“Night.”
The phone was slick with cooling sweat when I dropped it on the end table. Phone sex. That was new. Not entirely unexpected, though. He was like that. Adventurous and exciting without the undercurrent of danger that I had once been accustomed to.
It was a novel idea, that I could have fun without risk. That I could be with someone and still feel safe.
I’m dying to feel you
, he’d said. I was too, and the plunge felt so sweet.
Chapter Four
As dawn streamed in through the window, I heard a car pull across the cobblestone and come to a stop. Drew had texted me last night to let me know he was coming over. At least, that was how I interpreted
eight hours until I see you
.
I stretched in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. No doubt Philip would commandeer him the second he walked into the house. He was still in the dark about us, and that ticking sound was the countdown to when he would surely find out and explode.
Leisurely, I took a shower and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, wondering how I could sneak a few minutes alone with Drew. I was drying my hair with a damp towel when I heard the sound of an engine starting outside. Oh, shit. Was he leaving already?
At the window I watched Philip’s car roll down the driveway. Perfect.
Tossing the towel on the bed, I hurried downstairs and found the office with the door open. Drew’s sleeves were rolled up, and he was knee deep in work at seven in the morning. He looked up when I came in.
He stood immediately, coming to stand in front of me, reaching out as if to touch me. In the moments before his hands met mine, he pulled back, uncertain or maybe just prolonging the inevitable.
The heat of his body seared me, his breath tickled my forehead. We were both adrift, floundering softly in the sea, slowly drowning. I hazarded a small smile—a soft current to propel me closer.
His face was solemn, intent. “Hi,” he said, his eyes searching mine.
We may not have much time
, I thought.
Now
, I thought. But all I said was, “Hi, I—”
And like a wild chase, an abrupt collision, we crashed. His hand reached for my waist, the other at the back of my neck. He pressed a kiss to my lips, infusing me with heat from the plump of my lips all the way down to my toes.
My body hummed with a satisfaction borne of completeness, of
finally
, of finding the missing piece of myself. He fit against me as if he belonged there, and though I knew it was only physical, I sighed into him, melted into him until I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began, accepting him places deeper than my body.
I clung to him with my arms, my legs, my lips as we toppled to the floor. My legs straddled his body, my arms rested on either side of his head. My hair formed a dark curtain around us. He must have felt overwhelmed by me, but instead he licked at my mouth, angling deeper. At the press of my tongue against his, he surged up and flipped us over. He knelt over me, pushing farther, trying to climb inside me, but God, he was already there. At my core, in my heart, he filled me and surrounded me all at once. It was a sweet suffocation, running out of air and finding peace in the ether.
He pulled back slightly. “Can this one be fast?”
I struggled to the surface. He sounded urgent, a bit desperate, and I hardly knew what he was asking. “What?”
“Either that, or I need to come first,” he muttered. “No way am I going to last.”
“Oh.” I ran a palm over the curve of his jaw, set so tightly. He was tense, and I wanted to ease him. “It’s okay. It can be fast.”
“Are you sure?” He pressed urgent kisses along my jaw in answer.
We were always like that, in symmetry. I offered, and he accepted. He asked, and I acquiesced.
Was I sure? No, not really. I felt heat and dampness at my core. I wanted him, so that should be enough. It would have to be. I trusted him.
I didn’t bother to answer this time, just shimmied myself so that I was centered under him. I spread my legs, and his hips fell effortlessly into the cradle of mine. His erection felt thick and impossibly hard where it pressed against me, but I knew it could work. It had done so when I cared far less than now.
He snagged a condom from his wallet. I watched him while he opened his pants and put it on with jerky movements, his fingers flying too fast to see more than hard, flushed skin. His cheeks were ruddy with a flush of arousal, his whole body taut. I recognized the look from the first day in the car, moving slowly, rigid—a man in pain. Touching himself gingerly, wincing as my helpful fingers rolled it down his length.
I matched his movements, pushing down my pants, my underwear. When I was naked, he slid two fingers down to my sex. I had expected roughness from his earlier blunt movements, but this was soft, probing.
