by Marie Force
She shakes her head. “More.”
“Natalie,” I say, laughing at her unabashed eagerness, “you’re killing me.”
“I don’t want to kill you. I want to kiss you.”
She has no idea what she’s doing to me, how she’s waving a red flag in front of a bull by looking at me with those sweet brown eyes gone liquid with desire and emotion.
I try to tell myself I can handle this. I can handle holding her and kissing her and maybe touching her, but nothing else. Not now anyway. Clutching her hand, I lead her to the sofa, where I sit and then bring her down onto my lap. The press of her soft bottom against my raging hard-on takes my breath away for a second before I recover and capture her mouth in another kiss that goes from zero to a hundred and twenty in a flashpoint of heat so potent I feel scorched.
I’ve never, ever reacted to a woman like this before, and it thrills and terrifies me in light of the conditions she laid out the day we met. If I ask for more than she’s willing to give, I’ll lose her before I ever have her. But with her soft and pliant in my arms, I’m unwilling to end this moment before I have more of her.
I ease her back onto the sofa cushions, pausing to gauge her reaction. For a heartbeat of an instant, I see something resembling fear in her expressive eyes before she seems to recover, reaching for me and bringing me down to resume the kiss.
If I thought the kiss in the foyer was incredible, this is something else altogether, and it truly takes every fiber of self-control I possess to keep from ripping the clothes from both our bodies and having her right here and now. Fighting off those urges is almost as consuming as the kiss itself, which becomes more erotic and more sensual with every stroke of her tongue against mine.
Her sweater is enticingly soft under the hand I lay flat against her back. I work my way under the hem and encounter warm skin that makes me greedy for more. Though it pains me to move, I shift slightly to the side without breaking the kiss and move my hand to the front of her. I’m like a teenage boy in the throes of first passion, trying to gauge whether my advances will be welcome or not. I honestly can’t tell, and remembering that flash of fear I saw earlier, I need to be certain.
I ease back from the kiss but keep my lips against hers. “Natalie, I want to touch you.”
She arches her back, pressing against my hand.
“I need you to say it’s okay. Every step of the way, I need you to tell me.”
“Yes, Flynn… Please. Touch me.”
“Polite and sexy. What a potent combination.” I ease her sweater up and over her head.
She shocks the hell out of me when she tugs at the hem of my sweater and has it off me before I can begin to prepare for the sharp punch of desire that occurs when her skin and mine come together for the first time. Holy fuck. It’s electrifying and terrifying at the same time. She scares the hell out of me.
Her fingers continue to comb through my hair as her other hand wanders down my back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
I’m literally burning up and beginning to sweat from the effort it’s taking to hold back, to go slow, to remember what she said about sex and marriage and rules. But I’m only human, and I want her desperately, so I kiss everything I can reach, beginning with her neck and working my way down to her chest and the upper slopes of plump breasts that are straining at the confines of her plain tan bra, which will go down in history as one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
On her, the sexiest lingerie in the world wouldn’t do a thing to enhance her natural beauty.
“Flynn.” She gasps when my chin rubs against the tight point of her nipple. Her entire body arches into me, silently asking for more.
“Tell me.”
“I…” She opens her eyes, and again I see fear mingled with obvious desire.
“Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.” I nuzzle my nose into the valley between her breasts.
“Touch me. Please touch me.”
I cover her breast with my hand, squeezing gently and rubbing my thumb over the tight point. “Here?”
She bites her lip and nods.
“Are you sure?”
In answer to my question, she releases the front clasp of her bra, surprising me once again.
Her breasts spring free and fill my hands, testing my control all over again. I want to possess her, but I’m careful, gentle with the gift she has given me and probably no one else. She inferred last night that she’s never before had a boyfriend, although how that’s possible, I’ll never know. Is every other guy in the world blind and stupid? She’s a treasure, a priceless gift that came barreling into my life at a time when I’d all but given up on ever finding anyone who could soothe the disquiet in my soul.
Because she is all that and so much more, I move carefully, cautiously as I caress her, working my way slowly to the straining tips that tighten under my hands.
My dick is about to explode from the urge to get in on this, but I try to ignore that urgent need to focus on her. I’m wondering what she’ll allow me to do when the tug of her hand on the back of my head guides me toward what I want more than anything.
I run my tongue around her right nipple, and she goes crazy under me, tugging my hair and pressing every part of her against every part of me. Jesus… This is fucking insanity. With any other woman, I’d be deep inside her by now, fucking her senseless. But with Natalie, that’s not an option, so I take what she’s offered and I feast on her, sucking and tugging and licking her nipple until she cries out from the pleasure—at least I hope it’s pleasure she’s feeling.
Then I do the same to the other side, working her over until I’m sure she’s not thinking of anything other than me and the incredible connection that sizzles between us.
But I can only take so much of her sweet brand of torture. I have to rein myself in and take control of this situation before we move past the point of no return. I drop my head to her chest, which is heaving from the air she’s dragging into her lungs.
