by J. H. Croix
When he turned through the door into what must be his bedroom, my mouth went dry. Okay. It’s not like I didn’t know he was handsome and built. I’d gotten a sense of how amazing his body was when I kissed him. The failure of my imagination was revealed just now. Oh. My. God. He was beyond perfect. I could actually count his abs. There were, in fact, six clearly visible. His soccer player’s build wasn’t mere bulk, rather it was toned perfection, every muscle outlined for me to see. Even his back was a work of art, his shoulders flexing as he turned back to face me, a dry t-shirt in hand. Watching him toss it on might as well have been porn. I was hot and bothered by the whole thing.
Meanwhile, he was oblivious, canting his eyes my way as he walked to the kitchen. “Now for that tea,” he said, his hand beckoning me to follow.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting at a small round table in the kitchen while he started a kettle. I couldn’t quite believe that only minutes ago, I’d laid eyes on a man who’d haunted me from afar for too long. Miraculously, I’d completely forgotten about Joe when usually I’d be in a mental tailspin for a bit. I didn’t know if Alex’s crazy strong effect on me was a combination of my heightened state, or if it was just him. Either way, I welcomed the distraction he offered.
Alex was quiet for the several minutes until the tea kettle whistled. He poured two cups of tea and sat down opposite me, sliding one mug across the table. I curled my hands around it, savoring the warmth. His eyes landed on me, his chocolate gaze assessing. I felt suddenly self-conscious, masking it with a giant gulp of tea, completely forgetting that the water had just boiled moments ago and could’ve used a few minutes to cool. With a sputter, I spewed tea all over the table.
I looked up to find Alex’s shoulders shaking slightly, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Bit too hot?” he asked with a low chuckle as he stood and stepped to the counter, returning to wipe the table with a paper towel. He handed me a clean one and tossed the other one in the trash can.
After I wiped my chin, I stood and dropped the wet paper towel in the trash. Alex stood by the counter, his hands curled over the edge. “Need a dry shirt?” he asked, gesturing toward my shirt.
I glanced down and sighed. Wet splotches covered most of the front of my shirt. I was dressed in typical style this evening, jeans and a cotton shirt, this one a rich blue and fitted. I looked back up at Alex, trying not to blush, and shrugged. “Thanks for offering, but no need.”
He barely nodded, his eyes locked to mine. The air hummed to life around us, and heat suffused me. All Alex had to do was look at me, and I wanted him. My nipples tightened, and it occurred to me it was probably quite obvious, seeing as my shirt was damp and sticking to my skin. I couldn’t seem to move and stood there, maybe a foot or so away from Alex.
I wanted to step close to him again and feel his hard, muscled body against mine. I wanted to lose myself in the wild beat of this desire between us. You have seriously lost it. Take a step back and think. You can’t…
My body, which suddenly seemed to have its own voice, loudly overrode my usual cautious, wise (or so I thought) voice. Why? Why should you take a step back? The most delicious man you’ve ever kissed is standing right here in front of you. You know you can trust him. Caution tried to make herself heard. How do you know you can trust him? This other side of me, driven by an overwhelming desire to explore every facet of the need Alex elicited, was quick to answer. Because you know. He’s Liam’s best friend and so trustworthy Liam teases him about it. Aside from that, you can feel it. He’s a rock, the good kind—strong, quiet and steady. Oh, and hot as hell. You finally have the chance you’ve been hoping for. Do something with it.
I looked over at Alex, my mind lobbing points back and forth. At the moment, this emboldened voice, one that seemed borne solely out of my body’s burning need for Alex, was definitely winning the debate. I wanted Alex. I wanted him badly.
I also wanted to banish the nightmares I’d been having for the last four years. They’d lessened in frequency and intensity, but they still happened every once in a while. I’d somehow gotten it in my head if I could find the right guy, I could have the fling to beat all flings and wrestle back control of my life. I hadn’t had sex in four years for perfectly good reason, all things considered. Rape smashes desire with its fist. I’d begun to think maybe I wouldn’t ever feel desire again. It was an odd sort of loss, an emptiness chased by anger. Anger that something had been stolen from me, maybe permanently. I wanted it back, to claim it as mine again.
