There was only one other thing that made Jiya feel this powerful and free—flying.
Andrew was like flying. Being behind the wheel of an airplane was a lot like how she felt now, sitting on the edge of her bed and slipping off her panties. In control. Free. A little impulsive and a lot optimistic. Aware of her flesh and bones and expanding lungs. The major difference being an airplane didn’t turn her on as much as a sweaty, shirtless Andrew in clinging mesh shorts.
Jiya let her head tilt back, felt the cool air conditioner dry the perspiration on her neck. She ran her fingertips down the column of her throat, continuing down to the open neckline of her dress. Her nipples puckered before she even reached them and her thighs widened, her hips shifting on the bed. In her head, thoughts of Andrew revolved. His back muscles flexing in the sunlight, his hot eyes stealing over her body from beneath the brim of his hat. That thick ridge between his legs that seemed to grow out of love for laboring. Laboring for her. She’d asked him to do something, a job, and he’d gotten huge and hard from it.
If she was a total jerk, she would break him now. She would beg him to forget his rule and make love to her. He’d have zero chance of staying in control. That knowledge in itself was so empowering, Jiya had to palm her breasts and squeeze them, a whimper escaping her mouth. Okay. Okay, she craved control. No denying that part of herself now.
She didn’t have to, either. She couldn’t, without denying Andrew what he needed.
What they both needed.
That permission was drugging and beautiful, but could she explore this newfound side of herself without forcing Andrew to do something that would make him feel guilt? Because that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted only good between them. Only love.
Andrew’s footsteps creaked along the hallway floor and Jiya rushed to compose herself. As much as was possible. She fanned her hot face and kicked her panties under the bed. Crossed her legs for good measure.
“Hey,” he said from the doorway, sounding like he’d swallowed a handful of sand. His gaze gobbled up her bare legs, her hips, meandering higher before focusing on her face. His jaw flexed. “I’m almost finished out there. Are you sure you don’t want me to keep at it?”
It was a dangerous game Jiya played, but she had a building urge inside her to give them relief. Something they both needed. She just had to do it without ruining the trust between them—no, she treasured their confidence in each other far too much.
But they were both in physical pain and she longed to end it. Longed to feel close to him in the way she’d felt in his bedroom. On the beach. It almost felt like a responsibility.
“I, um…” She pushed her hair back and watched his eyes go molten on her very nearly exposed breasts. “I need some pictures hung up.” Jiya gestured to the hammer and nails on her bedside table. Beside the nightstand, two framed prints leaned against the wall. One that displayed pillared architecture, “The Adalaj Stepwell, Gujarat” inscribed along the bottom. She watched him study the landmark that stood so far away, in the Indian state where she’d been born but could still picture in her mind’s eye. The other print was a black and white pencil illustration of an airplane flying sideways between two snowy-peaked mountains.
Andrew went to the second print and picked it up. “Where did you get this one?”
She made a valiant effort not to stare at the bulge in his shorts. Or the cut V of his hips pointing right in that direction like a blinking neon sign. “Uh. You know that little gallery on the boardwalk? I was early for work one day and popped in on a whim. It was in the clearance box. I’ve had it for a while now.”
“Why didn’t you ask me sooner to hang it up?”
“A better question is why didn’t I just hang it up myself?”
“Yeah.” Andrew turned his head sharply to look at her. “Answer that one first.”
Jiya took two slow breaths, Andrew’s intense eye contact holding her like a magnet. “I think I wanted you to hang it up for me, even before I knew why I wanted that.”
His chest dipped hard on a rushed exhale. “Why do you want that?” He licked the inside of his bottom lip a few times, back and forth. “Because I want it so bad? Or is there another reason?”
“It…you make me feel important,” she breathed. “You always have.”
A lump slid up and down in his throat. “Good. That’s what you are.”
Jiya’s heart bobbed and weaved inside her chest. Craving their unique connection now more than ever, she reclined back on the bed slowly, propping herself on her elbows. Without looking down, she knew the bodice of her dress no longer hid a thing. Andrew’s riveted attention and the hunger in his expression would have told her all on their own. “Making me feel important isn’t just about love for you, though, is it?” She murmured the rest. “It’s physical, too.”
