by Skylar Kade
Right now, she didn’t trust him to do that.
Her stomach soured, imagining a return to work and her old life, after having a taste of what could be. From her brain, she got one set of needs. From her heart came another, and the two were diametrically opposed.
After evaluating the situation from every angle, she settled on the least of many evils—retreat. She’d return to cold, empty and safe before he tangled her up any more.
When he caught up to her at the street entrance of the Torpedo Factory, he acted like nothing had changed. “Hungry yet?”
He stood apart from her on the corner, hands in the pockets of his khakis. She didn’t take his hand, and he didn’t reach for hers.
“Sure, food sounds good.” It didn’t, but eating would distract her from the inner turmoil. “What do you have in mind?”
He stared at her like he was waiting for more, then sighed. “There’s a great little pub in the area. Sound good?”
She nodded and they started up King Street, though this time the cool breeze off the Potomac wasn’t buffered by David’s body next to hers. Instead, he stood apart, not reaching for her hand or tucking her under his arm.
She’d gotten used to his touches without realizing it, and now she bemoaned the distance between them, another thing she’d have to get used to once their fling ended.
Carrie trudged up the street alongside him, more lost and confused than she’d been in her whole life.
They didn’t talk until they gave their orders to the waitress.
Despite the hard conclusions she’d reached and her need to reinforce the distance between them, Carrie wanted to rail at him to open up.
With deliberate logical analysis, she reminded herself that it wasn’t worth the risk. She couldn’t open up more to a man who wasn’t willing to give her the same courtesy. It was bad enough that talking about her past had moved them beyond simple friends with benefits.
She had to draw a line in the sand, and she couldn’t cross it, no matter how much her heart might want to.
Slipping on her polite mask, she picked up the conversation and told him of an article she’d read on the plane home from Rwanda about the brain psychology of the two American political parties.
He jumped into the topic, as she’d hoped he would.
She didn’t have many social graces. When she couldn’t dodge interpersonal interactions altogether, she was accused of being too blunt and honest. But with David she’d never struggled to communicate. They had enough professional interests in common that he had always been easy to talk to, as long as she avoided personal topics.
By the time their food arrived, they’d gotten into a lively debate over nature versus nurture in developing political ties, and she had almost forgotten the sting of David’s reticence. The playful light from earlier was back in his eyes. Warmth trickled through her.
She’d cheered him up, even if it had killed her a little to do so.
Carrie looked at the burger and fries on her plate, and her stomach grumbled in anticipation, though she was loath for anything to interrupt their conversation.
“Yeah, I’d say food was a good idea.” David smirked at her, a bite of steak and mashed potatoes about to reach his mouth.
Before she could think, Carrie laughed and threw a fry at David’s face. She threw her hands over her mouth in shock—David did not look pleased. Apologies tumbled incoherently from her lips until she noticed David’s shaking shoulders.
He burst out laughing and set his fork down. “Carrie Farrow, you threw food at me!” Delight formed little lines around his chocolate-brown eyes.
There was her David. She sealed the lid on her doubts—she would take this man however she could get him, for a little while longer. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, and she was struck by another impulse. A second fry flew toward him to land on his shirt. His stunned look made her dissolve into laughter.
Only David had this kind of effect on her. Only he could tempt her into such juvenile—and fun—behavior. After getting several curious (and one dirty) looks from the tables around them, they finally calmed down enough to actually eat their food.
Carrie took a bite of her bacon blue cheeseburger and moaned in delight. “Oh, that is so good.”
David leaned forward and rested his palms on the table. “Oh, that good, huh?” His voice sounded like it did after they’d had sex—gravelly and low.
Blood rushed to her cheeks and lower, puckering her nipples and swelling her clit. She’d thought one night would purge her of the tension she’d built up in Rwanda, the desperate need to feel alive, but it had only made her crave more. And not just with anyone—only David would do.
Carrie shoved aside her instincts for self-preservation and leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart. “Yes, that good.” She returned to her burger, minus the moaning, as David shook his head.
“You might be the most confounding woman I’ve ever met.”
She cocked her eyebrow and waited for the rest.
He put down his fork and knife, and sighed. “What had you tied up in knots at the Torpedo Factory?”
She set down her half-finished burger and wiped her hands clean. So much for her appetite.
While she’d known this question would come up eventually, she still didn’t want to answer—especially when she’d decided to set aside her confusion regarding David.
To be honest, she knew David would give her a pass on her answer. But the earnestness and the confusion on David’s face made her want to share this little bit with him.
“I don’t know what happened with your brother.” She held up a hand to stop whatever he was going to say. “And you don’t have to tell me. But after you spent all this time convincing me to trust you, doesn’t it smack of hypocrisy?”
She choked on her impatience while she waited for his response. Would he get angry that she was poking at a sensitive subject? Or would he actually open up to her?
