The Last Heartbeat

by Katerina Simms

  She shook her head and pushed past him, deeper into his house. “No talking. No niceties. No explanations.” She gazed around the spacious interior to the numerous original, abstract paintings on his white walls, mouth ever so slightly agape. “Cool place. Let’s get started.”

  She tugged off her sweater, one sleeve at a time, the groan she released indicating the wet fabric clung to her skin, making the task difficult.

  “Let me help.” He stepped forward, but she sent a fiery glare over her shoulder and shook her head, her wet waves snapping about her face. So, he stayed glued to his spot.

  The sweater eventually gave up too and hit the ground with a splat. She dabbed the towel at her skin, before kicking off her brown ankle boots, each one landing with a loud thunk thunk.

  The image of her stripping brought a lump to his throat. “We can’t do this.”

  The inferno in her glare said otherwise, as did his surging hormones; but given her heightened emotional state, he couldn’t follow through.

  “You want to help me?” She stalked toward him and tore the towel from around her neck, slowly, deliberately, then threw it to the floor. “Still wanna play the good guy?” Her chin dipped, her gaze smoldering from an upturned stare pinned directly onto him. “Then be a good boy and fuck me.”

  The air stilled, and everything within him seemed to pause, including his breath. Her unabashed choice of words about fucking tilted his world; the condescending jab about him being a good boy pulled him back to reality.

  “Your ambush here isn’t exactly fair.”

  She gave an unconvincing shrug. “This isn’t about being fair. This is about getting what we both want.”

  His attention danced over the slight curl of her lip, past her delicate cheekbones, and up to her dark-chocolate eyes again. Despite his stirring nerve endings, taking her right now would be way too easy. He needed to know the reason behind her searing demands.

  He reached out and stroked her cheek, unable to resist touching her beautiful skin, shades darker than his own. “I’m not taking advantage of you. You’re upset, and you’ve got more fairness in you than you let on.”

  She jerked her head to one side, moving away from his touch.

  “You infer qualities that I don’t possess.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, and she slid his palm over the gentle curve of her hip, even as he imagined her allowing him to look after her. To warm her. She stared at him, one brow raised in a dare. Despite his concern, his thoughts still drowned under a sea of desire.

  “Why are you suddenly so desperate to jump my bones?” The question came out rough and croaky. He hated having to question this at all. His entire body screamed at him to just shut up and take her.

  Her lips lifted higher, and she gripped his hand, sliding his palm up until his fingertips grazed the underside of her bra-covered breast, like she wanted to kill him with longing.

  “Do I need a reason? Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Her eyes glinted; her compliment seemingly designed to divert from answering his questions.

  He locked his arm, preventing her from moving his hand any higher. He needed a clear mind, and he needed the truth. Now. “This won’t happen unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

  She hummed, the hot rumble emanating from deep within her long and graceful throat, her skin there glistening from its semi-damp state. She lifted onto her toes, her tongue indulging in a slow and seductive lick of his lips. She let out a low purring moan. Her eyes opened as his length grew within his pants. Holy mother effing hell, I won’t survive this.

  She pinned him with an evil grin. “So, we both agree? This will work just fine.”

  Base desire scorched his need for restraint. She turned and sauntered away. The distance should have given him relief, but the scent of flowers and woman and rain hit him straight between the eyes.

  She leaned back against his living room wall, her dainty foot propped against the white plaster, her arms rising as she ran a finger down the concave space between her breasts.

  “You can join me now, Mr. Tindall.” Her position gave him a full view of her scarlet bra, which proved little more than a tantalizing shred of sheer lace, her pebbled nipples on clear display underneath. And heaven help him, her wicked smirk beckoned him to take what she offered. “Or I can start without you?”

  Blood rushed, and his cock stiffened. Damn her and her effect. He could barely breathe, each inhalation hollower than the last, his legs locked in place, his eyes demanding to simply watch.

