by Molly Mirren
Jay tilted his head back to look at her. “And now he's pissed?” he said, bringing her back into the conversation.
“Yeah.”
He nodded and then asked casually, “So, why don't you want to go on the tour?”
She sensed the question held more weight than he let on, and she held in a smile. Angling her head to the side, she replied, “Why do you think?”
He gifted her with an easy, slow grin, then took her face in his hands and began to explore her mouth with his tongue.
Erin forgot about her fight with Zac. New Orleans? Going on tour? What was that? Her world was with Jay, and that's where she wanted to stay—where he wanted her to stay. “I want to be with you, Jay,” she whispered, her heart pounding and her breath unsteady.
“I'm right here,” he said, in between little wispy nips along her jawline.
“I mean with you, with you.”
He went utterly still and looked her in the eye. “Are you sure?”
“Very.”
Chapter 22
Jay's bedroom was closer, so that's where they ended up. Now that she'd made her decision, Erin felt shaky with anticipation. If she had to take it slow one more minute, she would explode. Why had she been so reluctant, so afraid? It suddenly seemed so right, so inevitable.
Jay transferred from his chair to the rumpled bed, his butt landing with an exaggerated thud that made the mattress springs squeak and Erin giggle. He smiled playfully, but his gaze was smoldering. As soon as he was sitting on the bed, Erin was standing in front of him and yanking his shirt off over his head. He did the same to her, pulling the bottom of her pajama tank upward as far as he could reach and exposing her bare breasts. She finished the job and flung the tank over her shoulder.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Darlin', do you know how long I've waited for this?”
“Since you saw me naked?” she said wryly.
“No,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting as he looked up at her. “Since the first time you called me an asshole. Which I deserved, by the way.”
“Oh, right. Being called an asshole is always a turn-on.”
“I'm serious.” Then he reached up and put his lean, callused hands on her hips, pulling her closer. “You're beautiful, Erin. I've always thought that, from the very beginning.”
She wanted to believe him, didn't want to think of the things he'd said, of what he'd thought of her as a dev. If he wanted to sugarcoat it, she sure as hell wasn't about to argue.
He was in her blood, raging through her system. It was like she'd smoked a Jay-bomb. She leaned forward and kissed him, running her fingers through his soft, thick blond hair and then nibbling on his bottom lip until he took over, making the kiss hard and deep.
Lips still locked with hers, he fell back on the bed, his legs still bent and hanging over the edge, and pulled Erin with him. She landed on top of him, part of her legs and feet dangling over the side, too. He was so much bigger than she was, and his upper body was all hard muscle encased in warm bronzed skin.
“Scoot up for me, darlin',” he growled. “Let me taste your breasts.”
She slithered up his body, letting her breasts sear his skin, and then placed them close to his mouth. The instant his tongue touched her nipple, a flame shot from there straight down to her lower abdomen. His tongue was wet and exquisite as it circled around her areola. When he took the rock-hard peak of her nipple between his teeth, the sharp, erotic pain of it caused her to moan. After he'd thoroughly pleasured that breast, he moved to the opposite one and began to tease it as he had the other.
“Oh, my God, Jay,” she breathed. “That feels . . . amazing.”
His hands were still on her hips, and he put pressure on them to let her know he wanted her to move upward. She obeyed, and he began to lick her body, first between her breasts and then down her belly to just above the waistband of her pajama boxers. He hooked his thumbs inside them and began to pull them down, along with her lacy bikini panties, exposing her hips and buttocks until he couldn't reach any further.
She helped him by hastily pushing the garments off the rest of the way and letting them fall to the floor. She was totally naked now, her skin tingling and flushed. She had the vague thought that, thank God, she'd shaved and trimmed all her nooks and crannies last night.
Jay picked up where he left off, licking her with little circles of his tongue just above her pubic area and then lower, to that most sensitive, private place. Erin couldn't help but thrust her hips forward and arch her back. Holy God. The man was a magician with his mouth. He started to suck, and she nearly unraveled. She was on fire, every cell in her body pinpointed on what Jay was doing to her.