He left his side of the booth, motioned for her to scoot over, and then settled in beside her. “You’re completely right.” The resignation in his voice called to her.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You don’t have to tell me.” Hope fluttered in her heart.
“I know.”
The waitress approached them, but Carrie gave a little headshake and the woman nodded before going to a different table. She traced circles on David’s palm while she waited for him to gather his thoughts.
“My little brother killed himself when I was in grad school.” Anger and despair dripped from his words.
The pain of each syllable scored her heart. Words would be empty, and he’d likely heard them all. God knows, she had.
Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder and silently soaked up his pain, letting it mingle with her own until the edges blurred.
“Thank you,” he choked out.
She tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were red, but no tears fell. He kissed her forehead and the touch of his lips said, more than any words could, how much he needed her.
No one had needed her in a long time.
Her mother had Chris, and Carrie hadn’t welcomed anyone else into her personal space until David. In theory, being needed scared the living daylights out of her. In practice, not so much. Not when it was David, who gave support as good as he got.
Sharing his burden connected them. Her awareness of his body hitched up a notch, like an off-key note coming into perfect pitch. Lust roared back and crashed through the doubts and questions. “David, I need—”
“I know. Me too.”
He’d shown he was willing to invite her into his personal hell, and that was enough for now. What more could be asked of a friend with benefits? The term didn’t seem to encompass the vastness of their budding relationship, but she didn’t know a better way to define whatever they had.
Every thought was focused on his precise, controlled movements and her overwhelming desire to lose herself for the day.
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br /> With a curt nod, he released her hand and dug for his wallet. He caught the waitress’s attention and handed her a fifty to settle the bill. Carrie watched the proceedings with tunnel vision, her insides a war between anticipation and growing awareness that their friendship might very well forge past her line in the sand.
In a blur of movement, David led the way out of the pub and back down to the waterfront. Though the river breeze did cool her flushed skin, she would have killed to have the car right outside the restaurant. Instead, they strode down the street and over to the parking spot they’d found earlier.
Once he’d situated her in the car, David hopped behind the wheel and sped off. His hand rested on the stick shift as he drove, the muscles flexing until his veins stood out in contrast. Impulse control shattered, she settled her hand on top of his.
He snatched his hand back like she had burned him. “Not yet.”
She tried not to be hurt but she still curled into herself a fraction before he gritted out, “I have little control around you. If you touch me, I can’t think straight.”
Oh. That wasn’t what she’d expected. She relaxed as much as her aroused body would allow. “Then let’s get home.”
The word home struck her like a fist to the chest. She’d always had a place to stay, but she hadn’t felt like any of them were a home since she’d lost her father and Grace. But the word had tumbled from her tongue and it rang true in her mind.
David made her feel at home.
She stared at his profile, her self-perception crumbling around the edges.
Well shit. David drove like the world hadn’t tilted on its axis. Carrie braced herself against the door to prepare for the next mental earthquake. In grad school they’d done case studies based on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and she’d done enough observation and research to know—with the beauty of hindsight—she’d ignored some of those needs: safety, love and belonging, the middle of the pyramid. And in doing so, she’d created a broken foundation for her esteem and her rational, supposedly mature, self.
That instability had shaken her. She couldn’t get by for much longer without addressing those middle needs. David’s help would be essential when everything tumbled down around her ears. Carrie didn’t know if she could manage without him.
For the rest of the ride, Carrie shoved aside all her doubts for later, when David’s nearness didn’t tilt the scales in his favor and she could actually think rationally. If this giddy excitement was what most people experienced during the dating process, she understood why women dated casually and often. The “honeymoon period”, as she’d heard it called, now made more sense.
As soon as the condo door slammed behind her, David pulled her into his arms. “Tell me to stop right now, Carrie. It’ll be your only chance.” His erection pressed into her abdomen, and his face had gone stone-serious.
Like she’d pass up the chance to have a calm mind once again. She curled her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He groaned into her mouth and let her take the lead. She gave tentative kisses before parting her lips against his.
His body pressed closer, until every inch of their legs and torsos aligned and his erection found the perfect resting point between her legs. Or so she’d thought, until David lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him even tighter against her core.
David deepened their kiss, and she tumbled under his drugging spell. Small pulses of his hips nudged her pants-covered clit and sent delicious shivers across her body. She moaned, and David dipped his tongue into her mouth. He tasted so good.
Carrie knew she’d have trouble kicking this craving.
When his rocking increased, instinct took over and feeling replaced thinking. It was like a lungful of air after almost drowning. Bliss.
She pulled his hair and thrilled at the sensual slide of her tongue against his. One of his hands moved to her waist and eased up her shirt. Cool air drifted across her skin.
He began to expose inch after inch of her, until her bra and her pants were all that stood between them. “Bedroom.”
She nodded and started to unwind her legs from around his waist but David locked her in place while he carted her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.
