by J. Saman
“I think you’re amazing,” I tell her, watching her fingers move in rapid succession. “I have no real talent. At least not one like this.” Claire laughs at that like I’m crazy, but I’m not, so I stop her. “Do you remember in school when they’d ask you to say something interesting about yourself. Something you were good at?”
“Yeah?”
“I was always that kid with no answer.” She laughs again, thinking I’m kidding. “I’m totally serious. I never had anything to say other than I had cancer, which obviously isn’t a talent or something you’re good at. Though, many considered it interesting. But after my hair came back, it was never something I wanted to share. With anyone.”
“You don’t have a hobby? Something you like to do?”
“Not really,” I admit, focusing on her hands so I don’t have to look at her face. “I work and exercise, but that’s it. I don’t cook or play an instrument. I can’t tell a joke to save my life. I’m not a hacker, and I can’t write code. I don’t heal the sick and I’m not really all that great with people.”
“I learned how to play music to escape my life,” she says casually, even though those words are anything but. “To escape my parents. My mother was not what you’d call loving or supportive. She was generally unimpressed with me. And my father, well . . . He doesn’t care for me all that much. Never did. My parents met and fucked, and I was the result. Their relationship only lasted a few years and then they bounced me back and forth between the two of them because neither actually wanted the responsibility of a child. So, I played music. Any instrument I could get my hands on. It was an escape. A necessary one, otherwise I would have been that teenage girl with the eating disorder who cut herself to make it all feel better.”
“Shit.” I laugh. “We’re just a fucked up pair, aren’t we?”
“Maybe,” she muses, letting her fingers finally come to a rest on the keys in front of her. “Maybe we are.” She turns to look at me, her face full of a desperation I know all too well. “But is that so bad? Sometimes I wouldn’t mind being that if it meant I could be that with you.”
My head dips to hers without a thought. Without any conscious decision. My actions are driven on pure need. I need to kiss Claire. I need to make all her pain go away. I need to show her that it’s okay to let go and trust someone. To trust me.
My lips press to hers, and for a moment, Claire freezes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s not exactly returning my kiss. I’m filled with fear for approximately three seconds before her lips mold to mine and she’s practically climbing into my lap on this stupid piano bench.
My hands grasp her hips as a shuddered groan leaves my lips. Oh fucking hell do I want this.
“Claire,” I moan against her lips. My hands glide up her sides and then back to her hips, unable to resist touching her, yet afraid she’s going to stop me if I try for too much.
She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t need her to. I’ve got her consent rocking against my painfully hard cock. I adjust us, partially standing with her still tucked into my lap, and then I kick this stupid bench back, lifting Claire fully into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist and we both groan.
Fuck, this is so good.
Claire is like electricity, sending a current straight through me, lighting me up from within. I couldn’t turn her off, even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. I want to roll around in the sweet, tortuous tension that is pulling back and forth between us. I want her so frenzied with need for me that no other man has ever or will ever exist to her again. Fuck other men, I plan to annihilate any memory of them from her brain.
“I want to take this slow,” I tell her, walking through my dark apartment, down the long hallway to my bedroom with her wrapped around me like a vine, “but all I can think about right now is fucking you senseless in my big ass bed.”
She moans against my lips, rocking her hips forward against the waist of my jeans. I inch up her skirt and her panties are damp against my touch. My heart rate is through the roof. My stomach twists as lust hums through my blood.
“I’m good with whatever you’re offering,” she breathes out, her voice thick with anticipation. My eyes flare as she looks at me, her pupils dilating at my gaze.
I can’t take this another second. My mouth crashes into hers. Those perfect lips are full and soft, yet her kiss is demanding and needy. My hands find their way into her bun before I yank it free from the elastic. She groans into my mouth, her gorgeous hair tumbling around us like a red curtain.
I lower her onto my bed, and fuck it, I can’t help but stare at her. Soak in every feature on this perfect woman. Of the woman I plan on spending the rest of my life inside of. Her heart. Her mind. Her body. They’re all mine.
I cover her with my body. Her supple soft curves mold to mine.
My hands grab at her face, cupping her cheeks and driving my body closer to hers until we’re flush.
I can’t get enough.
“Closer,” she pants.
Shit.
I need more, and judging by the way she’s grabbing at me and the amazing moan emanating from her throat, she’s right there with me.
I’ve only had this with her.
This excessive need for a woman. This all-consuming, ravenous desire that pulses through me. I want to brand her. Mark her. Fuck her so crazy that she feels me for days after.
“Claire, open your eyes for me, baby.”
She does, but her lids are heavy with desire. My fingers glide against the thin satin of her panties.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” I growl. “I need you. I need to taste you while you come and then I need to feel you do it again when I’m inside of you.”
Her back arches as I continue to rub her, her lips parted as she moans.
Clothes are ripped from our bodies, hers alternating with mine, and we roll around, naked and entangled on the bed. My mouth is everywhere. All over her heated, aching body. I explore her.
Kiss her.
Taste her.
Torture her.
She loves it.
