Burn for You (18 page)

“Trust me, nothing could ruin my
mood
at this point. I’m so hard, we could hang a flag from my pole. It’s not going anywhere soon. So, spit it out. What did you mean when you said don’t worry about that?”

“Nothing. I mean…I like sex…It’s good. But I don’t usually…” She looked away from him, her gaze stuck on the ceiling. Embarrassed tears pushed at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them show. Knowing that people—including her own mother—had questioned her sexuality, her femininity…well, it sure didn’t make her eager to admit her defect.

“Don’t usually come?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. And of course that just made the threat of tears stronger.

She cleared her throat. “Not this way.”

“You’ve never come with a man inside you?”

She shook her head, still avoiding eye contact. She didn’t want to see the judgment in his expression. The few men she’d been with had been so frustrated with her that she usually ended up doing her best impression of an orgasm so they could just be done with it already. And that had only been with the ones who’d cared whether or not she came.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispered.

“Victoria, look at me.” He took her chin and gently turned her face toward his. She made herself meet his gaze and found his uniquely blue eyes regarding her with nothing but honesty. No judgment. No disgust. No frustration.

“I guarantee there is nothing wrong with you,” he said.

“How can you know that?”

“Because you said, ‘Not this way.’ That tells me that you
have
come and that everything’s in working order.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I know you have a healthy working knowledge of how your body works.”

She didn’t deny it. Women had the same needs men did and the same ways of taking care them on their own. She wasn’t embarrassed by it.

She was just embarrassed to be
talking
about it.

“So…show me,” he said.

“Show you?”

“Yes, show me how your body works, Victoria.”

“I…”

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t get all shy on me now, Ms. I-want-to-live-in-the-moment.” He moved off her and knelt on the floor beside the bed. Gently, he took her hand and placed it between her legs. “Show me,” he whispered hoarsely next to her ear.

She closed her eyes. Embarrassment brought warmth to her face, and yet…Her racing pulse, the heat between her legs, her tightening nipples—she was undeniably turned on by his proposition.

“Now, Victoria.” His gruff voice and warm breath against the soft skin of her neck emboldened her, and she began to move her fingers beneath her thong.

He groaned. “That’s it. Show me how you like to be touched.”

Placing his hand over hers, he continued to whisper naughty encouragements in her ear. The gruff rasp of his voice combined with the illicitness of performing for him made her even more wet. She knew her release was imminent and she arched off the bed.

“Uh-uh. Not yet.” He stopped her hand with his own and she moaned in protest. “Up on your knees, Victoria.”

She complied, mainly because she was too strung out to think. The bed dipped behind her and she felt his hard chest against her back. He kissed her nape, wrapping his arms around her from behind. One hand did delicious things to her breast, while the other traveled south to stroke the sensitive wetness between her legs. Her head fell back on his shoulder and she reached back to sink her fingers into his short hair. He’d certainly been a quick study, his fingers working her with the exact same rhythm and circles she’d drawn there herself just moments before.

She held her breath, knowing what was coming, but again, Jason seemed to sense she was on the brink, and he stopped.

“Jason, don’t stop.”

“Shh. Get on all fours.”

Sure, fine, whatever. She’d do anything he asked as long as he brought that hand back to massage her aching core. She leaned forward, placing her weight on her hands and almost cried with relief when he reached around her again and returned his hand to her center. The pressure built, rising to an unparalleled crescendo and just when she thought she couldn’t be any more ramped up than she was, he moved her thong to the side and entered her from behind.

“Oh, God.” She couldn’t stop the words, couldn’t stop the dirty commands that fell from her mouth, the begging and pleading for him not to stop. He moved in and out with a steady, sure rhythm, stroking her with his fingers the entire time.

Unable to breathe, she gripped the sheets in her hands and pushed back against him, eagerly meeting each of his thrusts until the moment she finally flew apart. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced—the gentle rolling pressure of his fingers, the hard invasion of his cock, the involuntary flexing of muscles deep within her body. It was so good she couldn’t catch her breath.