“You’re so wet,” he said, slipping one inside. “Just like you said. Slippery smooth. Jesus. Are you ready?”
The question circled above me, not landing. Ready, ready—was I ready how? I had already agreed to fast, to sex. “Yes,” I murmured. “Now.”
Like pulling up the floodgates, he was on me, pushing a broad head inside me, nudging farther, deeper, until I felt a burn. It surprised me after so much pleasure, and I let out a small cry before my lips closed around it.
He froze. “Oh shit, you’re tight.”
He was worried about hurting me, because he was. My inner muscles rippled around him, struggling to adjust. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” he said, strained.
My eyes clenched tight. It wasn’t an impossible pain, nothing I couldn’t handle. A hundred pirouette reps hurt worse than this, and I did that every day. “Please. Just…continue.”
“Continue?” His lust-stained eyes were incredulous, almost angry. “Fuck.”
He pressed a heavy hand to my hip and started to draw away.
“Wait.” It had taken us so long to get here. If he left me now, would we ever find our way back? I wanted to please him, I wanted to trust. Instinctively, I pulled him closer.
“No, don’t move,” he ground out, rocks against concrete, filling the air with dust. And I was losing him—already lost.
A sense of sorrow drowned out the pinch of my body. “Oh, Drew,” I sighed.
Which turned out to be the wrong thing to say, because his face contorted in agony at the sound.
He jerked himself back. “Ah, shit.”
His cock sprang from me, and I gasped at the loss of pressure. His free hand flew to his cock, quick strokes, one, two, and then he froze. Groaning, he came into the latex, hunched over me, outside of me, and I turned my face away from the gorgeous, lonely sight of his rapture.
Falling onto the floor beside me, he panted for a moment, his eyes closed. I lay still, unsure of myself. I wasn’t sure where I’d gone wrong, what I had done to ruin it.
He turned to look at me. “You want to tell me what the hell just happened?”
I had never seen him so agitated, and yet I wasn’t afraid of him. Afraid of losing him, maybe, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me even if he were furious. He seemed more frustrated, more confused even though that should have been my role.
“I’m sorry, I…I thought you wanted to keep going,” I said lamely. He’d pulled away, and I’d tried to keep him. I’d said his name. That had set him off, I realized with a surety that pleased me, even if he didn’t seem happy about it. At least I’d made him come.
He sat up, and despite my worry in that moment, I admired the curve of his long back, the bunch of his abs, and the soft crinkle of hair that drew shapes over his skin.
I sat up too, suddenly self-conscious of my splayed position, of the gaping place he no longer took. My knees slunk together, and I pressed my shirt to my breasts.
He spoke slowly, carefully. “Is it possible…are you a virgin?”
“What? No.”
“Okay.” Relief passed fleetingly across his face. “Because I thought for a minute there…”
“I mean, I haven’t had a lot of sex or anything. It’s just been a while.”
Suspicion crept into his eyes. “How long?”
“Um…I’m not sure exactly. Ten years or something.”
He swore. “You didn’t think to mention that to me before we started?”
“I figured it was like riding a bike.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been about ten years since I’ve ridden a bike, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I fell off.”
This had felt a little like falling. “Point taken.”
“Ten years ago would make you a teenager.” Speculation lilted his voice. Wheels were turning in his head, making short work of my story. A boring way to pass the time, I could have told him.
I shrugged. “I had a high school boyfriend. So sue me.”
“I already despise him. Which I would already do because you’re mine now, and it’s basically written in the code of honor somewhere. But especially because he seems like a real idiot, judging by…”
“Judging by my idiocy,” I said helpfully.
He sent me a dark look. “Men don’t
continue
if it’s hurting you.” He paused. Some of the clouds in his face dissipated, giving way to concern so stark it hurt to see. “You know that…right?”
“Of course I know that. No one hurt me.” But something inside me kicked in its cage, clamoring to be free. There was a reason I had no idea what I was doing. A reason I’d never wanted to learn before now.
