James fed me his breath, saturated me with his desire. We were connected, entrenched, flowing into each other effortlessly. I gasped, seeing myself in his mind: a belligerent teenager he wanted to strangle and kiss; a bitter woman he wanted to berate and make love to.
I didn’t want to see myself through his eyes. I felt like a voyeur but I was fascinated. There I was one night after work, staring at the view, my profile limned by the city lights. I looked immeasurably sad, too absorbed in my thoughts to notice James at the doorway watching me. He wanted to erase my pain.
And he thought I was beautiful, inside and out.
There were too many snapshots of me to count until, finally, I came upon the memory that had haunted him for years: my tearful, bruised face in the bridal suite, looking up at him as if my world were ending.
Why did I still feel the same?
I had to break off our kiss; I was dizzy and drowning, getting swept away by the force of his desire. I tensed but James held me prisoner, kissing me more deeply and demanding my response. His erection pressed into me, so close and so hot.
I jumped away, trying to hold on to my sanity. “Wait...time out.”
His response was half guttural, half gasp. “Seven years isn’t enough?”
“Not for what I have to tell you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Old Habits Die Hard
James caught me by the waist. “Tell me lies, Paisley,” he said against my mouth. “Tell me you don’t want me, that you don’t remember how it was between us.” His hand cupped my breast, moulding to the swell and resting over my pounding heart. His smile pressed into my cheek. “Tell me your heart isn’t beating faster because of me, that you don’t want this as much as I do.”
“I can’t,” I admitted. “But we can’t do this.”
“Is it because of Tarzan?” James said, suddenly still. “Are you lovers?”
“No, Tarzan’s like a brother. I...uhm...haven’t had sex for a long time.”
James gave me the most carnally charged look I’d ever seen. “Neither have I.”
He pushed his hips into mine, showing me what he had to offer. I thrilled at the pressure of his rock solid cock, remembering the feel of him surging inside me. The air was thick with his scent and I wondered how long it had been since he’d had sex.
“Two years give or take,” he said.
“Try seven.”
James froze and so did I. Oh crap and double crap! I hadn’t meant to say that! What kind of healthy, no-nonsense woman doesn’t have sex for so many years? Gets condoms and tries to do the deed only to shy away because she has the freaky ability to read her would-be lover’s thoughts?#p#分页标题#e#
Telling James I preferred my vibrator to the real deal because it didn’t have a brain wasn’t an option. Burning embarrassment heated my face until I was sure my skin was as red as my dress. James was delighted at my confession though. No doubt about it, he was a primitive beast where I was concerned.
James had been turned on before but now he was inflamed, desperate to bury himself inside me and relearn the contours of my most intimate parts. Fragile red crepe tore as he pulled my straps down. For a few panting seconds he stared at my breasts, then his mouth was on me, sucking my nipple so hard I moaned and pulled him closer. My body thrilled at his touch, sensual and slow building to hungry and demanding.
We were lost in flames, overpowered by heat. Would I melt, sink into the wall so that my body was outlined in terracotta? Or would I evaporate, escape into molecules of steam that left a faint lustre where I used to be? James held me tightly, moulding me to him and making sure I did neither.
“Wait,” I breathed.
His voice was raspy, as if it had been dragged through the sandy beach below. “I’m not waiting any longer.”
Bare bones and straight talking, just the way I liked, but I couldn’t do the same. My mind yelled at me that this was the moment to tell James the truth. I didn’t want to listen, not when what I now knew I had wanted for so long was mine for the taking. I could feel James growing stiffer, longer, and the thought that I could take him inside me wrung a whimper from my throat. He slipped his hand under my skirt and found me, wet and ready.
My pleasure was intense but guilt was fast overtaking the ecstasy. At eighteen I had made the wrong choices, giving in to my desires without a thought for James, and here I was about to do the same. Once again I had a choice, and if I didn’t make the right one it would be just as bad as before.
Worse! my mind screamed.
I dug my nails into his neck, taking my tormented emotions out on his skin. My conscience could go screw itself because I was going to screw James. Full stop and end of story. I’d suffered enough so I should be allowed some happiness, shouldn’t I? Besides, nothing would be gained from telling him the truth.