"Yeah?" His mouth is a thin line.
I'm biting my lip, which I know doesn't exactly put me in a position of strength and authority. I don't want to come across all unstable, especially after last night, but he obviously doesn't know. He doesn't understand.
"I wanted to apologize for last night," I tell him. "Can I come in, please?"
He closes his eyes for a moment. "I don't wanna talk about this, Kimberly."
"Well, we're talking about it." This is a time to be firm. I push past him into the room, but he doesn't actually try to stop me. "I know I run away sometimes, I know it's not the most mature thing in the world, but you have to respect that I've got my reasons."
"I'm not saying you owe me an explanation," Josh replies, quietly. He's not really looking at me, his eyes caught somewhere between my gaze and the floor. "I never did. I just don't want to talk about it."
"Why not? What are you afraid I'm going to say?"
"The truth, Kim!" he practically shouts. For a moment, he's almost frightening - feral. I thrill at the look in his eyes, and I'm ashamed to admit it. His anger is an aphrodisiac. How fucked up is that? "I don't want to hear it. I don't know want to know about your bullshit inner conflict, how you want to live out your fuckin' Nicholas Sparks fantasies, slumming it with some blue collar guy, but you know you can't have a future with somebody like that."
"Wait." I'm staring at him, heart pounding, trying to make sense of everything with what little brain power I have left, after the most stressful day of my life. "What do you think happened last night?"
"What do I think?" He looks skeptical at the implication that he could be wrong. "I think I forgot for a minute that you only want Landon Steele. Not me. As soon as I let the mask slip, you reminded me." His eyes are like flint. "That's all."
My brain stutters and stalls a few times before I can reply.
"That's why you're upset?" I'm not sure if I want to laugh or cry, and he looks pretty confused so it must be showing on my face. "You think I don't want you? Josh, I..." Now I'm feeling particularly stupid. "I just stopped it because I freaked out. I thought it would end up like every other time I've slept with a ridiculously sexy guy."
His face softens considerably. "You think I'm ridiculously sexy?"
"That's not the point," I insist, feeling my cheeks turning bright pink. "Every other time I've slept with a guy like you, he never wants to see me again. I couldn't take it. Not with you. So I ended it. I don't know why, it's not like that really makes it better. But at least I felt like I could be in control."
There's so much in his expression. Relief, hurt, confusion, and a happiness that threatens to take over everything. "Why didn't you just say something? Tell me what was going on? Hell, Kimberly, I don't know why you've found yourself stuck with such a pack of assholes before me, but..."
"Because." I let out a little, bewildered laugh. "No guy's going to tell you the truth when his dick's hard. Give me some credit."
Swiftly, he closes the distance between us, capturing me against his body. I briefly forget my own first name.
"You thought I'd lie to you, huh? Just to get into your pants?" His eyes glint, and he's trying to hide a smile. "I would never. Not a lie. Not in a million years. I might exaggerate. But you'd see through me right away. I'm a good actor, but I'm a bad liar. I just can't do it. Not when it comes to people I care about."
"I didn't know," I say, softly.
"Well, now you do." The pretense drops, and pure honesty is shining through. "This isn't a game for me, Kim. It hasn't been for a while. Maybe since the beginning. I've always been hoping you'd show me, tell me, let me know somehow that you actually liked me for who I was, and not just who I was pretending to be."
"Of course I did," I practically whisper. "Josh, I'm sorry. I know there's dirty talk in my stories, I know that's where you got the idea. And I like it. I really do like it, normally. Just, the last guy who did it..." I suck in a breath, willing away the tide of panic. "It was a bad experience. And I'd almost forgotten until you..."
"Shit." He steps back a little, his face twisting with pain and regret. "Shit, Kim, I knew it. I knew I did something wrong. Fuck. I'm acting like a fucking spoiled baby about this. I'm so sorry. I never should've sprung that on you without asking first."
"I would've told you I wanted it, though." My mind races, struggling to find the words to make him understand. "That's the problem. I'm a mess, Josh. I'm a big fat mess."
