Sandra Brown - Low Pressure

That, Bellamy realized, was the real tragedy.

The sun had set and dusk had settled in. The Corvette’s headlights were on when Dent steered it into a parking space, but Bellamy remained unseen until he started up the metal staircase. When he saw her sitting on the landing, he paused for several seconds, then continued climbing the stairs in a steady tread.

He’d hooked his suit jacket on his index finger and was carrying it slung over his shoulder. His necktie had been undone and was lying flat against his chest.

She stood, dusted off her seat, and retrieved her high heels, which had become so uncomfortable she’d taken them off. He didn’t say anything as he stepped around her and continued down the breezeway toward his apartment.

She fell into step behind him. “I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you to get home. I didn’t know when you’d show up. Or if you would come home at all tonight.”

He unlocked the door and went into the apartment. She hesitated on the threshold. “May I come in?”

“Door’s open.” He pitched his key ring onto the coffee table, tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, and followed that with his necktie.

She stepped inside and closed the door. “I don’t think you’re in the mood for anything elaborate, so I’ll keep it simple. I’m sorry.”

He went into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Sorry for what?”

“For not calling you about Daddy. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a call from me about anything. I’d said some harsh things to you.” When he didn’t say anything, she forged ahead. “I also apologize for not standing up for you at the club. I was… My only defense is that I was in shock.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” He twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a drink. “That it?”

“Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were awfully angry when you left the country club.”

“Not for long. I blew off some steam.”

“What did you do?”

“Went flying.”

“I see.”

“I doubt it.”

The rebuke was succinct, but well aimed. She lowered her head and looked at the pair of designer pumps she was holding in her hands. She studied the black grosgrain ribbon across the toe. They were beautiful shoes, but they pinched. Why was it that she was drawn to things that were bad for her or that hurt?

“Moody showed up,” she said. “I spoke to him just before I saw you. He said—”

He interrupted her. “I don’t want to know what he said. I don’t care what he said. I’m done talking about him or anything related to that subject.” He looked her over from the top of her head to her bare feet. “If you want to take off your clothes and give me a lap dance, you can stay. If not, go back to the bosom of your rotten family and leave me the hell alone.” He gave her about half a second to make up her mind, and when she didn’t move, he snuffled. “I didn’t think so. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Moving back into the living area, he picked up the TV remote. “Maybe I can catch the last few innings of the double-header I missed by going to your old man’s send-off.”

His rejection, coming so closely on the heels of Steven’s, was crushing. A sob erupted from her as she turned and walked toward the door.

But before she could get it open, he was there, cursing under his breath, turning her to face him. He flattened his hands on the door, caging her between it and him, and pressed his forehead against hers. “That was a terrible thing to say.”

“I guess I had it coming.”

“No, it was a low blow. It was cruel. Because I know how much you loved him, how sad you are.”

“When we’re angry, we say things we don’t mean. You’re angry.”

“As hell.” He released a long breath and rolled his forehead from side to side over hers. “I don’t know how you do it, Bellamy Lyston Price.”

“Do what?”

“Make me so damn mad.” He moved in closer. “And still keep me wanting you.”

“Do you?”

“It’s killing me.”

He pulled away a few inches. She looked up into his eyes. He couldn’t have mistaken her yearning when she focused on his mouth. But after having been turned down so many times, he wasn’t going to initiate anything. What happened next would be up to her.

She whispered, “I’m afraid.”

“Of disappointing me?”

She nodded.

“Not gonna happen.”

This was what she’d come here for. Yes, she’d wanted to apologize, but what she wanted most was to be with Dent. While pitying Steven for refusing the love that was readily, unselfishly given to him, it had occurred to her that she had done the same. She hadn’t allowed herself to love or to be loved.

Safe was a terribly lonely way to live.

She dropped her shoes to the floor and gingerly placed her hands on his chest. For a long time, they stood like that, neither moving. Then she undid a button on his shirt. After the first one, the others weren’t quite so intimidating.

When she spread his shirt open, her desire was greater than her apprehension. She leaned in. His chest hair was soft against her face. It tickled her nose. She pressed a dry kiss on him, then opened her mouth. His skin was warm and slightly salty tasting.

He made a low sound, curved his hand beneath her jaw, and tilted her face up to his. His mouth was possessive and hungry, and the longer they kissed the more urgent the kisses became. His arms closed around her, bringing her up against him, and when she answered the pressure he applied with a corresponding grinding motion, he swore softly and broke the kiss to turn her to face away from him.

After gathering her hair in his hand and draping it over her shoulder, he unhooked the clasp at the top of her dress, then slowly pulled the zipper down past her waist. He slid his hands inside and settled them on her hips, pulling her back against him, and situating her bottom firmly against his erection.

Her breath soughed out as she weakly propped herself against the door.

He planted a tender kiss on the nape of her neck then sucked the skin against his teeth. Slowly his hands scaled up over her ribs to her bra strap. He undid it, then for agonizing seconds did nothing more.

She wondered later if perhaps he had been giving her a chance to stop there. If so, he had wasted a few precious seconds of lovemaking, because she wanted him, wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

His hands moved around to her front, up under the cups of her bra, and over her breasts. He angled her away from the door and back against his chest. She sighed and let herself be supported as he caressed her breasts, sweetly at first, and then erotically until she was restless and hot with wanting more. He knew it.

“Come here.”

Turning her, he pushed her dress off her shoulders, and it dropped to the floor. Her bra followed. He slung off his shirt, then reached for her hand and drew her along with him as he backed up toward the bed. By the time they got there, he had his belt and trousers undone. A few seconds later, he was free of everything. Bellamy took him in, and she stared at his sex for so long that he said uneasily, “Okay?”

She laughed lightly, like If only you knew how okay , and he smiled. “Look at you,” he murmured. His large hands reshaped her breasts. His fingertips played lightly over her nipples. After teasing them with his lips, he pulled back and smiled at her again.

Then his eyes turned dark. Because she had touched him. At first just a few tentative brushes with her fingers, to indulge her curiosity about the various textures, but, encouraged by his unsteady breathing and that smokiness in his eyes, she took him in her hand. Guided by his gruff whispers, and instinct, she pumped him until he grew incredibly tight. Hot breaths struck her hair as he bent his head over hers and groaned her name.