by Joy Avery
Hurt filled Tressa’s eyes and he knew he’d cut deep. He started to apologize but reconsidered. Yes, he felt horrible for hurting her, but as long as he kept this doubt wedged between them, things couldn’t get out of focus again. He needed twenty-twenty vision to handle this situation.
Roth pushed himself from the ground, dusted the snow from his clothing, then offered Tressa his hand. Surprisingly, she allowed him to help her up. On her feet, her lips parted, then closed as if she reconsidered whatever she was about to say.
The next several hours were quiet ones. Tressa hadn’t said ten words to him since they’d come in from the snow and he hated it. The silence was torture. Mainly because he enjoyed talking to her. It was always like a conversation with an old friend—unforced and effortless. Well, he guessed he could be grateful that she hadn’t retreated upstairs.
Roth couldn’t concentrate on the Walter Mosley novel he’d been reading, so he dog-eared the page and placed the book on the sofa beside them. He slid a glance at Tressa, whose eyes were pinned to the television screen.
Maybe he’d gone too far earlier. Who was he kidding? He’d gone way too far. Attempting to warm the frigid air around them, he said, “What are they saying about the weather?”
“It’s snowing.”
And the temperature in the room dropped several more degrees. Deciding not to poke the hornet’s nest, he stood. “I’ll start dinner.” He waited to see if she would offer her assistance. Nothing. Yep, she was pissed at him. And she probably had a right to be. Again, he’d overstepped his boundaries. God knows he was the last person who should tell anyone how to manage their love life.
Tressa stood. “I’m really not all that hungry. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
Roth scrubbed a hand over his head and groaned. This woman was going to be the death of him. And judging by the amount of friction between them, something told him he wouldn’t die happy.
Chapter 7
Tressa’s eyes slowly peeled open, and she glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Three o’clock? Her brow furrowed. That can’t be right. She’d only closed her eyes for two minutes. How in the hell had she slept for nine hours? This damn mattress. The plush pillow top made her feel as if she were sleeping on a cloud. It sure beat the hell out of that sofa.
The delicious aromas of onions and spices filled her nostrils, and her growling stomach instantly informed her she’d slept through dinner. Why hadn’t Roth woken her to eat? Oh, yeah. She’d told him she wasn’t hungry. She fell back against the cloud—mattress.
Their morning had started out great, then had turned into a damn disaster. She’d got so close to Roth, then just like that he’d pulled away. And why? Because he thought she was using him to get back at Cyrus. Could he honestly believe that? Even thinking he did frustrated her even more.
Being honest with herself, maybe a small part of her had wanted to feel as if she were getting a small amount of revenge against Cyrus. God, was she really this screwed up?
She released a humorless chuckle. Could she actually blame him for not wanting to get involved with her? Her life was a mess right now. Who wanted that kind of...complication?
A smile curled her lips when she closed her eyes and recalled their time in the snow together. They’d been having so much fun. Then Cyrus had ruined it. Disdain flowed through her. Cyrus was getting too good at disrupting her life.
She eyed the ceiling and replayed Roth’s words in her head. You’re not ready for me. If you only knew how ready I am. Why in the hell was he fighting this so hard? Oh, yeah. He believed Cyrus still had a chance with her. He was so far from the truth a compass couldn’t have guided him back. Roth was right, she needed to talk to Cyrus. And she would. But for now, she’d make Cyrus wait for her to decide when she wanted to talk to him.
A thought occurred to her and she sat. One she should have seen before now. Roth wouldn’t be intimidated by Cyrus. A man like Roth would welcome the challenge of claiming her for himself. Maybe a part of him did believe what he’d said. But there was more to it. Some other reason why she couldn’t reach him. Something else he was hiding behind. But what?
A heavy sigh left her lips. Why should she drive herself insane trying to figure it out? He wanted nothing to do with her. She’d honor his wishes.
Just a few more days.
All she had to do was refuse to look into Roth’s eyes, avoid sitting too close to him, quit appreciating his manly scent, stop enjoying the way her skin tingled when his dark eyes raked over her and keep her nipples from beading every time she thought about him caressing her breasts.
Yep, piece of cake. Which was exactly what she wanted now, Roth caressing her breasts and a piece of cake. Too bad she couldn’t have either.
When her stomach growled again, she headed to raid the kitchen. She moved down the stairs like a cat burglar, but froze like an ice cube at the sight of Roth sprawled on the sofa fast asleep with an open book flat on his shirtless chest.
Whoa. Now, this was a sight for sore eyes, not-so-sore eyes, eyes of all states. The flickering flames washed him in an amber glow. It was the most alluring thing she’d ever seen. Stop it, Tressa. Consider him the enemy. A well-put-together, devastatingly appealing enemy. But the enemy nonetheless.
With his mouth partially open, soft snores poured out. Helpless against it, her eyes trailed over his smooth chest, appreciating the one pec peeping out from under the book. She would love to run her tongue over his nipple and those faithful-to-his-workout-routine abs. No, you wouldn’t. Nor did she want those muscled arms to close around her in a snug embrace. Nope. Not at all.