  She unzipped her slacks, and black material pooled at her feet. Need engulfed his body, his erection swelling, impossibly hard and straining for release. He couldn’t hold out much longer, not with this show she seemed intent on performing. If he didn’t stop her, he’d end up coming in his pants.

  Now that would put a stop to this whole thing.

  He curled his hands into firm fists at his sides, fighting for restraint, fighting to stay put, since withholding sex was his one and only bargaining chip here.

  If he caved, he’d lose the end game, and then she’d never reveal a thing to him after that.

  Her fingers skimmed the front clasp of her bra. He charged forward and grabbed her wrists. “Don’t.”

  Her knowing smile curved higher still. “Mr. Tindall?”

  He bent down, grabbed the towel, and shoved it into her non-bra-clasping hand. He had to get a grip, couldn’t fall for her blatant manipulation. “Cover yourself up, Agathe.”

  She hugged the towel to her chest, her shoulders stiff, eyes pooling in a look of shock. “I need this. I tried seduction. Please don’t make me beg.”

  As much as he loved the idea of this woman begging him to fuck her, he didn’t want that under these conditions, especially not when her softened plea cooled both his temper and arousal.

  She blinked up at him, and his heart shifted. All mocking left her eyes, replaced with open vulnerability. “Just do this, and don’t ask any questions. Okay? I’ll explain later.”

  She hooked a hand to the gray, fleecy material of his waistband and pulled him nearer. He groaned at the extra closeness, but the gentle kiss she brushed over his lips truly undid him. Though he fought to let go, her palpable need held him in place.

  He broke the kiss but kept his forehead on hers. “Agathe. Talk to me.”

  Her cold, spindly fingers cupped his face, reminding him once again she’d come here out of despair. The seeping pain of that reminder squeezed his chest, and he closed his eyes to the sound of her whispered plea. “Fuck me first. And maybe then.”

  He pulled back and searched her gaze. He wanted this. Desperately. Maddeningly. But just as before, she didn’t want him to make love to her. Not tenderly, not with any real affection. Label him a dirty bastard, but he loved the idea of doing just that, of doing her until they were both shaking and senseless. But there was something else he wanted even more. His ultimate goal.

  She’d come to his place looking for a cathartic experience. He’d do everything in his power to give her just that, to draw the truth from her, to bond her to him, to learn more about this secretive woman. He had to get this right, even if that meant taking himself down in the process.

  “No maybes. Promise me.” He laid down the demand, and a tremble entered her breath. He’d do as she wished but only in exchange for her truth.

  “I will.” Her brown eyes remained fused on his. “I promise.”

  “Okay, then.” He pressed his lips to hers, sealing the deal, before releasing her. “Tell me what you want.”

  18

  Agathe swallowed at the thickened muscle bunching within her throat. Her heart drummed a mysterious beat; fear or fearless, she couldn’t decide. She’d spent months running from Luke, yet tonight she’d let every boundary and rule slip and run to him.

  “I want to lose myself.” She clamped her jaw shut at her brazen response to his question about what she wanted.

  His focus stayed fixed, stern and silent. Had she said the wrong thing? D
espite the lewd show she’d already put on, her pulse had thundered the entire time. Maybe she’d made a truly stupid choice.

  But then, as if waking himself from a haze, he offered a stiff nod. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He jogged across the room, cold loneliness engulfing her, while a light clicked on in a far-off room, the same one he’d disappeared to earlier. Gleaming white tiles peeked through an open door belonging to a bathroom and rustling sounds broke across the hollow silence.

  The light clicked off. Her tummy fluttered. She hugged her arms around her bare waist, both from the room’s chill and the self-consciousness nausea brought on by her near-naked state. Only a faint hint of hope kept her from running.

  Luke bounded back toward her, his hand outstretched with a square foil packet. “Hold this.”

  She peered down at the enclosed condom resting in her open palm. Her tummy flipped again. Things were getting excruciatingly real.

  He stepped closer, his lips tugging wider in a look of reassurance. Maybe her eyes betrayed her concern. “I’m going to need my hands. You’re not.”