She can’t get enough. But I want her to beg for me.
“You like that, huh?” I ask with a satisfied grin I can’t seem to stifle. She nods fervently before grabbing my head and pushing it back into her heat so my mouth can finish her off.
“Oh god, Kyle. Don’t stop. Please,” she moans, and her begging pushes me over the edge. I’m going to make this girl scream until my windows rattle.
It doesn’t take long. Probably because I’ve envisioned this moment far too many times. Claire comes violently on my tongue. Fucking amazing.
“You want more, Claire?” My eyes lock with hers. “You ready for how good I’m going to make you feel?” My body lithely slides back up toward her mouth.
She nods, panting and smiling, her hands running through my hair.
“Kiss me. Taste yourself.”
She moans and does as I ask. Claire likes my dirty talk.
“You’re very good at that. I feel like we should bronze your tongue and put it in a museum.”
“Good, because I plan on doing it again later. But for right now, I need to be inside of you before my dick explodes.”
“That’s an image,” she laughs, pushing me off her. I laugh, planting a kiss on her stomach. I can still taste her. So good. So fucking sweet. I leave her, but only to dig through my nightstand for a condom.
I turn back to her and pause. Claire is sprawled out on top of my comforter. Her red hair is going in every direction. Her flushed porcelain skin glows against the minimal moonlight shining through my window. Her dark eyes are fixed on me.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Come here,” she whispers, unable to play it cool for another moment.
My eyes move over her naked curves again and I lick my lips.
I want to say something. I want to say something epic. Something that will make her swoon and shower me with her endless devotion. But I’m just not that guy. An
d if I say what I’m really thinking, she’ll leave before I even get the condom out of the foil.
“Get over here and stop staring at me,” she says, trying to lighten the moment.
“I like staring at you,” I say and I can practically see her blood pumping harder. “I’ve had thoughts of being inside you, of being with you, since you left me in New York. Even before that. Since the first moment I met you, I’ve wanted you.”
She just blinks at me, before her eyes fly up to my ceiling and I know I’m two seconds away from losing her. I’m not stupid enough to believe that this is more than tonight. But she’s here.
Naked.
In my bed. Screw it.
That makes her mine until she tells me to stop.
I leap back onto the bed, her body bouncing from the impact. She giggles, running her fingers through my hair and staring into my eyes. I lock this moment down. Commit it to memory. Savor it before I slide inside of her.
We groan in unison as she clenches tightly around me. Fuck. Our bodies move together in a synchronized rhythm that is too good to comprehend. Our chemistry is unfounded. Our lust nearly insatiable as we cling and moan against each other, climaxing together.
And when we’re done, it feels like the beginning instead of the end.
My eyes linger on hers as my body makes absolutely no move to pull away. We’re connected, practically laced together as one unit.
“You’re incredible,” I say softly, almost like I’m talking to myself. That’s how light my voice is.
“Don’t go getting all mushy on me now,” she teases, but it’s half-hearted, because a part of her is rather serious. “I could very easy to fall into you,” she says, but her tone tells me she has no intention of doing that.
I’m already there.
“Go to sleep,” I say instead, wondering if she’ll be here when I wake up.
I pull her warmth into mine, wrapping my arm around her waist and burying my face in her neck. If I relent even an inch, she’ll be gone.
Don’t go, Claire, I think.
Stay with me, I silently beg.
But the second I close my eyes, I know she’s already figuring out a way to leave me.
Chapter 21
Claire
I knew it was a mistake the entire time. I knew it was a mistake before I even entered his apartment. But I couldn’t stop it.
Didn’t want to stop it.
Even though I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t be kissing, Kyle Grant. He’s way too many things to me. My brain was screaming obscenities at me. Yelling repeatedly that I needed to stop. But my body responded like it was on fire and only Kyle could snuff it out.
So, I rationalized things that shouldn’t be rationalized. Made excuses for things I had no business justifying. I told myself, It’s just for one night. We’ll be fine. It’s just sex. Not romance or love or anything else. No one will get hurt.
Such bullshit.
The moment I told him I wanted him, I knew he’d kiss me.
And I knew that kiss would turn into more. Into everything. I’ve never had sex like that. Not even in college and I was with a boy I thought I was in love with. This went way beyond physical. Way beyond simple fucking for the pleasure of it.
This was making love.
Because that’s what I felt coming off of him. It’s what I was giving him back with equal ardor. I wanted him to feel my love so he wouldn’t question it when I walked away. Which is exactly what I’m about to do. Even if it’s the last thing on earth I want.
He tried. He tried so hard. He kept any feelings for me dormant and I went after them. I chased them. Sought them out.
I poked that bear until it woke up hungry.
Until it could no longer resist the rapacious urge to feed.
I fed it. I cultivated it. Allowed it to grow bigger and larger, until it became insatiable.
The worst part is, I knew all this time that what I was doing was wrong.
That it would lead to not only heartbreak but also the loss of his friendship.
