Sinful (Undone)

by Jennifer Dawson

  His dark eyes flash. He nods. “Then there’s your answer, the rest is a moot point.”

  I feel the first rush of panic and curl tighter into the corner of the couch. “Can you explain to me why someone would want that?”

  He shrugs. “Submissive girls want to hand over the control. It’s part of their makeup. It’s hard and work, but they crave it. They like the feeling of being given no choice in the matter. Like having their boundaries pushed. They like rules, and structure, and feeling like their actions have consequences. They like the guidance.”

  Even though a lot of my questions are answered, I still feel like I’m missing some vital piece of information he’s not telling me so I try again. “Okay, I get your end. You get unlimited sex, when and where you want, but I don’t understand what’s in it for them?”

  “It’s reciprocal, there’s someone who wants to control and someone who wants to give it up. You might not understand their desire, but they are getting what they want.”

  “And some women want to give up their say in a relationship? Over their bodies?”

  “Some do.”

  It hits me, why he never wanted to tell me. I gulp, wishing I never pushed this. I already miss my delusions. My fantasies are nothing like this. I look down at the blanket. “I can see now your hesitation. That doesn’t really describe me, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He sighs. “Some people are good at hiding it, even from themselves, and it’s possible you’re one of them, but you’ll have to come to that on your own. I can’t help you with that.”

  Something is missing, but I don’t know what. It’s like I’m asking the wrong questions. His answers are flat. Providing me with information but no meaning or context. Maybe this is all some sort of aberration. Desperately, I cling to my hopes. “Are you sure that you can’t just be regular?”

  He looks at me for a long, long time. So long I have to resist the urge to fidget. “I’m sorry, but I can’t, and I especially can’t with you.”

  I lick my lips. “Why not me?”

  “Even though I cognitively understand who you are, I can’t help thinking of you like that. Of wanting that from you. I’d constantly have to hold back. Even if it worked in the short term and we were able to fuck this infatuation out of our systems, in the end it would destroy us.”

  He’s right. And the truth is, I don’t want that for him. I wouldn’t want to be with him knowing he hid a part of himself. But I don’t know how to make myself want something so foreign to me.

  Before we’ve even begun, it feels like the end. “So where does that leave us?”

  His expression is dark, shuttered closed and unreadable. “I think you know the answer to that, Jillian.”

  I can’t help it. The sting of tears fills my eyes. “So that’s that?”

  He looks away from me and scoffs. “I’m an idiot and I’m sorry. I chose wrong. I thought I was being smart keeping you at a distance. That eventually you’d get bored.”

  I press my lips together. “Why did you think I’d get bored?”

  A smile curves his lips. “You are prone to flights of fancy.”

  He’s right. I am. It’s hard for me to settle on one thing. That’s why my career is such a mess. But when it’s important, I’m solid and sure. “You haven’t been one of them.”

  A nod. “I should have told you the truth when I realized this wasn’t a passing flirtation. I’ve wasted your time and I apologize.”

  I hate the formality, this distance he’s put between us, even though he’s telling me the truth. It makes me want to slap him or shake him. But instead of lashing out, and idea dawns, and even before it crystalizes, I know it’s right. I have nothing left to lose. I sit up, letting the blanket pool at my waist. “You can make it up to me.”

  He raises a brow. “How’s that?”

  I stand up, but don’t bother pulling the hem of my dress down. It rides indecently high on my thighs. As though unable to help himself, his gaze roams over me with the full force of his hunger. I’m shocked to realize it matches my own. He’s hidden it so well throughout the years, unmasked it takes my breath away. I walk toward him and when I’m standing in front of him I say, “If this is the end, I want one thing from you.”

  He looks up, meeting my gaze. “Tell me.”

  “A kiss, a proper one to say goodbye.”

  “I said I wouldn’t touch you.” Despite Leo’s words, and the trepidation in his dark eyes, his hands curl into fists.

  “No, you said no sex. We talked. You laid out the truth. You stayed a respectable distance away while doing it. You kept your promise. I want one thing in return. Is that really too much to ask?”

  “No.” His attention shifts to my lips. “Yes.”

  I wait.

  He waits.

  I don’t move. Holding my breath as I stand in front of him. I don’t know why I wait—I can only guess I want to sample the barest hint of him being in control. Just to see. To appease my curiosity about this proclivity he can’t give up.

  I lick my lips and his eyes narrow on my mouth. I have no idea where the words come from but they tumble free before I can stop them. “Brandon said my mouth is fuckable, do you agree?”

  His knuckles whiten. “I do.”

  “So it’s not a hardship then. To kiss me?” It’s a little dare, to up the ante.

  It works because he slides his hands up my legs.

  It’s like an electric shock to my system. By the time he curves over my hip I’m weak in the knees.

  How can chemistry get it so wrong? I want to believe it didn’t. That this kiss will swing the turn of events back in my favor.

  “I could spend days thinking up ways to put that mouth of yours to good use.” He strokes back down, his touch featherlight over my bare skin.

  I gasp, my heart racing in my chest, pounding frantically against my ribs. “Like what?”

  “Trying to get me to talk dirty to you?”

