Tough Luck Hero

by Maisey Yates

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his words rough and tender. She had a feeling that he couldn’t wait anymore, either.

  “I’m ready,” she said. “I want you. I want you inside me.”

  He groaned, testing her entrance with the blunt head of his cock before inching into her slowly. She let her head fall back as he filled her, deeply, completely. She grabbed hold of his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin. But if she didn’t cling to him, then she would fly away completely. Come completely unglued from the earth and float into space.

  When he began to move, it wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t slow. He thrust hard inside of her, pushing her. Testing her. He was so much. He was in her, he was over her. He was making her feel things she couldn’t control, things that she couldn’t begin to understand or quantify. It wasn’t simple. It was rough, it was messy. It was everything she had never imagined sex could be.

  He didn’t hold back. And neither did she. She arched against him, meeting his every move. Bringing that sensitive bundle of nerves into delicious contact with him every time he went deep. She could feel herself getting closer to the edge. Without any effort at all, pushing up against climax. Against completion.

  It had never been like this before. She had never, ever managed to come with a partner. She didn’t even know she could. She knew that plenty of women had difficulty with that kind of thing, and she’d just assumed she was one of them.

  Colton made her wonder if maybe her only real problem had been choosing the wrong guy.

  But then she couldn’t think, she couldn’t wonder about it at all. She felt like a thin pane of glass that was on the verge of shattering. Little cracks spreading out over her, in her, making her feel perilous, fragile. And then he flexed his hips one more time on a growl, and she shattered completely. Into a million crystalline pieces. Broken. Beautiful.

  If there was one thing she was certain of in that moment, it was that she was beautiful. In his arms, disheveled, with absolutely no clothes, with no protection whatsoever, she was beautiful.

  Slowly, very slowly, she began to come back to herself. Slowly, she began to realize that she was lying on her living room floor. In her home that she had set aside as a kind of sanctuary. A place she didn’t share with anyone. And here she was, sharing it with Colton. A man she had barely let in the door the first time he had come over, because she didn’t want memories of him filling these spaces that belonged to her.

  Well, it was safe to say this room would forever be associated with this moment.

  The thought made her chest tighten. And on the heels of that realization, she gradually became aware of the fact that she was lying on top of her pamphlets.

  “I can’t send them out now,” she said, looking all around her at the dark green pieces of glossy paper that were effectively spread all around, their neat little stacks destroyed.

  “That’s your first thought?” He looked bemused, pushing up into a sitting position. “Clearly I did something wrong.”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. “You just... I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t know what to say. I should just not say anything.”

  “Probably.”

  Without the haze of arousal to shield them, she felt...well, she felt very, very naked. And a moment ago that feeling had been empowering. Right now, it was just embarrassing. Right now, she had to contend with the fact that she was Lydia Carpenter, the Lydia she had always been. Not the one that was aroused and half-insane with need, who could easily push aside thoughts of embarrassment and acting out of character.

  No, she was just firmly herself at the moment. And she did not have the right equipment to deal with something like this. She couldn’t believe she had said all those things to him. That they had done those things.

  She’d never gone down on a guy before. Which was weird maybe. But her past boyfriends hadn’t ever asked for much, and she’d never felt like she wanted to do it.

  This time she’d just wanted to do it. It hadn’t felt weird, or wrong, or embarrassing with Colton. But now she was feeling all insecure. Now she was feeling a little like she might have done it wrong. Or like it was something she shouldn’t have done.

  It was a whole weird world of—not regret, exactly, but feeling like she’d been peeled and left open for Colton’s perusal of her soul.

  Ick. No. She did not want any soul perusal happening.

  Now if only she could get up and go get dressed. Cover herself—metaphorically and physically. But she was just shell-shocked.

  And something was burning in the back of her mind. Something...

  She looked back at Colton, at his naked body, at the expression on his face. Another shiver washed through her, an aftershock of pleasure that wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before.

  She could believe that in Las Vegas she hadn’t felt this exposed. But what she couldn’t believe was that she’d forgotten this kind of pleasure.

  And that was when she knew with absolute certainty that this was the first time she’d ever had sex with Colton West.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THEY HADN’T HAD sex in Las Vegas. Colton was completely certain of it now. Because there was no way he’d forgotten that.

  Absolutely no way in hell.

  That begged the question of what the hell he had done with the condom—

  Holy shit.

  “I made a balloon animal out of the condom,” he said. “In Vegas, I mean. I really did. I thought I was joking when I said that, but I guess...I was remembering.”

  Lydia froze, her posture going stiff, her eyes getting round. “Well. You... That... No, you... Yes, you did.” She frowned, clearly remembering something. “I mean, granted, Colton, it wasn’t much of a balloon animal. I think you said it was a snake.”

  “And you laughed so hard you fell onto the bed,” he said, “and then...”

