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“Hurt me?” She arched her back and pretended nothing twinged or ached. “I practically feel like purring.” She smiled and rolled over to rub her fingers along the morning stubble shadowing his jaw. “Happy Almost Thanksgiving.”
“More like ecstatic Almost Thanksgiving.” His mouth met hers in a slumberous kiss. “Will you stay?”
His murmured question knotted up her loose muscles all over again. She heard the implications in that question, and as much as she liked him, as much as she wanted to spend days enjoying the hell out of this heat between them, she wasn't sure jumping right back into something that clearly wouldn’t be a one-night stand was a good idea.
Especially since the guy she’d thought she knew so well had a drawer full of sex toys, and she’d begun to wonder if exploration could be a slippery slope. Rob had started liking toys and porn. Next thing she knew, he was having an orgy in her living room.
“What about your family?” She knew his mom and stepfather lived a few miles away, but he’d never mentioned any siblings. He barely mentioned his parents for that matter. Every time she’d asked what she thought was an innocent question, he made a joke and evaded. As much as she wanted to know why, she wouldn’t press.
“I usually hang here for Thanksgiving. Sometimes I head out somewhere for dessert, but more often I hit the trails.”
“What about friends? Don’t you have any you spend time with?”
“You’re my friend, aren’t you? You’re here.”
For reasons she couldn’t identify, her eyes went damp. Something about the vulnerability in his expression combined with the defensive edge to his tone made her ache. Could Justin be just as alone as she was?
“You’re not spending the day with your family?” he asked.
“Dad’s on the road, and Mom doesn’t cook.” She blinked until her eyes were dry. “She’s probably hanging out in the city with some of her theater types. My brother’s in Milwaukee on business, so yeah, a big Fisher Thanksgiving ain’t exactly in the cards.”
“So staying here makes sense. I’ll cook for you.”
Kylie rolled her head on the pillow to meet his eyes. The watery light allowed her to see the tension written in the planes of his face. “Justin—”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
When she didn’t respond, he dipped his head and rasped his tongue over the seam of her lips. She pulled away and gasped for air. Jesus, she hadn’t been lying when she’d said how much that damn stud in his tongue excited her.
“Nothing?”
“Well, not nothing. I want your gorgeous, luscious, perfect body. Over and over again.” He cupped her chin and drew her back. Their mouths rubbed against each other, the contact as light as satin whispering over flushed skin. “But as far as anything beyond today, no. I’m happy with what you have to give me.”
Though he’d said exactly what she needed to hear, her stomach tightened. She couldn’t get into a relationship again. Not this soon. But Justin wasn’t a casual lover. He couldn’t be. They had history. So maybe the best thing she could do for both of them was to leave before she screwed up their friendship.
“I don’t want to lose you.” Desperation tinged her words, but it couldn’t be helped. Dammit, he mattered. Too much. “But I’m not in a place where we could continue this, even if you wanted to. Even if I wanted to. Rob—”
His hands framed her face until his eyes, intently blue in the growing daylight, were all she could see. “Tell me he didn't hurt you.”
When she hesitated, his expression became murderous so swiftly her heart stopped. “Goddammit, Kylie, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Justin, listen to me. Listen,” she commanded, trying to stem her shock. How had she missed his quick temper too? And if she’d missed so much, who did she care about, re
ally? The man she’d thought she knew was only a figment of her imagination. “He didn’t lay a hand on me. Not like that. He didn’t abuse me, not in the traditional sense.”
He slitted his eyes. “Then what sense are we talking about?”
She took a breath. How far should she go? Could she go? She’d never said the truth aloud. “He…likes sex. A lot. Not vanilla sex. He pushes the limits.” She sucked in a breath. “It doesn’t hurt anybody. It’s consensual. Mostly.” God, could she just spit it out? “He always had a big appetite, as do I. At the beginning it was fun. Then he started withholding things from me if I had a headache or if I wasn’t in the mood to experiment. Affection went first. Eventually he stopped paying attention to me altogether if I didn’t want to participate in his newest kink.” She shrugged jerkily. “So I participated. I never got hurt. Hell, I usually even had an orgasm. He didn’t get why I complained or why I stopped caring if he was affectionate. It was my life, and I lived it.”
She kept her gaze straight ahead when Justin rolled away from her and paced to the window on the far side of the room. He’d decorated as sparsely in here as he had in the rest of the house, and the lack of furnishings contributed to the echo of her voice. Other than the bed, the only furniture was a small dresser, a nightstand, and a TV stand. And, she noted, a guitar propped on a small chair in one corner. Was that how he’d gotten the calluses?
Man, the guy had more hidden sides than a Rubik’s Cube.
“So what made you change your mind about staying?”
She shook off her thoughts about his guitar. Wasn’t exactly important at the moment, but she’d definitely ask later. “He wanted us to try a threesome with a woman he worked with—Darla. I told him it wasn’t my thing, and he didn’t speak to me for days. By then I knew I had to get out, but I had to find a place to live first. I couldn’t just walk out the door.”
“You could have always come to me. You could have stayed here.”