Her orgasm started to recede and he grabbed her hips, pulling her back for one last hard thrust before he groaned and came inside her.

He stayed still for a moment, and the room suddenly felt too quiet. Victoria’s throat tightened, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what she was feeling beyond a general sense of being overwhelmed. He pulled out slowly and leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “See? What’d I tell you, Toria? There’s not one thing wrong with you.”

He kissed her shoulder one last time then disappeared into the bathroom to clean up.

There’s not one thing wrong with you.
She blinked back the stupid tears beginning to sting her eyes and nose, thankful he wasn’t there to see the emotion she was trying to keep in check. They’d made a deal. No messiness, just two people enjoying each other’s bodies and all the wonderful things two bodies could do together. She wasn’t supposed to develop feelings.

She stretched out on the bed and buried her face in the pillow, replaying the evening’s events in her mind. Jason kissing her in the courtyard, cutting in on her dance with Graham, and now this…

He hadn’t just given her the best orgasm of her life. He’d shown her patience and made her feel desired, whole, and…perfect.

Ever since the night of the newscast, she’d known she was at risk of falling for him, but when she made her friends-with-benefits offer in the courtyard, she’d somehow deluded herself into thinking she could do something like this, that she could keep the physical separate from the emotional.

Now she knew that was some seriously stupid wishful thinking.

* * *

Jason cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed cool water on his face. With one hand on the counter, he wiped the other down his face, pinched his nose, and flicked the excess water off his hand.

He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected Victoria to turn him inside out with need. Shit, even now, just the thought of her had his cock twitching back to life. Grabbing a scratchy hotel towel, he dried himself off and walked back into the bedroom.

Victoria was already back in her bridesmaid’s dress, sitting on the bed, legs crossed, buckling the strap of her silver sandal.

“What’s the hurry?”

She glanced up but quickly looked away from his naked form, searching out her other sandal. “I'm hungry.”

“Hungry? We just ate dinner.” It was suddenly imperative that she not leave this room. Whatever happened in that bed five minutes ago, it was good. So freaking good, he wanted to do it again. Right now. And maybe one more time after that if his muscles didn’t cramp up.

“I know,” she said. “But there’s cake. Did you see the cake? It’s supposed to have this amazing strawberry and vanilla crème filling.” She finished fiddling with the strap on the second sandal and looked up. “No worries though. I know you don’t like cake, but there’s also a dessert table with fresh fruit. I scoped out the whole food situation pretty early in the evening.”

She stood in front of the mirror and ran her fingers through her short hair, making him mourn the loss of her mussed up, just-been-fucked-good do.

Still naked, he stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. “I have a better idea.”

“Better than cake?” she asked, holding herself stiffly in his arms.

“Oh, no. It involves cake. If Victoria wants cake, she’s getting cake. But how about we order it from room service and find creative surfaces for you to eat it off of?”

Other than a slight shiver, she remained stiff as a board in his arms. “But it won’t be Tony and Camille’s wedding cake. No strawberry and vanilla crème filling.”

He met her gaze in the mirror, noticing for the first time that she looked a little panicked. “Victoria, is something wrong?”

“No, why would anything be wrong?” She bent down and picked up his boxers and undershirt and handed them to him. “I want cake.”

“Okay. Cake it is.” He started to dress, cursing himself for being a fool.

Victoria was freaking out, and this cake was taking on the same importance as the roast beef sandwich from the night they’d first met. This was her thing. Fixating on things as a means of distraction.

And what exactly, was she trying to distract herself from? Him obviously. He’d been an idiot to think Victoria was the type who could casually enter into a purely physical relationship.

She was too good a human being for the kinds of relationships he had. Relationships where the transactions were physical, not emotional. Relationships where the expectations on both sides were pathetically low.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known that, but he’d been so filled with desire, so desperate to get his hands on her body, that he’d let himself believe her when she suggested a no-strings liaison.