His eyes flash. "Tell me that's a figure of speech," he says, firmly.
I swallow hard. "Come on. Let's not mince words."
He squeezes my shoulders, a thousand thoughts and emotions flashing across his face. "Fuck, Kimberly. I don't even know what to say. I'm so goddamn angry at every man who's ever dared to touch you without appreciating you for everything you are. I'll call you any name you want, when you're ready for it, if it'll make you happy. But I won't let you call yourself anything bad. Don't expect me to."
I'm laughing a little, though I still have that shaky about-to-cry feeling in my chest. "I know what I look like, okay? And I don't have a complex about it. I know plenty of guys want girls like me. Just not when they wake up the next morning, most of the time. I'd be an insecure mess no matter what I looked like, but this just makes it easier to focus on something superficial. If a guy doesn't like me, I can always tell myself he's shallow. Even if it's not true. Because the idea of being rejected for who I actually am, inside, that fucking hurts way more."
I hiccup a little, and he's staring at me with such compassion, such understanding, I almost burst into sobs. But I manage not to.
"I'm damaged goods," I whisper. "And I've got no reason to be. I was just born with a brain that hates itself. Nobody gets it. I'm strong, I'm smart, I'm confident. But I can't silence all the doubts. I can't just make myself act normal. I'm not strong enough. Last night, you said something to me that I wanted to hear, that turned me on, and I rewarded you by having a panic attack. I hate being that way."
His mouth twists a little. "Kim, is that what happened? I didn't..." He swallows audibly. "God damn it, I knew you were upset, but I had no idea." He shuts his eyes for a second. "How many times can I apologize? Shit." He laughs a little, bewildered and humorless. "I'm a fucking idiot. You deserve better."
"You're not," I insist. "You didn't know. I know you didn't know. You'd always give me the space I needed, if I could just tell you. It's neither of our faults, not really. I don't go around telling people that I'm a mess of anxiety, that I panic at the drop of a hat, because it doesn't exactly come across very well. Nobody takes you seriously when you admit to being hysterical. And you were just trying to give me what I wanted." I take a deep breath. "So now we know."
"Now we know," he echoes. "If I see you panic, I'll back off."
"And I'll try to tell you what's going through my mind," I promise him. "Sometimes it's hard to put into words. Sometimes, yeah, I just need some space. But I won't shut you out, if you don't want to be."
"I never want you to shut me out," he says, and I believe him. "I've been smitten with you since the first time I cracked the cover of one of your books, Kim. I love that dirty, beautiful mind."
It's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I melt a little bit. I do. But my crazy mind can't help running around in circles, wondering if he's only putting up with my body because he likes the way I think.
"Kim," he says, gently, cupping my face in his hands. "What's wrong? You're slipping away from me again."
"It's nothing," I insist.
He gives me a look, but he's not pushing.
I sigh. "Okay. I'm going to tell you, but you have to promise not to judge how ridiculous I am, and how ungrateful that I've got a ridiculously sexy and thoughtful man in my arms right now." I sigh a little. "Of course every woman wants to be appreciated for her mind. Of course she does."
A little wicked smile twitches on his lips. "Let me stop you right there, baby girl." He raises an eyebro
w. "Is there any doubt that I want your body too? That I find you ridiculously sexy?" The sound of his voice, low and rough, rolling over the word - my throat's tight for a different reason, now. "Those curves you were trying to hide when we first met? And the way you started blooming like a flower, putting on those sexy fuckin' outfits every time you knew I was coming over? It was such a struggle not to touch you in your office that day, when we were roleplaying. I kept worrying you were gonna turn around and notice me trying to adjust my fuckin' ridiculous hard-on. But I couldn't tell if you really wanted it. I knew you were scared of something, and I didn't know what, so I held myself back. I got so hopeful after you stuck up for me at the store, and I thought maybe you really didn't care if I'm not exactly the suave billionaire type. I guess I've got a bit of a complex, too. But never, ever doubt that I wanted you. Just because I'm into your mind doesn't mean I'm not just as into your body. What do you want me to tell you, that I thought about propping your thighs up on my shoulders the first moment I saw you?"
