Page 34 of Vincent
"Nothing. Just go. Get the hell out of my house. I'll call you when I have an itch to scratch."
"No, damn you." Shoving off the bed, he felt his own anger spiking. "You've always demanded honesty between us. In the past you said that. Have things changed since we've been apart? Do you want lies? Is that it, Thea?" He marched over to stand in front of her, his naked body making her drool. He towered over her. She wasn't wearing heels, so she had to tip her head way back to meet his eyes, which were now smoldering with temper.
"No. I want clarity and respect. I want you to be honest with yourself."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Her nearness was making him crazy.
"I scare you. Or rather you're scared of what you're feeling. Admit it to yourself, Vincent, even if you can't admit it to me. In the meantime-"
She started to turn away when he snagged her arm and hauled her around.
"Don't walk away from me." His fingers bit into her flesh. "Don't you dare walk away from me. What the hell do you want from me?"
"I already told you. Please let go of me."
"You think I can?" he asked with a harsh laugh as he shook her. "I didn't ask for this. You came back into my life and I cannot-"
Letting go of her, he walked over to pour some more wine into the glass he had yet to finish. She watched as he finished it in one gulp and poured some more.
He went to sit back on the edge of the bed, his shoulders drooping.
"You want me to leave."
Althea felt the fight going out of her. She loved him and right now, he looked so dejected that it was breaking her heart. She was hurting, yes, but this was far worse for him. She had stirred up feelings inside him that he did not want to accept.
Biting off a sigh, she crossed to him and stood between his thighs. Taking the glass away, she put it on the table. His head lifted, eyes smoldering.
"You want me to leave? Want me to stay put until you want to see me again? How do you expect me to do that?"
Lifting her hands, she cupped his face. "How do you expect me to accept what you just said?" she asked softly. "I have my pride, Vincent. You want me to hide what we're doing as if it was something dirty."
His hands lifted to span her narrow waist. "You're so tiny," he mused. "Like I could just break you in half." He gazed at her. "I'm frightened," he admitted, and she knew what it took for him to say those words. "I've never been so frightened in my life."
She caressed his hair-roughened cheeks tenderly. "I know. I cannot imagine what you went through before, but I want to be here for you."
"I can't-" He broke off with a groan when she touched her lips to his. The breath backed up inside his throat as she melted against him. He was already hard, his heart beating rapidly. He drew her closer, fingers sliding over her hips and then her butt. He drew her closer still, bringing her into acute awareness of his rigid desire.
"Please don't make me leave." His mouth moved over hers with restless yearning. The taste of her was on his tongue and he felt as if he was being driven by an unseen force. "I want you. Feel how much." Taking her hand, he guided it to where he was throbbing for her. When her fingers closed around his swollen shaft, he felt the jolt straight to his heart.
"Let me make love to you."
"Yes," she whispered achingly. "Yes."
*****
She was curled up against him, head resting on his shoulder, and was fast asleep. But he was wide awake. She had droppedoff after the third time he made love to her. He hadn't wanted to stop. The yearning for her scared him spitless. He had feasted on her like a man who could not remember when he had his last meal.
And he was spending the night. This was a first for him too. After Lizzie and even before her, he had never made this sort of commitment to a woman he was seeing. He would take them to bed and then be on his way. With Lizzie it had been different.
Tipping his head down, he shifted slightly so he could gaze on her. She was naked, of course; they both were. Her breast was resting on his chest, the nipples puckered from his ardent attention. He had savored every inch of her body.
She had long lashes, he thought whimsically. She always hated her forehead, complaining that it was too pronounced. He recalled telling her teasingly that it was due to the enormous amount of knowledge she had stored inside her brain. She had not appreciated the statement.
They had been best friends in the past. He had visited her home, this very cottage where her parents had welcomed him with open arms. He had been the poor little rich boy who had felt lost in the sea of kids whose parents were either on the verge of divorcing or already separated. He and Althea had the distinction of being different.
Their parents had stayed together.
He had told her he wanted no one knowing that they were seeing each other. And he meant it. He was confused. The confusion was tumbling around inside him, and he had no idea what to do about it. About her.