But it was too soon. She didn't want it to happen this fast, didn't want it to be all about her. She wanted to prolong the pleasure, and she wanted it to be mutual. No way was she ever going to let Jay get bored.
Although her body begged for the release that was so near, she tore herself away from Jay's wicked mouth and began to kiss him on the stomach above his belly button, flicking her tongue over his moist, salty, heated skin, eventually making her way up to his cut pectoral muscles.
He massaged his fingers into her hair and, with a tug, urged her up to his mouth, giving her a kiss. “Why did you stop me? You were so close.”
She loved the way his lips moved over hers as he spoke. “I don't want you to make it all about me,” she replied, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I want you to enjoy this, too. I want this to be about both of us.”
One of his hands was on her breast now, caressing it, his callused thumb tickling her nipple. “Trust me, darlin'. I'm enjoying it. I could spend the rest of my life tasting and touching your body and die a happy man.”
She smiled.
His thumb traced her nipple, teasing it and then giving it a gentle twist between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to moan again at the lovely ache of it.
Trying to hold on to rational thought, Erin kissed him on his neck, just below his ear, and then took his earlobe in her mouth. “I want to taste you, too, Jay,” she whispered. She gently pushed her tongue into his ear, in and out, in and out, and then skimmed the outer edge of it.
He sucked in a shuddering breath. “Jesus.”
“You like that?”
His answer was a noise from deep in his throat that was deliciously male and primal.
Encouraged by his reaction, Erin trailed her way down his body, making sure not to leave any swath of skin untouched. She kissed and licked and, at the same time, brushed her fingertips lightly over his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his biceps, the inside of his elbows, his hands.
“I want you, Jay,” she said into his palm as she kissed it. “I want to touch every inch of you.” With her free hand, she hooked her finger inside the drawstring waist of his sweats and felt nothing but cool skin underneath—no boxers. He was going commando. How hot was that? She couldn't wait to get him naked.
Eyes hooded, he seemed lost in the sensual world she'd created for him, but when she said, “I think it's time we got rid of these,” and started to untie the drawstring of his sweats, he seized her wrists.
“Don't.”
Despite his grip on her, she pulled the loosened waistband down to just below his hipbone and kissed it. Knowing it was hard for him to see from his angle, and also knowing he couldn't feel it, she looked up and said seductively, “I just kissed your hip, Jay.”
Nostrils flaring, he tightened his hold on her. “I said don't.”
Erin was surprised by his vehemence but tried to keep things naughty and flirtatious. “All's fair in love and war. I'm naked. It's only fair that you are, too.”
He didn't say anything, just shut his eyes, the features of his handsome face going rigid.
“It's okay,” said Erin. She didn't want him to be embarrassed. “I—”
“It's not what you think,” he said in a rush. Letting go of her wrists, he dug his elbows into the mattress and levered himself up enough
to see her better. “I can get hard.” He let out a frustrated breath, his nostrils flaring again, his face tinged with color. “But sometimes—it's better if I take a pill . . . ” He looked up at the ceiling, as if he didn't want to go on, and Erin felt bad for making him feel so uncomfortable.
Meeting her eyes again with purpose, he said, “I can still make it happen for you, Erin. There are other ways.”
“I know that, Jay. I've never doubted that. Ever. But it will be more intimate for me if you're naked, too. Don't hide your body from me.”
“I'm not hiding it, but what's the point?”
Defiantly, she pulled down the other side of his sweats and kissed his other hipbone. The skin there felt cold and dry to her lips compared to the skin above his navel, and she knew it was because blood circulation was more sluggish below the level of his injury. He wouldn't be able to sweat below that level either. Both issues were common side effects of paraplegia.
He watched the motion of her hand as she slid it inside his sweats and touched his cool thigh. Getting an immediate rush, she closed her eyes and drew in a breath, relishing the feel of him. “I don't care whether you can get hard, Jay. You are sexy to me in so many other ways, every part of you.”
