by Alisha Rai
He wasn’t even winded when they got to the top of the stairs. He pressed his lips against hers, a hard, fast kiss. “Your room? Mine?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He chose his. They entered and only got as far as a few steps in before he pressed her against the wall, his hands roving over her legs while they kissed again, deeply. They parted only for a second, so he could help her strip off his shirt, and then he was back. She didn’t want to stop kissing him, because then they’d both start thinking. Maybe about all the reasons this wasn’t a sound idea.
You’re both adults, and you’re both single. This is fine. Acceptable.
Wait.
Her lashes fluttered open, a fleeting worrisome thought worming into her brain as he kissed his way down her neck. Was there something else she didn’t know about him? In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him with a date. What if he didn’t bring them home? “Are you single?” she blurted out.
He paused and there was laughter in his voice when he answered, lips on the hollow of her throat. “Uh, yes.”
“Okay, cool, just checking.” She quickly mentally ran through any other anxieties she may have. In the moment, that is, because they didn’t have time to run through all her anxieties. “I do pay you. Is the power differential coercing you into sleeping with me?”
Jas lifted his head. “No. Definitely not.”
His words were so empathetic, she believed him. “That’s good.”
He studied her. “Anything else?”
Katrina’s hands fluttered over his shoulders and she blurted out the words. “I’m not very experienced at this. I’ve only been with one guy, and that was over a dozen years ago.” It had been out of curiosity and a silent rebellion when she was twenty, and it hadn’t exactly inspired her to go looking for more conquests.
It was easy to do the math. A dozen years ago predated Hardeep. Jas didn’t ask about her marriage, though, and she was grateful.
“I’m not that experienced either. I can’t even tell you how long it’s been for me,” he admitted. “Years. I’m nervous too.”
“Oh,” she said soundlessly.
His finger coasted up her hip, pushing her sweater up a few inches. He squeezed the scoop of flesh that rose above her jeans’ waistband, and her legs turned to jelly. “I think all you have to do is tell me what you want from me. We can fumble around and figure things out from there.”
Her lips parted. What did she want from him? She didn’t know. That was such a difficult question . . .
“Kisses?” he prompted her. Before she could reply, he pressed light, soft kisses along her neck. “Here?”
“Yes.”
His mouth wandered down, to her cleavage, deep and plumped up by one of her best bras. He pressed his palms under the curves and pushed them up more. “More intimate kisses?”
“Yes.”
He scraped his chin over the skin exposed by the deep vee of her sweater, his prickly beard making her gasp. “Here?”
“Yes.”
She waited with bated breath for him to kiss her there, but instead he lifted his head. With great deliberation, he pressed his lower body tighter against her, so every inch of his erection was rubbing against her most sensitive, aching bits. “There?” he murmured.
She nodded like a bobblehead doll. “Yes, there,” she whispered. “Kisses. And the other kisses. Everywhere.” She wanted all of it. It all came with zings.
At her answer, his lips curved up. She’d never seen him smile like that, this seductive, warm smile.
Jas grabbed fistfuls of her sweater and pulled it over her head, neither of them tracking where it went when he tossed it aside. There was heat and fire in his gaze, and it flicked all her nerve endings awake. She reached behind her, and he visibly gulped when the cups of her bra loosened.
Were her breasts making him salivate? She liked her body quite a lot, but her confidence notched up a little more.
Katrina threw the bra aside to join her top. He pressed two reverent kisses on the top curves of her breasts, then slid to his knees. His fingers were quick and sure as they unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. He pulled the material down over her hips, taking her panties with them.
She had to fight not to cover herself up when he looked up at her from the floor. She was naked while he was not and his mouth was right on level with . . . well, there.
Once upon a time, she’d always been camera-ready with a bikini wax in case she had to take most of her clothes off for a shoot, but that hadn’t happened in a very long time. Whatever self-consciousness she felt flew out the window when he nuzzled the hair covering her intimate lips and pressed a kiss there. Then another. And another. His tongue found her, spreading her open, his fingers assisting.
She had never had this, someone’s mouth on her in such a personal manner. She hadn’t even been sure if she desired such a thing, but she was sure now, this was definitely something she would appreciate more of in her life. This was like . . . the pleasure one got from cotton candy and the beach and a book all rolled up into one perfect moment.
He drew her down to the floor. The rug was soft on her back. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her clitoris, the burst of sensation startling her.
“You can put your hands on my head,” he said.
She rested her fingertips lightly on his head, tentative. She’d never touched his hair in all the years she’d known him. That would have been too intimate a gesture.
His tongue is doing something way more intimate.
“You don’t have to be gentle. Pull my hair. Show me what you like.” His words were muffled against her body, the puffs of air from his breath hitting her in a spot that made her body shake.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
His dark gaze met hers. He turned his head and nibbled at her inner thigh, making her stomach clench. “I don’t mind that kind of hurt.”