Andrew shuddered. “Jiya, what are you doing to me, sweetheart?”
She lifted her chin. “Hang my pictures,” she said firmly. “The airplane first.”
He bit off a pained groan, the V of his hips shifting. Flexing. “Where do you want it?”
Nerves stole through Jiya, even as she let the boldness sweep in. She’d played this role with Andrew before, but she’d been discovering. Now she embraced. With a deep breath, she extended her right leg, using her toe to point at the wall adjacent to her bed. The action caused the hem of her dress to flutter down to her hips and leaving nothing, not a thing, to the imagination. “Right there, please.” Her sex tingled at having Andrew’s immediate, hot, undivided attention. He grabbed at the bulk inside his shorts, shoving it once to the right, then the left, cursing. “Are you going to stare all day?” Jiya asked, keeping her voice even. “Or do what I’ve asked?”
A ripple passed through him. “You think I can concentrate enough to swing a hammer when you’re being a little cock tease?”
“I don’t know. Can you?” She pushed out her lower lip. “Maybe I need to do it myself.”
“Stay where you are,” he growled, picking up a nail. He took a long inhale and paced the room a moment, before making his way over to the wall, but she could see the rise in his shorts had grown even more pronounced. Enough to brush against the wall when he stepped close and lifted the hammer. “Here?”
“Yes, that will work fine.”
Andrew nodded and gently tapped the metal into the wall, sending his back and arm muscles scattering in patterns that made Jiya’s thighs clench. God. He was sexy beyond words. How had she never taken the time to appreciate the twin dents at the base of his spine? Oh, she’d definitely taken time to appreciate his butt, but never this blatantly. She’d never inspected the tight curves or the way his shorts draped over his buns like a tongue lick. And she’d certainly never appreciated that part of his anatomy while lying on her bed with her dress up around her waist.
While lifting the frame to position it on the nail, he cast her a hard look over his shoulder, rife with starvation. “How’s this, sweetheart?”
The silky use of her nickname made her folds turn slick. “Perfect.”
His gaze fell to her womanhood. “Fucking right it is.” Seeming to realize that Jiya was just as sexually frustrated as he, Andrew moved with a touch more arrogance to pick up the next nail—and the roll of his shoulders, the flex of his backside, should have won some award somewhere. Anywhere. All of them. Her thoughts must have been transparent, because he shot her a smirk. “Where do you want me to pound in the next one?”
One of Jiya’s elbows lost the ability to hold her and she almost crashed back onto the bed but managed to right herself at the last second. “T-to…just to the right of my door.”
Andrew winked. “Anything you want.”
Dangerous game, indeed. She was a rookie and shouldn’t have played it. Both of their willpower was beginning to slip and she needed to right their course soon, before Andrew overstepped the line he’d made in the sand. The line he’d drawn when he’d been capable of making good decisions. Unlike now. Or maybe that was just her.
It got harder to breathe while watching Andrew hammer the next nail into the wall, displaying so much restrained power it had to be a crime. Even the dark hair under his arms made her lowest muscles pull tight at the reminder of his masculinity. How he could wield it. How it had felt to have him thrusting inside of her, his hot breath in her ear, his hands pressing her knees open. How bad did she want that right now?
Really freaking bad.
Andrew positioned the second print on her wall and stepped back, the hammer dangling against his outer thigh. “Good?”
She nodded mutely and he winked at her. Again.
That wink reminded Jiya that she was supposed to be in control here. That she wanted to be. When she directed the moves they made, she felt free. Felt placed on a pedestal. And it fulfilled a deep need inside of Andrew that she wanted to own. Wanted to write her name on. She could see he wanted that, too. He watched her with hunger and anticipation and lust that overflowed from every part of him.
Jiya sat up and pulled the dress off over her head.
Andrew dropped the hammer to the ground.
“Fucking Christ. Look at you. So beautiful.”
