Burn Into Me (15 page)

“No. No, I can’t.”

I immediately push up on my arms, letting go of her. My eyes search hers for an explanation. What did I do wrong? Did I hurt her? I catch her gaze, and to my surprise, it is still filled with the heat and longing I saw before. Knitting my brow, I start rolling to my side, but Elle stops me by holding onto my shoulders.
 

She whispers, “It’s not you. It’s me.”

“Hey, you don’t have to. It’s okay. Really.”

Shaking her head, she taps on the mattress. “Just not here. Not on the bed.”

I want to protest, but she puts her finger against my lips. Smiling, she slides away underneath me and off the bed. Without breaking eye contact with me, she closes her robe and ties the sash. Her hand stretches toward the bedside table behind her to grab a packet of condoms. I raise my brow. What the hell is she up to?
 

“Come on,” she says, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door.
 

She drags me down the hallway, down the stairs, into the living area and towards the kitchen. When we reach the kitchen island, she lets go of my hand and spins around so her back is to the counter. Putting her hands behind her, she hops on the island. I inch forward, and the moment I am within her reach, she stretches out her arms and yanks me towards her, her long legs curving around me. She scoots closer to the edge, undoing the bow of the robe and letting it fall open a touch. Her hands drop to the band of my pants and starts pushing it down, but I grasp her wrists before she does.

“Not so fast, beautiful.”

“But I thought you wanted—”

I shake my head. “Let me look at you first.”

Letting go of her wrists, I place my hands on either side of her robe and part it slowly, savoring the way a flush is spreading from her cheeks down her throat, across her perfect, round breasts. Across the bar piercings that grace her dusty rose nipples. Across her flat stomach that reveals a sparkly belly-button piercing. The sight turns me on so much, my cock grows painfully hard.
 

Elle drops her gaze, and I slip a finger under her chin, forcing her to look me in the eyes.
 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, averting her gaze. “No, I’m not.”

I trace my finger along her jaw, down her neck, and slowly drop to the curve of her breast, making smaller and smaller circles until I reach the edge of her nipple. When I gently start fingering her piercing, Elle draws in a sharp breath through her teeth.
 

“You’re beautiful. And sexy. And everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” I say.

I nuzzle her throat, breathing in her intoxicating scent while my hands slip under her robe and around her hips. They slide up, skimming her sides, my thumbs circling her soft skin.
 

“Ryder,” she breathes.

“I love it when you say my name.”

My hands find her firm breasts, and when my thumbs gently finger the piercings in her hardened nipples, it causes her to let out a moan. I leave a path of kisses along her neck and lick my way down to her right breast, replacing my hand with my mouth. My tongue circles her piercing before it starts teasing it with light strokes, harder strokes, and finally, suck it completely into my mouth. Groaning loudly, Elle lets her head fall back as I give the same attention to the other breast.
 

With my hand, I bend her knees until her feet are on the island, spreading her thighs wide. I then slide up the soft sensitive skin of her inner thigh, up all the way until I reach her folds.

“Mmm, you’re so wet for me.”

I gaze deep in her eyes as I slide my finger into her mouth, and am met with an expression of surprise. Smiling, I withdraw my finger and lower it down, slipping it in between her legs while my thumb draws circles around her clit.
 

Fisting her fingers in my hair, Elle closes her eyes. “That feels so good. Give me more.”
 

I add another finger, not letting up on the attention to her clit. She feels so hot, so tight, so good. I’m as hard as steel—I can hardly wait to bury myself in her.
 

My hand closes around her breast, and my mouth finds her other breast, sucking in her nipple, biting it softly and laving it with my tongue. I do it again, and a loud moan emanates from her, her muscles squeezing around my fingers. I can’t stop looking at her—the way her face flushes and her eyes glaze over.
 

As she falls against me, spent, I haul her close to my chest.
 

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” she whispers.

I raise a brow. Has she never—? But before I can ask her the question, she answers it: “No one has given me an orgasm before. Ever.”

