Fix You (18 page)

“You miss the way I smell?” He tried to turn it into a joke,
but she started to peel her dress away from her body.

He was instantly hard.

“Close your eyes, I just need to change.” Her command was
pretty weak, and more than a moment too late. He did as instructed, anyway,
digging his fingernails into his palms, trying to stop himself from touching
her. If he saw the soft, pale arc of her breast, he’d be done for.

The bed undulated as she struggled with her clothing. He
stayed as still as he could, battling with the incredible urge to open his
eyes. Did she look the same as he remembered, all soft skin and gentle curves?
Or had the last five years changed her on the outside as well as within?

He’d never thought of himself as the type to cheat. He was
engaged to a woman who trusted him implicitly, and he wanted to deserve that
trust. The thoughts whirling around in his mind were completely indefensible.
He felt like shit.

“I’m decent.” Hanna lay back on the bed, her hair fanning
out across the white cotton pillowcase. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Even as he spoke, he could see her
starting to flag, her eyelids fluttering as her face took on a peaceful
expression. He reached out and smoothed the hair away from her eyes, feeling
her smooth skin dimple against the hard pads of his fingers. She sighed gently,
and he felt his erection harden further, as he stared at her flushed, swollen
lips.

Just a taste.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, and her
soft breath bathed his skin. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. She
threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him against her, crashing her mouth
to his. Every inch of him was dazzlingly awake, pleasure shooting from his
balls to the tip of his toes.

Moving his hand down her body, brushing his fingers against
her breast until she started to moan, he allowed himself to feel the most
frightening emotion of all.

Hope.

IT WAS LIKE everything in the room
exploded into brilliant Technicolor, sobering her faster than a bucket of ice
water. The moment his lips brushed hers, she knew she’d reached the point of no
return. He was the sun and she was in orbit; circling, attracted to him.
Everything about him made her burn.

The mattress dipped as he rested above her, hips scraping
against hers, and she couldn’t help but gyrate, feeling his hardness grind
against her stomach. His fingertips brushed down her side in light, feathery
strokes, making her nipples hard and her thighs damp.

“Hanna.” He exhaled against her cheek. She closed her eyes
and tried to stop herself from responding. She tried to distract him by
grinding again.

It seemed to work.

“Let me—” He didn’t wait for permission. He pushed her tank
up to her neck, baring her breasts, and as he stared down at them, his tongue
snaking across his lips, Hanna could feel his dick twitch against her once
more. His fingers teased, making her nipples pebble, and the pleasure shoot
down to her groin.

Her inner monologue started to distract her. The fear they
were really going to do this was swiftly replaced by the agony they might not.
Somewhere, deep inside, she knew doing this was wrong, but she repressed the
thought, buried it under the intense need shooting through her nerves.

It was hard to look him in the eye. Hanna wasn’t sure what
would be there, wasn’t even certain what it was she wanted to see. Desperation,
perhaps, or maybe a need reflecting hers? What she feared was regret, sadness,
or a hint of pity, and she knew if she saw any of that, she would curl up and
weep.

She didn’t want to cry. She felt too good for tears or for
regret. She’d waited far too long to feel his mouth pulling at her nipples,
bathing them gently before scraping his teeth on her flesh.

She needed to get her mind to shut the hell up.

Sensing her fears, Richard cupped her chin with his hand,
lifting her face until she couldn’t avoid meeting his stare. When her chocolate
eyes met hunter green, she knew she was completely wrong.

They flashed fiercely, narrowed and dark, and the way he
stared made her feel breathless.

“I need—” Like Richard, she couldn’t finish her sentence to
let him know what she wanted. She didn’t have to. His hands cupped her ass,
fingers pulling at her shorts until they were softly dragging against her
thighs, leaving her exposed and desperate. Cool air met damp skin, making her
buck a little, trying to create friction from a vacuum. Her thighs were
sensitive and clammy as he dug his fingers in, gently prising her apart.