Once again, he must read something on my face that I don't intend to show, because his eyes glint.
"Yeah," I whisper. "I want you to tell me that."
"You're such a fuckin' sex fiend," he murmurs, leaning in for a quick kiss. Too quick. My lips try to follow his, but he pulls away firmly, laying his hands on my shoulders to hold me down. "You've been starved for attention way too long, haven't you?"
I nod, unable to speak.
"How long's it been since you had an orgasm that wasn't battery-powered? I mean, aside from earlier, of course." He licks his lips, briefly, and I want to imagine he's savoring the memory.
"I don't even know," I whisper. It's true. It's been so long since I gave up on men, I lost count.
He brushes a tendril of hair away from the side of my face. "Well, if you want to hear that you're captivating, you got the right man. I'm captivated. When I'm alone, you're what I think about. I had this fantasy that you'd tell me you needed to 'audition' me some other way. I've run through that one so many times, it's got the production values of a Hollywood blockbuster. It might get nominated for Best Picture."
After the overwhelming roller coaster that was today, I'm still feeling off-balance, still reluctant to trust, to believe what I'm seeing right in front of my face. My heart's pounding a million beats a second, and I've let his eyes draw me in, but I'm reluctant to surrender completely.
If I lose myself in him, I don't know when or how or where I'll find myself again.
"Hey." He tilts my chin up a little, with a single finger. "Where are you going, Kimberly? Don't leave me all alone here." His mouth twitches a little. "I meant what I said before. If I start going too far, if I go somewhere you don't want me to go, then stop me. Stop me right away. Don't even hesitate. If you need to kick me out, kick me out. If you need to push me away, do it. But if you're here with me, you're here with me. All the way."
I take in a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. "When you came to my aerobics class, I was impressed, but I was worried, too. I was afraid that you were actually buying into it. It scared me, the idea that you'd really let the idea of Landon Steele change your behavior. That guy's a great fantasy for those battery-powered orgasms, but you don't exactly want to take him home to Mom."
"What are you saying?" His smile grows a little. "Are you saying I'm in the kind of guy you can take home to Mom?"
"Maybe," I say, nearly breathless. "You're certainly the kind of guy a girl could stand to get to know a little better."
"Right," he says. "Maybe six weeks is too early to talk about meeting the parents."
There's a moment of silence, while we both soak this in.
"Are we talking about real life here, Kim?" he says, finally. "Are we talking about you and me?" He clears his throat. "I just want to be sure. Sometimes I feel like that brain of yours is running circles around me."
"You don't know how smart you are," I sigh, winding my arms around his neck. "It's just one of your many charming qualities."
"So that's a yes?" He lets our foreheads touch, gently.
"Yes, Josh. Yes. I'm talking about you and me. Us. Together." I let out an exaggerated sigh.
That eyebrow is going again. "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."
"God damn it, Mr. Steele." The last of my exclamation is muffled as he wraps me up in a tight hug, and I can feel his little hum of contentment vibrating through my chest. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I have a couple suggestions." He tilts his hips towards mine, so I have no choice but to feel his arousal.
And just like that, every emotion washes away in a swell of lust. Well - maybe not every emotion. I'm on the verge of saying something stupid, something really stupid, so it's a good thing he kisses me soundly and banishes all the words I can't let myself say.
His tongue plunders my mouth, just taking, claiming, and I waste a few precious seconds wondering if this is how he really likes it, or if he's just giving me what he thinks I need. He's not wrong, but with him, I could stand some gentleness. I could stand to make love.
And there it is - the word I don't dare say.
Not now. Now, I just want to give in to the desperate rush of passion, everything we've both apparently wanted to do since we met, but wouldn't let ourselves.
"Condoms?" I gasp, when he finally breaks away.
His eyes are clouded with lust, and it takes him a second to recalibrate. "There's some in the minibar," he rumbles. "You think the studio will send you the bill if a ten dollar 'intimacy kit' shows up on the hotel charges?"
