“Too…short,” he gritted out. “Too…tight. Ah…no.”
“Wh-what?” I asked, but a tattooed arm was already shoving dishes aside, and he was pushing me forward, so my body rested on the table and my hips hung off the edge, and then he was plunging home again. He had hold of my hips, the raised lip at the edge of the table was catching me in exactly the right place, my hands were hanging onto the other side, clutching for dear life, and I was keening.
When one of his hands let go of my hip and came around to rub…I went over, just like that. One moment, I was calling out, squirming against his hand, his thrusting body, and the next…I was gone. The spasms shook me, my hands tightened painfully around the edge of the table, and my hips would have bucked if Hemi hadn’t been so heavy over me. But he was heavy, and I was going on and on with no letup for what felt like minutes. The minute I crested and headed down the other side, his fingers and the unbelievable pressure inside me, the way he hit every spot exactly right, were sending me up again.
Cold, hard glass under me, hot, hard man over me, and I was caught between them. Hemi was merciless, but I didn’t want mercy. I wanted this. I wanted it all. And he gave it to me.
It took him a long time afterwards to move off me, but I didn’t want him to. I wasn’t comfortable, but I was exactly where I needed to be. And when he dragged his lips across the sensitive places down my spine, I shivered and wanted it all again.
“Insatiable,” he said with a sigh, but I could hear the smile in his voice. He was standing, then, pulling me up with him and down into his lap again.
You’re thinking it’s weak to want to be held as much as Hemi held me, and you’re right. But you have to understand—he was my man, and nobody had ever been mine like that before.
My soul was my own, and I knew it, and so were my mind and my body. I wasn’t his slave, but I sometimes felt as if I were. The only good part about it was that I could tell he felt the same way. That I dragged him to me, willing and unwilling all at once, made him open up in a way that scared him, and took him past his limits in exactly the same way he did to me. It was fierce, it was irresistible, and it was ours.
That’s love, I think. That’s trust. And it’s precious.
So, yes, it frightened me, the way I felt about him, but it soothed me, too. My life with Hemi was all contradiction.
Right now, he was stroking my shoulder, soothing again. “All right?” he asked me.
“Mm…yes.” I sighed. “But you know, for a man who gave a good impression of somebody who didn’t want Karen to go off by herself a little while ago, you took some pretty fast advantage of her being gone.”
“And you didn’t want me to.”
“Now, did I say that?” I pressed a kiss to the muscle at his shoulder, then gave him a soft bite there. “I wanted you to. Did I mention that I loved you?”
“You may have done. And I’ve got Eugene coming in a bit for my workout, so we’re going to have to get up out of this chair, or you’re going to be very embarrassed indeed. But first…” He reached for the manila envelope Josh had handed him, which was shoved to the edge of the table now, along with everything else, and handed it to me.
“What is it?” I asked. “A deed to a diamond mine? A contract saying I agree to have sex every day, any way you want it? What? Give me a hint.”
He was smiling for once. “Open it and see.”
I’d teased, but I was nervous. I didn’t want anything to spoil this moment.
When I opened the envelope, pulled out the single piece of paper inside, and scanned it, I actually gasped, and then I sat up straight and read it again.
“Hemi,” I said helplessly. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, “I thought it might help. I thought it might make you feel better. Make you not feel trapped. You told me a long time ago that I didn’t understand how close to the edge you were.” His hand was smoothing down my back again, and there was healing in his touch. “I wanted you to know that I heard, and that even if I forget it sometimes…I know you’re free. I wanted you to know that you always have a place to go. And I wanted you to have your mum.”
“I…” I blinked back a few stubborn tears that wanted to leak out. It wasn’t my most coherent moment, but then, how could you expect it to be?
It was a receipt. A receipt for a year’s worth of rent, to be exact. On my apartment.
“I left the furnishings as well,” Hemi said. “After a year, it may be easier to let it go. Maybe you’ll feel by then that your mum’s in you and not in that place. Maybe you’ll be able to see it.”
My throat had closed, and I couldn’t have spoken if I tried. I just lay against Hemi’s chest and let his arms enfold me while I cried.
