yourself under control, man.

  Yes, control. That’s what was required here, before he gave into his need for this woman. A need that raced through his veins like fire. That hammered at his mind so he could barely think straight anymore.

  H
e reached out, stroked a long strand of silky red hair from her face, but he had to pull his hand back at the jolt of emotion that went through him like an electric shock.

  He couldn’t do this.

  He had to leave. Just…get out of there. Clear his head.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go,” he told her.

  “Go?” She sat up in bed, the sheet falling completely away now. He tried not to look at the luscious mounds of her breasts.

  “Yeah. I have work to do.” He got out of bed and stood, feeling oddly naked, even though being naked had never bothered him before.

  “But it’s Sunday.”

  “Yeah, well…” he trailed off as he went into the living room, found his discarded clothes and slipped back into his boxers, his slacks. He drew his shirt over his arms, didn’t bother to button it.

  He went back into the bedroom. Devin was up now, wearing a short champagne-colored silk kimono that was falling off one shoulder. Her hair fell in a smooth curtain against the silk, a gorgeous contrast.

  “Shaye? Is there something else going on?”

  He could hear the edge of panic in her voice, felt it himself.

  “I just have to get going.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He paused, ran a hand over his hair. “Yeah, neither do I.”

  He started to turn away, to go back into the living room to find his shoes, but she put a hand on his arm.

  “Shaye, you have to talk to me.”

  Fuck. She was right. He owed her better than this. He bit down hard on his lip.

  “Okay. Okay.” He turned back to face her, saw the emotion on her face. It made him feel like a criminal.

  He scrubbed a hand over his hair once more. “Look, Devin, things are pretty damn intense between us. Too intense.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I’m not made for this stuff. Relationships. Commitment. And that’s what it would have to be between us.”

  “Why not?”

  A damn good question. He paused, blew out a long breath. “I was raised to be…I was raised with the idea that this is how a man operates. That committing myself to any one woman is suicide. This is what I know, Devin. Not being in a relationship. Anything else is…impossible for me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Not if you grew up with my father.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry for whatever you went through with your dad. But that doesn’t mean you have to buy into that idea.”

  He could feel the cold hardening inside him as his walls went up. “I’ve seen what can happen when you don’t. I saw what he went through after my mom died. And I saw his solution. It’s worked for him. It’s always worked for me.”

  “Oh, Shaye…”

  “Don’t. I don’t need anyone’s pity, Devin. Especially yours.” Why was he so angry suddenly? He had to get the hell out of there. “I need to go.”

  “Shaye, please.”

  But he hardly heard her through the heavy gray fog clouding his brain, his senses. He grabbed his shoes on the way out the door and almost ran the four floors down to his car. His hands shook as he tried to click the key fob to unlock the door. Finally he managed it, got in and sped off into the dark, damp morning.

  * * *

  Devin could not believe what had just happened. Last night had been the most supremely wonderful night of her life, and now…this.

  Her chest ached as though she were weighted down with stones, and the tears fell, fast and furious.

  What had he said about his father? She could piece it together well enough. That his father had turned into some kind of womanizer after his mother’s death in order to protect himself. That the man had vowed never to allow himself to be hurt by becoming attached to a woman who might leave, one way or another. She got that. But despite the way his father had raised him, these absurd things he seemed to believe, Shaye felt something for her. She knew it as thoroughly as she knew what was in her own heart.

  What she didn’t get was, if he felt anything even close to what she was feeling, how could he possibly walk away? How could he do this to her? To himself? And what, if anything, could she do now?

  She was too hurt, too shattered, to even think straight. She needed help.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Kimmie’s number.

  Her friend answered in a sleep-fogged voice. “Hello?”

  “Kimmie, it’s me. I’m sorry to wake you. I’m sorry—” her voice broke on a sob.

  “Devin? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  The tears poured over her hot cheeks. “No. I’m not okay. Right now I don’t know if I ever will be again.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Oh God, Kimmie, there’s so much I haven’t told you.”

  “You can tell me now, Dev,” her friend soothed.

  “I haven’t even called you for weeks. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know where to start.” She pulled a handful of tissues from the box beside her bed, blew her nose. “Remember that guy I saw at the Ring that night with you?”

  “Yeah, the hot one with the goatee?”

