Intimate

by Noelle Adams

  Then her hands move down to his chest and start undoing the buttons, pushing the fabric aside so her fingers can brush against his bare skin.

  He finally begins to move, to act—tries to pull off his shirt. But it’s too late. The throbbing world concentrates, intensifies, and is now centered painfully in his groin.

  Marissa unfastens his trousers.

  No time left to do anything. She’s poised above the hard length of his erection.

  Marissa locks gazes—her blue eyes open, confident, and ravenous. She wants this every bit as much as he does. He can see it. She’s telling him. No hesitation. No regrets.

  Then she impales herself on his cock.

  Caleb closes his eyes so he can feel it more deeply. She’s tight from years of going without. Wet with desire and need. So hot. Her slick channel even hotter than the soft flesh he’s holding.

  Marissa. Over him. Against him. Surrounding him. Nothing but Marissa in the world.

  The still throbbing world.

  It should be overwhelming. Should send him over the edge. It doesn’t. Only fuels his desire, his hunger, his need to start thrusting into the rich depths of her.

  He’s inside her at last. No questions. No worries. No long, difficult conversations. Nothing to think through. Nothing to work out.

  It’s easy. Simple. Right.

  And now Marissa is moving over him, sliding up and down on his erection. Her motion is steady, deliberate, and insistent. Her body keeps enclosing him. Keeps sucking him in.

  Then he’s suddenly part of it. Opens his eyes. Starts thrusting up, moving into her rhythm. Grabs her more firmly by the hips. Accelerates their motion until it’s faster, harder. And he’s forcing himself into her body, slamming her down onto his.

  Her head falls back, and her face twists with pleasure. Her mouth opens in urgency and effort, but he doesn’t hear her verbal response. Doesn’t hear anything. Not her cries of pleasure or his own grunts. Not the slapping of their bodies together or the slick suction of his sliding in and out of her.

  There’s no sound. Only a pulsing in his ears that matches the pounding in his groin.

  He wants to watch her. Loves how flushed and overcome her face is. Loves how her breasts bounce with her motion. How her eyes hold his, speak to him deeply. But as their pumping intensifies, the sight of her becomes blurry. Bleeds into a haze of light, color, and motion.

  And he can’t see. Can’t hear. Can’t do anything but feel. Can’t stop the driving momentum even though he knows that she’s new to this, that she might need a little more time and attention.

  Feels her muscles clinging to him with every stroke. Feels her body fluttering around him. Tries to concentrate on her face. Focus on her eyes.

  And he knows. He knows she’s with him. Knows it. She’s close to climax herself. It doesn’t have to be hard. Doesn’t have to be difficult or slow.

  Their bodies know each other, need each other instinctively. She’ll come.

  Caleb doesn’t even have to try.

  So he doesn’t. He bucks into her more frantically, the pulsating pleasure finally starting to draw in, to peak.

  And Marissa lunges forward without warning, biting ruthlessly into the flesh of his shoulder. Her body contracts around him, pulling him deeper, forcing him out.

  It’s perfect, exquisite pressure, and the throbbing world has become the cresting of his climax.

  He’s almost there. He holds her down against him. Pushes into the spasming of her orgasm. And then she kisses the wet skin that she bit.

  Marissa’s body is made for him. Only for him. She’s his as much as he is hers.

  And finally he’s coming…

  ***

  Caleb was awakened by his alarm clock blaring.

  He was drenched in sweat, painfully aroused, and for some reason biting his pillow.

  The bedcovers had gotten tangled up in his legs, so he had to struggle for a minute before he could roll out of bed. When he finally gained his feet, he angrily tossed away the bundle of sheet that he’d inadvertently pulled off the bed as he rose.

  He strode into the bathroom and stared at his damp face in the mirror over the sink.

  This was absurd. Inexcusable. Absolutely humiliating.

  He’d fallen into some kind of adolescent nightmare, where his libido raged out of control. He was a grown man in his mid-twenties. He’d always had a strong sexual appetite, but he’d been perfectly content with the various outlets he had available to satisfy his body’s needs.

  Caleb had never—in all his life—been such a victim of lust for one specific woman.

  It was supposed to have been a fluke. Was supposed to have gone away after that first bizarre night. His desire for women always had before. He would either satisfy it or make himself move on. He’d eventually forget about it completely.

  But this lust for Marissa wasn’t going away, and it was starting to become a real problem.

  Caleb reached over and turned on his shower as cold as he could bear. Stood under the strong spray of chilly water and tried to control his body’s responses.

  When the water didn’t help, he reached down and took care of himself with his hand, trying to get the necessity over with as quickly as possible.

  He didn’t want to think about Marissa, but he still saw her face when he came.

  His climax left him feeling dull and unsatisfied but able to think much more clearly.

  This was merely physical desire. Unavoidable but ultimately manageable. He was not a slave to his body, so with a little more time, a little more effort, he would control it again.

  He was not willing to spoil his friendship with Marissa.

  Which meant he really had to pull himself together.

  * * *

  Caleb was running late for his lunch date with her.