Her thighs clenched and she tunneled her fingers through his hair with more confidence, gripping the coarse strands, subtly urging his mouth back where she wanted it. She used her hands to direct his motions, but she was gentle, up until he pushed his fingers inside of her, so deep she arched up. She did pull then, and clutched him closer when he slipped his slick fingers in and out, moving together with his tongue.
She looked down her body, at his dark head between her legs, the moonlight gilding his hair silver. His eyes were closed, his brow creased, and the sight of all that concentration directed at her shoved her right over the edge. The spring of tension inside her snapped, and the pleasure washed over her. She bit her lip, savoring every sensation.
She let out a deep, breathy sigh and tugged at his hair. He nuzzled her one last time and lifted his head. “Did you come?”
Shy now, she nodded.
He smiled, and shifted so he could lie beside her. “You’re quiet. I couldn’t tell.”
“I guess I am. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Everyone’s different.”
She placed her hand on his chest, marveling anew that she was touching him like this. Touching him at all. “Your tongue should win an award.”
He barked out a laugh. She slid her hand down, but he caught it before she could get to his jeans. “I, uh . . . I’m good.”
“What?”
“I don’t have any condoms. I’m guessing you don’t either.”
Condoms. Damn it. “No, I do not.” She pulled her wrist out of his grip and unbuttoned his jeans. “We can do other things. As you’ve proven.”
His breathing grew heavy, then heavier when she found his shaft. He helped her free him, raising his hips to kick his jeans and boxers off.
Katrina rested her forehead against his and played with him. She wished there was more light, so she could see every detail of what she was doing, but she could follow the cues his sighs gave. She stroked him in long, slow pulls. Their breath mingled, and when his accelerated, she sped up her fist, too.
He was not quiet. He gave a de
ep moan as he came, and pressed his forehead tighter against hers.
“Good?” she asked.
“Amazing.”
She’d thought so, but it was nice to have confirmation.
They lay there for a while, and then Jas stirred, helping her up. “Will you sleep in here?” he asked.
Her heart melted. “Yes.”
They tidied up and then climbed into bed, both of them still naked. At some point, she’d want to examine his body in greater detail, but that could wait for now.
He pulled her close, so her head lay on his shoulder. Thoughts tried to nibble on the edges of her consciousness. The two of them needed to talk. It was very important they talk, actually. About what this meant.
If it means anything.
Katrina brushed that cynical voice away. It had to mean something. He said he wanted her.
He also told his brother you were just a client. Which one is true?
She calmed when his hand brushed over her butt and patted her there, like he knew she was fretting. “Go to sleep. We can deal with this in the morning.”
Deal with this didn’t sound romantic and lovely, now, did it? But she was too exhausted to think about it and dissect it and take it personally. Sleep crashed over her, and she welcomed it.
WHEN KATRINA WOKE up from a dark dream in which she was running, running through an endless tunnel with no light at the end, struggling to breathe, she knew she wasn’t going to be sleeping for the rest of the night.
Katrina was dimly aware Jas was lying next to her, but cuddling wouldn’t help her right now. She slipped from the bed to sit on the floor, the rug and the plank floors underneath grounding her. She crawled away to brace herself against the wall. Her brain buzzed like a million bees had set up residence inside it. Her breathing grew short, sweat beaded on her forehead, her chest tightened with pain. The dark room spun around her.
Heart attack!
No. It wasn’t a heart attack. She inhaled and exhaled, letting the panic wash over her. For her, anxiety was like a rip current. The harder she fought it, the more it dragged her out to sea.
In a real rip current, you got out of it by swimming perpendicular to the current. Here, she just had to tread water. Eventually it would pass.
It would pass.
It would pass.
Everything passed. Nothing felt the same forever.
More sweat, more tears. She doubled over, the pain in her chest becoming too intense. A light touch moved over her hair, but even a light touch felt too sharp. She shook her head, rejecting it, and it vanished.
Katrina let the storm thunder and rage, and slowly her heart rate began to slow, the pain growing less intense. She inhaled deep, dragging the oxygen into her lungs in greedy gulps.
When the attack had mostly passed, she tipped her head back against the wall and opened her eyes. Jas sat across from her on the floor, holding an orange prescription bottle. He lifted it up in question.
She shook her head. The anti-anxiety meds were on an as-needed basis, and other than her lingering nausea, she no longer needed them tonight.
Jas didn’t ask her what had happened, for which she was grateful. She hated that question, because she rarely had a response. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He studied her, as if confirming that she was telling the truth. He placed the bottle between them. “Do you want a hug?”
Katrina wrapped her arms around herself. “I would very much like that, thank you.”
He sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest.
His naked chest.
Oh right, they were both naked.
She snuggled closer. That was fine with her. This was the stuff of dreams, naked-cuddling with Jas.
The zings were muted now, satisfied by physical exhaustion, but still there, comfortably hovering under the surface. These weren’t the electric lustful zings from before, but cozy zings. The zings that invited cookies in front of a fire.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Yes, but I like the cold.”
He shifted. “The winters here were my favorites. It can get over a hundred in the summer, but the winters make up for it.”
“Yikes. Does it ever snow?”
