Lost Wishes (9 page)

“Why? We’ll just be sleeping. What,” I arch a brow, “you think you won’t be able to behave if you lay next to me in the bed. Really? That’s all it’ll take for you to break your word?”

He tosses the pillow on the sofa and walks over to me. I go from cold to hot. My muscles twitch and my mouth goes dry. I manage to lift my chin, though, and gaze bravely into his powerful eyes. “Fine. We’ll sleep in the same bed, but,” he bends down, his mouth so close to mine, “I revoke the permission I granted for you to touch me.”

I bite my lip. It’s that or let it devour his mouth. I nod my head.

“Okay.” He walks over to the sofa, retrieves the blanket and pillow, and heads for the bedroom.

I release my lip. What am I thinking? Sleep with him? Shit, I have more sense than that. It’s gotta be this island. There’s no order here. It’s hot, so freaking hot. Everyone’s laidback and carefree. Well, everyone excluding Fallon. What’s he doing here? What in the hell am I doing here? One more night—I just have to get through tonight, and then I can go back to my apartment, my mundane life, and my job. Shit, my job! This is the first time I didn’t get the job done. I hope Mr. Lennox isn’t too disappointed that I couldn’t get the deed from Fallon.

I walk into the bedroom. The light’s off, but I’m able to make out the outline of his body in the bed. I crawl onto the mattress and pull the sheet up over my body. I lay there staring up at the ceiling. My heart beats hard, and I feel it in my ears. I might not have gotten the deed, but I’m not leaving here without putting in a good effort to help Fallon because he’s been hurting for so long.

“Fallon,” I say into the quiet room, but he doesn’t respond. I roll over onto my side and find his naked back. He took his shirt off. God, I hope he left on his pants. “Fallon?”

“What?”

“Can I…” My voice cracks, but I’m not falling to pieces now. “Can I hold you?”

A few long seconds drift on, and just as I strum up the courage to lift my hand, he says, “No.” I draw my hand back and roll over onto my other side, curling up into a ball, unsure why his refusal pains me so much. Did I really think he’d allow me to console him or hold him?

I feel the bed shift, and my body goes cold. Is he getting up? Did I scare him away?

“I told you, stowaway, you can’t touch me,” he whispers into my ear as his arm comes around my body. “But,” he pulls me up against him, “I can hold you.”

Paralyzed by his touch, I stare straight ahead into the darkness. This has to count for something. Right? I reach up and wrap my fingers around his muscular arm.

“Now,” his hot breath sears my neck, “that’s gonna cost ya. I told you, no touching.” His warm lips press against my flesh. “Do it again,” he kisses me on the neck, “and the next time I won’t be so gentle.”

I don’t want gentle so I slide my hand up his arm, and he pulls away from me. His fingers slip into my hair. He yanks my head back and his mouth attacks my throat. Lips taking, teeth scraping, and tongue licking. He gorges my raw skin, consumes my senses, and leaves me breathless for more.

His hand slips up my neck. “Katie,” his harsh voice echoes through me, vibrating to the core of my being. “Every time you touch me, it makes me remember.” His fingers sink into my throat. “And I don’t want to remember,” he says, desperation dripping into his every word. He releases the gentle but firm chokehold, and his hand moves back around my waist. “So, please, baby, don’t tempt me.” He engulfs me, squeezing me closer to him. “Just be a good girl, lie here, and for tonight let me hold you.” He brushes a kiss across my cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” I nod my head, blinking back a tear.

Feeling his strong arms around me, my chest tightens. I’m not helping him. I’m… I’m causing him more pain.

* * *

I blink. The bright sun attacks my eyes, and I snap them shut and reach for the pillow. My hand grabs a fistful of muscle and flesh. Oh, shit! I tilt my head back. Fallon’s sitting against the headboard, an arm behind his head. He looks down at me through heavy lids.

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he says in a husky, just woke up voice. I place my palm on his hard chest and push myself up. I’m not sure how to respond, especially when I catch the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Makes it hard to believe two days ago you were ready to brave the ocean in nothing but a raft.”