I cried because I couldn’t show my mother what a good man I’d found, and how happy I was. I cried because I’d never thought I’d have this life, and because I’d never thought I could give it to Karen. I cried because Hemi made every dream come true.
“Is it good?” he asked after a minute, and I shook my head, then nodded, tried to laugh, and grabbed for a napkin from the table.
Before Hemi, I’d never cried. Now, it seemed like I did it way too much. But it didn’t feel terrifying, the way it had used to. It didn’t make me feel like I was falling into the pit, when I needed all my strength just to stay upright on the surface. Now, I had strong hands to pull me back up, and I could afford to let go.
“Yes,” I said at last, taking his face in my hands, kissing him, and trying to smile. “You are the most wonderful man in the world, and I love you way too much.”
“Well, good,” he said. “That’ll give me some cushion for the next time, then.”
“The next time what?”
“That I stuff up. And come on.” He lifted me with him and set me on my feet. “Eugene. We’ll do the washing up, and then you can meet my trainer and know that you and Karen have doubled the number of people in the world who tell me exactly what they think, no matter what I want to hear.”
Hemi
When Eugene walked through the door half an hour later, Hope was dressed again, but in workout gear this time, because I’d suggested that she might want to use the gym while I was in there.
She’d smiled at the idea, a teasing light in her eyes. No matter what we did, she came back saucy every time, as if it were all a game, and she was loving playing it with me. “You just think I’ll be turned on by seeing you all sweaty,” she’d said.
I’d said, “Maybe I want to see you that way,” and had given her a smack on the bare bum that had felt very nice indeed. She’d laughed at me some more, and then she’d dressed in stretchy workout shorts and a tight little T-shirt that reminded me of both reasons—well, three reasons, really—that I wanted her in my gym with me.
There was even a noble reason amongst them. I could see how tentative she still felt in the apartment, and I hoped that by stamping it with her presence, she would begin to feel like she belonged there. And a less noble reason as well, the one she’d guessed: that I did enjoy seeing her dressed like that, and the thought of her on a hand and a knee on a workout bench, lifting a dumbbell, wasn’t bad at all. Not that I’d imagined it much. But if I looked at her taut little body in those tiny shorts and thought about stripping them off her and having some urgent, sweaty sex with her on her elbows and knees, my hand at the back of her neck? Blame it on how good it had felt to have her sprawled across my breakfast table, shaking underneath me, losing her words and coming hard. Not to mention the way her knees had trembled when I’d finally pulled her off of there.
Besides, she’d had only a few orgasms, and she needed more than that to feel truly satisfied. We’d be alone until late afternoon, and I had promised to give her everything she needed. After this workout, I’d take a shower with her, take her to bed, and give her my full attention until she was well and truly worn out. After which she could take a nap, and I could get some work done. It sounded like a good plan to me, though I wouldn’t be sharing
it. That need-to-know basis again.
The third reason? I wouldn’t be admitting that to her, either. That looking at her like that, and imagining how I’d be looking at her as soon as we were alone, made me more determined than ever that she wasn’t joining the Y. She was working out here, she was taking her swim lessons here, and that was that. I wasn’t the only bloke with an imagination, and Hope was too tiny and much too deliciously pretty. If I wanted her here with me, it was no more than any man would have felt. But I didn’t tell her that, of course. I wasn’t stupid. I’d focus on Reason One. Much safer.
And all the while, the thoughts prowled around the edge of my brain like predators in the dark. Ever since I’d seen Anika again, I’d kept remembering what it had been like to be with her. I’d shoved her from my memory long ago, but now, she kept coming back, and I couldn’t rid myself of her. It was what was still hanging there between us, the divorce, the settlement I was going to be fighting with everything in me. And everything it brought up. The darkness and the undercurrents of her, exciting and sickening all at once.
She’d been my opium: my seductive, dangerous, impossibly addictive drug. With her, I’d been no better than my useless dad. She’d nearly been my downfall, and I still sweated sometimes to think how close I’d come to not pursuing my dreams and goals, how desperate I’d been to drug myself with her instead.