“Once, when I was a kid. So not really.”
“I miss the snow.”
“Tahoe’s not far from here. Do you want to go? The car’s gassed.”
She choked out a laugh, then looked up at him when she realized he wasn’t laughing. “We can’t get in the car and drive to Tahoe.”
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth, but she had no explanation. “Because . . . well, that’s wild.”
“If you want the snow, we can go.”
She ran an internal check of her body. They could go, if she wanted to. “What would we do there?”
“Have a snowball fight.”
“I’ve never had a snowball fight. At least, not since I was a child.” When her mother had been alive.
“I can fetch some mittens from Bikram.”
Katrina smiled, charmed at the thought of tussling in the snow with Jas. “No. I’m too tired tonight, but maybe some other time.”
He ran his fingers up and down her arm, soothing her. “Do you have bad dreams?” she whispered, though she knew the answer.
“Yes,” Jas said, his admission coming faster than she’d expected. “I often have bad dreams.”
“Do you want to tell me about them?”
He puffed up his cheeks. “Not now.”
She wanted to touch his scarred knee, ask him to share, but didn’t want to push him. “I had one.”
“What was it about?”
“I don’t remember. My dad, I think.” All this talk about family and blood. She closed her hands into fists.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She nodded, then shook her head.
She’d felt so strong and independent. Taking up space. She didn’t want her dad’s memory to taint that.
Then again, whenever she did think about her dad, it was like a boil welling up that needed to be lanced. Her therapist was usually who she went to for that. It wasn’t even dawn yet, she couldn’t call Andy.
It would make her happier to talk right now.
Happiness is a radical act.
“When my mom died in that car accident, they had to hunt down my father. I’d barely seen him when she was alive. That first day, when he picked me up from the social worker, he told me he would provide for me until I could get a job.”
“You were nine.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. I got scouted a few years later, though. He was happy to stick around while I was making money and funding his lifestyle, so long as he could direct what I did and when I did it.”
“What an asshole.”
“He was an asshole. He controlled . . . everything. Where I ate, what I ate, what I drank, who I saw.” He would have controlled who she married if she hadn’t had a brief evening of rebellion the night she’d met Hardeep.
After they’d talked all night and she’d told Hardeep about her dad, the man had leaned forward. Sounds like we could help each other. Marry me, and you’ll get away from your father. You’ll have money, comfort, a doting husband.
She’d stared at him across the few feet that separated them in the library. What will you get out of it? Sex?
He’d snorted. Oh God, no. I have no interest in sex. No offense, don’t take it personally. No, I simply want some companionship, and you seem clever and kind. I don’t plan on ever marrying someone else. I’d like the satisfaction of knowing I can help a young woman.
She licked her lips. “Hardeep paid my dad off, with the demand that he not bother us. I don’t know the exact amount, but I assume it was huge.”
Jas squeezed her waist. “Yes. I knew about that. Hardeep put us on notice to make sure he didn’t show up. I figured your dad must have been a terrible guy, but
I didn’t know the scope of the terribleness.”
That had been another big attraction to marrying Hardeep. He’d had people in place to protect her.
A surge of love flowed through her at his memory. Her husband had been so good and lovely and generous in so many ways. Hardeep had assured her the money was nothing to him, and it was a proper quid pro quo, but it was still hard to shake that feeling of being a bother. An expensive bother. “That bribe eats at me sometimes. Like Hardeep had to buy me.”
“Whatever Hardeep did for you, I’m grateful.”
“I only wish I could have done it on my own,” she confessed. Her deepest shame, that familiar bitterness over the fact that she’d needed help. A big strong man to save you.
After the wedding, for a while, she’d tried to join Hardeep on his daily jogs before finally admitting she hated running. The only way she’d managed to get through those three-mile-long hilly jaunts was by concocting elaborate revenge scenarios against her father if he ever came crawling back.
They were dramatic and impressive scenarios where she placed her stiletto heel on his neck and laughed while he begged for money and mercy. She’d filed them away, and now she had a far more rational break-glass-in-case-of-emergency plan, a fund of money to ensure she could pay her dad off again if he ever tried to bother her. Keeping a well-stocked bribery account wasn’t nearly as exciting as, say, forcing the man to eat a bug for every hundred dollars he wanted from her, but it was definitely more grown up.
“How would you have done it on your own? Sounds like you were barely able to breathe on your own, without him watching you. That you managed to find someone in a position to help you is a miracle. That you took that help is another one. I’m grateful,” he repeated.
The words settled on her soul like a balm. It was the mushiest thing anyone had ever said to her, and her heart galloped. “Yes. I guess I am too.”
He rubbed her back for a while in silence. “Katrina?”
“Yes?” She yawned.
“My knee is killing me and my butt is cold. Can we go back to bed?”
She gave a soggy laugh. So much for mushy romance. “Yes. Let’s go back to bed.”
Chapter Twenty
KATRINA LEARNED QUICKLY over the course of the next morning and afternoon that reciprocated affection did not turn you into a princess with a perfect singing voice and talking woodland creatures.