Battling an enormous wave of need, Jiya tossed her hair back. “You have been looking.” She pointed her toe at the rise of flesh in his shorts. “All day long. Haven’t you?”
“Yes,” he said raggedly. “I can’t help it.”
She exhaled unevenly. “Well you better take care of it so you can get back to work.”
Andrew’s stomach muscles knitted up tight. “Take care of it?”
“Uh huh.” Jiya rose and sauntered away from the bed, turning on a toe to gesture at where she’d been sitting. “Sit down, right there, and take care of yourself. I don’t have all day,” she finished, unable to stop herself from sounding breathless. She was. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room to prepare her for Andrew following her instructions in a manner that was both vulnerable and cocky as sin. On his way to the bed, he yanked down the waistband of his mesh shorts to free his engorged sex and gripped it in a bloodless fist. He dropped into a manspread at the edge of the bed, leaned back a little and started to masturbate himself. Roughly.
Jiya only remembered her total nudity when she fell back against the wall and encountered the cool surface along her spine. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.
Exhilaration snapped in her veins. She’d made this happen. She’d done this?
Whatever happened next was her decision. All hers. And yet, it excited her to no end that Andrew had more than enough strength to capture the control back if she pushed enough.
Just enough.
Which she couldn’t. Not today.
But soon? Soon, she would push until he—
“Say it out loud, Jiya,” he rasped, his hand moving rapidly up and down his hardness. “Don’t make me guess what’s putting that look on your gorgeous fucking face.”
“I was thinking…” Heat razed her cheeks. “I was thinking you could take me, if you wanted to. You could just take what you wanted.”
“So why don’t I? Right?” Something a little depraved flashed in his eye. His hand slowed, but his grip seemed to firm and he thrust his hips up into his fist, slow, slow, slow, putting on a show for her. “Why don’t I abandon my hand for something much tighter and fuck us like we’re both dying for, huh? Why don’t I do that?”
“You like when I ask for it,” she hiccupped, trailing her fingers down her stomach and through the small patch of hair. “You like when I demand it.”
“Me. Not it. I like when you demand me. My cock, my time, my life. I want to give it all to you.” His burning attention was riveted on her wayward hand. “Does all that power make you want to finger yourself, sweetheart?”
Her nod was vigorous, unashamed, and how unbelievable was that? She was completely nude in front of Andrew—touching herself—and that same bliss she’d felt soaring among the clouds was wrapping around her middle, twisting, taking hold. “Tell me more,” she whispered. “Help me.”
Andrew was on his feet and closing the distance between them. He rested a forearm against the wall over her head and positioned his mouth above her ear. His hand continued to stroke his flesh between their bodies, but he didn’t touch her. “I gave you that rough, deep fucking in my bed, so I know you like being filled up hard. Don’t mind a little pain to get to the good stuff, do you, sweetheart?”
The back of her head rolled side to side on the wall. “I only know what I like with you.”
Was that her purring like a pouty sex kitten? Because…wow, it sounded kind of hot. Andrew seemed to think so, too, because his moan filled her ear. “That’s a good answer, Jiya. That’s a damn good answer.”
“It’s true.”
“I know it’s true. For both of us.” He pressed his bared teeth to her ear. “I fucking love you. I’m only like this for you. I serve you.”
Jiya’s stomach contracted with such immense affection and lust, she gasped. Moisture coated the juncture of her thighs, spreading down, lower. “Then h-help me. Make me come. I love you, too. I love you—”
“Nice and easy, press your middle and index finger inside your pussy. Good girl. Good. Use all that wet you made to fuck yourself.” He looked down at the fingers sliding in and out of her entrance and groaned, his own hand busy on his shaft. “Goddamn, that’s pretty. Give yourself five pumps, then rub your clit with your middle finger. Just like that. Around and around. Now push the fingers back in—hard, baby. Fuck it hard. Harder.”
Jiya’s head was spinning. Andrew’s voice was weaving a symphony of filth in her ear, propelling her toward the crescendo. She could hear her own sobbing breaths and feel her breasts heaving. On either side of her hand, her thighs started to tremble, the most delicious pressure building low, low in her belly. “Andrew. Andrew.”
