She stopped and looked up, still stroking with one hand as she grinned at him. "You don’t want to stay out here?"
"Not unless you have condoms within arm’s reach, because I want to fuck you."
She stood and kissed him. "Bedroom, then."
In the bedroom, she pushed his jacket and shirt off of his shoulders. They both struggled briefly with his belt, then he quickly shed the rest of his clothes as she got a condom out of the drawer and opened it.
"If I didn’t know any better," he said against her lips as he rolled the condom on. "I’d think you wanted to get laid tonight."
"Can’t imagine what gave you that idea," she said, trailing her fingernails down his chest and abs. She laughed softly as her touch made his stomach muscles contract.
"Just a theory." He nudged her towards the bed. "Now let me test my theory."
She ran her nails up his back, making him gasp. "Get on your back," she whispered.
"Now that I’m not going to argue with," he said. He did as she asked and she sat over him, pressing against his cock but not taking him inside her yet. Cupping her breasts, he gently pinched her nipples, grinning as she whimpered softly. He had to be inside her. Now. "Fuck me, Kat."
"I will," she said, grinning as she pushed against him again. "I-ooh…" She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath.
"What? What is it?"
Her hips moved again and she shivered. "Oh, wow…"
"Kat, what—" He started to take his hands away from her breasts, but she grabbed them and held them in place.
She bit her lip and shuddered. "Don’t stop…don’t stop doing that."
The familiar flush of her face and neck told him exactly what she was doing. He kept playing with her nipples, watching in breathless wonderment as she moved back and forth, pushing her clit against the shaft of his cock. As much as he wanted to be inside her when she came, this was simply too hot to pass up. His cock was going to make her come and he hadn’t even fucked her yet. Raising his hips just slightly, he moved with her, and watched the shudders become tremors.
"Oh God," she moaned. Her spine straightened and she gasped. "Oh my God, I’m…" Her eyes shut tight and she whimpered with pleasure as she came. As soon as her orgasm took over, she lost her balance, falling forward slightly. She caught herself, but she’d shifted just enough to lift her hips, and Chris didn’t waste the opportunity.
Grabbing her hips, he pulled her down onto his cock, nearly coming himself when her pussy—still in the throes of an orgasm—convulsed around him. He thrust upward, driven by her cries and gasps and the way she tightened around him with each stroke.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned. "Oh, fuck, you’re…" He stopped abruptly when her hips came down, driving him all the way inside her, but also keeping his hips against the bed. He was certainly strong enough to push back, but the movement told him she wanted to take control.
She took one of his hands off her hip and pinned it on the pillow beside his head, then the other. She was breathless, her face still flushed with arousal, but she was more in control than he was. He desperately wanted to put her on her back and fuck her as hard as he could, but her movements were slow. Smooth. Controlled. She didn’t move up and down on him, instead rolling her hips forward and back, taking him all the way inside her on each down stroke.
"Oh…my…God…" he groaned. He didn’t know what she was doing, what it was about that simple forward-back motion that felt so good, but whatever it was, it drove him nearly out of his mind. His hands flew up to the headboard, grasping the slats for dear life. "Oh God, baby, I’m gonna come, you’re…" His voice trailed off into a moan.
She gasped, her pussy suddenly tightening around him, then again. "Me too, oh my God…I’m…" She whimpered, her rhythm faltering as she closed her eyes threw her head back.
Electric anticipation ran up his spine, not just because his own orgasm was seconds away, but because hers was. He had to feel her come one more time, and this time he wanted to feel her orgasm from start to finish. Every last tremor, every last shiver.
Seizing her hips, he dug his heels into the bed and thrust upward.
Her eyes opened and she gasped. "Oh…God…" Her voice bordered on a sob.
Through clenched teeth, he pleaded, "Come, baby, I’m losing it…" Her body trembled, then shook more violently, and her pussy convulsed around his cock. When she screamed his name, he couldn’t hold back anymore. His back arched beneath them as he pulled her hips down onto his and roared as he came.