  Those words alone plucked at her interest, and the lump in her throat gave way to an excited tingle throughout her body, one that contrasted to the chill still lingering from her misadventure in the cold. He closed her fingers around the small packet, the minimal connection spreading a fragment of much-needed heat all over. She wanted more. Wanted him.

  His strong hands skimmed up her arm and over to her collarbone, his fingertips unleashing a sweet dance of feather-light touch. She meant to smile at that, but hungry lips crashed over hers, possessing and melting her into his embrace.

  Sweet peaches, this man would ruin her.

  He tugged her in, his rock-hard erection prodding her belly. She recalled the way she’d nearly undone him earlier, and his hard length against her now spurred her on. For once in her life, she held some command, an undeniable effect on a man any woman would crawl over broken glass to be with. And right now, she needed him just as exposed as her.

  She reached down and hurriedly balled the hem of his hooded sweatshirt. He grabbed her wrists, stopping her attempt to undress him. “You wanted to lose yourself. So let go and let me do this.”

  His fierce stare stayed on her, a challenge, a dare. Can I do this? Can I really let go?

  He was right. She’d asked for this, and now he stood before her, willing to provide. Only now, her unruly pulse prompted a need to second-guess. Ease up, girl. Just enjoy.

  He stepped back and removed the shirt himself, followed by the rest of his clothes. A reward for her compliance, maybe? Or maybe his fully naked and beautiful form was meant to entice. Well, if that was his plan, it damn-well worked.

  He was all broad male and frighteningly powerful. His manhood stood thick and proud, promising the sexual escape she’d literally run here for. Her heart fluttered at his slow, confident steps as he prowled closer, and any lingering chill in her muscles disappeared.

  Hot breath and light kisses landed on her skin, starting at her neck, then traveling lower over the crest of her shoulder, and lower still to the soft flesh just above her breasts. She hissed out a breath, her limbs suddenly weak, her gaze dropping in time to catch him kneeling before her, a toughened warrior bowed at a temple’s steps. His brawny hands cradled either side of her ribcage, a man paying homage to some goddess far beyond Agathe’s actual worth.

  “You’re perfection.” His hands pressed over her bra, long fingers cupping and lifting her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and pretended that, for a small while, she deserved his praise. That she deserved to feel as bone-meltingly sexy and alive as he seemed to think she was.

  He straightened and poised his mouth before her breast, his tongue soon stroking the slight swell of flesh just above her bra. She leaned her head back to the wall and groaned, the reaction encouraging his next move to pop her clasp.

  Her breasts broke free, and his thumbs found her nipples, the rough scrape of his fingers a searing contrast to his soft lips now on her lower belly. She felt like a small bird trapped within a lion’s paw, for some reason unperturbed and blissful about the risk that lay ahead.

  Well, screw risk, screw overthinking this… she felt damn good, and that’s all that mattered.

  The small, wet trail of kisses across her tummy alone covered up any uncertainty, the cool touch of air on her skin setting her body to shiver.

  Sexual pressure rose, and she sighed again, her breath exhaling on a needy whimper. He tugged her underwear away, and she replayed his earlier comment in her head, the one about perfection.

  “Can I taste you?”

  She startled at the question and peered down to his brilliant green gaze staring up at her. She swallowed hard and nodded, willing herself to hold strong. He turned his head and planted a tender kiss to her upper thigh, less a tease, more a promise, then he hooked her left leg over his shoulder.

  His lips branded her delicate flesh, and even though she hadn’t managed to speak, her mind echoed her sentiments. Yes. Hell. Yes. She rode a dark path, blind with arousal. This man was pure, sexual masculinity and strength, and already she’d forgotten the pain that had brought her here.

  His tongue lashed her sensitive folds, and almost as quickly, she lost her way. He rolled her bud between his lips, and her once immovable ability to say “no” disappeared. Steady, wet heat flowed from her core; her heart swelled, and she released a hushed moan, her legs buckling before his hands caught her and pinned her to the wall.