“Why did you stop?” she asks after a long period of silence in which the only sound is that of both of us breathing hard.
“Because if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.” I force myself to raise my head, to look down at her face, which is rosy and flushed with desire. “You told me the day we met what isn’t going to happen. If we keep this up…” I drop my head back to her chest. “God, Natalie, I want you so bad. You have no idea.”
“I want you, too. I hope you know that. It’s just that I… There are reasons. For why I feel the way I do.”
“I know, and I’m trying to respect your boundaries, but if we don’t stop this now, I’m afraid it’ll go further than you want to go.” To my profound astonishment and dismay, her eyes fill with tears that quickly spill down her cheeks. She closes her eyes, tightly as if that will contain the flood. “Natalie, sweetheart… Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Everything,” she whispers. “Everything is wrong with me.”
I kiss the tears from her face and hold her as close to me as I can. “No, honey. Don’t say that. You’re amazing, and I’m completely gone over you.”
“That’s so sweet, and you’re so… You’re… Incredible. You’re incredible, and I should be able to do this, but I can’t.”
“What can’t you do?”
“This.” The single word is spoken so emphatically, with such disgust and fury that I’m not sure how to react. “I can’t do this because I’m broken. Inside.”
“Did someone hurt you, sweetheart?” I feel, for the first time in my life, that I could commit murder at the thought of someone doing harm to her.
She pushes at my shoulder, and I realize she wants to sit up. So I move quickly to release her.
Natalie grabs for her sweater, and I help her into it. When she reaches under it to refasten her bra, I try not to watch, but I can’t look away. Then she looks at me, and the pain and agony I see in her normally exuberant gaze shatters me. “I should go. This… You… You’
re lovely and wonderful, and you’ve been so kind to me. But I…” She shakes her head, and the stark misery is in such contrast to her normal demeanor that I’m shaken to my core. And I’m afraid. I’m very, very afraid of losing her now that I’ve found her.
“Natalie, sweetheart, there is nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you or that would make me not want to be with you in any way that I can. If things got too heated between us, that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you, knowing how you feel—”
Her fingers on my lips stop me and arouse me simultaneously. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I loved everything you did. I loved it, and I encouraged it.”
“Please don’t go. Whatever it is, let’s figure it out together. Let’s find a way through it. Don’t run from me.”
“It’s not fair. You deserve someone who can give you everything, and that’s not me.”
I put my arms around her and draw her into my embrace. Only when her hand lands flat against my chest do I remember that my sweater is gone. Her touch is so potent that I want to beg for her hands on me everywhere, but instead I clear my throat and try to find the words she needs to hear.
“I would wait forever for the chance to hold you and make love to you and to worship you the way you should be worshipped.”
She’s shaking her head before I finish speaking. “You’ve known me for six days. How can you say such a thing?”
I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down at what my life would look like after Natalie, but if I take a step back and give her what she needs, I’ll never have to experience that wasteland.
“Remember in the car, when you asked me what I was thinking about and I mentioned my parents’ anniversary?”
She nods.
“I was thinking about much more than that. I was remembering a conversation I had years ago with my dad about how I would know when I met the woman I’m meant to be with. His exact words were, ‘Someday, probably years from now, a woman will come strolling into the room, and all the oxygen will seem to leave with her arrival. Your chest will be tight, your heart will beat a little faster, and you’ll know. You’ll just know.’”
With my finger under her chin, I raise her face so I can see her eyes. “From the first second you looked up at me the other day, with your crazy dog attacking me, I knew. I just knew it’s you. You’re the one my dad told me I’d find. That’s why I ran after you when I had something else I was supposed to be doing. It’s why I wanted to see you again Saturday night. I’ve wanted to see you every day since and every day from now on. It’s you, Natalie. So whatever it is that’s got you so upset, I want to fix it. I want to make it right.”
More tears spill down her face, and I brush them all away. “You’re very sweet to say that and to feel that way about me, but no one can ever make what’s wrong with me right again.”
“How do you know that? Have you ever let anyone try?” I know the answer to that question before I even ask it. The shake of her head confirms it. “Let me help, Natalie. Let me in. I want to understand you. Not just in this way,” I gesture to the sofa to encompass what just happened there, “but in every way.”
Her expression is tortured, and I can tell by the way she looks at me that she wants to tell me what has her so upset.
“I can’t,” she says so softly I almost can’t hear her. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
Chapter 10
I want to. God, I want to. No one has ever said anything to me like what he just said so beautifully. He makes me want to believe that anything is possible, that I can have what other people take so effortlessly from each other, but I know better. On the day I became Natalie Bryant, I made a vow to myself that no one in my new life would ever know about April. She died a traumatic, horrible death eight years ago during the most hellish weekend of her life. When I made the decision to leave her behind and become Natalie, I did so with rules that can’t be abandoned, not even for Flynn.
He’s the only one I’ve ever been tempted to tell, and I’ve known him for six days. I know what I need to do. I need to get up, pull myself together and go home where I belong. The interlude with him has been wonderful, unforgettable in every way. But it’s also served as a reminder of my limitations.