"They better not." I'm laughing, pushing him out of the way so I can grab the stupid little cardboard packet from the fridge. "The real question is, why the fuck were you looking for condoms in the mini-bar?"
"I wasn't looking for condoms," he growls, grabbing me by the hips and seizing me to him again. He pulls the packet from my grasp and tosses them on the bedside table, before walking me towards the tempting king-size that still has mints scattered on the pillow. "Before you showed up, I was thinking of getting incredibly wasted and jerking off to terrible pay-per-view porn."
"Oh, I didn't mean to ruin your plans," I purr, while his hands roam up my skirt and grab handfuls of my ass. "Please, don't let me get in the way."
He laughs, and it's full of sin and promise. "Keep it up with your smart mouth, and maybe I'll just tie you up in the corner and make you watch."
"You wouldn't," I whisper, scandalized, knowing he's bluffing but still letting the idea of his control, his punishment, light me up inside.
His hands travel back around to my front, resting on my shoulders now. "Try me," he growls, moments before shoving me backwards so I land sprawling on the bed. I'm laughing, squirming, trying to get upright but not really wanting to do anything but drown in him. He comes down after me, caging me in with his body before I can get my bearings.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He captures my wrists, holding them down above my head. "You ever thought about watching me before?"
"Of course," I whimper, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably. "I've got a pulse, don't I?"
Laughing, he ducks down and nips at my collarbone. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Ms. Tuggey. Feel free to keep trying, though."
A moment later he releases my arms, and I have to admit I'm a tiny bit disappointed. When he gets up on his knees so he can look down on me, I'm okay with that, at first - until his gaze starts to feel a little too penetrating, and not in a fun way. I'm not used to being looked at like this. I said I wanted somebody who found me captivating, but actually being looked at like that? It's a little unnerving. I feel like he can see every flaw.
"Turn over," he intones, after an eternity. I stare up at him, pulse quickening.
Moments pass.
"Turn over," he repeats, his eyes narrowing. "I'm starting to lose patience with you."
I swallow hard. "Umm..."
I don't know how to explain to him that I know it's a bad angle for
me. I don't want him to look at me like that, exposed, and without me being able to see his face. To judge his reactions.
"I won't do anything you don't want," he says, finally, his voice softening a little. He's misjudged my hesitation. I'm burning for him, so badly I'll take him any way he'll have me. Yet, strangely, I don't want him to look at me.
He thinks you're beautiful. He thinks you're so beautiful, he can't understand that you don't feel the same way.
That's what I try to tell myself as I roll over, letting him see me from an angle that I hate more than anything.
There's a heart-stopping moment of silence, and I hear a sharp intake of breath. His fingers curl around my hips.
"Up," he whispers, and I obey. Getting on my hands and knees for him. I haven't done this in years, not since college, when one of my drunken hookups turned me around like this so he wouldn't have to see my face. He didn't tell me that was the reason, but I just knew.
Obviously, that's not the case with Josh. But still.
He worships me with his wandering hands, with the sounds of increasingly ragged breathing as his eyes roam my body. I'm melting, aching for him to dip his fingers between my legs, but he's not ready yet.
Well, he's clearly ready. But he's not going to. He has to make me wait.
"I gotta say, I'm conflicted." His hands momentarily pause, resting right on my ass, the heat of him burning through the fabric of my pencil skirt, searing my skin. "I want to see you, all of you, completely naked, because I got a feeling not many people have seen you like that. Not even the men who've fucked you. Am I right?"
Once again, he's so much smarter than he gives himself credit for.
"Am I right?" he repeats.
"Yes," I manage to whisper.
"On the other hand," he says, "I love your ass in this skirt."
My face is burning. I could almost laugh, but I don't dare.
"You got me all tied up in knots," he murmurs, sliding closer to me, so that his hardness nudges against my thigh. "This is the hardest decision I've ever made."
Meeting Mr. Steele Page 9