She presses her lips to the middle of my chest, right over my heart. “Apart from you.”

Breathing in deeply, I flex my muscles. A sense of triumph overcomes me. I feel like I’m fucking Tarzan right now, ready to thump my chest in front of the whole world.

And when Elle starts pulling down my pants and my boxers, this time I let her. My cock leaps up, rock-hard and ready. I reach for the packet next to her, but she is faster than me, pulling out a condom and tearing it open with her teeth before slowly, torturously rolling it on. I slide off her robe, and she wraps her long legs around my hips, sliding her hands up my chest as she impales herself on me. With a thrust, I bury myself deeper. She is so hot, so tight—she feels like heaven. I don’t move, savoring the feeling.

“Ryder, please,” she breathes.
 

Covering my mouth with hers, I start sliding in and out. First slowly, then faster and faster as her fingernails are scratching my back. She raises her hips to meet each thrust, her legs around my waist pulling me deeper.
 

“I’m almost there,” she moans.
 

I feel her inner muscles tighten, and I go even faster, harder. And when she screams my name, over and over again, I feel her clench around me. It takes me over the edge and I come hard, harder than I have in a long, long time.
 

Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I pull her to my chest, the fast thump of her heartbeat matching mine. She breathes, “God, that was…”
 

“Out of this world?”

“Mmm.”
 

It was incredible, it was mind-blowing. It wasn’t like anything I had expected it to be. Kissing her softly, I stroke her silky hair. When our heartbeats return to normal, I pull out of her and get rid of the condom. After she finishes tying her robe, I take her hand.
 

“Come on, beautiful. Let’s go upstairs.”

She shakes her head. “Ryder, I can’t. You know that.”

“I know. But you don’t need to worry. Trust me.”

She nods, so I lift her up and carry her back upstairs to my bedroom and lay her down gently in the middle of my bed.
 

“Just wait here.”

Elle

I’m in his bed again, waiting for the familiar panic to kick in.

But it doesn’t.
 

Something is different.
I
am different. My whole body feels soothed and relaxed. What has happened?
 

I smile to myself, remembering the sensations that I’ve just experienced. I’ve brought myself to orgasm before, but it was a mere shadow of what I’ve felt with Ryder. It was explosive, incredible, overwhelming. I finally understand what the fuss is all about.
 

I didn’t expect this to happen. I thought the kitchen island would be the perfect place to have sex with him. It would be quick and detached; an easy and safe way to hold up my end of the bargain. But I didn’t count on Ryder—how he put my needs before his own. No other man I’ve been with has ever bothered with that. After they reach their climax, they’re quick to take off. And I never cared. I’ve always felt worthless. I’ve always felt like I didn’t deserve any better.
 

The bathroom door opens, and a sliver of light falls across the room, onto Ryder’s ripped body, naked apart from a towel wrapped low around his hips. I savor the sight of him, his muscles rippling while he walks towards the bed and stretches out his hand.
 

“Come on.”

I put my hand in his, and he takes me into the bathroom, where the fragrance of vanilla and lilacs greets me. The lights are dim, but candles are lit all around the huge space: in front of the mirrors of the twin glass sinks along one wall, and on the edge of the giant bathtub in the middle of the room. Standing behind me, Ryder slips the
yukata
off my shoulders, and he takes in a sharp breath.

“You have a tattoo,” he says, tracing its outline with his finger. “Why a phoenix?”
 

“According to Greek legend, the phoenix set itself on fire when it felt it was dying. But after three days, it emerged from its own ashes, and lived on forever. To me, the phoenix means renewal, rebirth. The beginning of a new life.”

This is my standard reply, and I hope Ryder won’t delve any deeper. I had the tattoo done last year, on the anniversary of my father’s death, when I felt I’d finally gotten my life together.
 

Ryder slides his arms around my waist, and his low, gravelly voice sends shivers along my spine. “So, are you ready for a new life?”

