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Not just because of the physical ache that was tightening her nipples into taut buds, and slicking her insides with warm heat, but because touching him, kissing him, moving with him, was a way of setting everything to rights within the universe.
She pushed up off the bed, kneeling on its edge, running her fingertips over his chest tentatively at first, as though she no longer had the right to touch him as if he were an object that belonged to her.
His eyes bore into her, but she felt the satisfying snag of his breath, the proof of how her touch affected him, and her lips curled into a small smile, moved by the delicious knowledge that she was doing this to him. That it was her. Them. What they were.
“Make love to me, Guy.” She threw the challenge at him, her eyes slowly lifting to meet his, all her hopes beating within her breast, begging him to be kind to her.
She saw the way something flared in his expression, dark emotions that writhed through him, contorting his masculine beauty for a moment into something else, a hardness and a pain. And then his hands reached down, long, confident fingers curving around her wrists and pushing her hands away, holding them beside her.
Addie’s lungs worked overtime, pushing breath out and sucking it in, in shallow, raspy beats that did little to inflate her body. Her head was spinning.
And then, he was kissing her, his lips a challenge and a torment as they moved over her mouth, pushing her back to the bed, his hands holding her arms wide as his body, so large and heavy, so strong and toned, pressed down on her.
Oh! The pleasing weight of this; she had forgotten that this alone, the sense of safety and security, could curl her toes. Her breathing was no easier when he paused to protect them from any unplanned consequences of this night, a precaution Addie was far too gone to consider. She was glad he had the forethought she lacked, though.
“This was always just sex and lies,” he murmured against the curve of her neck, the words so gentle, like little, fiery emissaries dipped in his bold, Spanish accent, so that she didn’t hear them at first for what they were: ruthless daggers that pierced the fabric of her soul.
“No,” she denied, her head flinging around to face his, her hands lifting to cup him on either side. “You’re lying to yourself if you think that, Guy.”
For a moment, their eyes held, and she hoped – with no reason for hope – that he would believe her. That he would start to listen to the truth of what they were. But then his lips curled in a derisive sneer and he pushed inside of her in one slow, determined thrust. A mark of ownership that was as undeniable as it was perfect. Addie’s moan emerged in a long, slow husk, a sound of total surrender and completion, all wrapped into one.
“Sex,” he withdrew himself before taking her once more. “And lies.”
She whimpered beneath him, but pleasure was a wave, washing over her, removing any of the pain that his insistence should have inspired. She pressed her fingers into his back, holding him, kneading the muscles that ran against his spine, her whole being transformed and relieved by this. How long it had been, and how badly she’d needed him.
She had missed all of him, over the past six months, but she had never realized how much she’d come to depend on this. Having been denied any kind of physical closeness for so long made her particularly reliant on it now, and Guy had answered all her silent, unspoken needs. Her desperation had met its perfect match. For a time. And then he’d gone away again.
She pushed the heartbreak aside. It had no place in the bliss of Guy’s bed, in the midst of what they shared. She lifted her hips, rolling herself closer, a fine bead of perspiration running between her breasts. His raven black head dipped forward, his mouth taking a nipple into his mouth with urgency, his tongue flicking against it in time to his body’s possession of hers, so that a spark of electricity started in her stomach, just a bundle of light and nerves, before radiating through her whole body, pulsing with a white-hot heat that made her breath stretch and her voice quiver.
“Guy,” she cried out, digging her nails into his sides as the electricity moved to her head, to behind her eyes, making her see only bright white lights as momentum built and an explosion locked into place, pressing against her every nerve ending, careening through her body. She said his name over and over and over again, like an incantation that held magic and more. And then, the electricity surged through her with a final, paralyzing intensity, searing her with its power.
She cried out, the words no longer comprehendible, and he pushed harder, his own body racked with the intensity o
f his relief, his body giving way to the same current that had driven Addie, the same inevitable pull of satisfaction that made them move as they did, in this ancient, spell-binding dance.
The room was filled with the sounds of their breathing, the throb of awareness and the dizzying relief that was surrounding them. It was filling Addie, making her lips smile, her body weak.
And yet, there was awkwardness, too. This wasn’t like before, when there’d been such easy familiarity and comfort. It wasn’t the same as when she’d arrived in his apartment in London, after finishing a night shift, tired but energized by adrenalin and need. Those nights, when he would throw open the door and pull her into his arms, their bodies rasping with the heat and need that had arisen after twelve hours apart.
That had been different.
There’d never been awkwardness afterwards. Addie had never wondered what to say, or how he felt, or what he was thinking. She had been confident, then, that they were on the same page, and it was easy and perfect.
It was hard to know what he was now feeling, but she did know he was withdrawing from her. Physically, mentally, emotionally. In every way, he was putting space and distance between them, his manner completely at odds with the man who’d just dragged her to his room and made her heart soar.
“Well,” he drawled, disposing of the condom in a waste-paper basket before reaching for his pants and pulling them over his long, lean legs. He zipped them up but didn’t do the button, leaving the taut, hair-roughened expanse of his abdomen exposed to her. “That was unexpected.”
He sounded so in control, so scathing! A frown tugged Addie’s lips downward. “Was it?” It hadn’t been for Addie. From the moment she’d arrived at his home in Spain, a month earlier, she’d felt the beginning of the storm building up, pressure increasing, heat building, until this – the breaking – had been inevitable. Addie pushed up on her elbows, uncaring for her nakedness, too distracted by his.
“Still,” he said, already moving towards the door, “There might as well be some silver lining to having you here.”
The words flew across at Addie, stinging her as they landed inside of her, pulling apart the warmth that his love-making had spread through her body. She pushed up to standing, unable to comprehend his sudden shift in demeanour.
Only, it wasn’t sudden. They’d been arguing before.
Sex had come out of that argument. He was still angry with her. So angry.
“Wait,” she murmured, her brain trying to process this, to think of what to say or do. He paused, his hand on the door, but his body was tense, his broad shoulders squared. He didn’t look at her.