She collapsed on top of him. "Oh my God…"
"My sentiments exactly," he breathed, stroking her hair.
Grinning, she said, "I hope that made up for what I assume was a crappy date."
He laughed. "If I’d known you were this horny tonight, I would’ve skipped the date altogether."
She kissed him lightly. "Chris, I’m always this horny."
Running his hands up and down her sides, he said, "Do feel free to call whenever you are."
"You’ll never get a moment’s peace."
"I’ll manage somehow."
She kissed him again, then eased herself off of him and dropped onto the bed beside him. "My God that was hot."
"So you said." He kissed her, then got up to get rid of the condom. When he came back he rejoined her in bed, kissing her deeply as he rolled her onto her back. "You’re fucking amazing, you know that?"
Still breathless, she said, "You’re not so bad yourself."
"I aim to please." He kissed her neck.
"Mmm, your aim is impressive."
He laughed, kissing the hollow of her throat. "You know, the more we do this, the more I think this arrangement is a damned good idea."
"Oh really?"
"Mm hmm." He closed his lips around her nipple, holding it gently between his teeth for a moment as his tongue flicked across it. He was rewarded with a breathy sigh and a shiver, then he moved to her other nipple to do the same thing.
Her fingers ran through his hair. "I didn’t think you had any objections to it anymore anyway."
"I don’t," he said, kissing her breast and glancing up at her. "But what’s not to like about cutting out of a boring date…" He kissed his way down her belly, pausing wherever her skin quivered beneath his lips. "…and going to get some hot…" Another kiss, lower this time. "…hot…" Another kiss, still lower. "…sex with an insatiable woman?"
"Who says I’m insatiable?" Her hips lifted slightly when he kissed the top of her thigh. "You satisfy me every time."
"I say you’re insatiable," he growled, working his way down her inner thigh. "Because if you weren’t…" He flicked his tongue just above her clit, grinning with satisfaction as a shiver ran through her. "Then you would tell me to stop." He dipped his head, letting his tongue explore her, teasing her clit as he savored her tangy-sweet taste.
"I definitely don’t want you to stop," she murmured, lifting her hips and pushing herself against his mouth.
"Then I’m right," he said, watching two fingers disappear into her pussy. "You are insatiable."
Eleven
Ring.
Kat’s eyes fluttered open.
Ring.
Her clock said it was just after ten. She groaned. It was too late to be annoyed with whoever was calling, but still much too early to wake someone who’d spent a night at the mercy of Christian Bailey’s insatiable appetite.
Ring.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She gently untangled herself from sheets and Chris, wincing at the dull ache in her hips and arms as she reached for the phone. "Hello?"
"Kat, it’s Eileen."
Something in her sister’s tone raised the hairs on the back of Kat’s neck. She sat upright, fully awake. "Hey, what’s going on?"
"Kat, I—" Eileen paused. It sounded like she was taking a breath. Collecting herself, maybe? She sniffed.
Kat’s blood turned cold. She’d heard that voice before, that monotone seriousness that barely masked a hint of unsteadine
ss. Sitting up, she pulled the covers against her chest. It wasn’t out of modesty, but to ward off a chill she didn’t yet feel, but somehow knew was coming. "Dylan got hurt, didn’t he?"
"Yeah." Silence.
She swallowed. "How bad?"
"He lost control on one of the advanced slopes." She sounded like she was talking through clenched teeth. "He hit—"
"How bad, Eileen?" Something cold wrapped itself around her heart. She was vaguely aware of movement beside her, then the warmth of Chris’s hand on her back. She glanced at him and his eyebrows lifted, an unspoken 'what’s wrong?'
"Kat, he—" Eileen cut herself off with a muffled sob. "It was bad. It was real bad."