Being with Hope, though…that was exactly as addictive, and nothing like the same. I needed her the way I needed oxygen. I craved her even when I’d just had her, and somehow, it wasn’t just her body I needed. And I wanted her here with me.
When Eugene walked through my front door, he looked at her before he looked at me. “Well, well, well,” he said. “How about that.”
“Hope,” I said with resignation, “this is my trainer, Eugene Watkins. And this is my fiancée, Hope Sinclair.”
Eugene smiled some more, showing off his missing teeth. “Fiancée, huh? Now, that’s what we call good news. Debra’s going to be tickled. Yes, she is. And Karen, too? She does like Karen.”
“Karen, too,” I said. “Karen, definitely. We may surprise Debra at last, eh.”
“Nah. She’ll say ‘Told you so,’ like always.” He looked Hope over. “So. Dressed to work out, which means I’m charging Hemi double, and that’s more good news. You’re going to be a challenge, though, ain’t you?”
She made a rueful face. “I’m not that strong, if that’s what you mean. I’ll probably whine, too.”
“Nah,” he said. “Not you. And if you’re a little bit weak right now—well, we can do something about that. Least you ain’t been off gettin’ fat like Mr. Big here.” He looked me up and down, and not as if he appreciated what he saw. “Strip off and let’s see the damage.”
I sighed and pulled my shirt over my head, and he stood back, eyed me hard, then poked a finger into my side and shook his head. “Now, that’s just sad. You ain’t been workin’ out at all. ‘Vacation’ don’t mean ‘Go wild,’ you know. You eat like a pig over there or what?”
I glanced at Hope. Naturally, she was biting her lip, clearly trying not to giggle. “He still looks good to me,” she said. Points for loyalty, anyway, if not for honesty.
“It ain’t about the decoration,” Eugene said. “It’s about the function.” Which had Hope biting her lip some more.
I tugged my shirt back over my chest. I’d gained two kilos. Maybe. “If you’re done slagging off my fitness,” I said, “maybe you’d like to start earning your money.”
“Hey,” he said, “don’t be takin’ it out on me. I ain’t the one been lazing around eatin’ everything that ain’t actually on the hoof. Let’s go. Gym.”
When we got in there, he tossed his bag into the corner and told me, “Get on the rower and warm up while I see what we got here with Miss Little Bit.”
I obeyed, keeping an eye on him all the same, and he put a hand on Hope’s upper arm, squeezed gently, and said, “We thinking boxing, maybe? We got a ways to go to build up your upper body, ‘cause you’re just too little.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I don’t want to fight. I thought I could ride the bike or something. I wasn’t really thinking about…”
“You don’t have to hit nobody,” Eugene said. “We can keep it with the bag. You won’t have to worry about getting your nose broke, not like you’re thinking.”
Hope actually shuddered, and I may have done the same inside as well. Hope getting her nose broken wasn’t an image I needed to visualize. I said, “She’s not what you’d call aggressive. Stick to the weights, eh.”
Eugene turned and gave me a glare. “Was I talkin’ to you?” he asked. “I don’t think so.” Then he was back with Hope again. “Time you learned how to be aggressive, then. It ain’t safe not to be able to defend yourself, not the size you are.”
“She doesn’t have to defend herself,” I said.
“Now, what did I just say?” he asked. “You need to shut up when I ain’t talking to you.” My mouth opened, then closed again. Hope had lost the battle not to smile, and as ideas went, this one wasn’t looking like one of my best. “I got some gloves in the car,” he told Hope. “Light ones I use with the kids. We’ll start you there. I’m thinking kickboxing. Get you feeling fierce, walking that way, making anybody think twice about messing with you. Plus get you strong for you, so you can know it. For now, get yourself on the bike and warm up.” He looked at me again, which was good of him, and said, “Five more minutes on that, then get out the jump rope and go. And if you’re thinking I can’t tell that you ate a big breakfast this morning, exactly like you shouldn’t have done, you’re wrong. So pick it up and work it out. One way or another, that breakfast is gonna be gone.”