His expression was skeptical.
“He didn’t, okay? I’m telling you the truth. I agreed to everything.”
He turned away. “You don’t have to tell me what happened…or anything at all. You don’t owe me that.”
“But I want to. You think I’m messed up. Everyone thinks I’m messed up just because I had an abusive dad and lived in a group home. Well, let me tell you something. Dad didn’t much care about me, and neither did the people at the home. They didn’t mess me up because they weren’t around to do it.”
“Rose.” He looked pained, and I wanted to apologize for that, but the words were tumbling out of me, spilling over.
“He was my boyfriend, just a stupid sixteen-year-old like me. We were fooling around behind the gym. No big deal, right? It’s nothing.”
He reached for me then, pulling me into his arms and surrounding me in heat. It should have been awkward—body parts bared and still damp—but he held me too tight to care about any of that. He hugged me as if I were coming apart and he could keep me together. He held me as if he needed to.
My words were muffled against his chest now, and I wasn’t sure he could even understand them. Though maybe it was better that way. I wasn’t saying them for him to hear. I was saying them to myself, finally acknowledging that it mattered.
“I agreed to go back there with him, knowing what would happen. I agreed to have sex with him, and then we did. Then my boyfriend said his friend was right there keeping watch and he would tell everyone what I’d done if I didn’t…if I… I didn’t want Philip to find out. He would have—”
“Killed him.” The words vibrated through him, like maybe he agreed with the sentiment, like he could have committed murder in that moment too. Maybe he was less laid-back than I’d given him credit for, but then he had survived in this business for a long time. Long enough to get killed himself if he wasn’t careful and tough.
“Yes. He would have. So I did what he wanted. I lay there, and I took it, when I didn’t even
know
him.” A harsh laugh escaped me. “And I never complained when it happened again and again. I never told anyone until now. You have to understand, in the school I went to, that was normal. And everyone there was tough as nails. I’m not fragile, Drew. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”
But my words were a lie, because his whole body was curved around mine, taking the brunt of some unseen force. I was trembling, fearful, bearing the brunt as all the lies I had told myself began to unravel.
As awareness returned, mortification washed over me. He’d wanted to have a fun romp in the study, and here I was
crying
. I didn’t know how mindless affairs were done, but I could safely assume high school confessionals weren’t part of it.
I wiped at my tears. “You must be pissed.”
“You have no idea.”
I groaned, giving up any pretense of being cool and collected. “I’ve only been working toward this for
years
. It’s shocking I could mess it up this bad.”
“Well, I would have preferred to have known this before I made an ass out of myself, pushing myself on you before you were ready. But aside from that, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”
“How can you say that? I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to be rehashing stuff that happened in high school. Especially the kind of stuff that happens to everyone.”
“I don’t think that happened to everyone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I think I do. But the thing is, even if it were commonplace, which I don’t agree with, it still matters. It can still hurt.”
It did hurt: the shitty childhood and my initiation into sex at the hands of my jerk boyfriend and his friend. Pretending it didn’t matter hadn’t made it go away. Pretending it didn’t hurt hadn’t eased that ache. Everyone had a story, and this was mine.
I met his eyes. “So we’re okay, then? Even though that…didn’t go according to plan. We’re not finished. Right?”
“Of all the things you know about me, do you think I scare easily? Don’t worry. It gets better after the first time.”
“God, I hope so, because my first time kind of sucked.”
We shared a smile. Strange that I could joke about something that had haunted me for so long. There weren’t many men I could have done that with. But our quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of the door closing below. I sprang from his lap and darted for my clothes.
“Shit. Philip.”
I didn’t even want to think of what would happen if he found us with our pants off—in his study, of all places. I was halfway back into my jeans when Drew folded my hands in his.
“I want to tell him, Rose. He should know, and we shouldn’t have to sneak around.”
For a stolen moment, I was struck by his earnestness. The stereotype made lawyers seem sneaky, but he was the most honest person I knew.