  She surrendered to his touch, to his hot mouth taking her in, to her breaths heaving and muscles tingling. Her climax drew near, her pulsing desire close to the sweet oblivion promised.

  He pulled back, his fingers taking over where his mouth had been, slower, more maddening in pace, and she groaned her protest, bucking against him in search of her final, euphoric dive so cruelly pried away.

  “Patience.” He gripped her thigh in a firm hold and slid her leg from his shoulder. “We have a deal, and I’m going to keep it, but first I need you to turn around.” He stood and kissed her neck, stopping only to whisper low into her ear, “I want to be inside you when you come.”

  A surge of arousal swept her body, and she fought a need to moan with pleasure, despite the fact he barely even touched her. The man could be all class and control in the office, but goddammit, he was pure sex in human form when he got her alone.

  The scent of citrus and burgeoning sex filled her senses, and she did as asked, turning until all she could see was the cream-colored wall. His hand met her shoulder, and he tilted her forward, so much so her torso pressed to the cold plaster.

  She couldn’t see what was happening behind her, her ass jutting out and completely exposed. The condom wrapper crinkled, and she sucked in a panicked breath, even as heat surged between her legs.

  She’d never let anyone take her like this—at least not against a wall and with all lights on. She had always been more of a missionary position sort of girl, romantic to the core. But that was then. This was now. And despite who she’d once been, or maybe because of it, she wanted this. Wanted this as if she’d planned these exact conditions all on her own.

  He leaned over her, hands gliding down each of her arms until his fingers interlaced with hers at the wall, a gentle command for her to embrace his close contact and hold still. The head of his cock nudged her entrance, and his hand left hers to steady her hips.

  A tight moan surged up her throat, and he entered her in one, long, smooth stroke.

  “More.” She pressed into him, demanding movement, even though her attempted command sounded more like a desperate plea, and her head bent forward so the cold wall kissed the edge of her hairline.

  “Soon.” His voice held a taut whisper, one that danced up her spine and occupied her body with light, prickling nerves.

  She groaned and clenched around him, a reprimand for what he did to her, but his surging length only served to stretch, and fill, and punish
her back.

  “Goddamn it, Agathe.” He hissed and buckled against her, another act of retribution. “Let me do this.”

  His hand snaked around her, holding her still, his fingers soon rubbing the center of her arousal, while he unleashed a series of harsh thrusts. One after another. Driving rough breaths from her lungs, making it impossible for her to keep up.

  The pressure of her climax rolled forward like an avalanche, and he pounded even harder. Relentless, like he knew she wasn’t far off and offered exactly what she needed and then some.

  Her body shook, and just like that, her mind sailed and then capsized. All that floated on the surface was the simmering awareness of wanting and getting, her lack of thought like a broken needle on a compass, leaving her lost and adrift. All she had was the feeling of his hands working her climax, and his thrusts so exquisite she cried out, finding release.

  A beautiful nothingness stretched out before her, and she shuttered her eyes to welcome, weightless pleasure, as though she’d entered a world of zero gravity and the pure freedom Luke had vowed.

  He bucked hard, and she screamed his name, handing over more control. No other man had ever had this effect on her, and he kissed her shoulder, while she luxuriated in a sense of tender calm.

  His voice filled her ear on a torn whisper, her name, followed by him swelling and releasing. The overwhelming warmth of what he offered, a cold reminder she couldn’t truly have him.

  Or this.

  Her heart clenched with ferocity. What had she done?

  A sob ricocheted throughout her chest, surfacing as a torn and pained cry. She buried her face into her bent arm at the wall, her ribcage jolting under an attack of sobs she couldn’t hold back. He was most definitely someone worth keeping, but she wasn’t.

  She never cried, but she was crying now. Huge, fat tears, while one name played on her mind… Elsie. Always Elsie.

  The more she thought of that name, the more her inner world crumbled.

  Luke withdrew and spun her around; she dizzied before her gaze locked on his.