At first he didn't react, didn't move, his expression unreadable. Then he asked, “Are you saying—are you saying you're turned on by the paralyzed part of me, by my wasted legs?”
She paused, knowing she was at a crossroads. The answer was yes, but should she admit the truth—that, yeah, she was as pervy as he'd originally thought? The chance to come clean, to completely be herself with him, was tempting, but the possibility she might lose him made her queasy and filled her with dread. Touching his leg as she was now, though, she didn't feel like a perv. It was an expression of love, a connection, and it felt right. He was beautiful—all of him—and she wanted Jay to see himself the way she did. She hated the way he'd described his legs as wasted and with such disdain.
She looked at him boldly, wanting to reassure him, to liberate him, to make him see he didn't need to be inhibited with her—and prayed she wasn't about to make a huge mistake. “Your legs aren't wasted, not to me. They're part of you, Jay, and because of that, yeah. They turn me on. And I love the way your skin is cool on the lower part of your body. I want to feel it against mine.”
His face contorted with disgust, and Erin knew she'd made the wrong choice. Shame slammed into her.
“That's fucking crazy,” said Jay.
She wished to God she hadn't said anything. His instant withdrawal from her felt like a chunk of her soul was being ripped out.
“I thought . . . ” he began, but didn't finish. Instead, he just stared at her like she was something he didn't recognize.
She didn't know what to do. She was still straddling him, nude and exposed. She felt unclean and wanted to cover herself, but there was no graceful way out of this. Humiliated, face hot and tears gathering in her eyes, she said, “I'm a dev, Jay. You knew that. You said it didn't matter.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Yeah, but I didn't think—I thought—I didn't realize . . . ” He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
She'd kept that darkest, seediest part of herself from him. She realized now her whole relationship with him had been based on half-truth. She'd pretended to be someone she wasn't. She'd pretended to be normal.
He remained mute, and each second that ticked by seemed to widen the distance between them before Erin slowly eased off of him. Using up her last tiny scrap of dignity, she turned her back to him and began to get dressed.
* * *
Jay watched as Erin's hand reached for the doorknob, her petite figure once again dressed in a black pajama tank and pink boxers, her glossy brown hair trailing down her back. He didn't know what he felt anymore. He didn't want her to stay, but he didn't want to hurt her either.
“You don't have to go,” he said out of obligation.
She waited a beat, and then, without turning to look at him, said, “I think I do.”
His chest tightened at the quiet dejection in her voice. “It's okay,” he lied. “I just need some time to think, to come to terms with . . . things.”
She gave a small nod and, in the next instant, she was gone.
Jay released his elbows, letting his head fall back to the mattress, and stared at the old-fashioned white plaster ceiling. How could things have gone so wrong? His heart cried foul while his brain sought to distance itself. From what, he wasn't sure, but it was something that went deep, something that made his gut wrench.
Erin had touched his body in ways he hadn't been touched by a woman in a very long time. She'd touched him in places he'd never thought of as erotic before (like the inside of his elbow, for one) and had sent him to the brink of pure heaven; that is, until she'd kissed him on his hip, and he hadn't felt it. It was like she was kissing someone else, and the unfairness and wrongness of it had infuriated him.
Everything had been so incredible up to that point, until the kiss reminded him that a part of himself was missing. It was that useless part of his body that had cost him his marriage, among other things. He'd told Erin he wasn't hiding his body, but there was no doubt he wasn't ready for her to see him naked. He couldn't help but remember attempts at sex with other women he'd been intimate with since his accident—including his ex-wife—and he didn't want a repeat of the pity and revulsion he'd seen on their faces the first (and usually the only) time they saw him naked. He'd learned it was better to keep the woman distracted and pleased, to make her forget about his disability, not reveal the stark reality of it. It had been a good strategy until Erin.
