Steadily, methodically, he drove his fists into the bag, trying to beat the nightmare out of himself. Reducing emotion to muscle and blocking out the screams. The bag took it, and he lost himself in the rhythm of punishment.
“Rush?”
Her voice cut through the steady drumming. He froze in mid-swing, his chest heaving.
She was in the doorway, barefoot, drowning in one of his T-shirts. Her hair was mussed, her eyes wide and somehow sad as she saw him in a place he hadn’t wanted her to see.
“Go back to bed,” he rasped, turning back to the bag, praying she’d turn around.
But she crossed the room, slid her arms around his waist from behind, and laid her cheek between his shoulder blades.
Rush went rigid, breathing shallowly, cautiously, for a different reason now. “You should go back to bed.”
“No,” she murmured gently. “I want to be with you.”
He exhaled and dropped his head, squeezing his eyes closed. He was so goddamn tired of fighting.
She turned him toward her until she was facinghim. He let her.
“Lily, I can’t—” he choked out. “I’m not?—”
“Shh,” she said so gently. Her eyes were tender, too tender. He couldn’t look at them, not like this. He looked down instead—pink toenails, slender feet on the hardwood. Graceful like her.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
She stepped closer. He wanted to tell her to stop. To move away. Didn’t she know he didn’t deserve this? But he closed his eyes instead and buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.
“Come here,” she whispered. She ran her hands over his back, up and down, soothing him, calming him. “Let me make you feel good. You deserve to feel good.”
He let her lead him over to the weight bench across from a dresser and mirror.
“Sit here,” she said. “Please,” she added, with a hint of shyness in her voice for the first time that night. “I want to take care of you now.”
When he was close enough, she pressed lightly at his chest until he dropped back onto the seat, legs spread. He wasn’t hard yet—he was still strung tight, knuckles throbbing, adrenaline racing in his blood—but watching her, hearing her, something hot and electric stirred. His cock thickened, heavy on his thigh, coming alive under the heat of her eyes. He clenched his jaw and waited to see what she’d do next, already fighting the urge to take control.
In all their sexual encounters, he’d led. He’d always enjoyed taking control in bed, even before he’d needed it—before it became the only way he knew how to quiet his head. Control meant focus. Direction. Something to hold on to when everything else spun out.
But now, watching Lily stand over him with that intriguing mix of nerves and determination in her eyes, something inside him shifted. The fight bled out of him, leaving only her—soft and steady inthe dim light.
Then she did something that broke him open.
She stepped between his knees, close enough that her scent surrounded him, and drew him closer until his forehead dropped against her chest. His cheek brushed the curve of her breast, the warmth of her skin seeping into him as her heartbeat thudded steadily under his ear. She held him there, one hand cradling his head, the other tracing over his back in slow, soothing circles.
He sank into her without meaning to, breathing her in, letting her heartbeat sync with his until he stopped shaking. The panic loosened its grip, replaced by something that pulsed slower, hotter.Her.
When she finally stepped back, his hands slid to her hips, not ready to let go.
She reached for the hem of the T-shirt and lifted it slowly, deliberately dragging the material up over her thighs, her hips, and then her head. She tossed it aside and stood proudly in front of him, letting him look his fill. The one table lamp turned on in the corner illuminated her lush body, turning it into a work of art.
Rush’s throat went dry. He loved the way she was built—soft curves over sleek strength, graceful lines and full hips that begged for his hands. His Lily—grace wrapped in fire. Gentle and unflinching, and so damn brave it made his chest ache.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked, her voice husky.
She cupped her breasts. The full teardrop shape framed by her delicate hands made his breath come faster. For a second, he thought she meant to hide herself, his shy, sweet Lily. But then she pinched her nipples, tugging and rolling them between her fingers, getting them ready for his mouth. She tilted her head back in a blend of innocence and daring he wanted to drink in.
He’d been with enough women to know a performance, but Lily wasn’t putting on a show for him. He sensed she wasfinding her footing, testing the edges of her desire and what she could do. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.
He leaned back, more comfortable with this game now that he knew the rules.