A fine line of curly black hairs disappeared beneath the waistband of the gray sweatpants he wore. Her system hadn’t been ready for the imprint at his crotch. She squinted to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. Nope. The man was packing, with a capital P.
Before the sight blinded her with desire, she slid her eyes away. A blanket lay in a multicolored puddle on the floor beside the sofa. Had it fallen off or had he kicked it off? Probably the latter. It felt like 710 degrees in there. In her case, she suspected the scorching temp had less to do with the fire and more to do with her reaction to all of that hot chocolate before her.
Tressa reached for the book, then reconsidered. Okay, now she was being silly. Even though he was now in the enemy category, what harm could come from her removing it?
The second she touched it, Roth’s eyes popped open. In a flash, he grabbed a fistful of her shirt. Startled, her legs wobbled, then buckled, causing her to collapse on top of him.
The surge that coursed through her entire body had to be what it felt like to touch a live wire, minus the threat of certain death. Then again, by the magnitude of which her heart pounded, cardiac arrest couldn’t be far behind.
Eyeing Roth dumbly, she said, “I... The book...” Her eyes traveled to his mouth, posed in a straight line. “I’m sorry.” But when she tried to shimmy out of his hold, he held her in place.
As usual, they eyed each other for a long suffocating moment. Roth’s eyes lowered to her mouth, and his jaw tensed as if he was fighting not just a desire to kiss her but a need.
His gaze rose to her in a manner that suggested he struggled with what to do next.
“Did I frighten you?” he said.
“Um...no.”
“Why are you trembling?”
Desire. “Okay, maybe a little,” she said instead.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. In one of the facilities I lived in for a while, you always had to keep one eye open. Falling asleep guaranteed you’d have your belongings stolen. I learned to sleep lightly. Some habits are hard to break.”
“It’s okay, really.” To even imagine the hell he’d been exposed to growing up hurt her to the core. There was no wonder he didn’t have a lot of faith in peo
ple. If she had to guess, he viewed her as one of those thieves in the night just waiting for him to doze off. But the only thing she would ever be interested in stealing from him was his heart.
Unsure why, Tressa rested her head on his shoulder. Maybe because she felt a tremble in him, too. Comforting the enemy was the noble thing to do, right?
To her surprise, Roth circled her in his warm, strong arms. She exhaled. This is how it’s supposed to be. Closing her eyes, she relaxed and enjoyed being the object of his affection. This was how she liked things between them, comfortable, easy. So why was she about to make things bumpy?
“Something clearly exists between us, Roth. Something that gives me so much peace it scares me.”
He hummed a sound that could have been interpreted as understanding or confusion, then his arms tightened around her a hint more. Was that his way of saying he felt the same way? She needed him to use words.
“Why are you afraid of me, Roth?” That was the only logical explanation. The only thing that made sense.
Roth chuckled a smooth, sexy sound that caressed her ears.
He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Woman, do you really think I’m afraid of you?”
There was no need to be, but yes, she did.
“I’m not afraid, Tressa. Just cautious.”
“Am I a risk?”
“Yes,” he said without blinking.
Now they were getting somewhere. “Am I one worth taking?” She could tell by the way he studied her that the question had caught him off guard. Bringing her mouth within inches of his, she teased him in the same way he’d teased her earlier. “Am I a risk worth taking, Roth?”
His jaw tensed, relaxed, then tensed again. “Yeah, I think you are,” he said in a low tone of surrender. “But it’s not that—”
“It truly is that simple.” Tressa pushed out of his arms and straddled him. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. Roth sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His hardness swelled between her legs and pressed against her warmth. “Do you want to make love to me, Roth?”
“Yes.” The sound of surrender danced in his voice.
“Good.” And triumph danced in hers.
Lowering again, she glided the tip of her tongue slowly across his moist bottom lip, then dragged it between the split. He parted his lips and gently sucked her tongue into his mouth. They kissed for a long time. Slowly, tenderly.
Roth’s hands explored her body, gliding up her arms, over her shoulders, down her back and came to rest on her ass. She moaned when he squeezed gently, then not so gently. The not so gently caused the throbbing between her legs to pulse even more ferociously.
She snaked a hand between them and rubbed Roth’s hardness through the fabric of his sweatpants. A guttural sound rumbled in his chest. Venturing farther, she inched her hand beneath his waistband and wrapped her eager fingers around his hot, hard flesh and stroked gently.
In a swift move, Roth freed himself from her grasp. Like a child who’d been denied her favorite toy, she whined, “I want to feel you, Roth.” She kissed one corner of his mouth. “I want to stroke you.” She placed a kiss to the opposite side. “I want to bring you to the brink of exploding.”
Roth didn’t respond to her risqué words. Instead, he entangled his fingers in her hair, held her mouth to his and kissed her, hard and raw. Draping a strong arm across her back, he sat forward, shifted, swung his legs off the couch and stood.
When he took a step toward the stairs, Tressa broke their kiss. “In front of the fireplace. I’ve fantasized about making love to you there since we arrived.”