  I nod. “Now that you’re here, and time is limited, I don’t want to waste it.”

  He tilts his head, meeting my gaze. “The things I think would probably shock you.”

  “Try me.” It’s a flat-out challenge, because so far he’s been all talk and no action.

  “I promised a kiss.” His fingers trail over my thighs and the muscles quiver. “Baiting doesn’t work on guys like me. In this one moment, for this one kiss, you’re not going to call the shots.”

  I want that. Want a sliver of the real him, the one he hides as he’s busy fighting our attraction. “I won’t argue.”

  Something hot, almost greedy flashes in his expression and he grips my hips, pulling me down. I gladly straddle him. The stretchy fabric of my dress rides impossibly high on my legs.

  He looks down at where my bare thighs cover his denim-clad legs. “Now that’s a pretty sight.”

  It is. But it’s more than that. So much more. “Leo?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why does it feel so right, if it’s not?” Because it does. Never in my life has anything felt as good or as right as being here like this with him. Everything about us fits, from the curve of our bodies, to our dark hair. I find myself wishing for a mirror so I can take in the perfection. I can envision just how we’d look.

  “I don’t know.” His cock brushes between my legs and he’s so damn hard.

  I dig my nails into his shoulders and fight the urge to rock against him. “At least we’ll know what it’s like. That’s one question we can put to bed.”

  “I already know what it’s going to be like.” He gives me a look so hot, so filled with utter evilness it twists his features, transforming him into sex and danger.

  It jacks up my arousal by about a million and my breath comes fast.

  He crooks a finger and says in a tone I’ve never heard him use before, “Come here and give me that mouth.”

  A wave of shivers races over my skin. I’m going to spontaneously combust. I lean down and brush my mouth over his. In
that second, he takes control away from me. He grips me around the neck, covers my lips with his and claims me.

  Our mouths fuse. Hot and slick, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. His tongue slides between my lips and there’s no hesitation, no seeking permission or entreaty.

  His fingers twine into my hair, before fisting it and pulling me closer.

  He’s demanding. His mouth ruthless. Hard.

  It’s consuming. Better than my dreams. I lose myself. Sucking in the taste of him as his mouth overwhelms me. Soaking in the slide of his tongue over mine. It’s like a brand I feel absolutely everywhere and it creates an inferno.

  A relentless, pounding need.

  I want closer. I twist, but he grips my waist and holds me still. With his arm like a vise around me, his hand in my hair, I might be on top, but he’s in control.

  But instead of fear, I wish he was on top of me, overtaking me.

  I want his cock inside me, pushing into me, as punishing and as unmerciful as this kiss.

  My breath comes in hot, needy little pants. I moan, curling my hand around his neck in an effort to get closer. I’m restless. I need more. In my greedy desire, I start to fight his bonds holding me in place.

  He growls low in his throat, and his grip on my hair tightens enough that the base of my neck pricks with pain.

  And then he is gone.

  I chase his mouth, desperate to continue, not ready for it to be over.

  He holds me firm. “Now’s about the time I’d make you stop fighting and force you to surrender.”

  My lids snap open, and my gaze clashes with his.

  Yes, I want it. As long as he doesn’t stop. Now that I know, I need so much more. “All right.”

  He takes a deep breath, I suppose to steady himself, before shaking his head. All his strength relaxes and he lets me go and even though I’m still on top of him, I feel cold. “I can’t, Jillian.”

  “But why?” I run my hands up his chest. “Can’t you see how willing I am?”

  He crooks a finger and rubs it up and down the line of my jaw. “It’s chemistry. And I’m not going to coerce you into something you don’t really want.”

  I long to argue, but I can see the determination in his eyes and I know how he is when he’s determined. He believes this and can’t be swayed, at least not tonight.

  As much as that kiss proved to me there’s something beyond mere chemistry that binds us together, I’m not sure where to go from here. There’s too much I don’t know and I can’t get over the feeling that I’m missing something key.

  I take a deep breath. “So that’s it? We’ve had this one kiss and now it’s goodbye? You’re not willing to even entertain the possibility of us?”

  His gaze flickers over my body then he nods to the couch. “You need to move over there. Then we’ll talk.”

  A cocky satisfaction flashes through me and I can’t help the grin that slides over my lips. “What? Having a hard time resisting me?”

  His eyes narrow, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “I possess an uncanny amount of self-control and discipline, but I’m still a man. I know if I touched you, you’d be wet and ready. I know how easy it would be to drag you to the floor, push that goddamn dress up your hips, and take what I want from you.”

  My breath catches in my throat and lodges there.

  And now it’s his turn to smirk. “So yes, you’re one hell of a temptation. Which is why you’re going to get up and go to a reasonable distance.”

  “And if I don’t?” I can’t help but challenge; it’s part of my nature.

  I assume that’s part of the problem.

  “Then nothing,” he says, with a shrug. “You’re not mine, I can’t force you to do anything.”

  I’m disappointed. I want him to pick up one of these gauntlets I keep throwing down but he keeps tossing them right back. It’s confusing. And frustrating. Not what I’m used to in dealing with men.

