Page 30 of He Has Pluck

JASON

The way her mouth opens and her eyes glaze over, the way her pussy clenches so tight around my cock, sends me into a thrusting fury as I hold onto her, gritting out a groan of release. The throbbing spasms wave through me and into her, and I know I’ve never felt anything like this before, never this sweet heat gathering around my cock. I pull her to me and hold on, unable to talk, hardly able to breathe, my heart thumping wildly.

“Oh my God,” she whispers in my ear as my breathing settles back to normal. I keep my arms around her even knowing I need to leave soon.

I kiss her temple, feel the dampness of the wisps of hair plastered there, my thoughts jumbled, unable to say anything. Right now, all I’m capable of is feeling, savoring the pure sensual heaven of this moment.

After a few minutes, our heart beats synchronized and back to normal, she stirs and slides off me. I heave a breath, knowing it’s time to go before she asks me to.

I sit up and kiss her lips, a thorough, hard kiss meant to leave an impression. Then I swing my legs to the floor and stand.

“Time for me to leave,” I whisper, my voice sounding strange, rusty.

“Don’t go.” She reaches out a hand and grabs my wrist.

Her words shock me, but the look on her face destroys me, and I sink back into the tangle of sheets and her.

“We,” she licks her lips, “need to talk.”

“I’ve heard those words somewhere before,” I say, my voice low. Dread has no place showing up, but it does, instinctively, like the ancient response to an existential threat. But I’m the one who should be threatening, talking, telling her this was nice, but this is the whole show, and now it’s over. The words drift through my head, but I make no move to latch onto them and speak up.

She sits up next to me on the bed. We’re naked, side-by-side, and my automatic reflex is to touch her, to put a hand on her thigh and caress the soft skin, to breathe in her scent, the scent of our sex mingling irretrievably with my sweat and hers, creating a mix that smells like finding home after a long grueling search, finding the place that I wasn’t looking for. I turn to her, and my arm wraps around her shoulder.

“Say what you have to say.” My heart pounds waiting for her, but she stays silent and leans in.

“I don’t know what I…” Her hands go to her face, covering it. Shit.

“What is it?” I ignore the note of panic in my voice, but the panic in my gut is harder to refuse acknowledgement as I peel her hands away from her face and tilt her chin up to look at me.

Those remarkable soul-deep eyes that I could die for, stare back, bleak and defeated.

“It’s not all that bad, is it?” I ask.

She nods. “’Fraid so. I wanted to throw you out of here only…I can’t.”

“Why not?” My pulse pounds in my ears so loud I’m afraid I won’t hear her answer, but I do.

“Because I…have feelings for you. You, of all people. But I can’t deny it. I don’t want you to leave tonight, and that’s never happened before.”

Fuck. Fucking fuck. My heart stutters with the shock to my system, but my dick perks up like this is great. My mind is paralyzed, but raw instincts surface like ancient trees rising up strong and implacable, taking control.

Holding her in my arms, I stroke her face, wanting to make everything all right for her, to comfort her. She’s as vulnerable as a newborn fawn trying to walk for the first time, and I want to give her more than a fucking orgasm.

And that’s something I have no business wanting. What the hell kind of gut reaction is that? Then her words register. She’s never wanted to spend the night with a man?

“Never?” That can’t be true. But then again, I remind myself of her ice chip persona and although it seems far away from who she is now, I know better. She’ll turn back into an ice chip over night as she cools off, and when I see her tomorrow, she’ll be back to cutting me off at the balls any time I give her a chance. She’ll be that woman who doesn’t need anyone, who wants to film pirates and kill members of the fucking Columbian drug cartel. When I googled her and found out about the shooting incident, it scared the shit out of me, and at the same time it fucking excited me.

Now, my gut clenches, thinking of the danger and the trauma and knowing she was strong enough to get through it strikes a spark of something too strong to be labeled lust, except it must be a new level of lust I’ve never felt before.

“No. I make it a point.” She shrugs. “It’s how I’ve always lived. I enjoy men, but I’ve never thought for a minute of having more than a fling, never been tempted, never wanted to spend the night, never had any kind of connection or desire for one, never…until now. Right this second, I swear I feel something not quite right between us. Not what…” She pushes me away and then collapses against me. “Not what I expected. Not what I planned. I can’t want… “

“Want what?”

“You.”

“Sure you can. You just had me.” I brace myself. “You can have more of me.” Not sure of what she wants more of, not sure what I’m offering.

“More sex?”