Just One Night, Part 2_ Exposed(8)

“No, you’re repeating old lines,” he says quietly, studying my face. He leans in so his mouth is near my ear. “Tell me.”

He’s only touching my hair but every part of my body reacts. I feel myself warming, feel my breath catch in my throat. I feel the throb.

“Tell me,” he says and I close my eyes. “Are you afraid?”

I reach for him, take his shirt in my fist, feel the comfort of these waters, the quiet power of him. His lips move away from my ear and I feel the tip of his tongue sliding down my neck, tasting me with gentle precision and purpose. Instinctually I move into him as his hand rises to my breast.

I want him. I want to get lost in him. My fist opens and my fingers slowly, almost unwillingly, wander to the buttons of his dress shirt.

His tongue has moved back to my ear and I gasp as he pulls me closer again. His fingers in my hair, holding me in place as another hand moves lower, past my breasts, to my stomach . . . lower . . . I feel his hand slip between my thighs and press up into me.

“Let me in,” he whispers. “Not just here,” and with that he adds more pressure, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. “That’s good,” he says as I begin to tremble, “but I want in here, too.” And he kisses the top of my head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The buttons of his shirt finally give way and I place my hand over his bare skin. His heart is beating a little too fast, as if urging me forward. I turn to him and look into his eyes. There’s something there that I haven’t noticed before. Something inside the desire. Is it concern? Need?

Love?

His hand is still between my legs and I lean forward and let my lips brush against his; my eyes stay open and he becomes a blur of lightly tanned skin and black lashes. His fingers start moving and with each stroke I feel things fall away—fear, thought, confusion—until all I’m aware of is the feeling of him.

Without a word he pulls away his hand and moves it to the waistband of my pants. I feel it loosen as he unfastens the buttons, slips his fingers inside the cloth of my panties, already wet for him. When he finds that little spot, I dig my fingernails into the skin of his chest.

“We’re not over,” he says and I respond with a moan. “Did you think we were? Do you think I can’t see the invitation in your smile, in the way you shiver just slightly when I get near? You think I can’t hear it in the quiet that comes when you can’t quite get yourself to deliver the scripted denial or well-wrought protest? I can read your body like a blind man reads brail.”

He lifts one hand and slips it under my shirt, over my bra, lets his fingers slide over my erect nipples. “Did these get hard the moment you saw me?” He asks.

I bite down on my lip, afraid that if I speak I’ll admit to the truth.

“How long did it take you to get wet?” He asks. “Did it happen when I first spoke? Was it before I finished my first sentence?”

I shift just slightly so I can look into his eyes yet again. Yes, there it is, that unidentified emotion that doesn’t match his words. Maybe need, maybe love.

I want to tell him the real reason I left the marina but I don’t dare. I know he can sense that there are unspoken words, feel that something is being held back.

With our eyes locked his index finger plunges inside of me. My fingernails dig in deeper.

“What do you want?” Robert asks. “Do you really want Dave?”

I rest my head on his shoulder as his finger continues to thrust its way inside my walls, again and again. I shudder as he kisses my neck.

“Or do you want me inside of you, Kasie?”

I nod my head still against his shoulder.

“Then I’m going to need you to come now.” His fingers become more insistent; his free hand pulls me to him tightly, roughly. Something like a whimper escapes my lips.

“Come for me now, Kasie. Right now, I want to see you.”

I can hear people passing the office outside in the hall. I don’t dare make another sound. My nipples pressed against him, I reach up and pull his hair, frantic for release but so afraid of giving myself away.

“Oh God,” I whisper.

“Not good enough,” he says insistently; the intensity of his touch increases; he steps forward, moving me with him until I’m pressed against the wall with nowhere to go.

“Someone will hear,” I whisper.

“I don’t care.”

I look away. I should be angry the way I’m angry with Dave but I can’t think. All I can do is react, and what I’m reacting to is . . . exceptional.

One hand slides into that small space between the wall and the curve of my back. He forces it lower, down to my ass, and he manages to press me to him in an even tighter hold than before. Another finger slips in. I let out a small cry of excitement. I see his eyes move down my body, demanding, but where Dave’s eyes scrape, Robert’s penetrate. They reach in and pull at the internal flames that are consuming me. They make the fire brighter, stronger.