The angel on my shoulder told me I was being cruel. That I was a selfish bitch who needed to leave the poor bear alone. But I listened to that motherfucking devil and pushed that all-knowing angel away. I am selfish. I wanted Kyle to love me, knowing full well that I have no future with him.
The odds are forever against me.
It’s a fifty-fifty shot that I inherited the gene from my mother. I can’t even find out for sure because that will kill me. Knowing one hundred percent that I have no shot at this will destroy me. I’m scared. I’m chicken shit. I’m weak.
I just can’t do it.
I think I may in fact love him too much.
But knowing I can’t have him hasn’t stopped my pursuit. My desire. My need. And fuck, do I need this man more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.
That warmth that he set free inside of me has manifested into something so much greater. Something that cannot be pushed down or denied. Even if that makes me sick and deplorable and evil.
Like I’m gambling with the devil himself, and he just laid his demands on the table.
And I cannot meet them.
I can’t.
Even though every part of me absolutely wants to.
Even if I tell Kyle everything, he’ll shut down on me. He’ll give up and run, and all that love I saw in his eyes last night will vanish. That would be worse than anything else.
So that’s why I’m laying here, my eyes stuck on the dark sky that any moment will begin to lighten. I need to leave. I need to leave now. But how can I run out on Kyle like he’s any other guy? He deserves so much better than that.
That doesn’t mean I can be naked when he wakes up either.
Replaying last night in my head for at least the twentieth time, I remember him stripping me down at the foot of the bed. The last thing I want to do right now is go scrounging about for my clothes. Kyle is sleeping very soundly as I slowly remove his arm that’s resting peacefully against my stomach.
He doesn’t stir.
Ever so slowly, I slide out of his bed, forgetting just how high off the ground this monstrosity is, and I fall to the floor farther than I’d like, hitting my knees on the wood floor with a loud thud. I freeze. Again, he doesn’t stir. At least not that I can hear.
I stand up slowly, and instead of doing the smart thing and going directly for my clothes, I watch him. His eyes are closed, long lashes fanned out across his cheeks, lips slightly parted. Skin glowing against the muted light of the predawn sky.
He’s beautiful. Perfect really. Everything I could want and more.
Which is why I need to go.
“If you’re trying to run out on me, the least you could do is not stand there naked where I can see you,” Kyle mumbles in a husky voice, his eyes slowly blinking open as a smile spreads across his face.
“I’m not trying to run out.”
“Yet.”
I nod. I can’t even say the words.
“Okay then,” he sighs, running a hand over his face to clear the sleep. “Put on some clothes, Claire.”
I pick up the first thing I find on the floor next to my feet, and it just so happens to be Kyle’s shirt from last night. I throw it on over my head.
“Better?” I ask, wondering why I didn’t just put on my clothes.
“Not really,” he chuckles, sitting up, the sheet drops to his waist exposing the chest and abs that I fully explored last night. “You’re wearing my shirt and you’re naked under it. You look sexy as fuck. But I guess it’s better than staring directly at your tits and pussy.”
I should get dressed. I should put on my clothes, tell him I’m sorry, and run.
But I’m standing here frozen in space, watching Kyle watch me.
“I’m sorry,” I say because it needs to be said.
Kyle sighs again, running a hand over his face and through his hair before leaning back against the fabric of his headboard. “Do you regret it?”
&
nbsp; “No.” I shake my head. I’ll never regret last night, even if it was stupid.
“Then why are you leaving?”
“You know why.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh. It’s frustrated. Maybe a bit angry too. “No. You see that’s the thing. I don’t know why. I have no idea why you won’t even entertain this.” He waves his finger back and forth between us.
“Because there can’t be an us. Ever.”
Another harsh laugh. “Is it me, Claire? I mean, last night you seemed pretty fucking into it. So maybe I’m just missing something here.”
Now it’s my turn to sigh, dropping my head back until my chin is pointed towards his twelve-foot ceiling.
“It’s not you.”
“Okay then,” he says again, this time with finality, and my heart aches. “It’s not me and there can never be an us. Got it.”
I hear the sheets rustle and my head drops back down to find Kyle getting out of bed. He’s completely naked as he walks in the direction of his bathroom, dismissing me.
“Just so you know,” he says, pausing with his back to me, “last night was the best night of my life. Hands down. And I want that with you. Every day.” He rolls his head over his shoulder until our eyes meet. “So now you can’t say that you didn’t know.”
With that, he walks into his bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
I want to go after him. I want to bang on that stupid door until he opens it and then I want to throw myself into his arms and never come up for air again.
I get dressed into my own clothes and leave Kyle’s apartment just as the sun peaks through the clouds in the east. My entire walk home, I contemplate ways to make this better. Ways that Kyle and I can go back to normal.
We can’t.
There really is no way after you cross that line.
Because now there are feelings involved. So many feelings that I can hardly quantify them.
I fucked up.
I knew better and I did it anyway.
It was just too much. First the piano and then our quiet truths. Then he kissed me. I should have stopped it there, but I just couldn’t. I needed him. And now, I’m forever going to pay the price for my greed.