Just My Type (33 page)
In the past four weeks, he’d carried her to the bed to make love each time, in spite of her starting things in the living room, the shower, the kitchen. He had barely managed it, but he had worshipped her body in the way she deserved. The way a woman who was loved and honored and cherished should be treated.
The other women, the one-night stands, the flings, the crazy wild stuff had been about lust, gratification, pleasure. Not love. Not forever. Not commitment and marriage and promises.
Not Sara.
Dammit, sonofabitch, hell, fuck, shit. Okay, crazy sex was
weird
with Sara. He hated that word, but it was pretty accurate at the moment. Not because of her—she was amazing—but because his head, his conscience, his memories wouldn’t leave him alone.
She deserved to be made love to. Not the stuff he was used to feeling for and doing with women.
What the hell did he know about making love? He’d never done it before Sara.
And she could get the crazy wild stuff with any pervert on the street—hell, any man she knew pretty much—while
he
was the only man who was going to truly make love to her. Ever. Whether she liked it or not.
So, yeah, all of this was strange.
And the world was
not
a normal or good place if Dooley was right about something.
Breathing deep through his nose he slowly lifted his head to look at her.
She looked—understandably—confused. “What’s going on?”
“I was joking about the nipple clamps.” He tried to call her princess. He really did. It just wouldn’t come out.
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Just My Type
She gave him a look that said there was no way she was believing this. “Why? You’ve tried it before and didn’t like it?”
He couldn’t quite bring himself to lie. “That’s not it.”
“You don’t like it on me?”
She hadn’t covered up and his eyes dropped to her breasts. His traitorous body hardened in spite of his best intentions. “I’m not that into it,” he said, unable to look her in the eye.
She leaned in and reached past him again. “How about these?” She held up four pink silk ties.
He swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”
“Tie me up, Mac.” She dragged one of the cool silky strips across the back of his neck.
“Then what?” he asked. Stupidly.
“Whatever you want.”
His gut clenched and his cock throbbed beneath her, like it was seeking her heat. With absolutely no input whatsoever from his brain.
“This is what I want.” He rolled her beneath him, tossing the nipple clamps out of reach.
Her robe fell away as they rolled, her naked body completely exposed and accessible. He pressed against her and she caught her breath, even as she started shaking her head.
“No, wait.”
“What for? I know you’re hot and ready.” He slid his hands between them, then a finger into her.
She was definitely hot and ready.
She clutched at his shoulders, always responsive to him. Still she said, “Mac, no, wait.” He could slip his boxers off and slide home. Hell, he could simply spread the front panel open and slide home. She would be gasping his name in no time. But the “Mac, no” stopped him.
Panting, he put his forehead against hers. “What, princess?” She wiggled under him and he let up his pressure on her hips. She stretched and then held up the pink vibrator.
“Tie me up, use this. Please.”
The image she put in his mind, the begging, the heat of her under him made him insane. He wanted to do all of it—his body did, anyway. He could imagine her like that. The ties holding her open for him, the tugs on the chain between the clamps making her pant and moan, the vibrator bringing her to orgasm just before he thrust into her, taking her to the height again right on top of the first.
But he wasn’t going to do any of it.
She was his
wife
, his friend, the woman he’d promised to protect and treasure.
He didn’t know a damned thing about honoring and cherishing someone, but he was going to give it his all and the tie-me-up-dildo-thing just didn’t seem like the way to go.
Sweet, not weird. Sweet, not weird
. That was going to be his new mantra.
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Erin Nicholas
He moved his finger in her, circling her clit with his thumb. She wiggled against him. He bent his head to her breast and again teased the nipple, sucking softly, then hard. She wiggled, more aggressively.
He lifted his head and moved to kiss her.
She turned her head.
“Mac.
Stop
.”
Dammit.
He rolled off of her and threw his arm over his eyes.
He felt Sara shift on the mattress, then leave the bed. Her footsteps faded away, the closet door opened and shut and then he heard her return to the side of the bed.
“We have to talk.”
Yeah. They probably did. There were some things that Sara needed to understand.
He pushed up to a sitting position, rubbed a hand over the top of his head and looked up at her.
She was now wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe, tied securely around her waist.
He wanted her like that too. More. It was crazy. He knew that. But
this
was different. This was comfortable and nice and…normal.
He’d seen more than his share of lingerie and toys. He’d never done the bathrobe, watch-the-
Late
-
Show
-together thing. Neither had Sara. He wanted stuff that was new to both of them. Was that so bad?
“What’s going on?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
“I just tried to make love to my wife and she told me no.” He sounded put-out. And he was. Though he felt nauseated too.
“
I
tried to make love to my husband and he told
me
no.”
“You tried to have
sex
with me.”
“Well, excuse the hell out of me!”
“I don’t want that stuff, Sara.”
“Bullshit,” she returned bluntly.
“I don’t.”
“You have in the past. With other women.”
And he was now going to pay for his past, as he’d always known he’d eventually have to.
“Yes,” he said honestly.
She looked surprised he’d admitted it. “What am I supposed to do with that?” He shoved to his feet. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done before. I am
not
going to tie you up or put nipple clamps on you. Ever.”
Sara felt her stomach dip sickeningly. Mac stood in nothing more than his boxers looking frustrated and nearly angry.
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Just My Type
Her body still hummed with unfulfilled need for him and reacted to him even as she felt anger and—
worse—trepidation building.
Something was wrong. And this wasn’t the first time she’d suspected it.
They made love every day but she’d been trying to entice him over the past month into something,
anything
, outside of the bedroom. She’d almost had him in the shower and once in the living room, but every time he would pull back at the last minute, seem to remember something important and take her right upstairs to the bed. The sex was amazing. But it was always in the missionary position, no toys, no dirty talk.