That felt so good.

His fingers dipped, caressing the damp skin in the crease of
her thigh. He pulled her apart, until she was more exposed than ever, gliding
against her, then pushing until her body released, inviting him in. This time
she moaned; a low, pleading half-breath, flexing her hips until his fingers
were inside her.

Richard moved down her body, his lips finding her core,
tongue pointed and strong, dragging against her and making her buck in time to
his rhythmic movements. The dizziness in her head had nothing to do with the
wine she had consumed, and everything to do with the sensations he was
creating. Her hands ached to touch, and she let them flutter toward him,
sliding them into his hair, tugging until she could feel him groan against her.

Hanna’s eyes opened wide, her mouth wider, and she let out a
noise somewhere between a scream and a cry. Richard pushed a third finger
inside as she began to clench against him, intensifying the pleasurable
sensation until her knees began to quake.

She was so close.

As soon as he withdrew his hand she felt empty. His leg slid
inside hers, his knee brushing against her calf. She reached around fumbling at
his buttons, her fingers slipping like an over-excited child opening a birthday
present. Finding purchase, she pulled his fly apart, feeling his zipper unhook,
tugging at his pants until he got her message, wriggling his ass to help her
pull them down.

Richard took over the task, pushing them down past his
calves, and she followed him with her hands. She caressed his flesh, feeling
his hard thigh muscles stretched under taut skin.

“Take off your top.” He knelt on the bed, pulling at his
shirt. She dragged her tank over her head, flinging it across the floor in her
desperation to be naked. His knees were on either side of her thighs, caging
her in, making it hard not to stare at the outline of his hardness through his
dark shorts.

Reaching out a finger, she traced a line down to his balls.
He grew a little harder, the head of his erection emerging from his shorts, and
she watched as a small bead of pre-come formed there. Leaning forward, she
licked it off, and a strangled groan escaped from Richard’s lips. She did it
again, running the blunt end of her tongue against him, and then twirling it
around, kissing and sucking him with her mouth, using her hands to push his
shorts a little farther down his hips.

Richard reached his own hand around to cup the back of her
head, encouraging her lips into a steady rhythm. Dragging her tongue down the
underside, she pulled her mouth back up, licking, kissing, tasting.

“Stop.” He steadied her head, and for the first time she
looked up and caught his eyes. Her lips were still wrapped around him. His own
mouth was swollen, still glistening, slightly parted to allow his short breaths
to meet the air. “I want to be inside you.”

His words hit her blood like a shot of heroin. Hanna moved
her head back, watching his hardness spring against the defined muscles of his
stomach, then grabbed at his shorts, desperate to pull them from his body.

“Lie down.” He placed his palm flat against her shoulder,
pushing her back onto the mattress, sheets soft and silky against her back.
Kicking his shorts from his ankles, Richard moved over her, hands caging her
head, until she was unable to turn, cornered like a hunted animal.

She was almost too wet. His hips pushed against her tender
thighs as he lined himself up against her, pausing for a long, drawn out
moment, before thrusting, pushing inside.

“Richard.” Her words were little more than breath.

He kissed her again. She could taste herself on his lips.
His hips flexed, and he withdrew, dragging himself against her like a bow
against a violin. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her response under
control.

“Open your eyes. I want to see you,” Richard’s movements
were steady, but his words were not. He felt like heaven between her thighs,
and she squeezed them tighter, hooking her heels around his back, dragging him
in.

She was drowning. She wasn’t sure if he was going to save
her or push her under.

“Are you close?” Richard’s breath was getting harsher, his
movements erratic, and she knew he was nearing release. Hanna opened her mouth,
but her words were drowned out by the sensation of his finger rubbing her,
making small, delicious circles, drawing out her pleasure like an artist.

She cried out, burying her head in the dip of his neck,
feeling his clamminess against her lips. His hips crashed against hers, her
moans stifled by his flesh, her body clenching hard against him.