I swallow. Is he asking me if we can have a future together?

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

I step forward, dipping my toe into the bubble-filled tub. It’s the perfect temperature, exactly how I like it. I step in and lower myself slowly, savoring the warmth of the water. I turn around, waiting for Ryder to join me, but he’s standing at the edge, gazing down at me.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course.”

A moment later he steps into the bath, lowering himself behind me, his legs on either side of me. His steely erection is pressing into my back, so I reach behind me, intending to give him some relief, but his hand stops me.

“No, let’s just enjoy this.”

I sigh, lying back against his chest and gazing up at the ceiling. It is mostly made of glass, letting us view the stars twinkling above us. With Ryder’s strong arms around me and his soft mouth nuzzling my neck, which I tilt to give him better access, I feel almost—happy.

“What are you doing to me, beautiful?”

I smile. “I could say the same about you.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I’m just another screwup that you don’t need in your life.”
 

“You don’t know what I need.” His voice sounds gruff, and his hand cups my chin, turning my face towards him. His eyes are dark, sincere. “I need you.”

I close my eyes, snuggling closer to him.
 

He needs me.
 

The thought sends warm tingles all over my body. And if I’m honest with myself, I have to admit: some part of me needs him, too.

We enjoy the warm, soothing bath without saying any more; back against chest, fingers entwined. Only when the water starts getting cold, we untangle ourselves from each other, and step out. Ryder wraps a white fluffy towel around me, which feels so soft and comforting that I let out a yawn.
 

He gently pushes me toward the bedroom. “Go on, wait for me in bed.”
 

I walk into the room, dropping the towel on the floor and putting on Ryder’s shirt that I find on the bed before snuggling under the covers. I close my eyes. I’m so exhausted that I hardly feel him slide under the blanket—his chest to my back, his arms around my waist—and press a kiss in my hair.
 

Before I drift off to sleep, I’m thinking that I’ve never felt so safe and cared for ever before.
 

Elle

I haven’t slept so well in a long, long time.

My eyes still closed, I’m reveling in my warm, comfortable cocoon. The soft chirping of birds outside tells me I’m not at home, where my usual mode of waking would involve screaming neighbors and screeching cars. My eyes split open a fraction and get used to the semi-darkness.
 

It’s morning—a sliver of sunlight seeps in from a crack in between the curtains. It runs onto the bed until it meets a muscled shape—Ryder’s bare back. Cutting across his lower back, just above his boxers, it runs onto the length of his forearm to his large, warm hand that curls around my waist. His face is turned towards me, and his impossibly thick and long lashes are resting on his cheek. This is the last time I’ll see him, so I spend a few minutes just looking at him— innocent and sweet in his sleep.
 

Last night wasn’t at all as I had imagined it would be—at every turn he’d given me the choice to back out. As much as I should have, I never did, but I don’t regret it in the least—it was intense, incredible, mind-blowing—a real-life fantasy I will cherish for the rest of my life. Because that’s what this is: a fantasy. One where no one can see us or judge us, where it doesn’t matter who we are, how different we are, how we don’t belong together.
 

In the real world, we can never be together. And it’s not only because we live on different sides of the track. There’s a reason why my hookups normally involve bathrooms, alleys, and back walls. I like them to be a quick, fleeting moments that make me forget. Anything more, and I run the risk of getting emotionally involved—something I want to avoid at any cost. Not that the guys I normally hook up with are worth any more than the brief release they provide.
 

By staying here overnight, I’ve crossed a line I’ve set for myself. I’ve never, ever willingly shared a bed with a man. And to share it with someone I’m deeply, primally attracted to is dangerous—potentially disastrous. If I let my emotions get the better of me, I will relinquish control, which means he’ll have a hold over
me
.
 

No, I won’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen. Even if I’d like to stay just a little longer, I have to leave here as soon as I can. Since Damon brought my bike back with him, I have no choice but to make the long trek into town and catch a bus back to the city.