  “I crawled under the covers and you complained. And then...okay, then I really don’t remember anything else.”

  “You fell asleep,” he said.

  “Did I really?”

  “Yeah. And I did too, I think. We were going to and then... Apparently drunk us is a bunch of idiots.”

  She frowned. “With more willpower than sober us.”

  He wasn’t really sure it had anything to do with willpower. He hadn’t wanted to resist. Not at all. He’d just wanted her. He’d come over to the house—worried, like he’d said—and he’d...well, he’d been intent on kissing her the moment he found her.

  He’d had a condom in his wallet for a reason.

  Lydia looked at him, her cheeks turning pink before she looked away again and started to push herself up into a standing position. Maybe the polite thing to do would be to look away, since she was clearly feeling a little uncomfortable.

  He wasn’t feeling polite.

  He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He wanted to keep on looking at her beautiful body, though. So, he did.

  “I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” she said, turning away from him, giving him a full view of her bare back, her bare ass and...

  “You have a pamphlet stuck to your rear,” he said.

  She slapped her hand over said body part, then squeaked before brushing it off. It fluttered to the ground like a falling leaf being shed from a very indignant tree.

  “Bathroom,” she said, her voice sounding strained as she walked through the house and back toward where he knew her bedroom was.

  He took that opportunity to seek out a second bathroom and take care of practicalities while Lydia was in retreat.

  He imagined she would be happy if he left. But he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, he collected his clothes and put them on, because he wasn’t going to hang out in her living room bare-ass naked.

  A man had to ha
ve some limits, even if he wasn’t quite sure where his were at the moment.

  He’d never...he’d never lost it with someone like he had with her. Everything he wanted, everything, he filtered before he let it out. He didn’t act without thought. Except for with Lydia, it seemed.

  Sure, the sex had been somewhat premeditated on his part. But not what had actually happened. He’d...well, he’d been a little rougher than he’d ever been before. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him.

  Except, he’d definitely thought about doing that before. But he’d never wanted to shock, never wanted to be offensive. He didn’t say words like he’d said to her, didn’t do the things he’d done to her, because when he thought it through, the risk didn’t outweigh the benefit.

  He’d weighed nothing when he’d been with her. He hadn’t thought at all. He’d just felt, and he’d acted, and that was not like him at all.

  He was still trying to decide if that bothered him.

  It was tough to be bothered by much of anything when his orgasm was still buzzing through his system.

  Lydia reappeared a moment later, a much softer version of Lydia than he was used to seeing. More like the Lydia he’d seen in his kitchen that night before they’d had lunch with his family. In frilly shorts and socks up to her knees.

  This time, she was wearing some sort of thermal outfit. A pair of pants that clung to her long slender legs and had a cuff around the ankle, with a top that matched.

  “That’s...interesting,” he said.

  She looked up at him, her expression fierce. “Most of my clothes are at your house. All I had here were a few extra pairs of pajamas.”

  “How many pairs of pajamas do you own?”

  “Several. Coziness is next to godliness.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t know since I sleep naked.”

  Her cheeks turned bright pink, and that forced his mind back to the other thing he’d been pondering since his ears had stopped ringing.

  Lydia was not very experienced.

  Not that it was a commentary on how good it had been, or even on her skill. There was just something in her touch. Something about her hesitancy. About the ease with which she blushed. He wasn’t exactly a renowned playboy, but he’d have considered his a pretty normal healthy level of experience. He wasn’t usually very long without a relationship.

  He had the feeling that Lydia was different, and considering the fact that they both now realized they hadn’t actually slept together in Las Vegas he felt a little bit... Not guilty. Okay, maybe a little bit guilty.

  It was just the previous sex had been a part of the rationale for the recent sex, and without the previous sex, he wondered if she would have made a different decision.

  He wouldn’t have. He confidently and definitively stated he wouldn’t have. He was only a man after all. And she was a temptation that had proven beyond his abilities to resist.

  “Are you...are you okay with everything that happened?” he asked finally.

  “No,” she said, looking down at the floor, her hands planted on her hips. “My pamphlets are ruined.”

  “Aside from your sexed-up pamphlets. I mean are you all right with what happened between us.”

  She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, looking down. Suddenly, she seemed very young. And he felt like an ass. “I think all right is a little bit of a stretch. I’m not really sure where to go from here.”

  “I guess I don’t know how you feel about things like your number. Or, whatever it is that people seem to obsess about when it comes to sex and partners. It was different maybe when we thought we had done it before...”

  “Are you concerned that you just made me a slut when you hadn’t already?”

  He frowned. “That’s not what I said. And you know it. But I feel like maybe it was a little bit of sex under false pretenses. And, it wasn’t on purpose, but I’m worried.”

  “Worried that I’ll have a spiral because I’ve now had sex with three men instead of two? However will I go on?”

