Chapter 22
Stacey felt bold as the darkness surrounded her, cloaked her, as she crept up Rob’s body to settle between his legs.
He lay there at her mercy, a beautiful, sculpted piece of humanity, hers to explore, hers to kiss, lick, touch, and possess.
Even if it was just for this moment, she intended to enjoy every last inch of him.
It had been so hard to lose the sight of him. When he’d killed the lights, she’d had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking that he turn them back on. She wanted to see him—and who wouldn’t? He was incredible. Sculpted, toned, he was everything that a guy who owned a gym should be. But that was the problem. He was everything Stacey wasn’t.
But she refused to think about that anymore for the moment. He was here at her mercy, and she wanted to touch what she’d seen before the lights went out.
Leaning down, she kissed him, only catching the corner of his mouth in the darkness. He smiled into her kiss, and she adjusted her aim.
He opened his mouth when her tongue traced the seam of his lips, and she delved inside. He tasted so good. She deepened the kiss, leaning down and pressing her breasts against his chest. The slight tickle of his hair excited her nipples, hardening their tips. The room was a little cool, and that made the heat of his body even more tantalizing.
As she kissed him, she braced her weight on one hand and let the other run over his shoulder, feeling the play of smooth muscles beneath the skin. He was so strong. He’d lifted her so easily the other night, and she couldn’t pretend that the sensation wasn’t wonderful. He was tall enough to make her feel small, strong enough to make her feel slight, and wonderful enough to make her feel desirable.
What kind of magic was he made of?
She broke the kiss, only to begin her sensuous survey of his body. Starting at his shoulders, she pressed a line of kisses across each of them.
“That’s nice,” he said, and she smiled against his skin.
“You’re nice.” She pressed her lips to the center of his chest, his light sprinkling of hair tickling her nose. She breathed him in. God, he smelled so good.
Her hands played downward, over the abdominals that he helpfully tensed for her, allowing her to bump her fingertips across them. She sank back onto her heels, allowing her hands to wander down over his hips and onto his strong, tensed thighs.
His breathing was harder, more ragged in the darkness. It was nice to hear that he wasn’t unaffected by this. Her own body was wound tight, tensed, throbbing, and ready for him.
Maybe it was time to take matters into her own hands.
Her mind made up, she rose onto her knees and pressed her lips to his toned, ridged belly.
“Stacey,” Rob said on a deep growl as her lips dragged downward, toward the velvet heat of his cock.
“It’s only fair,” she whispered, letting her breath blow by the weeping tip of him. His hips lifted toward her, and she felt a surge of satisfaction at the involuntary movement.
Now he knew how she felt.
Starting at the base of him, she cupped his sac with one hand while kissing the thick base of his cock. The soft sounds of fabric rustling beside her indicated he was fisting his hands in the sheets. Good. Bolder now, she licked up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. He was all velvet-covered steel, and as she sucked the broad head of him into her mouth, his hungry gasp made her jump.
“Damn,” he bit out a soft curse as she took him deeper, all the way to the back of her throat. Mouth working, she swept her tongue across the broad, smooth head on the upstroke.
Deep and shallow by turns, she sucked him, her hair falling around them. He threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape, gently tugging as she quickened her rhythm. He tasted good, sweet and earthy, and so very male.
“I’m not going to last much longer,” he groaned as she gagged slightly on a particularly deep draw.
Feeling like a sex goddess, she lifted her head. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed something. A soft rip sounded, the bed bouncing slightly as he rolled the condom on. When he stilled, Stacey straddled his hips.
“Are you ready?” Rob asked as she positioned herself over him. “God, Stacey.”
She was already sinking down onto his hard cock. She closed her eyes as the delicious, hot, stretching sensation slipped through her. For a moment she stayed still, letting her body adjust to his girth. His hands gripped her hips, and he trembled beneath her, as if stopping himself from thrusting up into her.
Her hands slipped down her body to rest atop his hands, and staring down into the darkness, she began to move.
Rob did not lie still. He lifted her and snaked his hips against her, the twisting and grinding hitting her clit at just the right angle. Gripping his wrists, she rode him, tilting her head back. Her hair fell around them, tickling her back as she gasped.
Harder and deeper, quicker and quicker, her movements became frantic. Rob moved against her, steadying her, hips churning beneath her as skin met skin. Her belly clenched, muscles quivering, as she strained for that peak.
“I can’t, Stacey, I need more.”
With that hastily worded and less-than-clear statement, Rob lifted her off him and laid her down on the bed. She blinked into the darkness, and his form was suddenly silhouetted above her.
And then he was everywhere.
His mouth, hands, body—there was nowhere he wasn’t touching her. He kissed her breasts, her nipples, her hips, her belly, his fingers rubbing down her arms, beneath her to cup her ass, over her thighs, parting them. The blunt head of his cock slipped inside her with barely a half a second’s warning.
“Ah,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Oh God.”
He was so much deeper than before, nudging against her heart, it seemed. She clutched at his arms, relishing the way his muscles stood out as he braced his upper body above her. He lowered himself, clutching her close, and began a quick, steady rhythm, continued from their earlier dance.
“Rob,” she gasped, when his mouth tore from hers and the thrusts came quicker, harder. “Oh God, please.”
He lifted up then, just enough to reach down between them and find her clit. Biting against the scream that started to build in her throat, Stacey arched into him. Deeper, and harder, his hand and cock falling one after the other in a quick dance of sensuous insanity. She couldn’t fight it any longer.
