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She slipped the condom on, aware that she had never done this for another man. Determined not to let him know it. He wasn’t special, He was just...filling a need. A need that she had neglected for far too long.
Her thoughts scattered, centring on his thumb as he began to stroke her again. Stroking her into a frenzy. One long finger entered her and she flinched slightly. Evidence of their rough coupling the night before was still present, still there.
‘Hey...’ He cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. ‘Are you too sore for this?’
His concerned expression had her heartbeat kicking her ribs. Bringing with it a myriad of unwanted memories. His rough hand holding her hair, rubbing her back as she threw up in the motel toilet. Those lazy mornings when the nausea hadn’t hit and he’d taken her slowly, patiently, watching her every response, gauging her every need and meeting it.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, precisely because she wasn’t.
Don’t be kind. Please don’t be kind. I can’t stand it.
‘Uh-huh.’ He didn’t look convinced. Holding her, he rolled, flipping onto his back until she was poised above him, her knees on either side of his hips.
‘How about you take charge this time?’ he said, and she felt her heart expand in her chest.
But then his thumb located that pulsing nub and every thought flew out of her head bar none. She had never been in charge of her hunger for him.
He coaxed the orgasm forth as she sank down on his huge shaft.
‘That’s it, Red. Take every inch.’
He held her hips, lifting her as she parted round the thick length, almost unable to bear the feeling of fullness, of stretching, but unable to stop herself from sinking down again to take more, to take him right to the hilt.
His harsh grunts matched her moans as she rode him, increasing the tempo. A stunning orgasm was racing towards her. Her mind reeled as his gaze locked on hers, encouraging, demanding, forcing her over that perilous edge as he gave her one last perfect touch.
She sobbed, throwing her head back, her body shattering as she came hard and fast. She heard him shout out moments later, his penis pulsing out his release as his fingers dug into her thighs.
She fell on top of him, her forehead hitting his collarbone with a solid thunk as her heart squeezed tight.
She closed her eyes, her staggered breathing matching the pounding beat of her heart as his large hands settled on her back and stroked up to her nape. Blunt fingers massaged her scalp.
He laughed, the sound low and deep and self-satisfied. Warning bells went off, but they sounded faint and unimportant, drowned out by the glorious wave of afterglow.
‘How about...before we finalise our divorce...’ his deep voice rumbled against her ear ‘...we treat ourselves to a honeymoon?’
She lifted herself off him with an effort. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’ve got a week’s vacation coming.’ He brushed his fingers down her arms, setting off a trail of goose pimples and reigniting those damn birthday candles. ‘I was supposed to be heading to Bermuda this afternoon, for a sailing trip to Nassau. I could postpone it for a couple of days.’
For a split second her endorphin-clouded mind actually considered it. Being with him—escaping from the endless stress and responsibilities of her job, from all the pain and regret of their past. But then her heart jumped in her chest and reality crashed in on her.
This was Dane. The man who had always been able to separate sex from intimacy in a way she never had. Or at least not with him.
She didn’t hate him any more. And he still had the ability to seduce her and turn her into a puddle of lust with a single touch, a single look. She couldn’t risk being alone with him for another hour, let alone for another night.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said.
She climbed off him and bent to retrieve his discarded T-shirt, suddenly desperate for clothing. But his hand clamped on her wrist. His face was devoid of the lazy amusement of a moment ago.
‘Why not?’
He looked genuinely irritated by her refusal, which told her all she needed to know.
‘Because I have a company to run. I’m CEO of Carmichael’s now—I can’t afford to take time off,’ she finished, giving him the face-saving answer.
She couldn’t tell him the real reason—that she didn’t want to risk spending time alone with him. He’d think she was nuts. Maybe she was nuts.
She was stronger, wiser and older now, with a healthy cynicism that should protect her from remaking the catastrophic mistakes of her youth. But the new knowledge that Dane had only abandoned her because he’d thought she’d abandoned him left a tiny sliver of opportunity for those old destructive feelings to take hold of her emotions again—especially coupled with more mind-altering sex.