She stared up at his tall form as he unbuttoned his shirt with jerky movements. She pulled her own top over her head and discarded it somewhere on the carpet.
“Don’t move. Don’t touch your clothes.”
She obeyed. His tone brooked no argument.
Mesmerized, her eyes traced his body as he lost his undershirt, pants, socks. His briefs strained around his erection. Carrie’s mouth watered. She wanted to taste him again.
Her core pulsed in need. A high moan echoed through the room, and Carrie didn’t realize it came from her until she saw David’s face tighten with lust.
“If you aren’t quiet, you’ll miss all the good stuff because I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you hard and fast right now.”
Her body shivered. “This is a deterrent?” Her words were breathy, consumed by thoughts of their last bout of earth-shattering sex. “Why not hard and fast?”
The muscles in his arms tightened. Carrie could see how David restrained himself, and she wanted to push his control. But she wanted his answer first.
He dropped to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “Because I want to spend the whole day savoring your body and making love to you.”
Her heart jumped at his words and the tender intensity of his voice.
It’s just sex, she thought, but not even she believed it after last night’s intimacy and today’s emotional confusion.
For the sake of self-preservation, she couldn’t let him close, but damned if she knew how to stop herself.
David shucked her jeans and panties to leave her naked, except for the bra. He reached for it, stretching over her until she saw nothing but him. The stubborn set of his chin, the nose that had never been broken like hers had—twice—and eyes that shone with such passion.
It called to her own and stoked the small flame that always burned for him. She had ignored it for so long, but now it roared to the forefront. She needed him, desperately.
When he unhooked her bra and threw it aside, she raised her hands to cup her breasts and lift them in an offering. His head ducked and he enveloped one tender peak in his mouth, warm and wet. Carrie squirmed under his ministrations as the ache between her legs grew more acute with every touch of flesh against flesh.
His hands found her waist and gripped her as if she was his hold on control.
“Take me.” She needed him, now. He could drive away all the doubts and recriminations for a little while.
His lips moved to her other breast, but he said nothing. Her growl of frustration rolled through the room. David chuckled against her and the vibrations zinged through her nipple.
She could feel her own slick arousal as she waited for him to fill her.
He stood to put distance between them. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
She nodded. She’d agree to anything so long as he didn’t stop.
“You answer three questions, and you can have me any way you want.” His cock twitched, and Carrie’s mouth watered.
“Deal.” Talk about a no-brainer.
“That’s not all.” He slunk closer, like a lion stalking its prey. “You get your quickie, but you spend the night here. In my bed, in my arms, not arguing about how slowly I torture you to orgasm.”
A shudder racked her body. She should have turned him down—he would ask her questions she really didn’t want to answer—but her arousal reared its eager head and demanded immediate satisfaction.
Inches from touching her, David stopped and waited for her answer.
“Yes.”
Before the word had completely left her lips, David was there, stealing her breath, muddling her mind. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “Need you.”
His lips fell upon hers. His hand dipped between her legs to brush over her clit—too gentle—before he sank one finger into her.
She arched up from the bed, her body on fire. One finger, then another, but it wasn’t enough. “More, all of you.”
“Damn it, Carrie. You make me lose control.” He groaned and shifted to position himself at her entrance and then finally, finally he was inside her, hot and thick. Her every nerve was at his mercy.
She cried out in pleasure, and he froze deep within her. “Move, please!”
His iron control lined his face. “First question.” His words were strained. His cock throbbed inside her, and she gasped, dizzy from need.
“Hurry.” She contracted around him, pressing her G-spot harder against his erection, but just for a moment.
“Tease.” His voice sounded like gravel. “Have you ever been in love?”
Thoughtless with arousal, she let the words pour from her. “Once, I thought. A long time ago. But he couldn’t take it—” She clamped her mouth shut. Those thoughts had no place here.
David swiveled his hips to stroke inside her once, twice, until she cried out beneath him. He paused once more. Carrie’s eyelids fluttered closed, her control on the brink of shattering.
“Finish the sentence.”
She shook her head. Fine tremors vibrated her muscles, as fear and lust and confusion overtook her control. His head dipped to take a hard nipple into his mouth.
Like it had a direct line south, every pull on her nipple caused an accompanying throb in her clit. She squirmed under him, but no move she made brought relief.
He bit down on her breast and pain sizzled through her body. “Answer.”
A nod of refusal, and his hand wended between their bodies to unerringly thumb her clit, feather light, and taunt her with orgasm. His other hand grasped her hip until she knew he’d leave little fingertip bruises, and all she wanted was more—anything to forget the past. But he wouldn’t let her.
“Carrie, sweetheart, tell me.”
When she didn’t speak, he sank his teeth into her flesh once more, and the pleasure-pain circuit overloaded her better sense, until her lips started moving out of self-preservation.