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‘You okay?’ The low, urgent enquiry—and the whisper of uncertainty—pierced her heart, bringing back that glimpse of the man who had made her yearn to know more about him the night before.
‘I’m good, but hurry up before someone comes looking for us.’
This needed to be hard, fast and above all, impersonal.
He lifted his head, his face rigid with purpose as he drew out then pumped back, sending himself deeper, further. She sobbed, the shock of penetration nothing to the coil of need that twisted tighter with each thrust. He established a relentless rhythm, adjusting his hips so that his pelvis rubbed her swollen clitoris every time he sank to the hilt. She rocked into the thrusts, riding the wave as the pleasure soared. Her tortured sobs matched his feral grunts, her gaze locked on his.
‘More,’ she gasped. He gripped her hips, furiously pumping, thrusting deeper, faster. Sweat slicked his brow, his expression focused, the sinews in his neck corded with effort as he raced them both towards that perfect peak. She sobbed as sensation exploded from her core, brutal, searing, unstoppable, the white-hot threads shooting through her like lightning bolts. Her head dropped back as she shot over the edge, flying free. His seed emptied inside her with his yell of release.
His forehead touched her cheek, his staggered breathing loud against her ear. The slumberous wave of afterglow washed over her as her fingers caressed the soft bristles of hair above his ears. Her palms dropped to cradle his jaw, trembling as she caressed the stubble on his cheeks.
‘What the fuck?’ The stunned words feathered across her cheek. Drawing her back to consciousness, making her brutally aware of the scent of sex and sweat thickening the air in the tiny closet.
He was still firm, still impossibly large inside her. She shifted, her sex aching now, her body bruised and numb from the violent coupling. Her chest tightened as she struggled to breathe round the uncomfortable mass forming under her diaphragm.
The
pulse of her own heartbeat battered her eardrums. Could he hear it too?
‘Tally, I’m sorry.’ The whispered apology sounded hoarse but sincere. ‘For the note I left this morning. I behaved like a jerk.’
‘That’s okay. I’m sorry for the tweet,’ she whispered back, finding her voice.
Those pure aquamarine eyes locked on her face. She looked away, scared that they might see right into her soul and yank out something she had no wish to give willingly.
Then she had the strangest sensation she already had. What had happened a moment ago? One minute they’d been in a battle, grappling for their own pleasure, and then suddenly they’d been joined, body and soul, hurtling into their climax together.
His thumb touched her chin and he lifted her head. ‘We need to talk,’ he murmured.
No, they did not. She felt too raw, too wobbly to have a conversation now.
‘I have to go.’ She wriggled, relieved when his penis slid out of her and he stepped back to pull up his jeans and refasten his fly.
He cupped her elbow to steady her as she locked her knees to stop from falling on her butt, her legs like overcooked spaghetti.
‘I have a sidebar to write before six,’ she babbled, smoothing her dress with trembling fingers, astonished at the thought that they’d managed to bang each other into oblivion almost fully clothed.
‘Well, it’s gonna have to wait, because I want to discuss this. I’m sick of feeling like an asshole.’
‘You’re not an arsehole, Brent. I absolve you of it all. The note was a mistake. I get it,’ she said.
‘I didn’t say I am an asshole,’ he said, the wry smile scarily disarming. ‘I said I feel like one. And that mistake isn’t even the half of it. I don’t usually screw a woman all night without knowing a damn thing about her. And I’ve never once banged a women in a closet either.’ He huffed, the smile dying. ‘I guess what I’m saying is, you’ve had one hell of an impact on me, Tally. I don’t want that to be a bad thing.’
‘That doesn’t mean it’s a good thing though, does it?’
‘But maybe it could be, if you let me get to know you better without the sex getting in the way.’ He sounded totally sincere, making anxiety thrum under her breastbone.
‘Maybe there’s nothing more to know. And the sex is all there is.’ Henry had certainly thought so. And however honest his mistake, Brent had obviously thought so too this morning—or he would never have mistaken her for a hooker.
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’ His open palm skimmed down her arm, which was rigid with tension. ‘Come on, Tally, I want to get to know you better.’
She shrugged off the caress, because the urge to lean into it was all but overwhelming. ‘I’m very sorry, but I have work to do. So I’ll have to tell you my life story some other time.’
Like never.
She had to get away from this man. Now, before she gave into the well-spring of emotion and said something stupid, cheesy, that she couldn’t undo. Their all-night shagathon and the wild-sex-in-a-closet interlude were new territory for her too, but the combustible sexual chemistry between them didn’t feel like nearly as much of a threat as the genuine curiosity in his gaze.
‘Tonight, then?’ he asked.