Dark desire danced in Roth’s eyes. Her head spun from the anticipation of being the recipient of the massive amount of passion she saw swimming in his hard stare.
Roth lowered them to the rug and blanketed her body. “I’ve craved making love to you since the very first time our eyes met months ago.”
“That’s a whole lot of bottled-up yearning.”
“You have no idea.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a wicked smile. “But you’re about to find out.” Roth pecked her gently, then stood.
“Where are you going?” she asked with shameless alarm in her tone.
“Nowhere, baby.”
Tressa ogled with delight as Roth removed his pants. She gnawed at the corner of her lip, waiting for the fitted boxers to fall.
Roth hooked his thumbs inside the black fabric, then paused. “You’re staring. Do you see something you like?”
Tressa sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded seductively. At least in her mind she was being seductive. In actuality, she probably resembled a bobblehead doll. It didn’t matter, as long as Roth gave her what she wanted.
Roth teased her, inching them down with no regard to speed. “Think you can handle it?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Tressa fought the urge to shout when Roth revealed himself. From the feel she’d copped earlier, she’d got a good idea of what to expect. But actually seeing his impressive manhood only thrilled her more. How much longer would she have to wait to experience it?
“I should warn you, I’m an unselfish lover. I like to give. And I’ll keep giving until I’m sure you’re satisfied.”
Had he any idea how much his words turned her on? “I’ve never been known as a taker, but I guess I can make an exception and gracefully accept everything you’re offering. That’s the least I can do.”
Roth smirked. “Close your eyes. And keep them closed until I say open them.”
Her lips parted with mounting protest, but when Roth shook his head, clearly warding off her objections, she followed his directions. Once her eyes were shut, Roth blanketed her body again. The feel of his solid flesh meshed against her was foreplay all by itself.
Roth tilted her head to one side, then placed a delicate kiss just below her earlobe, then whispered in her ear, “All I want you to do is just feel. Can you do that for me?”
Oh, she was feeling already, so that shouldn’t be a problem. “Yes,” she said, mimicking his tone.
Roth kissed her in the same spot again. A blink later, what felt like hundreds of feather-soft kisses peppered her tingling skin: her neck, her jawline, her shoulder, her collarbone. Then it all stopped. Her lids fluttered, the desire to open her eyes as intense as the sensations swirling through her entire body.
Roth’s soft lips tasted her skin again, kissing a line between the valley of her aching breasts. Dragging his tongue over one mound, he sucked a hardened bead between his lips. The intensity of the act caused Tressa to gasp, then smile with delight. He worked his tongue slowly, twirling circles around her tender nipple and flicking it gently. “Mmm.”
He took his time exploring her body, kissing, licking, suckling, driving her mad. Inching down, Roth alternated between tender kisses and delicate nips to her skin. When he positioned her legs over his shoulders and claimed her core, she cried out in bliss. His tongue lit a raging blaze that threatened to consume her.
A bead of sweat trickled down her neck, taunting her already-sensitive skin. There was not one word that could effectively describe the havoc Roth was wreaking on her body.
As if he thought his tongue wasn’t bringing her enough pleasure, he introduced his fingers. The second he glided them inside her wetness, curled them upward and worked them in and out of her, she lost all control. Fists clenched the soft material beneath them, blood whooshed in her ears and her body temperature rose several degrees.
Vicious waves of intense pleasure crashed through her. Never had she experienced an orgasm so powerful, so consuming. Her legs shook, her entire body folded to the delicious torture Roth was subjecting her to.
After what seemed like an eternity, her body calmed. Roth made his way back up her shiveri
ng torso in the same manner he’d gone down, still as gentle as before. He, again, feathered her burning skin with delicate kisses. His caring manner only made her want him more.
Roth’s stone-like hardness pressed against her trembling thigh. At her mouth, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. The idea that her essence lingered on his lips aroused her again.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
Beyond the heated look of desire, there was something more. Hesitation? She hoped not. If he denied her now, there was no doubt she’d die.
“Finish what you started,” she said as motivation.
Roth reached for something. His wallet. Then a condom.
On his knees, their gazes held as he tore into the gold foil. She broke their connection in favor of watching him roll the latex down his impressive length. Her body supercharged at the notion of him satisfying the raging hunger inside her.
Roth blanketed her body and captured her mouth in a heady kiss. Without using his hand, his manhood effortlessly located her opening. She drew in a long, sharp breath, then released it in a shaky moan.
“Did you feel that, baby?”
Tressa whined, “Yes.”
“Did it feel good?”
“Yes. Yes!”
Tressa couldn’t ever remember a man filling her, stretching her, going as deep as Roth. And his gentleness... Sex with Cyrus had always been so urgent, so stiff, so swift. Not discounting the satisfaction obtained from the occasional urgent, stiff, fast interlude, because sometimes that was exactly how she wanted it, but this—the way Roth chose patient over rushed, gentle over rigid, unhurried over quick—was what she needed right now.
He’d wanted her to just feel. And, goodness, was she feeling.
She felt everything.
Passion.
Pleasure.
Delight.
Hunger.