Turbulent Waters

With each step he took closer to her, she felt her heart race a bit faster, her skin tremble a little more. The hungry look in his eyes was making her core tight and hot, and she wasn’t sure what to think about it. She wanted him, that was definite. But she also knew she shouldn’t be having those feelings.

Chloe knew beyond a doubt that she would regret sleeping with the man―regret it deep in her soul. It would be a betrayal to her family―to herself. She had to get control over this situation and get the hell away from him fast. Even with this knowledge, she wasn’t trying to run fast enough. He was taking two steps forward with every one of her retreating moves. She didn’t think she wanted to be captured, but that’s what it seemed like.

Nick’s eyes never leaving hers, he lifted his fingers, his movements slow and deliberate. He undid the top button of his shirt, then the next . . . and the next. She was mesmerized by the widening view of skin he was showing. She trembled as she continued moving backward while he advanced, his shirt slowly coming open.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaky. Her tongue came out and moistened her dry lips, her legs stopped wanting to work.

“I’ve had a really bad day, and I’m getting more comfortable,” he said as the last of his buttons came undone and he moved to his cuffs, undoing those before he shrugged out of the shirt and dropped it, the light material floating to the floor.

She watched the movement, completely mesmerized. Then her eyes shot back upward, landed on his solid chest, and refused to budge from that delicious sight. She’d seen him several times without his shirt, and she’d seen fire burn in his eyes before, but not like this. There was hunger in the air. Nick was taking aim, and she was his target. She knew if she refused him, of course, he’d let her go. She just wasn’t sure she had the willpower anymore to do what she should.

Chloe continued moving backward, the gap between them only a couple of feet now. She hadn’t even realized she’d been moving down the hallway until she found herself at her bedroom door. The thought of the large bed on the other side of the solid wood sent a rush of wetness to her panties.

Her fingers shook as she lifted her hand to the knob and turned it, the door squeaking open. But she just stood there, gazing at the man following her.

“I’m sorry you’ve had a bad day,” she whispered, her voice deep and husky. Her eyes caught the flex of every muscle as he approached. She was surprised she didn’t sink down to the ground in utter submission. “I’m going to turn in now.”

She stepped into the room and pressed her hand against the door. A very small piece of her knew she should thrust it closed, but she’d barely pushed it a few inches before he stepped forward, stopping her from shutting him out. One word, or maybe a few, and she knew he would go away. Why couldn’t she say the words?

“I want to keep talking,” he told her as his eyes raked over her, making her visibly quiver.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” she said. He was too close to her, and she gave up on shutting the door, deciding pulling back farther was the safer method. It seemed the best option. “I’m exhausted and I should sleep.” The words were a lie. Sleep would be impossible given how she was currently feeling.

He called her on it.

“You aren’t tired, Chloe―you aren’t tired at all. You’re aching, and you’re fighting it. You want me as badly as I want you, but you’re afraid to admit it. Let’s help each other tonight―no games, no lies, no threats. We want each other, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Just admit how much you want me,” he demanded.

He was so close she could feel heat radiating off his body. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she knew if she did, it would be all over. She wanted to lie down on her bed and let him take her to the sweetest recesses of heaven.

She didn’t feel ready for that―and really not ready with this particular man. It was a mistake, her mind was shouting at her, but her body knew exactly what it wanted.

He closed the gap between them, and slowly, achingly, his arms reached out. His hands slipped over her hips and cupped her behind her back as he pulled her forward. He didn’t move quickly, giving her plenty of time to protest. The words wouldn’t exit her mouth. She was afraid if she spoke, it would be to beg him to kiss her, love her, take the ache away.

He leaned down and pressed light kisses to the corner of her mouth, and her body trembled, but then he pulled back, his eyes burning, his arms shaking with the restraint he was using. It only made her want him that much more. She wanted to lean forward and take his mouth, but she wasn’t sure quite how to do it.

Her reservations were quickly disappearing. She was trying to tell herself it was just sex―only sex. But when was sex just sex? For other people it might be that way, but not for her. She equated sex with love―with intimacy. She couldn’t do it with the enemy. But even telling herself this, she wasn’t pulling away. They were in a standoff, her bed only two feet away, his body hard and unyielding.

“Do you still want to talk, Chloe?” he asked as he licked her bottom lip. She opened to him, but he didn’t dive inside her mouth. “Or do you want something else?”

It was a taunt, and she knew it. It was a challenge. He could walk away from her, she was sure of it. Was that what she wanted him to do? The thought of him seeking satisfaction with another woman after she’d been the one to bring him to this state of arousal made her stomach sick.