Then came Alex. I’d watched him from a distance when I’d encounter him at gatherings with Olivia and Liam. He’d been tempting, but I hadn’t spent any time with him, or gotten close enough to notice him the way I had last week. Only a few minutes alone with him and he’d shredded any worries I had about never experiencing desire again. I wanted to rip his clothes off and explore every inch of his perfect body. I wanted to see his eyes go dark again, his gaze so hot it made me wet just from a look.
Like now. His dark gaze held mine before his eyes dropped down. He might as well have touched my nipples. They tightened and stood at attention, aching to be uncovered. I wanted to lick him all over and wanted the same in return.
I stared back at him. I kept waiting for that feeling to come, the one I knew so well, where I got anxious inside, so anxious that I could hardly breathe and my chest felt as if it was about to be crushed from the weight of my fear. With Alex, that feeling didn’t come. On nothing other than my gut and the knowledge that my dear friend’s fiancée trusted this man implicitly, I trusted Alex completely.
The air around us was heavy now, reverberating with the beat of our desire. I held Alex’s gaze as I closed the distance between us, stopping a whisper away from him. He tilted his head forward as I looked up.
“Harper, what are you…?”
“I want you,” I said, my words coming out raspy. I spoke the raw truth because, well because when it came to Alex, it seemed that’s all I had.
His eyes widened slightly. He stared at me, his gaze searching and darkening at once. I lifted a hand, because I couldn’t help it, and traced along the edge of his strong jaw. His jaw tightened under my touch. His gaze went from hot to scorching, all the while he didn’t say a word. My pulse had gone wild and I could hardly breathe. I traced down along his neck and over his chest, swallowing at the hard muscled planes under my palm. I wanted to feel his skin. So I did. I slipped my hand under his shirt and sighed at the feel of his skin—hot and smooth. His shirt bunched over my wrist as I pushed it up.
Alex suddenly moved, grabbing both of my hands fast in one of his large, strong hands. One easily held both of mine. My gaze had wandered down and slammed back into his. Dear God. If it was possible to get burned from a look, Alex’s gaze almost did it. My skin prickled with awareness, and hot liquid need throbbed between my legs. A reckless feeling pushed at me. I was afraid he was going to make me stop, and I couldn’t bear it. It felt so good to let something other than my cool intellect drive what was happening. It felt as if I was standing on the edge of a precipice, and I could either take control and fly into what was before me, or stay back, teetering on the edge and wondering what I might be missing.
In the grip of his hand, I fisted mine in his shirt and yanked him closer as I stepped flush against him.
“Harper.”
His voice was edged with warning.
Heedless, I leaned up, tugging him further down to meet me. He didn’t resist when he could’ve. He was stronger than me by a long shot. His lips were but a whisper away.
“What?” I asked.
Restless, I shifted my legs, feeling the moisture at the apex of my thighs when I did. His hot gaze held mine, searching and hungry at once. “What are you doing?” he bit out.
“I. Want. You.” My words came out raspy, but clear. Beyond feeling dizzy with need, I felt emboldened with Alex.
Shimmying one of my hands free from his grip, I slid it up around the nape of his neck. I could feel his heart pou
nding against the hand still held in his. His heart beat hard and fast, its rhythm solid and strong and imbuing me with more boldness. If I’d stopped to think right about now, I’d have lost it over what I was doing. But I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t want to. Well, it wasn’t that I wasn’t thinking at all—just that I was thinking only about one thing. Alex and more of the way I felt when I kissed him last week. It was such a relief not to feel controlled and cautious, that feeling alone was a bit of a rush. Throw in the most potent man I’d ever met, and I was on fire—inside and out.