Why wasn't he glad when she'd admitted his paralyzed body turned her on? Instead, he'd been horrified. He knew she was a dev, but he thought that he'd been wrong in the beginning, that he'd misunderstood what being a devotee meant.
He'd never actually talked to Erin about it, but what about all that stuff emanomaly had told Panhead? She'd said she wasn't attracted to a paralyzed body in and of itself. She'd made devoteeism sound noble, made it sound like it was the strong and classy way a wheeler adapted to his disability that attracted her, not his actual physical imperfections. She'd said she didn't perv on paralyzed legs, that it wasn't like she wanted to hump them. She'd made devoteeism make sense.
But when Erin had touched Jay's thigh, he'd seen a desire on her face that was unnatural, that was sick, and it had made his blood congeal. It was the thing that had so repulsed him about devs before he'd gotten to know her.
He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. Was he being an unfair bastard? He'd thought he could get past her devness after emanomaly had explained it better to him, but now that he knew the full extent of it, he wasn't so sure it was something he could overlook.
Then again, maybe it wasn't even Erin's fault. He was supposed to have come to terms with his injury a long time ago, accepted the way his body was now, but what if Luis had been right all those months ago when he'd said devs disgusted Jay because he wasn't comfortable in his own skin?
Like he'd told Erin, he needed time to think; he needed space. He knew avoiding her would hurt her, and he hated himself for it, but he didn't think he could be around her right now. How many times had she warned him, told him she was broken? But he hadn't listened. He'd begged her to give him a second chance to prove himself. Unfortunately, all he'd proven today was that he was a bastard. In his defense, though, she'd changed the rules on him. He hadn't known all the facts.
He thought of all the things he liked about her: She was hot and had those freakishly gorgeous hazel eyes; she had a great sense of humor; she was smart; she was kind. She was perfect for him in so many ways—so perfect he'd been falling in love with her.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Chapter 23
emanomaly: You there?
Erin waited, watching the hypnotic blink of the cursor on her screen, willing Panhead to answer. His status showed he wasn't online, but maybe he'd marked himself as
inactive and forgotten to change it. He'd been unresponsive for days now, which sucked, because Erin was falling apart and needed someone to talk to.
It was four days since she'd creeped Jay out; four days since she'd revealed the true nature of her attraction to him; four days since she'd been kicked to the curb. It reminded her of when Trynt broke off their engagement, and her brain kept saying, I told you so.
Jay had been polite and cordial enough, saying “Hi” or “Bye” (but making only fleeting eye contact) as he dashed out the door to go to his office or disappeared into his room to work. He was suddenly the most dedicated IT guy on the planet. No one's computer was gonna die on his watch.
He was in his room now, still working (or hiding from Erin), even though it was almost ten in the evening. If he was telling the truth, he'd been putting in fourteen-hour days, which couldn't be good for his back. The way he'd been shutting her out, she shouldn't be concerned about that, but she was.
Erin still held out the hope that Jay just needed time, that maybe it wasn't over between them, but each day he avoided her, her heart sickened a little more. She felt so alone and wished Zac was there, although it wasn't like she could tell him what had happened, even if he were. Besides, judging from the terse answers she got whenever she texted him, he was still pissed at her for not joining him on the tour.
She had friends, of course, but none of them knew she was a dev. The only person who knew, the only person she could really talk to, was Panhead.
It was her own fault, she supposed, that she'd lost contact with him. When things had been going great with Jay, she'd only chatted with Panhead once. Maybe ignoring her was payback, but Panhead didn't seem like the vindictive type. Maybe he was just busy. It wasn't like he'd tried to contact her in all that time either.
Maybe his radio silence was because he was on an awesome vacation somewhere exotic and didn't have reliable Internet access. Or maybe the dev he'd been pursuing had warmed toward him. Maybe they were so in love now that they were spending every waking moment together, and he just hadn't had a chance to chat. The longing and jealousy brought on by that visual cut deep, but Erin wouldn't begrudge Panhead his happiness, even if her own relationship with Jay had hit the skids.