  He’d been at rehearsal with the orchestra all morning, and—as usual—they hadn’t kept to the intended schedule. Now he was twenty minutes late.

  He and Marissa were meeting at a bistro only a few blocks away, so he hurried outside and walked down the crowded sidewalk, keeping his pace as brisk as he could manage without actually running.

  Caleb felt a lot better than he had that morning. Rehearsal had been annoying, as always, and it felt like everyone there was silently wishing for his prompt execution.

  But he hadn’t had a single erotic thought about Marissa in five hours.

  Definite progress.

  The hostess greeted him by name at the restaurant and explained that his friend was already waiting for him at a table. After being pointed in the right direction, Caleb took a few steps into the room. He found Marissa but halted abruptly as he took in the sight.

  She was talking to a man he didn’t know. A clean-cut man about his age. As he watched, the man adjusted in his chair. Caleb’s chair.

  The man was sitting in his chair. The one across from Marissa.

  She was smiling, and her cheeks were shaded with a rosy flush. Then she laughed and reached up to push a piece of hair back behind her right ear.

  Caleb felt a wave of irrational anger at that pretty, little gesture but forced the emotion back down into obscurity. She wasn’t flirting with the man. Caleb was sure of it.

  Marissa didn’t flirt. She had no reason to.

  Then the man leaned farther toward her. He, at least, was flirting shamelessly. Caleb saw the man’s eyes drop lower every now and then, leering at Marissa’s delectable cleavage, which was displayed just slightly by the V-neck of her top.

  For some reason, Caleb’s entire body tensed up, and his fists clenched at his side. As soon as he noticed this, he released his fingers, forcing his hands to relax.

  He could only control his outward appearance, however. His mind reeled with the force of his reaction.

  Whoever this man was, he was clearly an ass and a lecher, and Marissa was innocently responding to his overtures with her typical good nature and enthusiasm.

  Caleb wasn’t going to let her be taken
advantage of, though. She was smart and independent, but she had so distanced herself from sex and everything associated with it that she might not realize what was happening. Might not realize what the bastard was after.

  Caleb knew, however, and he braced himself against a hot wave of possessiveness. Then started toward the table.

  She looked up at him and smiled, her expression open and affectionate. “It’s about time. I was just about to give up on you.”

  Caleb didn’t respond. Instead, he loomed over the man and stared significantly at the chair the asshole was sitting in.

  The chair that belonged to Caleb.

  The man seemed to realize what this hovering intimidation signified. He stood up and gave Caleb a casual nod. “I was just keeping Marissa company while she waited,” he explained easily, giving her an obnoxious, slanting glance and a lopsided smile.

  Marissa giggled in response, in such an enticing way that Caleb had an overwhelming urge to carve that crooked smile off the bastard’s face with a steak knife.

  Giving the man a frigid glare, Caleb just said coolly, “Isn’t it a little early in the day for sloppy pick-up lines?”

  The man’s jaw dropped, and Marissa sputtered a little.

  Caleb realized that the words hadn’t come out as smooth and cutting as he’d intended. In fact, they’d sounded rather foolish and immature. Which made him even more furious.

  But the man turned and left after a few words and another smile for Marissa. So, despite the crude nature of his behavior, Caleb’s efforts had evoked the intended response.

  With the unwanted presence finally gone, he took the seat that had always been his. His anger had diminished, his brief embarrassment had vanished, and only gratification remained.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Marissa demanded.

  He scowled, losing sight of his victory as the irrational anger returned. “The bastard was coming onto you.”

  She looked at him like he was crazy. “I know that. Who cares?”

  “Have you suddenly changed your mind about sex but not bothered to inform me?”

  “No. I haven’t changed my mind.” Her cheeks were even redder than they’d been earlier, blazing against her fair skin.

  Her anger enraged him even more—at the inexplicable fact that she was questioning his behavior when he’d only been trying to help her. “Then I would think you’d be glad I got rid of him for you. I assume you haven’t become that sort of tease, leading a man on with no intention of following through with it.”

  He pressed his lips together as soon as he finished the sentence. Wished he could suck back the uncalculated words.

  She stifled a throaty burst of fury and managed to say in a voice that was almost controlled, “You have no right to talk to me that way. I don’t know what your problem is today, but I’m not going to put up with that. Not from you or anyone else.”

  Caleb swallowed hard. Tried to think reasonably. He was angry with the bastard and with himself. Not with Marissa. So he forced himself to say, “You’re right. I’m sorry for saying that. But I was really only trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need you storming in like an uncouth cowboy protecting the last virgin in the territory.”

  Despite his obsessive intensity, Caleb actually had a fairly well-developed sense of humor.

  His mouth quirked involuntarily at her clever simile, and he saw a responding gleam of humor ignite in her eyes. She was still too mad at him to follow up on it, but the sight of her brief flash of amusement softened his voice as he responded, “Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been a long time since sex has been part of your life. You might not understand what drives a man. Just because you’re not thinking about sex doesn’t mean that men are going to back off.”