He left the room, I heard the front door of the apartment close, and Hope, who’d climbed onto the bike and was adjusting the pedals, looked at me and burst out laughing.
“What?” I tried to growl, but Eugene had been right. That breakfast hadn’t been any kind of good idea. I was already feeling slightly sick, and I’d be feeling worse soon.
“I think you still look very handsome, even though you’re fat,” she said in her most soothing tone, and when I scowled at her, she laughed some more.
“You just keep laughing,” I said. “Wait until Eugene gets done with you. You think I’m hard on you? You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Of course, I was wrong. Eugene wasn’t nearly as hard on her as he was on me. And whenever I lost my concentration, because I was watching Hope hit the bag Eugene held for her, or because she was on a hand and knee on that bench doing her triceps extensions, he seemed to see it from the back of his head and would be snapping at me, “Focus, man. You getting lazy and fat?”
“Who’s paying who here?” I managed to grit out over the breakfast that was threatening to come up again.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “That’s what you need. Another guy kissing your ass. Quit looking and get going.”
After barely forty minutes, he told Hope, who was panting by now, her T-shirt clinging to her, “You go on. That’s enough for the first day. Besides, I got to whip Hemi into shape. Got to get him concentrating, too.”
She nodded and put up a shaking hand to push the hair back from her face. “I’m going to take a shower and go for a walk, Hemi. It’s either that or lie down and never get up again.”
“Wait a bit,” I said, “and I’ll go with you.”
“No, thanks.” Her breath was still coming hard. “I know you still have work to do, and besides, I need some time alone. I want to look around and get my bearings before tomorrow,”
“I said ‘Wait.’”
“And I said ‘No,’ she answered sweetly. “Have a good workout.” While I was still coming up with a response to that, she told Eugene, “Very nice to meet you. Give Debra my best, please—and thank you. Even though I think you killed me.”
“Nah,” he said. “You might not be too strong yet, but you got some guts.” He barely looked at me when he said it
, but I got it. “We’ll keep on going, and it’ll get easier. See you Wednesday.”
I watched her leaving the room in those tiny black shorts, and Eugene looked at me and grinned. “I do love a woman with some sass,” he said. “It ain’t the size, it’s what you do with it, and she’s doin’ plenty, ain’t she? Tough little thing, sweet as she looks. I got to hand it to you, man—you did good.”
When I didn’t answer, just kept on with my lunges, he said, “Now, what you pouting about? That she told you no? Get used to it. That woman’s got a whole lot of push-back in her. And straighten your back and suck in that gut. Use your core.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, doing a final lunge on each side that had my legs threatening to shake, then dropping into my first squat.
“Nope,” Eugene said. “I’m right. And what? She can’t be walkin’ around by herself, because why?”
“You just saw why,” I growled. “You just said why.”
“Why, that she looks like a man could just eat her up?” He laughed, the bastard. “Yeah, she does. And did she fall in your lap the way you wanted her to? Nope, she didn’t, and she sure ain’t going to be doing it for nobody else. You got to have some faith. That’s the problem with you. You just never had any faith.”
Hope
I hadn’t been exaggerating. Even after a shower, my legs still felt like rubber, threatening to shake just from holding me up. Ever since we’d come back from New Zealand, I’d felt incredibly tired and overemotional, the last state I ought to be in right now. But then, a lot had happened since then.
It seemed like Hemi’s workout was just getting started, too. Eugene might have seen something wrong with Hemi’s fitness, but I had absolutely no complaints. The sight of him, his palms on the floor, his toes on an exercise ball, shoving off into an endless series of pushups—that wasn’t something I’d be forgetting anytime soon. I’d discovered that lifting weights was bizarrely arousing, too. Something about the blood flow, maybe, or just my deplorable weakness. In any case, I’d known that if I’d done any more of it, and watched Hemi in boxing gloves to boot, going after the punching bag I’d barely managed to hit, I might just have had a spontaneous orgasm, been tempted into rocking on that exercise ball myself when I’d been supposed to be doing situps. That would have been one impossible thing to hide, right there in front of Eugene. Much better to take a walk.
Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire #2) Page 17