After a heated moment, Alex leaned back incrementally. “Okay, but we’re taking it slow,” he said.
“Why?” I countered, almost annoyed at his high handedness.
His eyes darkened and one corner of his mouth curled up. “Because I don’t like to rush.”
A flash of uncertainty rose within. Before it had a chance to take over my thoughts, he closed the distance between us, fit his mouth over mine and promptly obliterated my senses. He freed my hand between us and slid his arms around me, lifting me high against him and turning to slide my hips on the counter. He gripped my bottom and pulled me flush against him, all the while kissing me fiercely—hot, wet, deep kisses. After the heated dive into our kiss, he drew back, his lips meandering in a slow path along the side of my neck where he nipped at my ear, sending shivers racing through me. A moan escaped, and I didn’t care, heedless of anything but getting more.
My hands slipped under his shirt and up his back. I’d never noticed a man’s back, but the feel of Alex’s was heaven—every single inch of his was honed muscle, flexing under my touch. While I mapped my way around to his chest, his lips made their way along my collarbone and his hands traced up my sides under my shirt, his touch light as a feather and driving me wild. I arched my hips into his, sighing at the feel of his cock, hot and hard through the denim against me. I wanted everything, all at once now. I leaned back to say something. He lifted his head and his eyes collided with mine, his gaze so hot I shuddered. He hooked his hand under the edge of my shirt and lifted it off in one swift motion. I heard it land on the tiled floor. The air whispered over my skin, the cool contrast to the heat inside sending a rush of goose bumps over its surface.
My breath came in shallow pants and my pulse skittered wildly. All he was doing was looking at me. That alone was so hot, my core throbbed and my hips arched reflexively against him, pleasure spiking through me. His eyes locked with mine, he trailed his fingers along the undersides of my breasts, my nipples tightening to the point of pain at the subtle touch.
I couldn’t take it, this slow, teasing madness. I needed to barrel through this before I started thinking. I reached between us and started to unbutton his jeans.
In a flash, his hands were gripping mine. “Not now,” he said, his words a gruff whisper.
“Why?” I asked, frustrated and impatient. I arched into him again and experienced a flash of satisfaction when his breath came out in a hiss.
“It’s not about me tonight. Just you,” he bit out.
My eyes swung back to his. I might not have had sex for four years, but I was no virgin. I’d dated here and there in college and was well aware most men had expectations, all of which involved them finding release somewhere in the course of whatever happened. I couldn’t quite compute what he meant.
“What do you mean?”
My pause seemed to have given him just enough time to gain control again, and his words came out calmer and more measured. “Just that. It’s all about you.”
I still couldn’t wrap my brain around what he meant. To be fair, I was caught in the tide of a lust so powerful, I could barely keep my head above water. With Alex’s nearly perfect body pressed against mine and his hot gaze locked to mine, I couldn’t think very well. At all. “I don’t understand,” I finally said.
“Let me show you,” he said after another few beats where I contemplated whether it was actually possible to have an orgasm without touch. My panties were soaked and my channel was clenching. Every subtle shift of his cock against me—through my jeans and his—was so hot, I was teetering on the verge of release.
He flicked his thumb under the clasp of my bra and dipped his head to swirl his tongue over a nipple. It felt so good, so damn good, I cried out and gripped his hair. I tumbled into a blur of need and sensation as he proceeded to drive me wild, licking, sucking and nipping at my nipples. Awash in sensation, my hips were rolling into him when he drew my zipper down and slipped a hand over to cup my mound. Restless, I arched into him, a moaning sigh escaping when he dragged a finger back and forth over the wet silk of my underwear.
He trailed kisses up between my breasts and along the side of my neck before lifting his head.
“Harper.”
At his gruff command, I dragged my eyes open and found his fiery gaze waiting.
I couldn’t speak, so I simply stared at him, almost crying out when he hooked a finger under the edge of my panties and stroked through my folds. I was slick with need and teetering on the edge of a climax. My eyes started to fall closed.