“I’m here. Those are my fingers. I’ve finally got them in your tight, ripe cunt and I’m tickling that secret G-spot only I know about.” The slap of flesh between them grew louder, coming from them both, the gaps filled in by harsh grunts and feminine whimpers. “Jesus, you’re so fucking juicy—I can’t wait to get you on your back again, baby. And I’m not going to pull out next time. You’re getting all of me and I’m going to hold your legs together afterward to keep it in.”
The force of Jiya’s orgasm threw her back against the wall. Out of necessity, Andrew broke the no touching rule by holding her up and the final three, frantic strokes of his sex were done directly against her clenching flesh. He bellowed her name into the curve of her neck and a spray of moisture arced across her belly.
Jiya was still in the throes of intense, pulsating pleasure when Andrew spun her around to face the wall, groaning as he released the rest of his spend on her buttocks and lower back. Why that would make her fingernails curl against the wall and another shockwave to pass through her, Jiya didn’t know. Only that her body responded to his pleasure like it came from her own body. On a sob, she squeezed her thighs together and pressed her open mouth to the wall, swimming through wave after wave of her climax. And all the while, Andrew breathed filthy, wonderful, slurred praise into her hair, ensconcing her heart in pleasure, as well.
“Beautiful woman, standing here naked for me. So hot. So perfect. Making my cock miserable. You feel better after that nice, hard fuck? God, I love you. I fucking can’t live without you…mine, you’re mine, you’re mine…”
Jiya would never know how she ended up on the bed with her head on the pillow. Or how long she was blacked out before waking up to find Andrew seated, looking down at her with a wealth of tenderness. Back in his shorts. Regrettably. She only knew her heart sighed as he dragged his fingertips down the side of her face, cupping her there.
“I’d love to let you sleep forever, but you have to be at work.”
She turned her head, brushing her lips against the pad of his thumb. “So do you.” In the stillness, she watched some sadness dance in his eyes. “What is it?”
He glanced away, then refocused
on her. “The night everything happened with my father, we were on the boardwalk and…I was going to ask you out. I was just thinking about how different things would be now, if it hadn’t rained.” With a laugh that lacked humor, he dragged his hands down his face. “Or if he hadn’t been a bastard.”
She sat up and laid her head on his shoulder. “Don’t think about what we missed, think about how we’re going to have it in the future.”
“I am.” He kissed her temple, his determined expression causing a flutter in her midsection. “I never stop thinking about it.”
“Good,” she said, nudging him. “Don’t.”
His lips jumped. “I won’t.” After a moment, she heard him swallow. “Listen, sweetheart. I got a text from Handler. There’s another run tonight.” He hurried to continue when she started shaking her head in denial. “Everything is going to be fine, okay? Just…come to breakfast in the morning, huh? Every morning? I can do anything as long as I know you’ll be there on the other side.”
Trying not to betray the fear prickling her nerve endings or look too closely at his row of stitches, Jiya nodded jerkily. “I’ll be there. Always.”
“Always,” he said on a relieved exhale. “Okay. Thank God. Just hang in there with me.”
“I will.” He wrapped his arms around Jiya, only breaking the hug when both of their cell phones started to buzz nonstop, probably people wondering why they weren’t at work. Watching him go was almost impossible, working that night was worse. Later, she slept with her head perched on folded arms on the window sill. She jerked awake when Andrew’s bedroom light came on, powerful relief making her eyes sting with tears. They looked at each other for long moments through the window until he nodded and mouthed the words I love you, pressing his hand to the glass. She mouthed the words back—and they both went to bed, turning their lights off as the sun kissed the horizon.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Andrew swore he held his breath from the moment he left Jiya yesterday until she walked in the door for breakfast. She wore her work clothes this time and carried her usual tote bag full of ingredients. His usual move was to take the bag and start dividing spices and taking out cutlery for breakfast. Her cup of coffee sat on the counter beside his elbow and he should have been handing it to her. All he could do was stare, though.
Sink or Swim Page 16