Compromising Positions

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  If only she’d lived more for herself. Then they would be two adults enjoying chemistry that could light up the entire skyline. Because he wasn’t holding back because of some sense of loyalty to Craig anymore. He was holding back from her, for her. He wouldn’t take from her more than he could give back.

  “You won’t disappoint me,” she said, her voice breathy. A statement that robbed him of choice. He growled, flipping her onto her back. He didn’t disappoint. Ever. How dare she taunt him this way?

  Turnabout was fair play. She had him on the edge of reason emotionally. He’d put her there physically. He set about his new plan with vengeance, determined to set every nerve in her body on fire.

  Threading his hands through her dark ringlets, he pulled her to him. He found her mouth, demanding more than stolen, teasing kisses. His demands were deep throated and hungry. As hard as he tried to overwhelm her senses she seemed to intuitively know where he was going. She matched him kiss for kiss, touch for touch until he realized he was playing with fire.

  Slowing the frenzy he kissed his way down her neck, savoring every inch of her. He discovered a place where he could taste her pulse as it jumped fast and thready beneath her skin. He let one hand drift down her cheek, over her shoulder until he found the ripe swell of her breast.

  He squeezed gently, his thumb teasing her nipple. Her back arched against him, thrusting her breast into his hand. The moans that choked out of her throat surprised him. She was so sensitive. Leaning his head down, he tasted the ripe bud, rolling it along his tongue. Her moans became whimpers as she fisted the sheets and bit her lip. Angling back to her face he asked, “Sophie, relax, let go.”

  She opened her heavy lidded eyes. “I don’t want to yet. I don’t want you to stop.” The throaty whisper caught him off guard.

  “Go ahead,” he said filling both hands with her breasts. “I won’t stop.” As his thumbs skidded across her nipples she arched up off the bed. He slipped one arm behind her, lifting her to him. In one long pull he sucked her nipple into his mouth and heard her cry out. Her responsiveness amazed him as she weaved her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to her as she rode the wave of her bliss.

  When her breathing slowed she released her hold, but left her fingers there. Massaging his scalp with her fingers, scratching with her nails. Did she know how close he was? How much he wanted to shuck his principles along with his pants and bury himself inside of her? He couldn’t now even if he wanted to. As close as he was he’d never make it. He wouldn’t disappoint her with that.

  He lavished his attentions on her other breast, memorizing every nuance. He kissed down her soft belly, deep enough so he could feel the muscles beneath. His hands drifted further down, molding to the sides of her waist. He ran his tongue down the curve of her hip. He stared in awe, noticing how perfect his hand molded to the flare of her hip.

  He worried his hands might be too rough to touch such delicate skin, but her sigh reassured him. Her sensitive inner thighs were smooth and pliant beneath his nimble fingers.

  Unhurried, he inched his fingers beneath her curls, parting her. So wet. His longest finger slid down one side of her clitoris, making a gentle swirl before gliding down the other. His fingers pulsed at her opening. He drew them up along the length to the pearly tip of her. Gently, he pressed a finger on either side of the bud. Her hips rose, begging for more as he squeezed the clitoris and delicate inner lips between his fingers. He kept the speed of his strokes deliberate, varying the pressure until he made her gasp. He pushed inside her then, curling a finger inside looking for the supple pillow that would take her home.

  He slowed, realizing his own desire to taste her, to completely feel when she came again. He always avoided it, the act seemed more intimate than sex. Somehow it fit perfectly now. His mouth found the button of flesh he was seeking. The erect little nub he would use to coax her into screaming his name.

  His fingers pressed as his mouth sucked, building her ecstasy until her gasps and moans intermingled with his name. It wasn’t long until he felt her spasms, tasted the fruits of his labors. He stayed with her, prolonging her pleasure until she shuddered and he felt her body go limp. Climbing back up the bed, he pulled her to him, not willing to walk away just yet.

  Curling around her, he pulled the blankets on top of them. He didn’t want her to be cold. He bowed her tiny body against his, and held on. Never had he completely sacrificed his own pleasure. That could be what he gave back to her. That and enough mind-blowing orgasms to make her drunk with passion, to make her sleep so deep he could figure out just what was going on.

  Chapter Nine

  Sunight blazed red beneath David’s eyelids. He sucked in a slow breath and squinted in the streaming light. What the hell? His eyes flew open. Too fast. He brought a hand to shield his stinging eyes. He was still there, still in Sophie’s bed and the sun was up. He’d never woken up with a woman before. Never been with a woman who might expect him to.

  His heart tightened as he reached for her. “Sophie,” he whispered, swallowing hard against the rasp in his voice. Rolling to his side he reached out, shivering at the cool sheets beside him. Sitting up, he looked about the room as his eyes adjusted to the light.

  “Sophie?” he called out. She must be in the bathroom, in the shower. He smiled at the thought of her bare beneath the water. His morning erection jumped in response. Maybe…

  The sensations of last night flooded through him as he swung his long legs off the bed. He was startled by the lush rug at his feet. He curled his toes in the soft red chenille and smiled. Soft and warm and unexpected. He looked out her bedroom window and marveled at the blue sky he could make out above the neighboring rooftops. Such a beautiful morning.