Christ, she’d probably been half-drunk from champagne, and asshole that he was, he’d taken advantage. Bile rose in his throat and denials invaded his brain. He couldn’t have sunk that low, could he? How many glasses had she had? He’d seen her drink one over dinner. Then at least two more. And how much had she had to drink with the wedding party before he’d arrived?

His mind played back the evening’s events but with a more critical eye this time. She’d certainly been a less reserved version of herself tonight. Practically dirty dancing with him after the garter toss. Making out with him in a stairwell when anyone in her family could have walked in. And then there was the drowsiness. She’d almost fallen asleep on his shoulder while he was shooting the shit with her dad.

Maybe she’d been more tipsy than he’d realized.

The worst kind of self-loathing settled in the pit of his stomach.

Almost finished dressing, he tied his tie while she used the bathroom. If she wanted cake, then dammit, they’d get cake. The least he could do after all this was appease whatever whim she might have for the rest of the evening.

Tightening his tie, he looked at his reflection in the mirror with disgust. Dammit, he was no better than his mother. Whenever she’d done something despicable she’d tried to win back his affection by bribing him with sweets, and here he was, doing the same damn thing to Victoria.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, he hooked his forefinger under the tie to loosen its chokehold.

“Do you smell that?” she asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“Smell what?” He stepped closer to her, studying her face as closely as he would if he were giving her a field sobriety test. Eyes focused, no sign of nystagmus. She appeared blessedly sober.

“Smoke. Do you smell smoke?” She went to the door and yanked it open. Jason followed her into the hall where the smell was definitely stronger. The smoke alarm sounded and lights started flashing in the hallway.

Victoria pounded on hotel room doors as they rushed toward the stairs. “Everybody out!”

The sprinklers engaged, and people started appearing in the hall and heading for the exit. One man came out, looked around, and started to go back into his room.

Victoria grabbed his arm. “Outside, sir. You need to leave.”

“But my things…”

“Are not as important as your life.” She nudged him away from his room. “Let’s go.”

Completely soaked from the sprinklers, he and Victoria continued down the hall to the side stairwell, encouraging people to leave as they went.

At the stairwell entrance, Jason looked back down the hall where smoke was billowing out from under a door at the other end. Flames appeared on the carpet and spread out into the hall. “Holy shit.”

Victoria followed his gaze and then pulled him by the hand. “Out. Now.”

They hurried down the stairs, people from other floors joining them on the way down. Outside, Jason followed Victoria who was moving frantically through the crowd.

“Grandma!” She rushed toward an elderly woman and held her by the shoulders, looking her over. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but Sophie…”

“Where’s Sophie?” Victoria’s voice was barely audible over the sound of sirens.

“She went up to her room. Said she was tired…”

Jason leaned toward Victoria’s grandmother, hoping she could hear him. “What floor is Sophie on?”

“Uh…six, I think.”

Jason looked out over the crowd, trying to find the tell-tale curly white hair. Not seeing anyone who even remotely resembled Sophie, he started for the hotel.

Victoria grabbed his arm. “No. Jason! Stop.”

“But she has trouble walking…”

“I know that.” Her voice was steady, even while her eyes were wide with panic. “But you know as well as I do that if you go in there and succumb to smoke, you’re one more body the firefighters have to risk their lives for.”

He nodded, knowing she was right and amazed she could be so rational when it was her aunt inside.

“Victoria.” Jason grabbed her arm as she was heading back toward her grandmother. He pulled her in close and spoke low into her ear so as not to induce panic. “Does Sophie have oxygen tanks in her room?”

Victoria inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. “Yes, probably one or two spare portable tanks and a larger one she uses when she sleeps.”

“If her room is near the fire—”

“Shit, I know.” She pushed him toward the crowd. “You clear that crowd. Make them stand further away from the building. I’ll alert the firefighters.”