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But this was about more than getting off. If that was all she was risking, she'd have stuck with her vibrator and her fantasies.
Oh hell. Maybe he'd been right all along. Maybe she'd been too impatient and they should have waited for Chris. He had a way of balancing things among the three of them, making their curves and edges complement one another. She couldn't deny that Geoff's forte was his intelligence, knowing the best approach or timing for things. Which meant she'd pushed all this, fucked it up. Maybe not irretrievably, but if she'd set them back, if Geoff would now take months before he was willing to even talk about this again, let alone act on it, she might just lose her mind.
What was her forte? What did she bring to all of this? Other than being the one with an aching need to submit to them. And the one with girly parts. A painful half smile crossed her face. She didn't have Geoff's brains or Chris's penchant for creating harmony. She'd thought of harmony as a fluffy greeting-card kind of word until she'd met him, but he was the true, deep spiritual meaning of it. There was nothing so amazing, so perfect, as a touch of harmony.
The door vibrated against her back at Geoff's light knock. "Sam, are you okay?"
She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen . . . you were right. We should have waited for Chris. It's okay. Don't worry about it, all right? I'm good. I'm sorry I . . . I'm sorry I rushed things. Let's just . . . We can talk about it later this week when he gets back, just like you said."
A long pause. She didn't hear his feet move away. She laid her cheek on the door. She needed to get dressed, but her heart felt too heavy to move. It would pass. It would be okay. They weren't children, to believe that a moment's stumble was a complete loss. She was supposed to have the maturity to step back, know that they'd have other chances, other approaches. As Florence had said, their relationship could weather a stumble or two. She just hadn't expected a stumble to hurt so much. It told her she'd invested more of her feelings in this one moment than she should have.
"I want to see you," he said firmly. "Open the door."
"I said I'm okay. It's all right. I--"
"Samantha Beth." His tone made the words stop in her throat. "It wasn't a request. Open the door, or I'll open it myself."
She'd left a terry-cloth robe on the bed, so she rose, slid into it and belted it tightly. Putting the clothes behind the door so they couldn't
be seen as an embarrassing reminder to either one of them, she unlocked the door, turned the knob and stepped back, crossing her arms over herself.
Geoff pushed the panel open, his eyes immediately going to her face. She adjusted her gaze to the space left of his shoulder. "See? I'm okay. No biggie."
He came to her. She had the bed behind her and couldn't retreat, though she shrank back. He stopped in front of her. "You're not afraid of me, Sam. Are you?"
She shook her head. "No, of course not. I'm . . . I don't know what I am."
"Look at me."
She shook her head again, her mouth set, and he sighed. Tugging one resisting hand from her body, he closed his own around it. "Sam, this is hard for me to admit, but I'm as worried about doing the wrong thing as you are. Maybe more, because . . . I want to be in charge." He paused, his voice getting rougher. "I fucking ache . . . to take control of you."
Her gaze snapped up to his face. When he was worked up about something, the green in his eyes became more pronounced, like emerald sparks. She saw them now. "I want to do everything you said, and way more. I have no idea how you'll react to all the things I want. And Chris . . ."
"Chris is the one who knows if we're on track," she said softly. "I was just thinking that. Thinking I screwed up by rushing this when he should be here."
Just like that, things were better, connected. She still felt fragile, but now it was the type of vulnerability that made her want to stay close to him, not pull away.
"No." Geoff shook his head, squeezing her hand. He repeated it more forcefully, touching her chin for emphasis. "Absolutely not. You pretty much melted my brain in that outfit. For all I know, those three files I reviewed might be arguments to throw out the judicial system and go back to trial by combat."
"I wouldn't mind seeing you in gladiator wear. Russell Crowe style." She gave him a tentative smile.
"Come here," he said abruptly, unfolding her arms.
He didn't draw her to him right away. He slipped the loop of her robe first and opened up the panels so when he brought her against him, her naked body was pressed against the fabric of his slacks and shirt, but she could feel the warm, firm male beneath. Dropping one hand to her ass, he hiked her up his body in a forceful move he underlined by cupping her jaw and planting his mouth on hers.
A small moan broke from her lips at the unexpected gesture, the intimacy. The heat and demand that he injected into that one kiss was enough to burn away every uncomfortable second of the past few moments. His lips parted hers and his tongue swept in, tangling with hers, his fingers tightening on her ass and the side of her neck. The kiss, the hold, told her she'd stirred him up considerably. When he finally lifted his head, he kept holding her, which was a good thing, because her knees were weak, just like the romance stories said they should be. As she pressed her lips together, she felt the moisture his had left upon them. His eyes were hot with desire, his gorgeous mouth firm. She wanted it all over her.
"I masturbated on your bed today," she whispered. "And thought of you and Chris there with me."
"Bad, bad girl," he murmured, bending his head again. "Next time you wait until I order you to do it in front of me. Otherwise, I'll take a belt to your ass."
She clung to his shirtsleeves, her fingers making fervent caresses of his bunched muscles beneath them, her body straining against every inch of his. His short groan of need told her he liked her aroused reaction to the threat. She'd liked the spanking. She thought she'd like even more things like that. A belt would be incredible. Or a paddle. The flat, wide wooden cooking spoon in the kitchen . . .
When Geoff nipped her lips, finally taking the kiss into a more playful place, she was smiling. He looked down at her. "Why did you initiate this while Chris was gone?"
"Because you're both tiptoeing around each other about it. You think it's a contest between you, about who I want to be with. I want you both. I thought maybe if I could get you to see that first, it would help, because, like you said . . . you're the one in charge."
She dropped her gaze and toyed with a button on his shirt when she said that. Though she thought these things easily enough, saying them aloud could fluster her. Touching her chin, he made her look up at him.