  Looking around the room he spied a pile of books on the bedside table. Small red paperbacks with couples in provocative poses on the covers, Fabulous Fellatio, a Kama Sutra manual and a tiny pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. Cute. His dreams last night would probably make those books pale in comparison.

  Rising to his feet, he listened to the silence. He couldn’t hear the shower. Maybe she was taking a bath. His pants jumped again at the thought of her beneath a mountain of tiny bubbles.

  “Sophie,” he called out as he shuffled to the bathroom. The door opened to a darkened room.

  Drawing in a harsh breath, he spun quickly on his heel, racing against the inevitable. By the time he made it to the end of the hall his heart was beating so fast it was hard to stand. She was gone.

  He collapsed on the couch, his head falling all the way to his hands. This should make him happy. She’d given him the safest, easiest out in the world. He could just go. So why were his feet on the ground? And why did he feel everything but relief?

  Lifting his heavy head, he looked around the room as if he might find her somewhere, hiding beneath the fern or peeking out from behind the palm. She could have at least left…a note. He jumped up, his feet barely touching the hardwoods as he crossed to the kitchen table.

  Sunrise yoga.

  Didn’t want to wake you.

  Sophie

  His thumb wore a path over the tiny heart between her words and her name until the pencil lies blurred. Not quite what he was hoping for, but still a relief. He made his way to the bathroom and flipped on the light. The bathroom held a claw foot tub, like the one he had imagined her in just moments ago. He shook his head as if the act might dislodge the image. Placing his hands on either side of the pedestal sink he leaned forward and looked in the mirror. Damned if he didn’t look well rested. It was as if he was staring into the eyes of a whole different man. What the hell?

  ———

  “Honey, if you think your feelings will freak him out, then you’re in the wrong relationship,” a dulcet voice said slowly.

  Sophie jumped as if the woman were speaking directly to her. She couldn’t help but overhear in the small steam room at Working It Out. But the petite blonde with the Southern drawl on the other side of the partition was ob
viously talking to the younger woman next to her. The women huddled closely together, too lost in the intimacies of their discussion to notice their audience.

  “I know it can be tempting to settle for less when you really want to be with someone,” the warm voice drawled on, “but you need to have some respect for yourself.”

  Sophie opened her mouth to argue, to explain that there were compromises in every relationship, but shut it as the woman continued. She’s not talking to you.

  “Don’t feel sorry for him, don’t defend him. You just need to raise your expectations. If he thinks you’re worth it, he’ll rise to the occasion. Men like a challenge.”

  Sophie’s tongue shriveled in her mouth and her heart began to ache. Just minutes ago she’d been humming, actually humming as she made her way into the steam room. Last night had been more amazing than she’d dreamed, not quite all she had imagined, but magnificent nonetheless. He’d literally knocked her out for goodness sake.

  It felt as if he’d made love to her, no matter the technicalities. They’d been intimate, even if his pants had stayed on, and he’d held her all night long. Which was the best part. Though it made getting out of bed without waking him a challenge. Still, she’d loved every moment.

  And now? Listening in on the conversation of strangers, her stomach sank. She was throwing herself at him, had actually begged him. Had he been with her last night out of pity?

  Heat rose from her shoulders to her hairline that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Even he was telling her she deserved more. She’d thought he was just being noble.

  “You just don’t understand him. He loves me the best he knows how,” the younger woman pleaded.

  The mother shook her head. “Why are you willing to settle for so little? Right now, is this what you want?”

  Sophie’s heart beat in her ears as she listened for a response. She didn’t want the relationship she’d promised David, the no strings, no one has to know. She wanted to change him, wanted to make him want the same things she did. Which wasn’t fair, because she was incapable of doing the same.

  The mother continued, “It should feel like what you want.”

  “It could get better.” She heard a voice croak between sobs. Heat prickled her own eyelids as she got up and turned to leave. The girl was her age, her mother holding her now as she cried.

  Sophie tightened the towel around her as she made her way to the showers. She had long ago learned how to hold it in, to cry silently so no one would worry. She stood beneath the icy water, letting it ease the puffiness before it began.

  She wanted her mother now. Right now she would give anything to just lie down and have her mother stroke her hair and say it would all work out. She’d never once worried her mother with talk of boys, had no idea if her mother might advise her to wait him out or cut him loose. But she did have those words she could never forget. “A full life. No regrets.” The words she used to make herself bold enough to do what she dared.

  Why did the woman have to be so damn cryptic?

  ———

  Sophie turned the corner toward her apartment with a sense of dread. She hung her head as she saw it, his blue Corvette still in the driveway. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago it hurt to leave him. Now she was wishing he was anywhere but inside, waiting for her.

  She’d hoped he would be gone, that by some miracle he had a spare key hidden somewhere. What she really wanted to do was rewind time and remember to leave his keys on the table. Sophie had completely forgotten about swiping his keys last night until she’d heard them jangle in her backpack when she reached inside for lotion after her shower. She might have ignored the entire situation if not for the three messages David had already left with the receptionist. The hour break she had between classes left her with no excuse but to deliver them herself.

