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The muscles of his chest heaved from his staggered breathing. His arousal jutted out. He looked magnificent, like a powerful male animal.
She wanted to cover herself, but seemed powerless to do anything, enthralled by the sight of him as he knelt beside her. He stroked his fingers across her belly, making her jump as he reached lower and gently probed the folds of her sex. She could feel how wet she was as his thumb glided over the nub he exposed. She shuddered violently and cried out.
‘I’m sorry, Red. I can’t wait.’ He lay on top of her, his weight making her sink into the soft cushions. He grasped her hips, his eyes harsh on her face, and she felt trapped beneath him. Still she was dazed, detached, as he positioned himself, probed and then thrust within. She cried out, the shocking fullness and discomfort hurling her out of the strange trance and slamming her hard into reality.
She grabbed at his shoulders, pushed frantically. ‘Stop it. It hurts,’ she cried out.
He reared back.
She could see the surprise and confusion in his eyes and the rigid control as his arms tensed at her sides.
‘What’s wrong?’ He pulled out of her, cupped her face in unsteady hands. She could see the bitter regret in his face and she shattered—the pent-up emotions of long years of inadequacy and denial bursting out.
‘I can’t do this. I’m no good at it.’ She began to shake, raw with humiliation. The misery engulfed her. Why had she thought that with him it might work? For a while, as they’d kissed and caressed it had been so wonderful. She’d been spun up in a whirlwind of passion and excitement. But then, it had been dragged away. She’d failed, as always.
He held her gently, drawing her into his arms, settling her close.
‘Shh. Don’t cry. I rushed you. I went too damn fast. It’s my fault.’
‘It’s not.’ She snuffled, determined to tell him the truth. ‘I’m rubbish at this. I’ve been told I’m frigid.’
She wanted to get up, get away. But his arms tightened around her, holding her in place.
‘Please, I have to go.’ She could hear the pathetic whimper in her voice and despised herself for it.
She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes, or, worse, the pity. But then he tucked his finger under her chin, forced her face up to his.
‘Don’t go, Red.’ There was no pity, just concern. He touched his lips to hers, the kiss so gentle it was like a whisper. ‘Who’s the dumb bastard who said you were frigid?’
‘Toby. His name was Toby Collins.’
‘Toby, huh?’ He pushed the hair from her brow, brushed it back carefully as he met her eyes. Then his own went hard with anger. ‘I’d like to get Toby Collins and string him up by his nuts.’
‘Oh!’ What else was there to say?
He looked so fierce and forbidding she almost felt sorry for her former fiancé. If Toby hadn’t been on the other side of the Atlantic, his nuts would surely be in grave danger.
Monroe drew her closer. ‘But seeing as Toby and his pea-sized nuts aren’t here right now, we’re gonna have to undo the damage he did instead.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, wary of the determination in his voice.
‘You’re not frigid. And we’re going to prove it.’
She tensed in his arms, pa
infully aware of his nakedness and her own.
‘I don’t…’ She paused. ‘That’s really not necessary.’
‘Oh, yeah, it is.’ He dipped his head, took her lips in a slow, tender kiss.
The low throbbing in her belly seemed to come from nowhere. But she drew back, flushed but horribly unsure of herself. ‘I don’t think I can, Monroe.’
He trailed a finger down across her breast, watching it intently as he circled the peak.
‘You can do it.’ He glanced up, dazzled her with that easy, confident grin she knew so well. ‘If you’re treated with the proper care and attention.’
His fingertip toyed with her nipple. A breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding gushed out. She glanced down at him hard against her thigh. Her breath caught in her throat; he was still fully aroused and he looked enormous.
