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“Urs, this is a terrible idea. You can’t be here. What we did the other day can’t be a regular activity.”
“Why not?” The question was so earnest.
“Because...” He ran his free hand through his wet hair.
Why not exactly? Based on Hugo’s growing dedication and desperation, miracle of miracles, Urs might actually succeed in her plot and would forget all about him.
Well, in the deepest, darkest most selfish places in his soul she wouldn’t, she’d think about him and only him, but that couldn’t possibly be true. He, on the other hand, would be a different story. Her memory—her absence would already be a stain on his soul—another ghost that whiskey and women couldn’t kill.
Perhaps ether. He’d heard things about that, good things, frightening things too, but still better than what he did before. He clenched and unclenched his fists.
Urs was now in front of him. She traced a hand down his chest and fingered the edge of the towel. “Besides, I don’t want to do what we did last time. Well, perhaps later. This time I want to try something new, something with one of those condoms.”
She’d gone mad, completely out of her mind. She could not be serious.
“No, no, no, no, Urs, I’m not taking your maidenhood. That’s completely out of the question.”
“Jay, you’re being ridiculous. We did things that in many ways are far more intimate the other day and they were quite good, but not—” She bit her lip. “Not enough. I’ve been thinking and experimenting.”
“Experimenting?” He would’ve raised an eyebrow if he wasn’t concentrating on every unpleasant thing he could imagine so not to lose complete control, or at the very least, hide what he couldn’t stop from rising. She was going to kill him. Now he knew what image would star in his fantasies forever. Ursula, bloody, Nunes fetching mettle, naked, on her bed, his name on her exquisite lips.
“After we, well you, showed me what was possible, I decided to see what I could do myself and whether it was better alone or with someone else.”
Jay threw his free hand over his mouth to contain the snicker. He wasn’t successful.
“And what did you discover?” The words were sputtered more than spoken.
“Very doable myself, much better with a partner, and I have a feeling highly superior with a particular partner. I’m not afraid, Jay. You’ve told me everything, but I’m not afraid.”
Laughter died in his throat as his heart began to pound. She might not be afraid, but he was terrified.
Urs moved back to the bed and drew her legs into her chest, under her nightgown. She was even more appealing covered and vulnerable, staring at him with her luminous eyes framed by thick, heavy, black lashes, already growing moist. Damn him, damn her, damn everything to Hell.
He had to say yes. She’d never believe a no was the best course of action for their mutual protection. She’d hear a lie at best and a rejection at worst. He’d never lied to Urs—told a few half-truths, but never a full lie and she’d been so honest, in the most frightening way. Jay swallowed as his stomach twisted under the painful throbbing in his chest.
His fingers itched for the pipe. He should’ve never purchased it. Why was he such a miserable excuse for a man? If only he could disappear, become nothing.
No, not today.
He’d think of that another day. Right now, he’d have to handle the beautiful, half-naked blonde about to cry on his bed because he wasn’t doing all the things with her that both their bodies craved.
He picked his way over and sat next to her, keeping a respectful distance.
“You’re my best friend, Urs. In many ways my only real friend. You say you aren’t scared, but I am. There are lines I’m afraid of crossing. You like to analyze and say there are no additional emotions involved, but I’m not going to lie to you and make those sorts of promises.”
“I don’t need your protection.” Her lower lip quivered despite the angry snap in her voice. She was going to tear him to pieces, limb by limb, starting with both his heart and his cock.
“No, I suppose not.” He closed his eyes.
“Don’t patronize me.” The snap was more of a whine though the sound still twisted his gut. She had no concept of how much she tormented him. “Just want me, please.” The words were a mere whisper yet the note of desperation was unmistakable.
Her expression almost ripped his heart from his chest. That was everything to her, wasn’t it? Being accepted, wanted? And she had no idea—if he was anywhere near worthy...
“How could I not want you? There’s no one I want the way I want you, Urs. I dream of you every night, think about you constantly, especially alone.” He raised both eyebrows at her, unable to echo her phrasing aloud.
“Then why won’t you?” Now she was at full whine, better than tears, yet still she chipped away at his resolve.
He cursed in his head. “I haven’t said no.” She was going to win, wasn’t she? “I want to make sure that we are both aware what kind of boundaries we’d traverse.”