“I would have done it, too,” I say.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second.” His smile grows a little, and he stares at me. Uncomfortable with his words, it’s not like him to be… Hell. He called me cute! I go to get up, but he pulls me back against his naked chest. I effortlessly settle in, kind of liking it here, and wait to see what other surprises might come out of that sexy mouth.

His finger traces along the side of my face. “You were prepared to do anything to get away from me.”

“Yes. I was,” I smirk up at him.

“And now look at you, lying in my bed, with me in it.”

“What can I say?” I lift my hand a little from his chest. “Shit happens.”

“It sure the hell does,” he grins, “but it looks like you’re gonna finally get what you want.” He glances at the window then turns back to me, finger stroking my cheek.  “You’re going home today, stowaway.”

“Yeah, it looks that way.” I hold my smile but curse the sun’s reflection in his eyes as he gazes down at me, for he is what I really want. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to hurt him either. And he must’ve lied. I gotta look like Hope, and that’s why I make him remember what it is that he doesn’t want to remember. “Well,” I tap him on the chest, time to face reality.  “Better get up and get ready.”

He rolls me over onto my back and props up on his elbow beside me. “Not yet,” his eyes stroke down my body, igniting warmth and moisture in the deepest parts of me. “Fallon, you said…” my breath quickens, “you’d behave.”

“And the definition of behave is,” he arches an eyebrow, tilts his head up at me, and circles a finger over my belly. My stomach constricts beneath his touch.

“To be good,” I say. I need him to be good. Hell, I’ve been good. So good! And there’s no way I can give in now then just walk out that door. I won’t be able to do it.

“Oh, I’m going to be good,” his hand moves up my ribcage, brushing along the side of my breast. “I’m going to be better than good,” warm fingers slip behind my neck, and he pulls me up. His mouth crushes against mine.

The force of his tongue pushes my lips apart. I need to feel him inside of me, even if it’s only in my mouth. Every time we touch, it’s as if we’re this unbreakable entity, and I want to become one with him.

He drags his mouth from mine. He’s breathing hard, nostrils flaring, and his eyes are so dark as he peers down at me.

“I can’t be with you,” I whisper, angry with myself for saying it. Still, I had to put it out there. I’m no tease. He needs to know.

His grip tightens on my neck. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna fuck you,” he says, but his eyes don’t match up with his words. “I’m not even going to touch you.”

“You’re not?”

He releases my neck, props back up on an elbow, and settles the side of his head into the palm of his hand. “No.”

“Then what?”

“Put your arms up, above your head.”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” he says.

“But—”

“I just want to look at you.”

“With my hands above my head?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” I’ll play along. I can quit this game anytime I want. I lift my arms. “There.” I clamp my hands together, and my breasts thrust out. I take a breath, and they lift. I exhale, and they fall back down. I do it again. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, shit! It’s turning me on. I peek at Fallon and he’s looking at my breasts, watching the show. His hand moves from his head. His arm lounges forward, fingers so close to my chest, but as promised, he doesn’t touch me. With each exhale, my breasts ache for another breath, so they rise closer to his taunting hand. Screw his vow. He needs to touch me.

“You okay?” His eyes lift to mine.

“Stop,” I say, exhaling.

“What?” He pulls his hand back and rests his chin on his knuckles. “I’m merely looking at you.”

“No. You know what you’re doing to me.”

“Yes. I do.”  His eyes slither to my heavy mounds. “And your nipples like it. Look how hard they are; I can see their perfect shape poking beneath your shirt.”

Unable to stop myself, I look. Shit, he’s right. They’re trying to break free of the material.

His hand shifts forward and, peering up at me, his finger feathers just above the heated bud under my shirt. “Do they ache?”

“Yes.” I take another deep breath and my nipples tweak.

“Do you think my mouth could help soothe that ache?”  

Caught up in those eyes, I squeeze my hands tighter together and exhale. “Yes.”

