An Act of Persuasion

by Stephanie Doyle

  He would never say he allowed his body to dictate his actions. The idea that sexual need could overcome good sense was preposterous to him. What he was making right now was a rational choice.

  In this moment, he needed what she was offering. Because the reality was this might be the last time he ever had a woman. In an odd way it seemed fitting that the woman would be Anna. Reaching behind her neck to hold her still he took control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue against hers and relishing in the feeling.

  When she started to pull away he almost didn’t let her. It was as though she was his very own oxygen mask, and he wanted to inhale her inside his body. But then she stepped off the couch and moved to stand between his legs. Legs he opened to make room for her there.

  Brazenly she pulled off her T-shirt, then the tank top she wore in lieu of a bra. He was looking at her pert breasts with large brown nipples.

  I always wondered what color they would be.

  Pulling her forward he dipped his head so his mouth was even with one nipple. He teased it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth to suck. At first he was gentle, but the feeling of Anna’s hands on his shoulders squeezing his muscles urged him on until he was sucking on her with deep pulls. He released her to move to her other breast—such a divine thing that women had two to play with—but she pulled away again, this time to pull off the yoga pants and panties.

  Slim but soft, with a smattering of freckles over her body, she looked like some dream he’d imagined once. His eyes were pulled to the small thatch of curls between her legs and he had this idea that she would taste like strawberries and cream.

  Proudly naked in front of him, she sank to her knees between his legs. She pushed away the material of his robe he’d been unsuccessfully hiding his erection with. Then her hands went to work on the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. At one point her palm lay flat against his stomach and it was as though she warmed him all over with only her touch.

  Knowing what she was about, he helped her by lifting his hips so she could pull the cotton pants out of her way. They slid off easily over his too-thin frame. It was one of the things he’d had to get used to during his illness. His body was changing before his eyes, getting leaner, thinner and weaker despite his efforts and wishes to the contrary.

  Fortunately one part of his body hadn’t lost anything to the disease. His cock sprang up looking much like he remembered it. The first touch of her hand on him had his body shifting on the couch. He wasn’t sure about this. She was too close, too up-front. It would be better, he thought, if they were less intimate in this act. If she would turn around and maybe he could take her from behind, then he wouldn’t have to acknowledge that he was actually doing this.

  Screwing Anna.

  But as difficult as she was to handle in all other areas of their life together, sexual intimacy wasn’t any different. She simply acted without guidance or direction. First stroking him with her hand then taking him into her mouth where his body tightened out of sheer unadulterated pleasure.

  “It feels so good. I feel so good. I haven’t felt… I couldn’t feel…”

  The sucking continued. Deep and wet with her tongue teasing him in a way that made the top of his head want to explode. The word explosion brought the urge to do exactly that to mind, and he had to work to gain control of himself. It was time to end this, but he would end it his way.

  “Anna, enough. I need…now.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him with a smile that said she knew him better than anyone else in the world. He wanted to refute that, but he knew he couldn’t. Tugging her up from the floor she shifted to straddle him, her knees on either side of his hips.

  She bent to kiss his neck, her hands rubbing along his chest. The sensation was nice, but he didn’t want nice. He wanted to come. He wanted that mind-numbing pleasure that would make him forget that he was sick, that he wasn’t getting better, and that the choices he made could end his life in a matter of weeks.

  With one hand on her hip guiding her, the other wrapped around his cock, he pushed her down on him. His first thrust only got him halfway there as he registered her tightness and considered maybe it had been as long for her as it had been for him. Undaunted he used both hands on her hips now and pushed her down while he thrust up.

  There. He was inside her deep, all the way to his balls and she was panting a little in his ear.

  “Okay?” He nearly choked the word out.

  “Hmm.”

  That simple response was enough. He leaned against the couch, planted his feet solidly on the floor and began a steady pump of his hips. Anna kept her balance by holding on to his shoulders as she found his rhythm and moved with him, coming down on him while he was pushing up into her.

  Yes. There it was, the liquid heat moving through his body and his brain making him feel strong and warm. Like a king. While his woman was on top of him, riding him, taking his cock deep as if she lived to do so.

  Her pleasure. He hadn’t thought enough about it. He slid one hand up her stomach until he was cupping her breast again. Toying with the nipple that was as hard and as delicious as a raspberry. His other hand slipped to where their bodies were connected. He could feel the wet silky heat of her folds and he stroked her there on the outside of her body as he continued to stroke her on the inside.

  Her orgasm came over her suddenly and her whole body twisted on his like she was caught up in a tornado and helpless against its power.

  “Again,” he said, wanting her to do that all over. He wanted to feel the way she tightened around him; he wanted to watch the way her breasts jiggled. And next time he wanted to hear her. Because while her body told him what she’d felt, she hadn’t made a sound.

  At his command, she only whimpered.

  “Tell me,” he murmured, moving his hand from one breast to the other. “I want to hear you.”