His groans amplified as he moaned against her ear, and even
if she couldn’t feel him pulsing inside her, she would have known he was coming
from the change in his breathing. He whispered a soft oath as he peaked, and
she felt herself spasm again, grinding against him, as they clung to the long
moments like slaves to sensation.

Then it was over.

Her wet, sticky thighs cradled his hips, his skin heavy
against her body. Their harsh pants became longer, thinner, like stretched-out
breaths, as they both crashed down. Reality hit them like a wrecking ball.

Lying naked beneath the man who she was all kinds of fucked
up about, still hard inside her, Hanna knew she must look like shit. Her brown
hair was crazy against the light blue of the pillow, her makeup skewed from a
day of crying and a night of over-consumption.

His hips lifted up as he withdrew, and Hanna let her head
fall back onto the mattress, as she stared up at the silver and glass light
fixture above the bed, letting the brightness of the bulbs burn into her
retinas. Even with her eyes closed she could still see them, like a ghost of
what could have been.

“Hanna, I…” He sounded as awkward as she felt, all
stuttering consonants and drawn out vowels.

She blinked a couple of times, burned-in images turning from
black to white, making her eyes sting. Richard rolled over beside her. She
watched as he reached out, and then stopped himself, hand hovering in mid-air.

“Don’t.” Her voice was low and scratchy. She swallowed hard,
feeling the dry wooliness of her throat. She wanted him to pull her into his
arms.

“I’m sorry. I had no right to take advantage.”

“You didn’t, I wanted it, too.” She bit down on the inside
of her cheek. The pain felt good.

Richard rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his face,
covering his eyes. She allowed herself to look at his body, her gaze moving
from his neck, down to the taut, flat skin of his abdomen. Only moments before,
that body was pressed down on her own, creating a burning fire as flesh touched
flesh.

Now, she was shivering.

“Come here.” He pulled her against him, and her eyes
fluttered shut. She wanted him to leave, but was desperate for him to stay.
Knowing he was so close and yet so far away was achingly painful, numbed only
by the sweet surrender of sleep.

Rather than think anymore, she submitted to its siren call,
her need for oblivion stronger than ever.

WHEN SHE WOKE the next morning, Hanna
tried to pretend it was a dirty, alcohol-induced dream. But the ache between
her legs was too real, and she didn’t have to reach down to feel the evidence
of last night’s activities. She only had to inhale Richard’s scent to remember
what happened in clear, vivid detail.

She lifted her hand up and ran her fingers through her hair,
her progress hampered by the knots created by rampant sex and restless dreams.
Daylight forced its way through the thick fabric of the curtains, slithering
through the area above the rail.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice was soft, his touch
sure, as he sat down on the bed beside her. He was dressed, wearing just his
pants and white shirt from the night before.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have a meeting at seven. I can’t get out of this one.”
His words were laced with regret. Then he leaned and brushed his lips over her
forehead, leaving a trail of ice across her skin.

“Oh.” She frowned, trying to think of a suitable response.
It was like her brain hadn’t caught on to the fact she was awake yet.

“Can we meet this evening?” His mouth feathered her skin. “We
need to talk.”

She gnawed at her lower lip, the reality of the situation
hitting her like a curveball. There was so much to talk about. She didn’t know
where to begin.

“I’ve got interviews all day. I’ll be free at six.”

“Interviews?” His forehead wrinkled. She reached out a
finger to smooth them. Even the sensation of his skin against hers was enough
to light her flame.

“For my replacement…bad timing right?”

The story of their lives…

“I’ll pick you up at six. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

“Why not?” The unspoken words were like a scab. She wanted
to pick at it, make it bleed.

“Because I want you here with me.”

“I’m not a cheater, Richard, and neither are you.” Except
they were. They both were.

The muscles in his cheek twitched as he looked down at her.
In the half-light of the morning his skin looked warm and tan. She wanted to
kiss it all over.

“When Meredith comes back next week, I’m going to tell her
it’s over.”