“A few orgasms does not give you control of my life.”
“You know, sweetheart, I know I’m fucked up. But if you think the guy trying to protect you instead of walk all over you is the one trying to run your life, you’re just as fucked up as I am. Walking away from your father is not managing him. It’s running.”
He’s hit every nerve I own like a lightning rod. “But you want me to walk away from the gallery and Mark and you don’t call that running?”
His expression clouds and he reaches for me, pulls me hard against his body, his hand snaking into my hair. “Because Mark wants to fuck you, Sara, and I don’t share. You’re with me or you’re not. Decide now.”
I can barely breathe. He’s jealous. Chris is jealous. It’s hardly conceivable and I want him all the more because of it, which probably means he’s right. I’m fucked up. But then, I know that already. He’s wrong about me being a doormat, though. I’ve been there, done that, and I’m not going there again. “You want me, Chris, you accept my job and you support me.”
“What do you think I was trying to do by taking away Mark’s control over you last night? But damn it, Sara, say what I want to hear. Tell me you don’t want him.”
“I don’t. Just you.” And suddenly his mouth is on mine, his tongue pressing past my teeth, stroking me until I’m mindless. We are all over each other, touching and kissing, and I barely register the robe falling away.
“Damn it, woman, you are making me crazy,” he groans, pressing me against the wall, his fingers caressing my breasts, teasing my nipples, his mouth already devouring mine.
I can feel him shoving down his pants. “Hurry,” I plead. “I need-“
He kisses me. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
And then somehow, he’s inside me. Oh God. Yes. He’s inside me, thick and hard and I’m no longer on the ground or against the wall. He’s lifted me and my legs are wrapped around his waist. He is thrusting into me, pulling me down on top of him, pushing me so that I’m leaning so far back I feel like I might fall; only he has me. His arm is around my waist, his powerful body pushing into mine, his hot gaze raking over my breasts, and he has me. He won’t let me fall and that knowledge, that certainty that comes from some place deep inside, allows me to let go. I let myself feel and not think. I am lost to the passion, to the moment, and the push of him inside me, the pleasure of him stretching me, is more than I can take. An orgasm ripples through me with a sudden, intense blast, my body clenching around his. He groans with the impact and God, that groan is hotness personified. I feel the wet, warm heat of his release and I am past my release, and clear-headed enough to revel in the beauty of his face etched with the pleasure I am giving him. I am spellbound by the sight of him, hanging on every second of his release, watching the tension in his features slowly ease into relaxation.
He pulls me close and buries his face in my neck and just holds me for long seconds, still standing, holding my weight and his. My gaze goes to the window and I am aware of the blue sea and gorgeous city beneath us. Of the feeling of sanctuary I’ve found here and nowhere else, if only for a short while.
Slowly, Chris slides me to the ground and offers me a paper towel which I demurely accept, feeling a wave of shyness. Yes indeed, I’m a contradiction these days. Chris fixes his pants and then grabs the robe and pulls it around me.
“I’d like to take you somewhere and show you something I think you’ll like,” he says. “Overnight, if you can?”
Overnight with Chris? The idea thrills me more than it should and I remind myself this is a hot fling. Enjoy it while I can. Don’t get attached. Don’t fall for him. “Where?” I ask.
“Is that a yes?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Then it’s a surprise but you’ll like it, I promise.” He glances at a clock. “But if we’re going to do everything I want to do, we have to get going.”
“I have to go home and shower and get clothes. I don’t even have a shirt to wear out of here.”
“You can use my shower, and you leave clothes to me.”
“Chris-”
He picks me up and I yelp. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the shower. Me Tarzan. You Jane. Do as I say.”
I laugh at his silliness, and think that he’s the contradiction. All rough, tough manly man and a gentle bear at the same time.
We pass the coffee table. “Wait! I need my purse.”
He backs up and leans down enough for me to grab it. I snatch it. “My skirt-“