"Fuck," Kat said, running a hand through her hair and closing her eyes. He’d taken a few bad falls before. He averaged a cast a year, had had a couple of concussions, but Eileen had never been this shaken when she called. "Shit, did he break something again? Or did he hit his head?"
Chris’s hand moved to her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
Eileen took a breath. "Kat…"
Her sister’s voice shook something deep inside her, but Kat ignored it. Swallowed the fear. Tried to reason with the inevitable. "Damn it, I knew he’d break something again. So he’ll be in a cast for the spring and summer—"
"Kat—"
If I don’t let you tell me, then it isn’t true. "But then he’ll be out of the cast by the time snowboard season rolls around again." Her voice cracked and she sniffed. Chris squeezed her shoulder again and she took a breath. "So maybe this time he’ll learn to be more—"
"Kat, he didn’t make it."
"What?" Kat stiffened. She blinked, furrowing her brow, trying to comprehend the words, even though she’d known they were coming. "What do you mean?"
"He didn’t make it." Eileen cleared her throat, and her voice was strained. "He’s gone, Kat."
The words knocked the air out of Kat’s lungs and the room spun around her. She didn’t know if she collapsed against him or if he pulled her to him, but somehow she was in Chris’s arms, his voice murmuring words of comfort just beyond the edges of her awareness.
Eileen’s voice penetrated her consciousness in pieces. "…lost control…" "…crashed…" "…it was quick, he didn’t suffer…" "…bringing him back to the States tomorrow…"
"Kat, are you there?"
The words that demanded a response besides passive,
uncomprehending acceptance shook her into the present, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if Eileen or Chris had asked. She was aware only of the words themselves, not the voice that had spoken them.
"Kat?" Eileen’s voice prodded her.
"I’m here," she said, her mouth dry.
"I need to make some more calls. Are you going to be okay?"
"I…" She didn’t know the answer. She didn’t even know what she felt. She didn’t feel a damned thing. "Yeah, I guess."
"Okay. I’m going now. I’ll call you when we know more about the funeral."
They exchanged a few more bits of small talk, saying 'I love you' and 'goodbye' more out of habit than anything. When the line went quiet, the only sound left in Kat’s consciousness was her own heart beating.
The phone slid out of her hand. It hit her knee. Some odd, irrational part of her brain, still lost in denial about the magnitude of the news, tried to understand why it didn’t hurt. Why she didn’t feel it at all. It hit right on the kneecap. It should have hurt. She should have felt something. She should—
Hands tightened around her arms, suddenly reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She looked up at Chris, staring at him, trying to remember when he’d arrived. Vaguely remembered that he’d been there all night.
"Kat, what happened?"
Just as her phone had fallen out of her hand, the words slipped off of her tongue. "Dylan’s dead."
When the shock hit Chris, when his eyes widened and his lips parted with a startled breath, then it all became real.
Her hand went to her mouth and tears blurred his face. Choking on the words, she whispered, "Oh my God, he’s dead…"
Chris put his arms around her, stroking her hair gently as she broke down. "Jesus, I’m so sorry, babe," he whispered. His voice was tight with emotion. "I am so, so sorry."
She didn’t know how long he held her like that, letting her cry and curse and bargain with God, but he made no attempt to pull away. Eventually, she sat up, and only then did he let go. Even then, he kept an arm around her while they sat in silence for a few minutes. Whether the touch was simply to reassure her or to keep her from collapsing, she wasn’t sure, but it accomplished both.
Neither spoke as they climbed out of bed, dressed, and went into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter as Chris poured coffee. He handed her a cup, keeping his hand under it until he was satisfied that her shaking hands wouldn’t drop it.
"How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice gentle.
She sipped her coffee, tasting nothing. "I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet."
He put a hand on her back. "It’s going to take some time."
"I know." She looked at him. "How about you?"
He sniffed, then cleared his throat. "Probably about the same. Hasn’t quite sunk in."