“Look at me,” he said. Again, his words were soft and gruff, yet his expectation was clear.
It was hard to look at him. The moment was overwhelming in ways I could barely comprehend. I hadn’t been intimate in the slightest with anyone in four years. Before that…less than a half hour had wrecked my life, and I hadn’t known if I’d ever dare to even think about sex again. Alex had already given me the gift of thinking about sex, but in the short week since our kiss, I hadn’t know if I’d have the courage to go further. Yet, here we were. I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I felt so comfortable with him, so abandoned in the desire between us, the comfort itself frightened me in a way. I hadn’t expected this intimacy with him, this closeness where I wanted to lose myself in every moment with him.
“I want to see you come,” he said.
His words hit me right in the heart. Just as he spoke, his slid a finger into my channel, knuckle deep. My climax rolled through me slowly, unraveling in spirals of pleasure and wracking me with shudders. Another finger joined the first—stroking in and out of my channel. It didn’t take much—too long without letting go and in the grip of the fiercest desire I’d ever felt, I let go. Held in his dark gaze, the unraveling sped until I cried out, a sharp jolt of pleasure rocking me. My channel throbbed around his fingers. My head fell forward, thumping against his chest, as I tried to catch my breath.
I couldn’t hear anything above the pounding of my heart for several moments. As my pulse finally slowed and my breathing returned to normal, actual thought entered my brain. What had I just done?
Um. Pretty obvious. You just had the best orgasm of your life at the hands of Alex Gordon, super sexy soccer star.
My snide side pointed out the incredibly obvious circumstances. Okay, when I’d been feeling bold and reckless, I wanted this. Actually, I wanted a lot more. Now, I felt exposed and vulnerable. I swallowed against the anxiety and uncertainty building inside and forced myself to focus on how I felt if I wasn’t letting my brain churn. I felt…good. Really good. Alex had slid his hand out of my jeans and zipped them up sometime in the last few minutes. His head was bowed into the curve of my neck, and he was quiet. I could feel his cock—hard and hot—against me and wondered if he really meant it—that this time was only about me. I lifted my head and reached between us to drag my hand over his shaft. His head whipped up, his eyes locking to mine immediately.
“Harper.”
The warning was there in his tone again.
I couldn’t help it. He made me want to tease, so I cupped his cock through the denim and stroked up and down. His breath came out in a hiss, and he stepped back swiftly. Before I had a chance to speak, he erased the distance he’d just created between us, reaching up to hook my bra again. In a matter of seconds, he’d snagged my shirt off the floor and handed it to me. I was shaken enough—not the bad kind of shaken—that I simply put it on, wondering why he was holding back in s
eeking his own release when it was plainly obvious he was turned on.
He stood before me, his chiseled features tense. “Did you still want some tea?” he finally asked.
“I want to know why you’re holding back.” I was genuinely curious.
He was quiet for a few beats before he said, “Like I said, I don’t like to rush.”
I stared at him, so many questions tumbling through my thoughts I couldn’t settle on any single one to ask.
“Don’t go thinking this is a one-time thing. Trust me.”
I did. Trust him, that is. Completely. He couldn’t know how much that meant. The absolute confidence I had in my trust for him shook me for reasons I didn’t dare to contemplate right now.
“Okay,” I finally replied, battling with my internal disquiet.
I shimmied off the counter and straightened my clothes. “How about I take a rain check on that tea? I should probably get home.”
“I’ll walk you.”
I almost automatically told him he didn’t need to walk me home. Then, I realized I wanted him to. Badly. For reasons that had nothing to do with old nightmares and the man behind them. The man I’d seen before I came into Alex’s apartment and whom I’d completely forgotten in the intervening time.
Alex walked me home, all the way up the stairs to my door. He waited until I was inside and then kissed me again. One kiss. One sweep of his tongue against mine. That’s it, and I almost collapsed against the door after he left.