  She climbed the stairs slowly, her feet heavy. She didn’t want to have a conversation about what had and had not happened last night. She was still trying to figure out just how she felt about it. The usual butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. It just wasn’t fair. Every second she spent with him she fell harder, and he was immune.

  Taking a deep breath she chanted the words still echoing in her brain. Raise your expectations. If he thinks you’re worth it he’ll rise to the occasion. She blew out the air in defeat. Expectations? She’d have to get some of those.

  Pulling off her gloves, she reached in her coat pocket for her keys. Her numb fingers fumbled with the lock. All too soon he was there, pulling open the door and filling up the doorway. Involuntarily she smiled up at him as they stood there, neither of them moving an inch. Her smile widened. She realized he didn’t want to have a conversation about last night any more than she did.

  “Is your hair wet?” David asked, pulling her inside by the arm. “It’s too cold for you to be out with wet hair. You’ll get sick.”

  As he closed the door she reached a hand up to inspect her curls. Her hair had been too damp to pull on her hat before she left, but it was almost dry now. “It’s a myth,” she said. She plopped her backpack on the table and rummaged through it for his keys.

  “What’s a myth?”

  His rumored sexual notoriety. Where had that come from? “That going outside with wet hair makes you sick. Viruses make people sick, not temperatures.” Sophie held up the shiny silver key ring engraved with his initials. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot I had them.”

  “You mean you weren’t plotting to keep me trapped in your apartment all day awaiting your return?” He grinned, crossing the room.

  She could only shake her head as he lifted the key ring from her finger, obviously careful not to touch her. Or was she just being hypersensitive? She tried to catch his eyes to see, but he was watching the floor too intently.

  “You shouldn’t leave someone to wake up alone, Sophie.”

  Her heart leapt in her chest. Could he be just a little sad, hurt, upset? Please, anything.

  He cleared his throat without looking up. “It’s not safe for you to leave someone unsupervised with all of your things.” He looked up with a grin. “Somebody might try to unalphabetize your spice rack.”

  Her heart slowed as it sunk lower in her chest. Swallowing hard, she found she actually had a few expectations.

  “That’s what you want to say to me, David? That it’s not safe to leave a man alone in my apartment.” Sucking in a hard breath she continued. “Great. Thanks for all of your wonderful advice on dating.” She tossed the words at him like daggers. “Never let a guy con you into not using a condom and don’t leave him alone in your apartment. You’re a wealth of knowledge.” She ticked off his rules on her fingers. “Heaven forbid I might actually trust the person I’m having sex with, or not having sex with as the case might be.”

  David raised his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Exactly how did you mean it then? It sounded pretty straightforward to me.” Her blood flowed so hot it was easy to slide her fingers into her gloves now. “I realize I may not have a lot of experience, but I don’t need you to critique me at every turn. It’s insulting.” Her mouth was so dry her tongue was sticking to the roof of it. She knew she was overreacting. She looked to him for a response. At this point she would take any sign of life.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked incredulously.

  “I’m in between classes.” She picked up her backpack, but couldn’t leave the kitchen with him taking up the entire hallway. “David?”

  “I’ll drive you,” he said, walking to the door.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Sophie, it’s cold. I’ll drive you.”

  “Would you please stop telling me what to do? I’m tired of you making decisions for me.”

  “Me? Making decisions for you?” He blocked the doorway. “I don’t do that.”

  Arching an eyebrow, she wondered if any of the moves she had learned in self-defense class would get him out of
her way. “And exactly what would you call what you’re doing right now?”

  He rolled his eyes and stepped aside. She brushed past him and plodded down the stairs. Between her footsteps she heard him whisper, “Always lock your door when you leave.”

  She turned on the step. Was he really giving her more advice? “You did not just say that.”

  Meeting her stare, he glared at her as he slowly replied, “I sure did,” slamming the door afterward for effect.

  Sophie turned and stomped down the stairs, marching down the street as fast as her short strides could take her. She was still close enough to hear the squeal of tires as he pulled out of the driveway moments later.

  ———

  What was that about? It was as if she was an entirely different person. Funny, teasing, easy Sophie had been inhabited by one angry woman. David didn’t deal well with a woman scorned. He didn’t do complicated, never stayed around long enough to have a mess to clean up.

  She had no right to be mad. He was the one who had been stuck in her apartment for half the morning. David slammed his car door shut, enabled the alarm and made his way up the stairs to his condo. He should be the one who was angry, not her.

  He didn’t have time for this. He needed a fast shower and a change of clothes so he could get to the office. He’d already called and checked in, and there were no raging fires that needed to be put out, but he still wanted to get there quickly. He wanted to get to a place where he was in control.

  Opening the door, he saw books and papers strewn about his living room floor. Kelly. She often used his empty home as a study spot, especially when she needed quiet and a lot of space. He usually liked the company, but he didn’t need her questions right now. Making a beeline for his bedroom, David hoped he could sneak in and out without her even knowing he’d come home.

  “There you are,” he heard her say from the kitchen. Reluctantly, he turned around. “Where were you last night? I brought Pad Thai. There’s still a ton in the fridge, but I ate all the peanut sauce.”