Setting her coffee down, she put her arms around him and rested her head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back gently, a silent 'I’m here'. It seemed surreal that it had only been a few hours since these same arms had held her in an entirely different way. She shuddered at the thought of being in bed with anyone else, even any of her last few boyfriends, when that call came through. No one could shift from lover to friend like Chris, and like never before, she was grateful for him.
Twelve
On the way home from the funeral, Chris was quiet. It wasn't an awkward silence, though it wasn't particularly comfortable either. They just didn’t talk. He always seemed to know when she didn't want to talk, and was content to drive in silence rather than occupy the space between them with idle chitchat.
The entire week leading up to the funeral was a blur. Now that it was over, she was completely numb. On some level, she knew that she hurt from her brother’s death, but she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel anything except the cold, dull heaviness in her chest.
At this point, she’d give anything to feel something. Even the pain. Just…something.
Chris pulled into her driveway, but didn’t turn off the car. "Do you want me to stay?"
She didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to be around anyone, but she didn’t want to be alone. "Please."
He put the car in park and they headed up the stairs to her apartment. Every step took a monstrous effort, her feet leaden with the weight of this damned numbness.
Inside, she leaned against the door for support, taking a deep breath and letting her head fall back.
He watched her quietly for a moment. "You okay?" His eyebrows lifted, and she realized for the first time that his eyes were red. She wondered if she’d cried at the funeral. She could barely remember the funeral. Something inside her wanted to cry right then, but it was all she could do to just breathe.
"Kat?"
When his hands touched her shoulders, she exhaled hard, as if she’d been holding her breath all this time, waiting for his gentle, reassuring touch. She put her arms around his waist and he pulled her close. He didn’t try to tell her it would be okay, or encourage her to let it all out, or anything of the sort. He simply said the two words she needed to hear more than anything in the world:
"I’m here."
You’re here. I can breathe. She drew in a long breath through her nose and caught his familiar masculine scent.
Something deep inside her awoke. Something, some lone nerve, broke through the ice. Something…felt.
She breathed him again, trying to cling to that glimmer of sensation. He stroked her hair, whispering something she didn’t understand. She looked up at him, but instead of repeating what
he said, he kissed her forehead.
With that soft, gentle contact, the glimmer became a spark. You’re here. I can feel.
He pulled back slightly, opening his mouth as if to speak, but she needed him close. Closer.
She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into a kiss. He stumbled towards her, putting a hand on her hip to catch his balance as his other hit the door behind her. Even as they regained their footing, his hand didn’t leave her hip. In fact, its tense presence relaxed against her as his lips relaxed into her kiss.
After a moment, he broke the kiss and stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted. Her hands still held his jacket.
Neither drew a breath. They simply stared at each other. The redness in his eyes reminded her of everything she didn’t feel, of how desperate she was to shake off this numbness.
"Chris," she whispered, drawing him closer. His lips brushed hers, his breath warming her skin, but he rested his forehead against hers, avoiding her lips.
"Should we be doing this?" he breathed. He touched her face, his fingers drawing her closer even as his palm pressed in, as if he couldn’t decide whether he should push her away or pull her to him.
"I don’t care." She tightened her grasp on his jacket, afraid he’d pull away.
"But with—Kat, the funeral…"
"I know."
"We’ve both lost someone, Kat, especially you, we—"
"Chris." She brought her head back so she could look him in the eye. "The last few days have been hell."
"I know, that’s why—"
"Please, just let me feel something good."
He sucked in a breath. For a moment, she thought he was going to speak, to say what he needed to say to bow out of this, but he didn’t. He didn’t say a word.
All at once, he pushed her up against the door and kissed her. With every touch of his lips or his hands, with his hard cock pressing against her hip, with his hot breath against her skin as they panted between kisses, she felt. God in heaven, she felt.
And she needed more.
As he kissed her neck, she shoved his jacket over his shoulders. He shrugged once, quickly, to free his arms from the sleeves.
The Next Move Page 6