  He pinched her nipple between his fingers until she gasped. There. That was the sound he wanted. Then his thumb found the perfect spot between her legs and pressed.

  “Ben,” she moaned.

  “Yes, Anna. That’s my girl. Come now.”

  He saw her body start to move again but then he was lost to the rest of it as his body took over and started demanding its own conclusion. He thrust hard and heavy, nearly lifting them both off the couch with his need.

  It came crashing down on him, that perfect rush of ecstasy. He hugged her to his chest as his body poured himself deep inside her.

  Alive. Still alive.

  When it was over he collapsed against the couch. His arms felt too heavy to lift anymore and his legs were like big blocks of useless bone. Anna was still pressed against him, her now sweat-slick body stuck to his stomach and chest, while her head rested on his shoulder.

  The loose mess of her hair tickled under his chin as together they struggled to get their heartbeats regulated.

  He closed his eyes and, without being able to stop it, he felt himself drifting to sleep.

  Surely, she would want to talk. All women wanted to talk.

  And Anna would want to talk more than most.

  When he woke up he was disoriented as he tried to place where he was. He hated the sensation.

  In his life before going private, he’d trained himself so that, upon waking, he was fully cognizant of his surroundings and ready for action. For a man who rarely fell asleep in the same place two nights in a row this was an important skill.

  Now his body determined when he fell asleep and sometimes it didn’t give him the benefit of foreknowledge. Traitorous machine.

  He was in his office. On his couch. His pajama pants had been fully removed and were folded next to him, his robe had been wrapped securely around him and a throw blanket covered him from shoulders to feet.

  Anna.

  Maybe this was a good sign, he thought. Maybe falling asleep postcoital spared him a nasty scene. It was completely conceivable she also realized what a mistake they had made. It was possible she was as
embarrassed as he was.

  They could simply ignore that the sex had happened, or shrug it off as a temporary lapse in judgment. Between his illness and the stress she was under as both his assistant and live-in nurse, maybe she, too, needed a momentary outlet.

  Some mindless, harmless pleasure. Enjoyed for a time, then it was over and forgotten.

  He recalled the way she had felt in his arms, the way she sighed his name when she came. The way she had smiled at him as if she knew…

  No, he wasn’t sure who he was attempting to delude with the hope that this incident was nothing more than an aberration. He didn’t buy it for a second.

  Everything would change between them and it was his damn fault.

  Brought down by a pair of skintight yoga pants. Who would have believed it?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Twelve weeks ago

  ANNA STOPPED WHEN she entered Ben’s office and saw that he was dozing behind his desk. His color wasn’t good and the lines around his mouth had grown deeper. She could only hope his decline wasn’t a result of what they did on the couch a few days ago. She hated to think that maybe she had robbed him of the last ounce of energy he had left in his body.

  She shook off the ridiculous idea and thought about how incredibly odd these past few days had been between them. She was still caring for him, cooking for him, handling his business for him. And he was still letting her. All without saying a word about…that night.

  At first she had this crazy idea that maybe they didn’t have to talk about it. Maybe things had changed, and they could accept that change without having to rehash the obvious. They were lovers now. End of story. Anna was sure Ben would appreciate the least messy approach to making that transition.

  Except she didn’t feel like his lover. She felt like…a ghost. An apparition without any real substance walking around his home.

  Unless they were arguing—something they rarely did, but they seemed to be on the verge of it now. Because she was certain that, beyond what had happened between them that night, something else had shifted. She sensed he was hiding something from her and as much as she pressed him on it, he wouldn’t budge. There were moments when she feared that the doctors had told him something about his condition. A prognosis so horrible he wouldn’t share it with her.

  That, too, seemed ridiculous. If his condition was worsening, the medical team would be giving him more aggressive treatment. It wasn’t as though Ben would simply surrender. No, he’d fight his enemy—in this case his body—to the bitter end before ever conceding defeat.

  Ben Tyler would live. It was the only outcome she could, or would, accept.

  And since he was going to live, and since they hadn’t done a very good job of simply making the switch from coworkers to lovers, it meant they would have to talk.

  Anna had promised herself that she would wait until he initiated the subject. Since he had made the first move, it was his responsibility to step up and explain himself. All she needed to spark that conversation was a reference, a vague mention of what they did on that couch not five feet away from her, and it would open the discussion.

  She was about ready to break that promise.

  Three days and nothing.

  The entire incident could have been a dream she had, if she hadn’t woken the next day with a faint soreness between her legs letting her know that what had happened had been entirely real.

  She allowed him every excuse in the book. He was sick and didn’t have the energy to focus on how their relationship might have changed. Until his prognosis improved, he couldn’t commit to anything in the future. Her personal favorite explanation for his avoidance was that he was shy about admitting how he felt about her because before that night he’d never given her any indication he was attracted to her.

  No, any sexual or romantic thoughts, she had been sure—almost sure—were entirely one-sided. Her side.

  Looking at him now, thin and exhausted, the portrait of a man who appeared to be wasting away, it was hard to imagine the man as he had been when she first fell in love with him.

