Hyde, an Urban Fantasy (37 page)

“Can you . . .” she asked, biting her lip.

He raised himself onto his hands, bringing his body closer to hers, so she could bring each shoulder to bare. Neither of them looked at the other—he avoided her eyes while she stared at the perfection within her reach. The crumpled button-down landed on top of his tie.

 “Your shoes.” Were off the second she suggested it, along with a sock nudged by the other foot and sent tumbling over the edge of the bed. She gently pushed his resistant body back down, hearing him swallow, seeing him shove his hands behind his head and the pillow crush in his grip.

She wouldn’t stop, even if she gnawed off her upper lip before she was done. As her hand brushed the hot skin above his belt, he flinched slightly, then seemed to right himself and resumed his feigned pose of relaxation. He was breathing harder, perhaps as hard as she was, but he didn’t move unless she asked, never hurrying or touching her.

She felt his erection tap her wrist through his pants as she undid his leather belt. Her eyes focused on his as she lowered his zipper. She could do this. This was her choice, no one else’s. She wanted this to happen . . . with him.

With a gentle request of her eyes, he lifted his hips so she could pull off his trousers and throw them onto the almost-finished pile on the floor. Once the t-shirt she wore floated down, the pile was complete.

Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might need medical attention. But not yet. She had lots to do before she’d stop to think about that. Looking at his body, hard and vulnerable, was difficult, but she knew she had to. She tried to take strength from his eyes, but that was no help—he looked terrified.

“Is this alright?” she whispered, praying he would say yes.

“This is . . . tough . . . but
very
alright.” He sighed. “I’ve never let anyone . . .
in
like this.”

“That makes two of us. Well, it
will
in a minute.”

He groaned.

Smiling nervously, she glided her palms across his chest, down his taut abs. His body shuddered the whole way. She swallowed, steadying herself, and touched him. He jerked under her hand.

“Oh, shit.” He yanked the pillow from behind his head and put it over his chest, clutching it, his arm muscles straining, almost as if he was in pain.

Her hands flew off. “I’m sorry.”

Lifting the pillow so she could see his eyes, he asked, “Could you . . . um . . . could you come up here?”

She moved alongside him, stretching her body out so it snuggled close to his side, liking the way they fit.

Releasing his grip of the pillow with one hand, he brought her face to his. There was no tension in his lips as they brushed against hers, just warmth and softness. Once they connected, he removed his fingers from her chin. He was kissing her the same way he had before—slowly and patiently.

Her
body had other ideas. She held his face, loving the scratch of his unshaven jaw, imagining what it would feel like on the rest of her body. Opening herself to him, she felt a wave of heat spread through her, a want she’d often read about, but had never known was real or just something books
pretended
was real.  It was. With her plans to linger in this moment forever quickly fading, her leg slipped over his body, rolling her on top of him.

He mumbled something into her mouth, or maybe it had just been a groan. Whatever it was helped her know how right this was. How right
they
were. She knew he was struggling to keep his hands off her—tendons straining, muscles bulging throughout his body. He was tight under her, pressing himself into the soft mattress as far as he could as if he was afraid to let his skin touch hers. His lips and tongue weren’t the only things reaching out to her. As she moved against him, fitting further into him, she felt his erection brush her center.

Oasis
. He was her oasis. After a very long walk through hell.

He was going to rip the fucking pillow apart.
This was a really bad idea.
Why did he think he could do this? Control himself?

Focus on the kiss
. Not the part of her that was a centimeter away from his pulsing cock. He needed to stay still, needed her to decide
what
they would do and
when
they would do it. Asking for her lips had already crossed the line he’d set for himself.
Breathe, Mitch.
This was about her, not him. He would let her find herself, even if it killed him. Which was a serious possibility. She needed to learn what someone could offer her without just taking for themselves. He couldn’t allow himself to touch her. It would all be over if he touched her—he’d scare her away. Or he’d come like a teenager without ever being inside of her. That might be worse.

Every muscle was cramped, aching to envelop her.
Shit
. He was so close to giving in, to press her down onto him. Or to flip them over and press his way into her. He was going to lose his mind. Truly lose his fucking mind to her.

Focus on the kiss.
Ignore the warmth and wetness he felt just above his—
The kiss
. Her hands on his shoulders and sides, pressing, grasping. More quickly now. Her thighs were slick with her, sliding down so close to—
No, the kiss.
Her hair fell around them like a veil, closing them off from the outside world. It smelled like strawberries. Only reminding him of his own hunger. Not for food. For her.
Damn it.

She needed to slow down. He knew it instinctively—she shouldn’t be rushed, even if it was her own body that was hurrying. Jesus, she felt good, her weight pressing against him, filling him. Like he needed to fill her—
The kiss. Focus on the fucking kiss.

He needed to say something. But at some point, he’d gotten lock jaw and was now very probably foaming at the mouth. Or at least drooling. He wanted to touch her breasts so fucking bad. Just the side. He’d be happy with a one-fingered brush against the fullness that wasn’t already pressed so hard against his chest.
Just the side.
Yeah sure, like he needed a finger wandering off, knowing exactly where it would head next.
This was a very bad idea.

