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“Starting with you? I’m trying to talk with you.”
“This is not talking.” Her voice hitched, anger or maybe frustration tinted her cheeks, matching the pretty pink of her lips. “You’re belittling me.”
“Oh, for fuck's sakes, don’t play the victim here.” I inched toward her. “If anyone has the right to play that card, it’s me, not you!” My voice rose along with my patience. I had no idea how to get her to stop living in this unending state of fear. How to get her to just stop hiding behind excuses and bullshit.
My head fell, shoulders slumping with the weight I could no longer bear. “I love you,” I said, lifting my gaze to hers. “But I guess that’s not enough.”
“Laurent,” she whispered, and then her hand cupped my face, her thumb rubbing along my jaw. “It’s always been enough.” She moved into me.
I grabbed her hand, holding her back. I didn’t want to give in again. She’d been toying with my heart for too damn long even if she didn’t intend to, it still fucking hurt.
“I need you.”
My restraint fled. I snaked my hand around her head and crashed my lips to hers.
As much as I wanted to hear the words, I needed her more. I moved into her, backing her against the wall. She fumbled with my belt, and I ripped open her shirt. Buttons popped off, hitting the floor and rolling. Her breath hitched, her light pink satin bra barely covering her nipples. I was done being gentle.
I dipped my head, dragging my tongue along the small mound, digging my fingers into the tight curve of her ass. She tossed my belt to the floor, the buckle hitting with a clang.
My hand slid across her thigh, and she yanked my pants down before she hitched her leg around my hip. My dick jutted out, resting beneath her ass. I used the wall to balance her as I kissed, licked, and tasted a path along her neck.
Her fingers worked on unbuttoning my shirt until she drew it over my arms.
Need and love were two totally different things, but I was a greedy bastard who was willing to take what I could get.
I fisted my cock, positioning the engorged head at her slick entrance, and thrust deep. Phoebe cried out, her fingers imprinting on my shoulders.
With each pound of my hips, I let out my frustrations for this beautiful, complicated woman who had me by the nuts and the heart. Any restraint I had snapped. I spun her around, placed her hands on the wall, and kicked her legs apart.
I grabbed her ass, molding the flesh in my hand before thrusting into her. She arched into me, and my grip tightened on her hips. My thrusts were relentless, my hold on her unbreakable, and I’d fear I was being too rough, but then her walls tightened around me. She cried out, her body shuddering with never-ending convulsions as she came.
Slick with her arousal, I slid in and out of her like a man possessed, unable to stop. The pressure that had been building exploded. My body jerked, and my release filled her.
I rested my head on the crook of her neck, taking in deep, steadying breaths. She turned in my arms, my cock falling out of her, and she kissed me, sweet and gentle—a far contrast to what had transpired.
“Thank you,” she said, but I have no idea what the hell she was thanking me for. There was no romance in what we did, nothing but pure carnal desire. “I’m going to take a shower. Go have a glass of wine.”
She kissed me again and slipped away from me. She bent and picked up a button. “By the way, you owe me a new shirt.” With a smirk, she hurried out of the kitchen, leaving me to wonder what the fuck just happened.
Phoebe had gone right into the guest room after her shower, and I let her. My mind and body had been too muddled to even have a conversation. Now, four hours later, I was still awake, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom.
She’d given me everything except three simple words. And while it shouldn’t have bothered me, it did. It bothered me so fucking much because I loved her, and deep down, beneath the fear and whatever else she kept running from, I knew she loved me, too. Maybe if she could admit it, she’d stop running. Stop allowing fear to control the narrative. Maybe if she could admit it, she would open her heart to the possibility that life with me would be everything she’d been too scared to imagine.
I’d give her the damn world, and if she got sick like her mom, I would be there for her every second of every day. Because as long as we were together, everything would be okay. We’d have each other, and together, we’d walk whatever path that was thrown our way. The good, the bad and the ugly.
The door cracked open, a sliver of light basking the dark space in a muted glow. Phoebe slipped beneath the covers. Despite having had her only a few hours ago, my body was immediately aware of her.
Her hand landed on my stomach, her lips on my neck, and I tried to fight the temptation to give in, but damn, it was strong.
I closed my eyes, mustering the strength I needed, and when her hand moved across my abdomen toward my already hard cock, I grabbed her wrist, halting her.
“You can’t keep doing this to me.” My voice filled with a desperate growl.
She yanked at her hand, but when I didn’t let go, she pressed her body against me, her nipples tight beneath her t-shirt, rubbing along my side. “It’s just sex,” she said.
I brought her hand to my lips, kissing her palm before turning toward her and pressing both our hands to her face. “It could never be just sex with you.”
“Because you love me.”
