I’m on the brink of explosion when, with his hand still over my lips, Alec dips his head and pulls my nipple into his mouth. Sensation shoots through me and lands where he’s buried within me. And then I feel his teeth. He bites me lightly and grinds his hips into mine, pushing me right over the edge. A scream is lodged in my chest when I hear Alec whisper, “That’s right, baby. Let go and come for me.”
And I do.
Fireworks detonate behind my eyelids to rain fire through my body. I open my mouth to cry out, but Alec’s hand smothers the sound. Without thinking, I bite down on his finger. I hear his own gasp and he stiffens. I feel him throb inside me as hot fluid pours from him into me, making my body contract more forcefully around him. He likes that.
His last two thrusts are long, slow, and hard, hard enough to make me feel like he’s driving me into the floor. My body milks his until neither of us has anything left to give.
I turn my head enough to escape Alec’s hand, gasping for air as the world settles softly down around us like a cocoon of perfect tranquility. There are no other sounds, no other people. Just bliss. And Alec. And me.
I barely hear his low voice when he speaks, but I feel the movement of his lips against my neck where his face is nuzzled. “We’ve got a thing for balconies.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. My heart is overflowing.
“Yes, we do.”
After a few more seconds, Alec lifts his head and looks into my eyes. With one hand, he reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Gone is the anger, replaced now with a quiet concern. “All good?”
I’m sure my smile reflects the brightness I feel in my soul. “All good.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Alec
I’m getting ready to move Samantha’s arm and climb out of bed when she finally speaks. I thought she was asleep. That’s the only reason I’m still here. I always wait for her to go to sleep before I leave the room.
“What happened to you, Alec?”
Her question catches me off guard. Since Alyssa, I haven’t let anyone close enough to think that my past is anything less than perfect.
Until Samantha.
Or maybe it just takes one twisted person to recognize another.
I think I’m more comfortable with that explanation.
Regardless, I have no intention of answering her. I don’t talk about Alyssa.
Ever.
“Go to sleep,” I whisper, stroking her hair.
She’s quiet for a while, but she’s not fooling me. I can tell by her breathing that she’s very much awake.
“Why won’t you tell me? I’ve told you everything you wanted to know, answered every question you’ve asked and—”
“But this isn’t about me, is it?” I ask coolly, disentangling myself from her and sliding off the edge of the bed.
“So that’s it?” she asks, sitting up in bed, the sheet falling away from the skyward-pointing tips of her br**sts. “I’m in this all alone? You’re just here for the therapy. Is that it?”
I turn toward her, meeting her gaze, knowing she won’t like what she sees. “I’ve told you from the beginning. I’ve been honest. I’ve warned you not to get attached.”
Her expression is a combination of hurt and indignation. “Oh and it’s just that easy, right? Just don’t get attached. Let someone in, pour your heart out to them, trust them, give them your body and soul, but don’t get attached. Oh, okay,” she snaps, flinging back the covers. “I get it.”
She starts jerking on clothes, so I make my way down to the living room for a drink. I’m sitting on the couch listening to the hiss of the gas logs in the fireplace when Samantha hits the bottom step.
I see anger in every line of her body—squared shoulders, straight spine, clenched fists—and, if she were anyone else, I’d use that anger. I’d use it to slake my own passions. I’d engage her in a battle of wills. And I’d win. I’d bend her until she broke. Just like I like it.
But not with Samantha. I promised I’d help her, not pull her into my world. Even though I feel sure I could make her like it once she got over her fear.
I grind my teeth, fighting the hard-on that’s rising up at the thought of breaking her.
It would be so sweet, so deliciously sweet…
I push the thought from my head and concentrate on the moment. And how that can’t happen.
“Your car isn’t here,” I state matter-of-factly.
I hear her huff, knowing that her grand exit has just been ruined. Having to ask for a ride is hardly dramatic.
“God, you really just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
But I do. She thinks I can’t help being cold and emotionless, being an ass**le. Maybe she’s right.
She makes a half growl, half scream of frustration and turns to head to the garage. “Take me home,” she demands as she passes me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter sarcastically, setting my glass on the table and shutting off the logs.
The drive is uncomfortable to say the least. Well for her anyway. I’m just ready for some rest. I’m working on a headache and it’s doing nothing to improve my mood.
“You know, of all the things I suspected you might be, a coward wasn’t one of them.”
I exhale and tighten my grip on my temper. I don’t respond to her.
“You’re all commanding and in control. You make demands of other people, but it’s all just an attempt to hide the fact that you’re afraid. Whatever else can be said about me, at least I finally took the risk. I had the balls to actually trust someone with my secrets. I guess it’s just unfortunate that the person I trusted them with is nothing more than a child in a man’s clothing. I’d hide, too, if I was nothing but a scared, little—”
“Enough!” I shout, my voice sounding harsh in the quiet of the cabin.
“What’s the matter, Alec? Dr. Buraquinho? Did I hit a nerve? Has no one ever called you on your bullshit before? Were you a bed-wetter? Were you the smelly kid in class?”
I know she’s hurt and angry, and I know she’s just lashing out, but for some reason I find her attack infuriating. I’ve treated her well, been considerate of her fears and her past, and to have her say these things is…is… Damn, it’s maddening!