  “You don’t have to be sarcastic about it.”

  “Yes, I kind of do, because it’s either that or punch you in the face, or maybe curl up on top of my pamphlets and have a mental breakdown.”

  He took a step back. “Well, don’t do that. Because, while you have doubts about the viability of your promotional materials, I think you could probably still send them out. Unless you make a nest in them, in which case all bets are off.”

  “I am not a burrowing animal.” She treated him to an extremely angry expression.

  “I didn’t suggest you were. Only that maybe you were melting down.”

  “I’m not melting down. You’re the one who’s kind of having a meltdown, actually. Quizzing me on the number of men I’ve slept with. How many women have you slept with?”

  “I don’t keep track.” Of course he did. He knew exactly how many women he had slept with, because it was the exact number of women he had dated seriously. Except for Lydia. He was married to her. But, not permanently. So that put her in her own weird category. He imagined it was the same for her.

  “BS. Of course you keep track. How many women have you slept with? Did I compromise your number?”

  “My number is fine.”

  “What is it?” She continued to badger.

  “Six. Counting you. All women that I’ve dated seriously.”

  “Oh,” she said, blinking. “I guess, I just assumed...”

  “That’s kind of a lot.”

  “Is it? I mean, I honestly have no idea. I’m kind of out of touch with this sort of thing.”

  “Well, as long as you aren’t upset.”

  She crossed her arms, looking as though she were trying to shrink. “I’m not upset. We did exactly what we said we were going to do. We had one more time. Or I guess we had the first time.”

  “Right,” he said.

  “Right. So I’m not damaged. My pamphlets are a little worse for wear, but otherwise, everything is fine.”

  “Right. Fine. So are you going to come home?”

  “I’m going to go to your house, if that’s what you mean. It isn’t my home.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’s great. Because now, all the tension is diffused. And, we’ll be...normal. Completely normal.”

  He resisted the urge to ask her what the hell normal was for them. Since it seemed to be either fighting, getting married, or tearing each other’s clothes off.

  He felt it was probably best to not discuss the tearing off of clothing. Especially since the image of her naked was still fresh in his mind. He had a feeling it would be the top thing in his mind for the next...foreseeable forever. Because, of all the six women he had ever slept with, Lydia was the only one who had ever tested his control. He still wasn’t sure he liked it. He didn’t think he did. But it had certainly left the strongest impression. Of that there was no doubt.

  “Just let me... I need to get my things. I need to try and salvage however many pamphlets I can. And then I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I can help you. I’ll wait for you to be ready to leave,” he said.

  “No,” she responded. “That’s fine. Honestly, I need a few minutes.”

  And if he were in character, if he were acting with any kind of sense, he would let her have it. But, apparently, he was still acting a little bit out of his mind.

  “What if you spend a few minutes talking to me. Because I’m trying to figure out exactly where I stand here, and I have to say, I’m not entirely sure.”

  “Well, excuse me for not feeling all that sorry for you,” she said, her tone verging on ferocious. “I am... I don’t do things like this.”

  “This is starting to feel a lot like a rehash of the day after our wedding.”<
br />
  “Except, I think what we just remembered kind of underlines my point. Even drunk, I don’t do things like this.”

  “You were going to. It was just that you passed out.”

  “Okay, we don’t need to split hairs. My point is, I’m a very self-contained person. I act responsibly. And no, I’m not going to get all bent out of shape because I slept with someone else. I don’t have an issue with that. It’s just that...I’m not entirely comfortable with what happens when we...”

  His stomach twisted in horror. “This is why I want to talk. Did I...did I do something that you didn’t like?”

  She lifted her hands, rubbing the back of her neck and squeezing her eyes shut. “No. I’m just...horrified. And I don’t know what to do with all of the feelings. Because I’ve never had an orgasm with a man before, and I’ve never gone down on... Anyway, I can’t have this conversation with you right now because I’m very delicate.”

  Her words washed over him in a rush, leaving him stunned. “You’re delicate?” He had no idea why that was the part of her little speech he had chosen to comment on, except maybe because it was about the only thing he could focus on in the middle of all that information.

  “Birdlike.”

  “And you’ve never had an orgasm with a man before?” He was not even going to touch the blow job issue.

  “No,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “You can’t introduce the fact that I was the first man ever to give you an orgasm and expect me to not talk about it. At length.”

  “If you were a gentleman you would honor my request.”

  “You didn’t want me to be a gentleman a few minutes ago.”

  “Yeah, well, things change. When I’m hungry I want French fries. When I’m not hungry, I don’t want French fries. That’s not being fickle. That’s just... Things change when appetites have been satisfied.”

  “First of all,” he said, “you’re a liar. You don’t not want French fries just because you ate French fries and aren’t hungry anymore. You still want French fries. It’s a constant state of being. You would take French fries again immediately after already having had French fries.”