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She looks over my shoulder and nods and I can see she’s holding back tears. “Rory, whatever’s going on at the station, whatever your company is hiding, I can protect you from it.”
“Tabitha—”
“I mean it, Rory. Whatever your friends are doing, whatever—whatever you’re doing, I can make sure you don’t suffer for it.”
“Tabitha, listen,”
“But I can only do that if you tell me the truth. The whole truth Rory. No more secrets. No more lies. No more hiding from each other. You tell me everything that’s going on and I promise you, you won’t be punished for it. Please, Rory.”
She falls silent and waits for me to respond.
My head is reeling. She’s obviously wrong to think I’m lying but she’s not wrong that I’m hiding something even if I’m not hiding what she thinks I’m hiding.
The problem is that I can only prove that by revealing what my real secret is and by extension, the secret the entire company is hiding.
I stare silently at her and struggle to decide what the right course of action is.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tabitha
“I don’t need protection,” he says.
“Look,” I say. “I really want this to work. I do. I mean, I don’t know what this is, exactly, but I want it to work.”
“I want it to work, too.”
I walk up to him and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t know how I went from yelling at you to sleeping with you.” I slide my hand up to caress his cheek. “I don’t know how we went from yelling and sleeping with each other to sleeping with each other without yelling. I don’t know how that turned into a hell of a lot more than just sleeping with each other either.”
I sigh and life my other hand to his other cheek. “I don’t understand any of this, but I know I want more of it.”
His arms slide around my waist, and he pulls me to him. “I do, too.”
And all my resolve disappears. I put my mouth on his and kissed him hard. To his credit, he doesn’t start pulling at my clothes until I start pulling at his. I go about getting him undressed in a way that’s almost desperate. I know why. I’m terrified this will be the last time I have him. I’m terrified I’m going to lose this thing. The crazy thing about all that is that I’m not even sure what it is I’m losing.
I’m desperate not to lose it, though.
Our clothes come off in an almost frantic blur, and it reminds me of the first times, when all of the anger suddenly became desperate lust. This time, though, it’s not anger. There’s plenty of desperation, though. By the time I’m naked, I kiss him almost fiercely. I’m so desperate for him, so absolutely desperate. My Uncle Roger went to prison for eight years. I remember my Aunt Jane in the time leading up to his incarceration. I remember how she clung to him. I think for the first time I understand what she faced, the uncertainty and the desperate need to experience him before he left.
I sure as hell feel it now.
I sure as hell need him now.
We end up on the couch and there isn’t any foreplay. I don’t need any. This really isn’t about the sex but I’m ready to go. He sits and I move atop him, gliding up and down while I keep my mouth on him. I understand, of course, that this is going to solve nothing at all. That doesn’t stop me from needing this. It doesn’t stop me from moving and kissing him, trying to just drink in the very essence of him before it dissipates into nothing at all.
It's like he feels the same desperation.
He knows things are coming to a head.
Before now, I don’t think I can really comprehend sex being romantic and rough at the same time. His hands slide over my back and he takes hold of my ass. He takes firm hold. He holds hard enough that it almost hurts. However, I still move up and down on his cock with the same, measured pace and we never stop kissing as though to break that connection would be to vocalize that there’s a giant elephant in the room that will crush us. So, it’s all romantic as can be but there’s nothing at all about the situation that can even be vaguely referred to as gentle.
That’s okay.
Nothing about this situation is gentle. On the contrary, it’s the most brutal situation in my experience. How desperately I want to be wrong! How desperately I want there to be no secret. The problem is I’m good at my job. What I want and what I hope for are irrelevant. If wishes were walnuts and hopes were peppermints, we’d all have a great Christmas.
It’s a damned stupid time to cum but right after I think about walnuts and wishes and hopes and peppermints, my body is flooded with pleasure. I moan against Rory’s mouth and feel my body seize up with the power of the climax. It’s insane how powerful it is. It might be the best orgasm so far with him, and that’s particularly strange because of all the fear and worry involved. It’s so powerful I just freeze in place and if not for Rory using his hands to keep me moving, there wouldn’t be any activity at all. When he finishes, he pulls me all the way down, and with him deep inside of me, I rest my head on his shoulder and try to keep my mind from the inevitable explosion.
I fail.
