One to Hold (8 page)

I lay on my stomach, Derek propped behind me, watching me, his pace slowing. We were both breathing so hard, I could feel his warm breath against my back. As much as I hated losing our connection, I slipped off him and turned, resting my cheek on his chest and wrapping my arms around his waist. His strong arms went around me, holding me securely several long moments as my body calmed. Inhaling him deeply, I placed a small kiss against his skin.

“Did you finish?” I whispered.

He chuckled. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, it might’ve shot out your ears I came so hard.”

My nose wrinkled, but I had to laugh. “That’s a lovely image.”

“You drive me crazy.” His hands went to my shoulders, and he eased up to look into my eyes. “I don’t know what to do with you. With this.”

I blinked down, not wanting to start this conversation with him. He wouldn’t like the way it ended. I didn’t like the way it ended in my mind.

“You seem to have a pretty good idea what to do with me,” I tried deflecting.

I pulled away from his gaze, resting my cheek against his chest once more. His fingers traced lines down my back, and I closed my eyes, loving this moment, wanting to permanently brand it on my memory so I’d never forget it. Never forget him.

“That night you didn’t meet me, I was pretty frustrated,” he said. “All day I’d caught your scent on my hair, my beard… then I showered before going to the bar, and you were gone.”

I chewed my lip thinking how I’d done the same—lifted my dark curls to smell his warm woodsy scent that was now all around me, filling my bed.

“I was desperate to see you one more time just to get that luscious scent on me again,” he finished.

I lifted my head, teasing. “Are you saying you haven’t showered in two days?”

He caught my cheeks and pulled my lips to his, covering my mouth in a gentle kiss. My lips parted and the tips of our tongues touched lightly, setting off a little spark below my waist.

“I’m just giving you a peek at what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice low.

I slid down, resting my cheek on his firm pectorals, tracing the lines with my fingers. We were quiet a moment, then I thought of us at the pool, our unfinished conversation. “You were going to tell me something memorable,” I said.

His hand returned to my back where he lightly touched my skin. “Yes,” he murmured, and my head rose with his inhale. “What do you want to know?”

Everything
, my stubborn mind answered. Instead, I said, “You were telling me about when you were a boy. Your favorite game. Start there.”

He was quiet, thoughtful. “My dad was in the military. A few times when I was pretty young, he was sent on missions where I knew he might not come back.”

He paused, but my interest was piqued. “How did you know?” I asked.

“I could tell by the way my mom cried when he left.” His hand continued stroking my back. “It scared me so bad I couldn’t sleep at night.”

In my mind, I pictured a kid-sized version of him, dark hair, blue eyes, lying alone in the dark. Afraid. It was an image I could relate to well, and instinctively, my arm went around his waist.

“What did you do?” I said.

His tone remained calm, comforting. “I made up a game. I thought about my favorite thing to do with my dad. And I decided as soon as he got back, we’d do that together.”

“What was it?”

He inhaled deeply. “Different things. Sometimes it was as simple as throwing a football together. But focusing on us doing it, having fun, smiling, helped me know I’d survive the pain of waiting.”

My eyes were damp. “It’s a very sophisticated approach for a little kid.”

I felt him shrug. “It didn’t solve the problem. It just gave it an end point.”

I thought about what he was saying, and I thought about my situation. “But what if it feels like the pain will never go away?”

His hand stilled on my back. “It will. Eventually. Sometimes you’re not even aware it’s gone and then something happens, something unexpected, and you realize it’s no longer there.”

I lifted off him, sliding my fingers under my lower lashes before propping my head on my hand. He wrapped a dark curl around his finger as his gaze traveled from my lips to my eyes. I wanted to know what he meant, if he had experience with pain like that, like mine, but we were venturing far too close to off-limits topics. Instead I changed directions.

“So you followed in your dad’s footsteps and joined the military,” I said, looking back at his beautiful blues. “You were so young. What was it like in Iraq?”

His lips tightened. “Lonely. Scary at times.”

“Did you use your game?”

A small smile touched his lips. “Sometimes.”

“Did it work?”

His eyes moved away from mine, and he didn’t answer. Then it struck me—he might have things he didn’t want to share as well.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We’re probably breaking the rules of a one-week stand.”

“Probably,” he said, but his tone was different. “I wouldn’t know.”

We’d gone too far, and it was my fault. I had wanted to ask questions. I wanted to know everything about him. But I’d forgotten I couldn’t. No matter how my heart craved knowing him, what we were doing couldn’t last beyond this week. When I left this place, I returned to everything I was pretending didn’t exist, and that was no place for him.

The thought pressed on my mind, threatening to spoil our private escape. So I lowered my hand and moved up to kiss him, to take us back to what we were able to share. My hands cupped his cheeks, and his fingers that had been tracing lines on my skin began massaging, moving lower. I rolled onto my back, tugging his shoulders as I did. He readily complied, rising above me, deepening our kiss.

My hands moved from his shoulders, down his arms, finding his hard stomach. His lips pressed mine apart as his tongue swept inside to curl around mine. My legs opened automatically, allowing him between them, and in a breath, he pushed inside me, hard and full. We hadn’t done much foreplay, and we’d only just come down from our last shattering climax. But it didn’t matter. I was already wet. The little we had shared deepened my desire for him, and the fullness of him pushing into me, combined with his mouth covering mine, moving to my jaw, lightly nibbling on my neck, sent heat shimmering down my legs. My insides bonded to him, melted into him, wrapped around him, holding him to me. But I couldn’t name what I was feeling.

