Lori Foster - Wanton

The sob caught her by surprise, shaming her further. Alec froze, going painfully still against her, and then he pulled his hand free and gathered her close and the emotions swelled inside her until they overflowed. She didn’t want to cry on his shoulder, but as usual, he wasn’t giving her any choice.

She struggled to get away from him, but his arms locked around her, not allowing so much as an inch between them.

“Shhh, it’s all right.” One big hand pressed to the back of her head and forced it into the notch of his shoulder. She knew her tears were wetting his bare skin; she could feel the hot, soft skin of his throat against her face. His other hand rubbed up and down the length of her spine, consoling her, comforting her, filling her with immeasurable guilt for letting things get so far out of hand.

After half a minute of fighting the inevitable she clutched him tight. It simply felt too good to be held, to be comforted. Through rough sobs and humiliating sniffles, she managed to choke out, “I don’t want to want you, damn it.”

He rubbed his cheek against her head and answered softly. “Yeah, I think I figured that out.”

She didn’t have room for much leverage, but she got a fairly decent thump of her fist against his solid chest. “Not y-y-you, dummy. Anyone.”

His hand paused in its stroking, then picked up the soothing rhythm again. “Care to tell me why?”

“No.”

“Celia.” His sigh blew over her damp cheek. He tried to look at her face, but she tucked it close to him and held on tight when he tried to tilt her back. She knew her makeup was ruined and she wasn’t done crying, so she had no intention of having him ogle her. “Honey, I have a hard-on that could kill, and it’s not going to be going away anytime soon. Don’t you think it might be nice if you just explained things to me? I really would like to understand.”

She shook her head.

“I know you wanted me.” Again he tried to look at her, wanting confirmation, and again she resisted. “I mean, with the way you were kissing me and moving against me. And your nipples were—”

She groaned, and quickly nodded.

“Then why not, honey? We’re both adults. I wouldn’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

She thumped him again, indignant. “I’m not afraid of you.”

She heard the smile in the way he answered. “Yes, you are.”

“Well, only sometimes.” She sniffed once more and wiped her eyes on his T-shirt, keeping her face close so he still couldn’t look at her. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, not herself, certainly not him. “You try to make me afraid.”

“No.”

“Yes you do. You try to make everyone afraid.”

His fingers tangled in her hair and began massaging her scalp. She still felt aroused, but now she felt sleepy, too, utterly drained and strangely protected. She hadn’t cried much since finding out her fiancé was a slimeball using her to hurt her family and hoping to get rich in the bargain. She’d refused to allow herself that luxury. But crying now had felt good, sort of cathartic and cleansing. She drew a slow deep breath, and ended up hiccuping.

Alec kissed her temple. “Celia, why don’t you want to make love with me?”

The way he said that made her want to throw him on the bed and do unspeakable things to his hard, gorgeous body. She started shaking again and he held her a little closer, lending his quiet support. Finally, unable to figure a way out of it, she shamefully whispered, “I’m not like most women.”

That gave him pause and she could feel him thinking, coming up with so many ridiculous, off-base ideas. She shook her head. “I don’t mean…I’m not physically different. Well, that is…”

“Just tell me straight out, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

A nervous, almost hysterical giggle escaped her tight lips. Oh, she had no doubt he’d love to deal with it. Raymond certainly hadn’t objected, though he’d occasionally taunted her with her weakness. After he’d been found out, Raymond had taken great pleasure in telling her how easy she’d been, how she’d offered no real challenge at all. Well, she would never be easy again, though Alec Sharpe surely did wear on her convictions.

Her mind froze up with that ugly, painful thought and she jerked away from Alec’s hold, turning her back and making a zigzag, awkward path around the cluttered floor to the bathroom. She paused in the open doorway, keeping her back to him. “I want you to leave now.”

Two seconds passed, and he said, “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. He was right, after the way she’d just behaved with him, he deserved the truth. Her throat felt swollen from her recent crying jag, and her head pounded as she forced out the awful words. “I have a…a sexual problem.”

Alec didn’t say a word. There was such complete suffocating silence that she couldn’t bear it. She darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, then leaned back against it and covered her face with her hands. Now he knew the truth. He’d likely leave in disgust, wanting nothing to do with her, and her chances of helping Hannah would diminish to almost zero. How could she help anyone else when she couldn’t even help herself?

A hard pounding rattled the door, making her spring away with a short scream. She whirled, one hand clutching her heart.

“Goddammit, Celia, open this door right now!”

She stared, unable to even blink. He was angry?

The door trembled again, threatening to splinter, as Alec hammered on it. She jumped back another cautious step.

“I’m giving you to the count of two, then I’m opening the door my own way.”

Celia gawked.

“One!”

He wasn’t going to give her much time to consider her options, she thought. But then, there was really only one option anyway. She reached for the doorknob.

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