In the dark, she held him as she shattered into a million pieces. Clinging to him as her orgasm rocked her, she barely registered his groan, and the heat that built inside her as he came. Her eyes were open, but it didn’t matter. The darkness surrounded them, covered her, gave her the courage she needed to relax into this moment with him.
As the flames quieted, and Stacey finally came back to herself, she realized exactly what was going on.
She had fallen for Rob.
Not that it was much of a surprise. She’d done a shitty job of holding him at arm’s length. And who could blame her, really? He’d taken care of her, made her feel beautiful, and given her some of the best orgasms she’d ever had. What woman could resist him?
She buried her face in his chest. Certainly not her.
The sense of comfort, of completion, that blanketed him was incredible. He pulled Stacey closer, rolling to his side so his weight wasn’t crushing her.
This woman had crawled into his heart, and he couldn’t have dislodged her if he’d wanted to. He didn’t want to.
What he wanted was to sleep with her by his side for an hour or two, then lead her into the bathroom and shower with her. Soap up every inch of her, watch as the rivulets of foam outlined her every curve, and then bend her over the edge of his tub and go for round two. He could lean forward, cup her beautiful breasts as he entered her from behind . . .
Christ, he was getting hard again.
She shifted, rolling onto her side, and he spooned her with his chin atop her head, her sweet ass pressed back against him. Her body fit him so wonderfully, soft where he was hard, sweet and giving and just so—Stacey.
Suddenly the sleepiness left him, and he smiled. He was about to open his mouth and suggest they head to the bathroom for that shower, when the realization hit him.
The lights.
Stacey wouldn’t agree to the shower, because she was too embarrassed to let him see her.
Some of his joy dimmed, and he closed his eyes.
How was he going to help her fix this? He cared about Stacey, was caring more for her every day, but how could he consider being with someone who wouldn’t even let him see her in her underwear?
They’d had sex several times now, but the only reason he’d ever even seen her breasts was because he’d walked in on her changing.
His heart, so recently glowing and happy, turned cooler inside his chest. Damn it. Things had been going so well, and now reality was pissing all over his parade.
Pressing a brief kiss to her bare shoulder, Rob slipped from the bed. He needed to take some time, think this through. No, he hadn’t made plans for the future where Stacey was concerned. How could he? There was so much competing for his attention right now. The gym; his family; hell, even his accountant had been hounding him for some late paperwork for two weeks now. But with every minute he spent with her, it was getting harder and harder to imagine a life without her.
“Rob? Where you going?” Her voice was sleepy, and the bed creaked as if she’d lifted her head to look toward him.
“Just grabbing a shower,” he said, his hand on the knob of the bathroom door. For a moment, he considered, then threw caution to the wind. “Want to join me?”
Silence fell, an awkward, ugly thing. Seconds ticked away. Eventually, the answer he’d been expecting came.
“I’ll grab one later.”
Pursing his lips together, Rob nodded. The bathroom door shut behind him.
With his palm on the door that separated them, Rob closed his eyes.
He’d made a promise to help her with her self-image. It went much deeper than helping her get healthy, and he’d realized that pretty early on in their association. But that was before. Before he’d fallen in love with her.
With a heavy breath, he pushed off the door and flipped on the light switch. He tossed the condom in the garbage can and flipped the water in the shower on.
Bracing himself on the counter, he looked into the mirror. Facing himself critically, he listed his flaws.
His abs could use some more definition. He needed a shave. There was a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his left pec from where he’d fallen out of a tree when he was ten, and his arms weren’t where they should be, either. There was more. If he stayed there, he could find any number of things to be unhappy about. But what did Stacey see when she looked at him? Could she not see any of the things that were wrong with him? Did she think they were so mismatched?
Or maybe she just didn’t want this to go anywhere.
Rob adjusted the temperature and stepped into the shower. Steam clouded the glass walls, and he soaped up quickly, methodically. Putting the whole Stacey situation out of his mind was difficult, but necessary. He needed to work on other things. Calling his mom to check on his dad was high on the list, as well as contacting the clients he’d missed appointments with over the past week. Scheduling makeup sessions with the ones who’d opted to wait instead of work with his fill-in. Doing payroll, which was coming up over the next few days. Reviewing the list that Silvio had made for restocking the smoothie bar. Tasks on top of tasks on top of tasks. He didn’t have time to try to figure out what to do about Stacey right now.
But she never left his mind. Not while he rinsed his hair, not while he dried off, not while he shaved. Not even when he pulled on clean briefs and loose-fitting track pants. And then, when he’d run out of things to do in the bathroom, and he had to go out and face her, he was met with darkness and the soft, even sound of her breathing.
She was asleep.
He wanted to go over to her, place his hand on her hair, bend down, and kiss her awake. Pull her into his arms, and show her exactly how beautiful he found each and every part of her.
What he did was walk softly to the door and open it quietly so he didn’t disturb her. A shaft of light fell onto the bed, illuminating her face for a moment. A furrow appeared between her brows, but she didn’t stir. Her strawberry-colored hair was spread out around her, a cloud he’d love to feel falling over him once again.
With a shake of his head, he let the door close behind him.
It was up to her. He couldn’t force her to love herself. He couldn’t force her to love him. He couldn’t beg her to give them a chance. It was all up to her.
Padding barefoot down the hall, he retrieved his cell phone from the pocket of his coat. Patting Custard on the head, he sank down onto the couch beside the dog and dialed his mom.
He wished he could unload all of his problems on someone—on anyone—but he was the fixer. He was in charge of keeping everyone healthy, happy, and thriving. So, for now, he’d do his job. He’d fix his own problems later. If they were fixable.