  “Yes. Kimmie, I’ve been seeing him and we’ve been…I’ve done some experimenting with him. No, it’s more than that, to be perfectly honest. I’ve gone into this…into the whole BDSM thing full force. And I love it. I feel like it’s opened this part of myself I never even knew was there. A part that needed opening, you know? There’s something in me that had to just let go for once. But there’s so much more to it than even that. There’s this incredible, intense connection with him, something on a very deep level. Something unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. And I…I’ve fallen so hard for him. For Shaye. Unbelievable after only a few weeks, but everything is so much sharper, so much deeper with the domination and submission elements. You have to connect to make it work. And we did and now…And now he’s gone.”

  “Oh honey.”

  “And the worst part is,” she went on, her throat so tight she had to force the words out, “I know he has feelings for me, too. I could see it in everything he did, everything he said. The way he looked at me.” She had to pause, to take in a deep breath at the memory of his eyes, those deep, hazel eyes that held so much. The tears wanted to come again, but she held them back. “I know that’s what drove him away, that he felt something for me. How fucking tragic is that?”

  Kimmie was silent a moment. Then she said quietly, “Just because he left doesn’t necessarily mean you have to let him go. You’re a strong woman, Devin, not some passive mouse who just lies down and takes whatever the world dishes out, submissive tendencies aside. This is different. I mean, if you got nothing out of having to deal with your mother growing up, you got that strength.”

  “I don’t know this time. I feel weaker than I ever have in my life. Just…crushed by this.”

  “Love will do that to you, I guess. But you’re still you on the inside, Dev.”

  Love? Is that what this was? This raging longing, this need for him that went far beyond the mere physicality of the chemistry between them?

  I’m in love with him.

  “You still there, Dev?”

  “What? Yes. I’m just thinking about what you said. And you’re right, Kimmie. God, you are so right. I have to talk to him. Right now. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

  “Don’t be. I’d rather see you strong like this.”

  “I’ll call you,” she told Kimmie. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “Don’t worry about me right now. Just go, call him.”

  Devin hung up the phone, quickly dialed his number. It rang a few times before his voice mail picked up. It was like a punch in the stomach simply hearing his voice on the outgoing message. She waited for the beep.

  “Shaye, it’s me, Devin. I’m calling because…because I think you made a mistake. I’m sure I made some, too. But we need to t
alk. We have something here. Just…call me.”

  She set her phone down on the table as she settled back into the sofa cushions, staring at it, willing it to ring. She was still waiting hours later when, exhausted, she fell asleep.

  * * *

  It was dark when she woke up. She rubbed her eyes, willed herself not to cry. Maybe he’d been working all day. Maybe he’d left his cell phone in his car. Maybe he simply didn’t want to talk to her.

  She picked up her phone, checked the screen in case she’d somehow missed a call, but there was nothing but a text message from Kimmie asking how things went.

  She didn’t know what to think. Should she call him again? Or would that seem too desperate? Did that even matter anymore?

  She was putting it all out there—putting her heart out there, for God’s sake.

  She dialed his number. It went right to voice mail. She shook her head, hung up, tossed her phone onto the table as if it were poison.

  Where the hell was he? Why hadn’t he returned her call?

  She got up, paced her apartment.

  Should she go to his house, knock on the door? How damn hard was she supposed to work for this, anyway? If he felt even half of what she did, he would have called her back by now. Would have shown up at her place.

  Tears stung her eyes. She fought them back, tried to find anger within her instead of hurt.

  If he wanted her, he knew where to find her. Yet there she was, alone. She’d known this would happen, damn it. And she’d let it. This was crazy. Hopeless.

  She loved him. She was certain he loved her back. But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to make him admit it.

  As the San Francisco fog drifted by outside she wrapped her arms around her body, gave herself over to her grief. And sank to the floor and cried.

  * * *

  Shaye cruised up and down the hills of San Francisco, not even knowing where he was going. He didn’t want to go home, where he’d spent a restless three nights. No sleep. Just images of her.

  Devin.

  He’d left his place to get away from his own head. But it wasn’t working. He was driving aimlessly, had been for two hours. He didn’t want to go anywhere except back to Devin. But that was the one thing he could not do. No matter how his body, his mind, his heart craved to just be with her. It meant something now, and so he had to let her go.