  I feign a nonchalance I don’t feel and stand up, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Well, at least you’ve stopped pretending I don’t affect you.”

  I stalk over to the couch and plop down with an ungraceful huff.

  His lips quirk. “At least you’ve got that going for you.”

  I glare at him. “Did anyone ever tell you how frustrating you are?”

  He nods. “I may have heard that a time or two.”

  “It’s annoying.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I don’t like it.” My tone takes on a petulance that makes me cringe.

  “I can’t imagine you do.” His tone, however, stays infuriatingly calm. “But thank you for moving.”

  My shoulders sag, and all the sudden I’m resigned and defeated. Rejection is a hot sting in my chest. What I felt in our kiss, that unstoppable, urgent lust, it didn’t move him.

  Nothing I do moves him.

  Throat tight, I will myself not to cry. Or scream. “I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

  With narrowed eyes, he studies me, searching for what, I don’t know. I only know he doesn’t find it when he stands. “I’ll take you home.”

  I blink the bleariness making my vision swim before I follow suit. “That’s not necessary. I’m a big girl, I can find my way home.”

  Leo

  She’s upset.

  It kills me. Almost breaks me.

  That’s the problem with Jillian; she’s almost always breaking me.

  She thinks I’m rejecting her, but I’m not.

  It’s just that after that kiss, the things I want to do to her are illegal in most states, and I’m not in the right frame of mind to ease her in. To do the right thing. I will push her. Coerce her into actions she’s not ready for. I have no fucking patience and it’s not responsible.

  I’m trying to do what’s best, even if she doesn’t see that right now. She needs someone different from me, and if I take what I want, I’ll ruin her.

  Some distant part of my mind points out that I should communicate this, but I don’t, because I can’t give her hope.

  Feeling the way I do about her, I can’t change for her. And I don’t want her to change for me.

  She turns and walks toward the door, picking up her purse with jerky movements. I can’t let her go like this. She twists the handle and opens the door, but I grip her elbow and turn her to face me.

  The look she gives me—filled with sadness and resignation—is like a punch in the gut.

  “Hey.” My voice is soft, as though she’s a wounded animal I’m trying to soothe. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “How would you like me to look at you, Leo?” A tear slips down her cheek and I resist the desire to take her in my arms and make this all go away.

  I know I’m fucking this up. Every instinct I have is warning me that every time I open my mouth I’m making a bigger mess. Only, I don’t know how to stop. But I have to say something. I shake my head. “Can’t you understand I’m trying to do right by you?”

  “No, I don’t understand that at all.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but then stop myself. What am I supposed to say here? I look past her, and run my fingers through my hair. No matter how I play this out it all ends badly. Best just to cut it off right here, right now before it’s too late to go back. “I’ll take you home.”

  She clenches her bag. “Fine.”

  The worst word in a female’s vocabulary.

  I don’t respond. Instead I grab my keys and make the stoic walk through my building and to my car.

  The drive is silent, the air thick with things unsaid.

  All I can think about is her mouth. That goddamn mouth that just fucked me forever. I’ll never be able to kiss another woman without thinking about Jillian and what she felt like under my hands. And how, for that brief moment when I’d unleashed all my repressed dominance, it had been like touching a part of heaven. All I can think about is how I want to do it again, and how I can’t.

  I will not suck her down a r
abbit hole her sane self would run screaming from. I have always prided myself on being responsible, and with Jillian and all her ties, that’s compounded by a thousand.

  It’s hard to explain, to understand, unless you’ve lost someone like I did. Violently. Suddenly. And without warning. Life’s consequences take on a whole new meaning. I’m no longer ignorant to the carnage.

  I can’t risk her.

  I pull up to her building, and put the car into park. “I’ll walk you up.”

  She doesn’t look at me. “There’s no need.”

  “Jillian.”

  She shifts in her seat, those endless legs brushing against the console, and I fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

  Make a clean break. Suck it up. I sigh. “Someday you’ll meet a guy—”

  She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Spare me the condescending big brother talk.”

  Supposedly I’m good with women. Clearly my performance tonight isn’t an indicator of that. I shake my head “That’s not my intention.”

  Her expression twists into something that can only be described as fury and her hand takes another vicious swipe through the air. “It’s enough. You’ve played your hand and I’ve played mine. Like I said before, you win. You’re right, someday I’ll meet a guy, and he’ll want me enough to fight for me. And you’ll have to live with the knowledge that you’re not that guy.”

  Then she storms out, slams the door and walks away.

  I sit there, staring out the window, a battle raging inside me.

  Because I want to chase her.

  I want to go to her apartment, kick in the door, and drag her to the floor. I want to make her come over and over, more times than she thinks she’s able. I want to fuck her so goddamn hard she’ll feel me for days and ruin her for any other guy that comes after me.

  I want to mark her. Come on her. Claim her.

  But I don’t do any of that. Because someday she will meet that guy and he’ll be exactly what she always wanted me to be.

  And I care about her enough to want that for her.

  Even if that guy isn’t me.

  Jillian

  The next morning I’m exhausted, my eyes swollen from crying, my throat scratchy. And, as luck would have it, I’m also slightly hung over. In short, I’m a mess.