This time she’d pulled out all the stops. The nipple clamps were supposed to be the final straw, the thing that would push him over the edge no matter what. In fact, she’d even stuck to the bedroom in case there was some strange reason he had to be in that bed.
Still he’d pulled back.
She hugged her arms to her body and fought the fear. This was not the Mac she’d been hearing stories about for twelve years. “Why not?” she finally managed to choke out. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s just…not you.”
She stared at him. “Not me? How do you even know that? We’ve never done this. This is all new to me.”
“So why don’t you just trust me? I know all of this and I know you.”
“I do trust you,” she insisted. “I would never let anyone else do these things. Only you.”
“I just…” He looked pained. “I can’t. I don’t want to do these things with you.”
“But
I
do. I won’t do anything I don’t want to do, Mac. I promise. But I want this.”
“I can’t explain it, Sara. It just doesn’t feel right.” Her stomach dropped. This was bad. “When you hold back like this, I wonder what other ways you’re holding back from me, Mac.”
He said nothing. And he wouldn’t look at her.
Her heart started to race. In panic. “I want your all. Everything you have. In every way.”
“I can only give you what I can, Sara. Going in to this…”
“It was all my idea.” She tried to swallow, and failed, against the huge lump of dread and regret.
Dammit. It had all been going so well. They were happy, they were very compatible, they were in love.
But was it enough?
Suddenly she wasn’t so sure.
Yes, she had more than many women. But every woman should want, should demand, it all.
Everything they wanted and needed. A man who would help her fulfill every fantasy, every desire.
Every woman should have a man who gave everything he had in loving her.
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If nothing else, Sara had long lived with the idea that she could have it all—anything she wanted.
Especially from Mac.
She wasn’t ready to break that habit.
“You’re a lot of big talk,” she finally said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“If you didn’t want to do this stuff with me then why all the talk about nipple clamps and toys and wild and crazy sex?”
He took a deep breath.
She didn’t want to hear this. Even before he opened his mouth, she knew it. He’d been calling her Sara for the past several minutes. That was never a good sign.
“I was trying to run you off.”
“Off?”
“Convince you that you didn’t want all of this.”
“This.”
“Me. Us. My life. Life with me. I wanted to scare you off.”
“And now
you’re
the one who’s scared.” She felt as bitchy as she sounded.
He winced. “I just don’t see you that way.”
“Are you actually going to give me the
let’s just be friends
speech?” She preferred the fury that was slowly building to the feeling of desperation and anxiety that had been filling her before. “Because we are way past that, Mac.”
“No. I want things to be the way they have been. It’s been good, right?” She couldn’t deny that it had been good. But it could be more, she knew it. “Good isn’t good enough.”
“Dammit!” He finally exploded. “You’ve been pushing since day one. Can’t you let up on anything?
Can’t you just be satisfied for a change?”
Sara wondered why she didn’t feel hurt, or even angry at his words. But she knew this had to be bothering him. Mac had always given her whatever she wanted. It had to be just as strange, and difficult, for him to say no to her as it was for her to hear it.
“Satisfied? With you giving me and this marriage a half-assed effort?” she shot back. “No, sorry. I can’t be okay with that.”
“Half-assed?” He looked truly offended. “I have lived up to every single vow I said to you, Sara! I’m here. I’m with you. Only you. Forever.”
“But you’re holding back. There’s something…” A thought occurred to her that made her chest literally hurt. “You don’t think I’ll be enough for you,” she said quietly. “You’re afraid I won’t be as good 190
Just My Type
as the other women and you’ll be disappointed, but won’t be able to get out of it. But if we just stick with the basics, then you can always blame that for being less than satisfied, rather than blaming me.” He looked like she’d just kicked him in the groin, shock and pain obvious.
“No,” he said firmly. “Not that.”
“Then you think you’re protecting me. Sweet little Sara shouldn’t be exposed to this naughty stuff.”
That
idea pissed her off. “For some reason you need to cling to the idea of me being conservative and straight-laced.”
“Maybe a little,” he said cautiously. “But not really.”
“Then you’re afraid I’ll think less of you if you
really
tell me what goes on in your brain?” she pressed.
“Yes! No! All of that and none of that!” he exclaimed. “I
hate
when you try to psychoanalyze me.
You got a B in Human Psychology!”
She gasped. That B had devastated her. And she’d ended up graduating with honors anyway! “I got an A-plus in
Abnormal
Psychology though!”
“I was just trying to get rid of you!” he finally bellowed. “I can’t have nipple-clamp sex with you Sara. I don’t totally get it either, but it’s just too…
weird
.” Her anger dissolved like salt in boiling water. It was just gone. It didn’t matter why he felt the way he did. It just was.
A deep, heavy depression pressed in on her heart.
“That was why we came to Oscar, isn’t it?” she asked, the truth clear. “And the frozen burritos and no car and the sweatpants? You pulled out all the stops to get me to leave.” He nodded, looking as exhausted as she felt.
The plan made sense. It should have worked. If she was the woman Mac thought she was. The woman she’d even believed she was until recently.
But what she knew now and he didn’t realize was that she was a princess by choice. Not out of necessity, not because she couldn’t help it. But because it had worked for everyone, including her, for a long time.
The problem was Mac saw himself as the servant boy or the black knight, not completely worthy of the princess.
And she honest to God didn’t know what to do about it.
Maybe they had rushed into all of this after all. She’d believed just being together would be enough, but it was obvious Mac had some misconceptions about who she was.
In spite of the past twelve years, he didn’t really know her. So he couldn’t see he was the best man for her.
She really hated it when everyone else was right.