  Apparently—despite the strange tenderness warming his voice—this was the wrong thing to say. “Damn it, Caleb. You’re treating me like I’m some naïve girl who doesn’t know a penis from a candlestick. I made a conscious decision not to have sex. It wasn’t based on naiveté. Having sex doesn’t make people more mature, or more knowledgeable, or more in control of their surroundings—and I’ll defy anyone who says it does. I haven’t spent the last five years in a convent or a deserted island. I am perfectly capable of realizing when a man is hitting on me. I can tell when he wants to get me into bed.”

  She was right, for the most part, but he hoped she was wrong about one thing. Hoped she didn’t know that for the last two weeks he’d been dreaming of getting her into bed.

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “No, you weren’t. It was some macho pissing contest. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but I’m really getting sick of it.”

  He was getting sick of it too. Even though he’d suppressed it, Caleb’s lust was already tainting their friendship. He couldn’t let this continue. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Just forget it.”

  The apology didn’t sound quite as sincere as he’d intended, since he was still bristling over the way that bastard had been slathering over Marissa. And how she didn’t appreciate his coming to her rescue.

  She seemed to recognize his continued annoyance because her face didn’t soften.

  That sat in silence for a while, except for a brief interruption when their server came over to take their orders. Caleb’s jaw was clenched, and Marissa’s chin was still sticking out. Every once in a while their eyes would meet and they’d trade resentful glares.

  Both of them were hopelessly stubborn, which raised a real question about who would cave first.

  Their meals came, and Marissa starting picking at her salad. Caleb ate several bites without even tasting what he was swallowing.

  Then their gazes met once more, and this time they didn’t immediately look away. He saw another brief flash of humor in Marissa’s eyes—the force of irony she could never escape—and then he saw her hide a wry chuckle.

  He couldn’t help but smile too about the way they both were pouting.

  At his smile, Marissa stopped trying to stifle her amusement. She laughed out loud.

  “Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, trying to tear his eyes away from her beautiful, laughing face.

  “I don’t know. You haven’t even apologized.”

  “I did apologize. I said you were right and that I was sorry. Do you expect me to get down on my knees?”

  Marissa raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

  Caleb had to close his eyes to hide a wave of desire at the thought of what he might do on his knees in front of her.

  “But mostly I want you to admit that you weren’t just trying to help me.” Her voice had grown serious again. “Admit it. That was some sort of silly cockfight.”

  That would be one way to put it.

  “All right. I did want to help you, but I was also playing cowboy. The guy annoyed me, and I wanted to put him in his place.”

  Marissa didn’t seem to question why the bastard had annoyed him so much. Her face relaxed into a smile, and she seemed pleased at what she’d made him admit to.

  “Plus, he was in my seat,” Caleb added, hoping to lighten the mood.

  This made her laugh again, which was exactly what he’d intended.

  “How was rehearsal?” she asked, obviously trying to change the subject to something neutral.

  “It was fine. Pretty good.” His answer was lie, but he habitually lied to her about things like this. He did it naturally, unconsciously, without any malicious intent at all. Anything that would make her worry, that would disappoint her, he always just lied about.

  She searched his face, as if looking for clues about his sincerity. “Good. How’s the music?”

  “It’s movie music. It’s about what you’d expect.” His voice might have been just slightly snide.

  “You’re a music snob. You know that, right?”

  “I like all kinds of music. What I don’t like is sappy, over-emotional tripe masquerading as high art.”

  M
arissa laughed. “Poor Caleb. Is it really bad, having to play that kind of music with the orchestra?”

  The truth was it grated on him—like using a Renaissance masterpiece as a doorstop—but he suspected that would only confirm her perception of him as a music snob, so he didn’t say anything.

  He couldn’t stand the slight hint of concern in her eyes. She was the one who’d talked him into taking a job where he had no control over the music he played, where he had to constantly bow to someone else’s whims.

  He didn’t like that part of his job. He didn’t like a lot of his job.

  But he also didn’t want Marissa to feel bad or guilty about it.

  “It’s fine,” he said at last.

  She relaxed and smiled at him warmly. “You know how many musicians would kill for your job, right?”

  Caleb knew this was true. Classical musicians might work their whole lives to get even third chair in one of the top symphony orchestras—the ones that ran year-long, paid well, and had benefits found almost nowhere else in the music world.

  “I know that,” he said, just slightly stiff.

  “Is it just because you can’t make all the decisions? Is that why it bothers you?”

  “That’s part of it,” he said cautiously.

  “And I guess you’re not center stage, like you were when you were doing concerts. Is it hard—just being part of the orchestra?”

  They’d never talked about it so openly before, but he had to be careful about saying too much, giving her more to worry about. “Maybe a little. But that’s not really the main thing either.”

  “Then what is the main thing?”

  He opened his mouth but stopped himself before he said the words.

  “Just say it, Caleb.”

  “I’m bored.” He hadn’t intended to admit it, but the words just came out.

  “Is it because the music isn’t challenging? Because I know you’re doing the movie-music concert now, but that’s just one out of a whole year’s worth of performances.”

  “I know that.” He needed to backtrack now. Big time. Her eyes were huge and anxious. “It’s not a big deal. Really. It’s just different than what I used to do, so it’s taking some time to get used to it. It’s really a great job.”