Never in my life had I dreamed I would enjoy being with someone like him so much, and now I couldn’t imagine having anyone else in my bed. He was enormous over me—I was only five four, almost a whole foot shorter and just at 120 pounds—and I knew I’d never be satisfied with anything less again.

“You’re so quiet,” he whispered against my ear before kissing it, still rocking into me slowly.

I was holding him, loving the feel of his fullness sliding in and out of me. He kissed my neck again, and I wrapped my arms tighter over his shoulders. I never wanted to let him go.

“Mmm,” I breathed. “It’s even good slow.”

His hands moved to my buttocks and together we rolled over so that I was on top. But I stayed with my torso pressed against his, kissing his mouth, kissing a trail down his neck to his chest.

A low groan vibrated through his upper body, and I sped up my rocking. Instantly, the friction triggered my climb, and I increased the pace. I sat up fully then, bucking my hips against his pelvis as he watched me. My dark curls spilling all around me.

“Fuck, Mel,” he gasped. “You’re so hot. I’m fucking about to come again.”

He gripped my butt, easily lifting me up and down and he seemed to grow larger. I was moaning now as the pressure built in my legs, tightened through my lower abdomen.

“Fuck,” he murmured again, increasing the speed as he lifted me, slamming me back down against his hips. “I can’t hold it.”

I felt him shoot off and instantly my orgasm exploded through my legs. He was still lifting me up and down, and I collapsed forward, pulsing in his arms. He gently stopped lifting me and held me as we rolled back to him on top, still inside me.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, lifting up and fixing his blue eyes on mine. “I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t have a chance to prepare.”

For a moment, I didn’t want to move. The sensations humming under my skin were so strong, so sensual. My eyes slowly opened, and I studied his beautiful face, tracing a finger over his dark brow, thinking how fantastically our bodies worked together. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m still on the pill.”

The dark brows I’d just caressed drew together. “Sounds like I had a lucky slip.”

A tiny laugh slipped out with my exhale. He had no idea. “You could say that.”

“When I told you that first night I was clean, I was being honest,” he said, the powerful hands that were so strong to lift me—and probably anything else—gently traveled up my body, smoothing back my hair. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, and last time I checked, I was all clear.”

I nodded. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” I whispered. “But I’ve had a reason to keep up with things. You’re safe with me.”

He lowered his face to gently kiss me, and right then it was inescapable. The seemingly endless kiss he pressed, soft lips lingering against mine, tongue lightly touching my tongue, sealed it for me. He was everything I wanted. He
was
safe with me, I felt safe with him, and I wanted him to hold me forever so badly.

But in that simple acknowledgment, my heart sank in my chest. This blissful paradise we were sharing, our strange arrangement, was drowned by my dismal reality. I was not one he could hold.

Chapter 7 – What I’d Give You

Elaine and Patrick met us for dinner in the hotel restaurant. They were beaming like blissed-out honeymooners and seemed unable to stop touching each other in little ways, laughing easily and holding hands. I figured they’d spent the day doing at least a little of what Derek and I’d shared, and I wished I was free to look at him that way, to share my passion for him so overtly.

Everything in me was falling in love with Derek, but that didn’t change a single thing about my situation. About my unavailability. Add to that, he hadn’t said anything to indicate he wanted more than our original week. It felt like he might want more, every time we were together I was sure his feelings were growing as intensely as mine, but he hadn’t said anything to confirm it.

Following our last round this afternoon, I’d fallen asleep in his arms and vaguely remembered waking as he slid from my side, lightly kissing my head and whispering that he’d see me at dinner. I’d continued sleeping another hour before I’d risen to shower.

Tonight, I wore a short, black dress with thin spaghetti straps. A sterling silver cuff bracelet was on my wrist and large silver hoop earrings were the extent of my accessorizing. As always, Derek smiled, clearly pleased with my appearance. The three were already sharing a bottle of wine when I joined them, Derek stood to help me in my chair.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, his breath whispering over my shoulder, causing a shiver to tingle through me.

Neither Elaine nor Patrick even noticed, and I was pretty sure they were oblivious to the connection between their dinner mates. All they were focused on was the growing connection between the two of them.

Derek poured me a glass of wine, and I took it with a little nod of thanks. Patrick broke his nonstop gazing at my best friend to greet me.

“So it seems you had a fun day?” I said, teasing.

Elaine flushed. “You could say that.”

I tried for a neutral subject, something we could all discuss, and since Patrick had told us so much about their work last night, it seemed a safe option. “You never told me where you two are based, where your office is located,” I said.

Patrick smiled, sipping his wine. “Princeton.”

“New Jersey?” I asked, slightly stunned. Princeton was an easy two-hour drive from my office in Baltimore, as I knew well. The accompanying thoughts his words conjured made my stomach burn.

“Derek teaches a few classes at the university.”

“You do?” Elaine asked.

“We’re hardly there,” Derek added quickly, and for a moment, he almost seemed annoyed at Patrick’s answer.

“I had a client at Princeton once,” I said, not sure how those words managed to creep out. Elaine’s eyes cut to mine.

“Really?” Patrick said. “Who was it?”

“Sloan Reynolds.” Saying his name left a foul taste in my mouth, and I wished I’d never brought it up. I wanted off this train of thought. “I did some work for his family, actually.”

The conversation momentarily stalled as Patrick seemed to think. “Don’t know him,” he finally said. “Sorry.”

“It was several years ago.” I finished that topic, taking a sip of my wine to cleanse my palate.

Patrick looked down then held his wine glass aloft, turning back to Elaine. “To unexpected surprises.”

My friend beamed at that. “Isn’t it the truth?”