“What about my fingers? If I pinched ‘em, would that help, too?”

I suck in my bottom lip. I refuse to beg but nod my head.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? Or,” he sets his chin back on his knuckles, “would you prefer a little more ache? What if I pulled your shirt up, slapped your tit hard, and then bit your sore nipple, making that aching nipple nice and red?”

The image filters through my mind straight down to my wet pussy. “Stop! Stop talking.” I inhale deep making my breasts lift. I press my thighs together and pull my hips back.  “Just touch me, dammit!”

“Oh-ho,” he chuckles, “starting with the demands already?” He leans in. “Well, that’s gotta mean your pussy is starting to ache, too? Huh?”

Ache? Hell, I’m in such pain for him. “Fallon, touch me?”

A knowing smile pulls on those sexy lips. “Spread your legs.”

I’m dying here, way past the demanding stage, ready to get down on both knees and beg. And the sexy asshole knows it. “Are you going to touch me,” I ask.

“No. I told you that I wouldn’t, and I meant it, but if you
behave
,” his voice lowers, “do as I say, I will make you cum. You do want to cum, don’t you?”

“If you’re not going to touch me then how—”

“Lift your legs,” he says, and too far gone to argue, I obey. I haul my legs up and plant my feet onto the mattress. “Spread them.”

I slide my feet apart.

“Not like that,” he says in a tone that rejects disobedience, “sway your legs out and rest your knees on the bed.”

When I do as instructed, spread my legs wide and with him watching, Holy Mother of… my pussy opens and the wetness releases, dripping down my ass.

“Perfect,” he looks up at me. “Now, if I
were
to touch you, I’d slide my hand beneath the waist of your pants, find your clit, and play with it. I’d rub it until you cried out. And I’m talking about the kind of cry that bounces off the walls and hurts the ears. And when I heard that sound, I’d push my finger so deep inside of you. I’d pull out and—”

“Oh, God! Stop!” My pussy throbs.

“Then, I’d thrust back inside,” he says, continuing with the torturous tease. “I slide two fingers into that hot wet slit. With each push, I’d thrust harder, deeper, inside of you. I’d get you good and ready for my cock.”

“Fallon,” I pant. “Dammit! Touch me,” I quiver from trembling lips.

He leans in close. “I can’t.” He reaches up, takes my hand, and pulls it down, guiding it under my pants. “But you can do it for me.” My heart’s pounding. With his palm over my hand, together we reach my wetness. “Yes. Ah, there it is.” His middle finger touches the top of mine, and he presses down. “That’s it, isn’t it,” he growls. My hips lift, and his finger pushes down harder.  “Right. Here.”

Hot damn! I’m touching my clit, but he’s forcing me to do it. And the thought overturns the feel. It’s hot. Sexy. Naughty. And I don’t want it to stop. “Fallon, I need you—”

“No, you don’t need me.” His fingers squeeze around mine. He pulls us from my pants and places my hand on his hard cock. “You need this?”

“No. I want this,” I grip the thickness of him over his jeans and my pussy clenches. “But I need you.”

“Sorry, stowaway,” his forehead wrinkles, “but I can’t give you either.”

I gaze up at him. I get it. Like me, he refuses to surrender to us, too. “Then break your promise. Touch me.”

A small smile kisses the corner of his mouth. “And now what would you think of me if I did that?”

“For some reason, I don’t think that you care what people think of you.”

“You’re right about that,” his hand slips beneath my pants, and a finger thrusts deep inside of me, “and, I did say that I was going to take care of you.” He withdraws then two thick, strong fingers enter me hard. “So, I’m gonna fuck you hard with my fingers until you scream, until you come all over them.”

With each plunge, I imagine the cock I held under my palm with his powerful body behind it as he drives his fingers in and out of me, and I’m done. Along with the walls, my chest shakes as I scream out his name.

“That’s it, baby, I hear you.” He thrusts deeper. “I fucking feel you. I’m right here with you. Fuck, stowaway…”

Chapter Eleven