  Ben Tyler then equaled power. Ben Tyler now equaled frailty.

  The crazy thing was she didn’t feel any differently about him. And he certainly hadn’t been frail when he thrust himself deep inside her. So why didn’t he want to talk about it? She understood most guys didn’t like to do postmortems the day after, but this was slightly different.

  What happened had been incredibly unexpected.

  They hadn’t flirted. They hadn’t teased each other with sexual innuendos. There hadn’t been any buildup of tension that had finally demanded release. She had loved him from afar, keeping her feelings completely to herself thinking he would find them inappropriate, and he…

  He what? Had done the same? Had been feeling an attraction to her all this time? If so, the man was the best actor she’d ever known.

  Or maybe it was the circumstance of his condition that finally brought home to him the realization that life was fleeting. A person needed to act on what he felt because he might not get a second chance. Maybe Ben had let his instincts take over his ruthless control.

  Or maybe Ben had just wanted to get laid.

  Either way, together they had made a big fat elephant and sat it in the middle of the room with them. It was getting to the point where not addressing that elephant was making it uncomfortable to be around each other.

  The phone rang and it startled her out of her thoughts. It also woke Ben, which annoyed her. She’d told him on more than one occasion to turn the ringer off on his office phone while he was napping.

  Except the great and almighty Ben Tyler didn’t acknowledge that he took naps. Rushing forward she attempted to snatch the phone off the hook, but he beat her to it.

  “Ben Tyler,” he answered.

  She noticed he didn’t look at her while he talked and it occurred to her that he hadn’t looked at her, really looked at her, in the past three days. Her strategy of not talking about that night hadn’t worked, and her strategy of letting him initiate the conversation was obviously not working, either. It was definitely time to forget about playing games. The elephant would not go away on its own.

  “Yes. I understand. Yes, I’ll be there first thing tomorrow. Thank you.” He hung up the phone. “Yes?”

  “Who was that?”

  “The doctor’s office. Confirming an appointment. I need to be at the hospital by 7:00 a.m. Can you take me?”

  “Of course,” she answered instantly. Then it occurred to her—something wasn’t adding up. The canceled appointment of a few days ago he wouldn’t discuss, the sudden hospital trip tomorrow. “Why do you need to be at the hospital tomorrow?”

  “Anna, I’m sorry. I’m really tired. Can we talk about this later?”

  It was her cue to leave. What person wouldn’t? The man was sick, he needed rest. Leaving now would give him what he needed.

  Only leaving now would make her crazy. For the past few months—hell, since the day she started working for him six years ago—she’d put his needs first. It made sense, he was the boss. Only he wasn’t the boss anymore. Now, whether he was going to admit it or not, he was her lover. Kind of.

  “No.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Recognition of the fact that she’d never said no to him before.

  “I want to know why I’m taking you to the hospital. In fact, I would like to know why you haven’t mentioned anything about what’s happening next regarding your treatment. It’s not like this is news you have to hide from me, Ben. I get it. The chemo isn’t working like you or the doctors hoped. Okay. We knew this might happen. There are other steps. Many other steps to go before this is over. I thought the plan was to go for the consultation regarding those next steps, but suddenly you’re expected at the hospital in the morning.”

  “My doctor and I are making decisions regarding my future health that I would prefer to remain private between me and her. Is that really too much to ask?”

  Anna coul
d feel her anger bubble over. She’d been walking around his house like a shaken-up can of soda with the lid firmly in place for too long. She couldn’t contain it any longer.

  “Yes. It is too much to ask when three days ago I was on my knees in front of you.”

  He flinched, then paused as if collecting himself before he spoke. Or maybe he was trying to recall the speech he’d already had prepared.

  “Anna, about that night…”

  “I don’t want to talk about that night.” She could feel the panic creeping in and she had to force herself to calm down. “I want to know why I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “Look, if it’s too much of an inconvenience—”

  “Don’t play the guilt card with me. You know I would take you anywhere. Just tell me the truth. What. Is. Happening. Tomorrow.”

  He brought his hands together on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve decided to move forward with the stem cell transplant.”

  “You can’t. You don’t have a direct biological match and so far nothing has hit in the donor pool. You know this.”

  “They’re going to use embryonic cells. The research—”

  “Don’t talk to me about research. I know the research. What the hell do you think I’ve been doing these past months? Every medical journal, article, anything I could find regarding the cure for this disease I’ve studied. What you’re doing is taking a major risk when you don’t have to.”

  “It’s my life. It’s my risk to take. I’m done playing with this disease.”

  That was the thing about emotional pain. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t stinging. It wasn’t even dull. It just moved all over the body like one big blow that you didn’t see coming until you felt it everywhere.

  “So that’s it. You weren’t going to tell me.”

  “I was going to tell you in the morning. Frankly, I didn’t want to have the argument we’re having now. I knew you wouldn’t be happy. But really this isn’t your concern.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean it’s none of my concern?”