“Slower,” he managed to stammer out.

“I don’t want to go slower.” They were both breathing hard, panting. She reached behind her and wrapped her hand around his cock. “You don’t want me to go slower either.”

“Oh, fuck. No, really—”

She squeezed.

“I’m begging you to stop.” He couldn’t feel his legs. “We need to slow down.”

“Why?”

He blinked. “Good question.” There’d been a reason, right? Just not one he could remember presently. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He’d been with lots of gorgeous women before, but Eden was . . . Eden was something completely different. It wasn’t her outward beauty that drew him in. It was her strength, her fire, her desire to do what was right even when it wasn’t easy, her ability to make him see himself as a worthy human being. How the hell did she do it?

When she sat up, all the air in his lungs went with her. He searched her face for signs of fear or regret. No, he couldn’t let her regret this moment. It might destroy both of them.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up the room. “I’m doing pretty well, aren’t I?”

Thank God.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re doing great.”

“I feel great.” She lowered herself, warming him again, and whispered, “
You
make me feel great.”

His mouth moved, but his mind was blank. What do you say to that? The most amazing woman you’ve ever seen is naked on top of you, smiling with lips
your
lips have made fuller. What the hell do you say to that?

“I think I want you inside me, but . . .”

Oh God, did she say “but”?

“Are you okay with this?” she asked.

“With what?” Her walking out of the room? Hell, no.

“With me”—her brow furrowed—“
using
you.”

Once his heart stopped palpating and his cock stopped jerking, he allowed himself to caress her cheek. One quick touch before wrapping his fingers back together under his head. “I want this to be clear: I will enjoy every second of this you give me. Whatever you offer, whatever you take. I am . . . yours.”

She blinked rapidly. “Do you mean that?”

“You better fucking believe it.” He watched the trepidation disappear from her face. “I will behave. But I might need another pillow.” He lifted the disfigured pile of fluff he’d been choking the stuffing out of and enjoyed the melody of her laugh.

Her mouth moved to his neck and though he ached to return the favor, capturing the scent of her hair again, he couldn’t move. He was her prisoner, a willing captor for her to touch, grasp and play with for as long as she wanted to. Climbing off of him, she traveled down to his chest, hands moving slightly ahead of her mouth, unpredictable, exploring.

He’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so incredible. With every brush of her lips, she discovered him, tasted him,
knew
him. She dipped lower. To his abs, the crest of his hip. Desire raced through his body, bouncing between the touch of her fingertips to the stroke of her tongue.

He couldn’t control the arch of his hips, lifting to bring his cock closer to her lips, desperate to feel her take all of him in. But if she did that, he’d come. Abso-fucking-lutely. “No, don’t—”
Oh shit, that was close.

Her eyes were huge, brows close together. “Did I do something wrong?” How could she be so uncertain and so right at the same time?

“Nothing wrong. All amazing. But if you keep doing that, it’s . . . I’m going to . . .” How do you find the right word when none you’ve ever used seemed soft enough for your lover’s ears?

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a look that proved otherwise. “I got carried away.”

“Perhaps you could get carried away again later.” Like when he could get more oxygen.

He felt the little vibrations of her laugh against his skin as she brought her lips up his torso and back to his mouth. He didn’t need to remind himself to stay focused on the kiss anymore. It was everything. It was insanity and euphoria all rolled up by a beautiful little brunette who made his life worth something.

Jesus, he wanted to touch her. But he had to wait, clutching the pillow or the headboard, his arms sore from the effort.

She straddled his hips again, rolling her core against his length. Face-to-face, even her moans were beautiful. It was excruciating for him to not be able to take her fully. She spread open his fisted hands with her fingers and intertwined them, but kept them pinned to the bed.

“Why didn’t I talk you into this sooner?” she said with a smirk before sliding down his body, kisses trailing down his neck.

He jolted when he felt her silky warmth envelop the tip of his cock. “Wait,” he groaned at the same time as he saw her eyes open wide in shock and her body stop, then retreat slightly.
Damn it.
How could he tell her all of the things he wanted to do? That he wanted to taste her, spend the rest of his life with his mouth between her thighs. This was supposed to be
her
show. His needs didn’t matter. He couldn’t tell her that, once his cock was inside her, the stopwatch until he came would start at about one minute, thirty seconds like a seventeen-year-old kid? He sighed. “Condoms, corner pocket.”

“What does that mean?”

“Drawer. Corner. Condom.”

She reached out and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a new box. Ripping it open, she fumbled, sending them everywhere but where they needed to be. She was going to fall off the bed—or worse
him
—if he didn’t stop her.

He grabbed her wrist and rolled over her, unwilling to break contact for even a moment. He grabbed a long train of packets off the ground and presented them to her. In his excitement, he hadn’t realized he was now on top of a naked woman he hadn’t exactly been given permission to touch.

She didn’t look like she cared much. Yeah, that was verified when she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her hips into his.

Breathing would be a good idea right now. Sliding the inch it would take to be inside of her was also a good idea, but he could wait . . . about thirty more seconds.
Nice control, asshole.