First, however, I have to make him understand that this is over. “I want you to know… Every minute I’ve spent with you has been better than any time I’ve spent with anyone. You… You’re so much more than I ever could’ve imagined, and you’ve taught me not to believe everything I read.”
He smiles at that, but it’s not his usual smile. It’s not the one with the deep grooves that line his cheeks when he’s truly amused. “If you’re saying good-bye to me, don’t. We got carried away, Natalie. Won’t happen again until you want it to.”
“That’s just it! I may never want it to, and that is so unfair to you.”
“Can I say something here without sounding like a total cad?”
“Can I stop you?”
He takes my hand and holds it tightly, as if he’s afraid I’ll get away before he can express everything he needs to say to me. “I’ve been with a lot of women. Probably too many. I’ve kissed them and fucked them and done things with them you’d no doubt find distasteful at best, objectionable at worst. But I have never, ever had a woman react to me the way you do. And I have never reacted to any woman—ever—the way I do to you. So if you tell me all I can do for the next year is kiss you, I’ll take it. I’ll take that over you walking out that door right now after telling me we’re done.”
I immediately want details of what he’s done with other women that I would find so distasteful or objectionable, but I have no right to ask those questions. Nor do I have the right to ask him to live like a monk so that I can continue along this path I chose for myself.
“I’d marry you tomorrow, Natalie, if you’d have me.”
His words shock me and bring more tears to my eyes. “Stop it. You have no desire to be married. You’ve made that very clear.”
“I thought you weren’t believing everything you read anymore.”
“You told me yourself that one is true.”
“It was before you. Before you bowled me over and took all the oxygen with you.”
The sad thing is, I want to believe him. I want to buy everything he’s selling. I want to wrap my arms around him and never let him go. But I’ve learned to be wary and distrustful, except I haven’t been with him. I’ve jumped in with both feet and practiced none of the usual caution I usually bring to every new relationship and situation. In my new life, people have to earn my trust. I never give it away like I have with him.
“Do something for me.” He gazes earnestly into my eyes. “Give me this weekend. If, after that, you want out, I’ll let you go. I’ll never forget you, but I’ll respect your wishes.” After a pause, he adds, “Things got out of control tonight. It won’t happen again, unless or until you initiate.”
I’m torn in a thousand different directions at once. I want him. God, I want him so badly I burn from the inside for him and all that he’s prepared to offer me. In six days, he’s made me forget eight painful years spent largely alone while I reinvented myself into the person I am today. I’m risking all that hard-won freedom and emotional well-being with every minute I spend with him, and I’m doing it willingly with my eyes wide open to the potential fallout.
And I don’t care. I want him as badly as he seems to want me. I take a deep breath and release it slowly, the way my counselor taught me to do when things get overwhelming. I force myself to meet his gaze, to look directly into intense brown eyes when I say, “Okay.”
“Yes?”
Nodding, I cling to his hand like it’s the one thing keeping me from hurtling into space, never to be seen or heard from again.
He moves cautiously to put his arms around me. I rest my face against his bare chest, breathing in the scent of soap and deodorant as his chest hair brushes against my cheek. “Whatev
er it is, whatever you need, I’m here, Natalie. You’re not alone anymore.”
I want more than anything to believe him, to hold on to his words and his assurances with everything I’ve got. But I know better than to be that foolish. So I give him the only thing I’ve got to offer—one weekend. After that, I will leave him, and I’ll never look back.
I’m very good at that.
After I convince Natalie to stay and give me a chance, we enjoy a subdued dinner before leaving for the show. She loves “Wicked” and brightens visibly as the show unfolds before us. We’re in the tenth row in the orchestra section, and since I’ve seen the show twice before, I watch her as she takes in every detail with her usual enthusiasm and exuberance.
I’m gutted by the memory of her pain, her fear and the tears. Part of me wants to hire someone to find out what happened to her so I’ll know what I’m dealing with. But the more reasonable part of me rejects that idea as the stupidest thing I could ever do to her. If and when I find out what or who hurt her, it’ll be when she decides to tell me and not before.
She gushes about the show all the way home, how it was funnier than she’d expected and how she’d never thought about how the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz had become so wicked. We talk about the music and the story and the jokes. In other words, we stick to safe topics rather than the ones that are fraught with peril.
There’s once again nowhere to park on her block, so I pull up next to two cars and put on the hazards.
“Thank you so much for taking me to ‘Wicked.’ I loved it so much.”
“I’m glad.”
She glances at me shyly. “And for being so nice earlier. I’m sorry I had such a meltdown.”
“Please don’t apologize to me for something you couldn’t help. I want you to remember that whatever it is, whatever haunts you, you’re not alone with it anymore. You can trust me, Natalie. I swear to you I’d never do anything to cause you another second of pain or fear.”
Her small smile is a huge victory for me. “I can certainly see why every woman in America is in love with you, Flynn.”