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“I’m getting more wine. Don’t worry, I won’t bring you any.” She sailed from the room, her spine rigid.
I ran a hand down my face. I was stumped. Did I fight with her? Or kick her out and tell her to come back when she felt better. Or did I wrap her in my arms and hold her until she broke?
Looking at my uneaten food turned my stomach. I pushed away my plate and wineglass. This was so frustrating. I was never at a loss. I was a man of action. But here and now, I had nothing.
A loud crash and the sound of breaking glass came from the kitchen. I rushed from the table, worried about what I’d find. Please, no blood.
She stood at the stainless-steel farmhouse sink, her glass shattered into a million pieces in the bottom.
“Lee, are you hurt?” I paused at the kitchen threshold, immobilized by indecision.
She spun to face me, her face flushed from too much wine and too many emotions.
“No, it was just a glass.”
It was so much more than a glass.
“What’s going on?” I beckoned her toward me, but she didn’t move.
She shook her head and closed her eyes. A long, painful sigh that seemed to wrap around my chest and squeeze the air from my lungs echoed in the room.
“Talk to me.”
“No. Not now. Not about this.” She squared her shoulders and looked at me with a scary kind of determination flaring in her eyes. She stalked toward me.
“Then when?” I took a cautious step back. The radical change in her mood made me wary.
She prowled forward, opening the buttons on her ruffled silk blouse. She shrugged out of the top, her breasts barely covered by a wisp of satin and lace that resembled a bra.
“Later.” Her hand pressed into the center of my chest. Heat radiated out from her touch, a blinding, desperate kind of burn that I shouldn’t find alluring, but fuck, it was provocative.
Her nails dug into my sternum. I felt like prey and instinctively retreated from her aggressive touch. She matched me step for step until I backed into the wall. My cock, unlike my brain, was ready. It strained against my zipper, already painfully hard.
This wasn’t like the game of me asking her what she wanted and waiting for her commands. The game that I told myself kept me from taking more than she was willing to give and kept my excesses in check. This was her coming apart.
She slid a hand up my chest, her nails scoring the fabric of my shirt and curving around the back of my neck. She rose on tiptoe, her lips almost on mine.
“I don’t need words. I need you.”
She pressed her mouth to mine, pulling me close, smothering any protest I could have uttered. The sting of her nails digging into my nape triggered a moan that grew from somewhere deep inside me. Her familiar smell and her body called to me. Logically, I knew I should stop her, but I was weak where this woman was concerned. If my body could help her exorcise her demons, so be it. I’d give her that—willingly.
She thrust her tongue inside my mouth, taking control of the kiss and not allowing me a moment’s reprieve. Her other hand roughly cupped my erection through my pants. I thrust my hips forward and groaned her name against her wine-flavored mouth.
She nipped and licked her way down my neck, ripping open my shirt buttons, exposing my chest. She was single-minded, using all she knew about my body to ensure my desire grew unnaturally fast. The sharp bite of her teeth on my nipple was deliciously excruciating. I tried to pull her away, slow her down.
“No. Hands at your sides. Let me touch you.” She pinned my wrists to the wall and looked up at me. She hadn’t said please, but the plea swirled in the turbulent depths of her dark eyes.
I flattened my palms on the wall and tipped my head back. She was on her knees. The snick of my belt opening reverberated in my ears. I felt the button on my jeans pop and my zipper descend. My cock throbbed in anticipation. I clenched every part of my body, waiting for her to attack.
The first touch of her mouth on the crown of my cock was scorching. I dug my nails into the drywall and focused on not crumbling to the floor as wave after wave of pleasure engulfed me. She devoured as much of my length as she could. The rest she took in her hand, stroking me in a punishing rhythm designed to be too much too soon. I wouldn’t last.
I looked down and cupped her face, lifting her away from my engorged cock.
“Easy. Slow down.” I didn’t want her like this. Ugly and desperate.
She tried to jerk free of my hold. I tangled my hand in her hair and forced her to look up at me. The raw emotion on her face was brutal. I couldn’t tell if she was going to cry or scream in frustration.
“Please.” Her hoarse whisper carried the force of a command.
