Page 215 of Bend
“I don’t know what to do with you.” He finishes the statement with a brush over my lips, his hands lifting my face until it is turned up to him, our eyes meeting for the first moment since I lost all sense.
Damn, I could look in this man’s eyes all day. Could get lost in them, move for them, lie, steal, die for them. I stare in his eyes and fully accept that I am a woman. Vulnerable, emotional, delicate, easily overcome. I don’t know this man. Have shared less than a hundred sentences with him. Have just given him a piece of my virtue in the form of a finger fuck on a dirty Bahamian street in the dead of night.
I stare in his eyes and say nothing. Memorize the dark depths of them. The thick fringe of lashes that I’d accuse of being mascara enhanced had he not radiated masculinity from every pore on his body.
“I don’t need to ask if you do this often. Your body betrays you of the impossibility of that fact.” He speaks tightly, his hands keeping my face up, my eyes arrested by him, not that I have any plans of looking away in this lifetime. “I don’t. I can’t. This … is not normal.” His eyes drop to my lips and he bends, takes a long draw of my mouth, as if it is the last time we will ever kiss. He groans, and my shoulders are suddenly pushed back against stucco. “Fuck,” he swears. “God, I need you underneath me.” He releases me, steps away, rubs his mouth as he turns, half in the light, the shadows protecting me from the meat of his stare.
“So take me.” The voice coming out of my chest is not my own. It is of a confident woman who admits what she wants, takes what she needs.
He drops his hand, stares at me. “You don’t mean that. You’d regret it in the morning. And I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Meaning?” I stay against the wall. He can come to me if he wants something. I don’t know if, at this point in time, my legs have the capacity to move anyway.
He does come. Is in front of me in three strides, his hands on either side of my head, flat against the wall, his eyes intense, inches from mine. I smell the faint scent of whiskey on his breath. I notice the angle of his body, his hips too far away when all I want is them pressed against me. Is he still hard? ’Cause I am still wet. Desperately so. “Meaning,” he growls, “that if I have you, you will be mine. You will not return to life as you know it. You will not flirt with men around the water cooler at work. You will bend for me, spread for me, allow me to have every inch of your surface, all while screaming my name and shuddering into my heart. That is what I mean.”
Holy shit. I try to breathe normally. Try to stop my pulse from jumping through my skin. Try to speak in a way that doesn’t cause my voice to shake. “We don’t have water coolers.”
He smiles, and the change pulls me off of whatever ledge I am gripping onto. Oh my word. White, perfect teeth. A goddamn mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I can’t figure out if I like his intense side or smiling side more, but I try and hold on to this look for as long as I can. “And the rest?”
“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make without having your cock first.”
He tilts his head. “Worried I will disappoint?”
Hell to the no. “Girl’s gotta be safe.” I release my own smile, one with much less potency, but the best card I have in this the situation.
His face darkens, the grin disappearing as intensity steals back over. “I’m not joking, Riley. About having you.”
I watch his eyes, the shudder in them as they look from my lips to my eyes to the door. All minute twitches of his pupils, his head unmoving, his entire body so still it may be made of steel. Controlled intensity. I don’t doubt his words. I also know that there is no way I can anything say but yes to this man. My body won’t allow any other response. “Then take me.”
Confirmation in the set of his face, the fire that comes to his eyes, the forward press of his pelvis as he gathers me back, pulling me tightly, his mouth coming back down to claim me. Yes, he is still hard. I smile against his mouth.
Chapter 5
The driver’s name is Leo. White Escalade with custom rims, tinted windows. I step into the backseat, Brett’s head following me inside, his long legs cramped in the backseat. I clutch my purse, smile at Leo as he shuts the door. I had parted with the girls, their protective nature insisting on a face to face with Brett before letting me disappear into the night. Jena had taken it one step further, getting his business card and verifying his cell. He smiled through it all, relaxed and at ease, the intensity of our alley romp gone as he shook hands, oh my god, those fingers were in me, remembered names, and stole all of their hearts.
The SUV moves, rocking over cobblestone steps that pirates once roamed, the movement of the car tossing me slightly. Brett’s hand finds me in the darkness.
“Sorry about the interrogation in there.”
“I’m not. They’re watching out for you. It’s the smart thing to do.”
I bite the edge of my smile. “You say that. Jena Crawford has your number. You might regret that in the wee hours of the morning. I think her second major was drunk dialing.”
He brings my hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “I can handle it.”
I glance to the front. To the Bahamian man less than five feet away. “What you said in the alley, about what this will mean …”
“Yes.”
I shrug. “I just want you
to know that I’m a big girl. I’m not gonna attach anything to this. If it doesn’t turn out to be anything.”
He looks out the window. Tugs at the front of his dress pants, adjusting himself, he says, “I may have spoken out of turn. I’m not used to this.”
I lower my voice. “We can have sex. Without it meaning anything.”
“I’m not seventeen, Riley. I’m familiar with the concept.”
