Lost in You (21 page)

‘How are you?’ He closed the gap between us and the moment his energy mingled with mine I felt it. It was like a soft punch to the midsection. It stole the little breath I had left.

‘Good,’ I managed.

‘How’s your grandmother?’ He was so close. And yet he did not reach out to touch me.

‘She’s OK. Physical therapy. Meds. It’s a little …’ I shrugged. My eyes darted to his full lips, his jaw and the slight stubble starting to show. I found myself wanting to stroke it with my fingertips. Hear it rasp. His eyes were startling and greener today.

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘A little exhausting? You look exhausted, Clover.’ He reached towards me but stopped himself. I willed him to touch me. I willed him to lose his composure. It didn’t work. ‘Beautiful as always, but exhausted. If anything –’ he gave me a crooked grin ‘– it makes you even more arresting.’

‘You’re angry,’ I said. I swung my feet out a little. My shoe brushed his jeans. It was a mistake, or that was what I would tell myself.

‘Not angry. Tired, too.’ Dorian smiled at me and it rocked through the centre of me. Pooled between my thighs. I felt as if I were a beacon flashing my want at him. My need.

‘Because of me.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I don’t know what to do any more. I’ve tried it all.’ Another small smile. His face was so serious. His body language almost stiff but not quite. Like when you want to touch something but have to control yourself. Like when you want to flee but force yourself to stand still.

‘And I’m just … impossible.’ I sighed when I said it. I felt impossible, mostly. I felt exhausting. I felt so turned around and confused that tears almost always seemed like the best option. And yet the cold sheen of fear that seemed to be always with me when it came to him was still present. It didn’t fit. Didn’t make sense. Wasn’t right. Two different worlds, and on some level I felt that they could never be reconciled.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wish it possible. That didn’t mean the urge to feel his skin under my fingertips or his body pressed to mine vanished. If anything, it made that craving larger. Gave it claws and teeth and an angry appetite.

‘You are slightly impossible. But I’m not giving up.’ He took another step towards me. If I stretched out my hand I could press it flat against his chest. The small alcove I sat in reflected his deep voice back around me as he spoke. It gave the illusion of being utterly surrounded by Dorian Martin. Full of him. But I was familiar with that sensation, wasn’t I?

‘No?’

‘No. I’m just backing off. I guess I need to regroup.’ Another smile. ‘Better tactical approach. I felt as if I were coming unglued. Stalking you. I don’t want to stalk you, Clover. When you’re mine I want it to be because you have no other choice. The only thing that will make you happy is being with me. Us being together. That’s how I feel. And I want it to be genuine.’

He shoved his hands in his pockets. I could tell it was to stifle the urge to touch me. I wanted those hands on me. Parting my thighs. Moving my clothes away. Touching me.

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘Oh,’ he echoed. He looked back over his shoulder as if plotting his escape route. For some reason that made me crazy desperate for him not to leave.

‘Dorian?’

He glanced back at me, eyebrows raised inquisitively, bright-green eyes flashing in the sudden stripe of sunlight that came through the upper-storey windows.

‘Don’t go just yet. I …’ I reached out, my need so big it made my chest heavy, clogged my throat. ‘Just … can I have one thing without promising you everything?’

I grabbed his belt buckle and tugged just to see if he would come to me. He did. Dorian took one short step forward, which brought him almost right up between my now spread thighs.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if I can stand it.’

I leaned forward and kissed him. His mouth stayed rigid against mine for a second and then yielded. Once it did, he took control of the kiss. His hand cupped the back of my head, anchoring me to him. His tongue slipped along mine before pressing and swirling it into submission. I sighed, inching forward on my marble perch to get closer to him.

‘I can’t promise you anything,’ I said quickly, working his buckle. ‘But this. Right here. Right now. Right in this moment. If that’s not enough …’ I forced my fingers to be still.

‘It’s enough,’ he said, pushing my hands away, undoing his buckle. ‘For now. But not for ever, Clover. Not by a long shot.’

I held his shoulders, wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him back as he framed my face with his big warm hands. Every drag of his tongue, every touch of his lips, had me wanting him more. It was like burning from the inside out.

‘How many people come up here, Clover? How many?’ He spoke gruffly against the side of my neck so I felt a race of prickling goose bumps across my skin. His fingers plucked at my waistband as he said it and I held my breath.

‘No one. Just me. Just me and workmen who might need to be up here. But –’ My words broke off as he snagged my button and undid it. I chewed my lower lip in anticipation as he dragged my zipper down. Beneath my sad grey slacks I wore canary-yellow knickers. He stepped back, eyed them and smiled.

‘But?’ He stroked the silken fabric and the sensation flooded my system. All my nerve endings jumping to life as he petted me.

‘But you sent him off.’ I puffed out the words on little breaths of air.

‘I did, didn’t I? Childish, I know. But I didn’t like him talking to you. Not when I intend that soon you’ll be mine. You’ll understand what you mean to me and stop letting anything else scare you. Because all that …’ He tapped my hips with his fingers and I felt myself respond to his unspoken request. I lifted my hips off the alcove ledge and he tugged my slacks down … my panties next. ‘All that stuff can be fixed.’ He bent at the waist and delivered one chaste kiss to my smooth, bare mound.

I thought I’d expire right there.

I didn’t think it could be fixed. It didn’t
feel
as if it could. But right there, right then, I didn’t care about anything but the moment.

‘Take your vest off.’

My fingers felt slightly numb but I worked the three shiny buttons and shucked the vest. I moved to unbutton my blouse but he beat me to it. His fingers were larger but he didn’t struggle with the small buttons at all. He popped them open slowly, watching my face as he did it. The heat in my cheeks was so intense I reached up to touch them. Dorian smiled at me. Kissed me softly and then pushed back the sides of my top to expose my bra. Small, flesh-coloured, made of flimsy silk, it wasn’t much of a bra, but he liked it.

He dragged his finger over my nipple and watched it rise up and press eagerly against the thin fabric that still encased it. ‘I like the feel of this,’ he said, stroking the bra. ‘And this.’ He pinched my nipple through the silk and I made a small strangled noise in my throat.

‘I want you to leave it on.’ He pulled the soft cups down so my breasts jutted over the silk. He bent to capture a nipple in his mouth. He sucked me hard enough for me to feel a tug in my throat and then bit me hard enough to make my pussy soaking wet.

He stopped touching me just long enough to get his button open and then his zipper. I watched, fascinated, as if I’d never seen strong male hands before, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his black and grey boxer briefs and pushed them down. When his cock stood out, flushed and hard, ready for me, I felt stunned. I touched him. I wanted to feel the silken hardness in my palm.

‘That’s going to make me lose the little shred of mind I have left,’ he growled.

Normally even and friendly, his voice had a gruffness that made my scalp prickle.

‘Me, too,’ I admitted. ‘I have missed you, Dorian.’

He looked surprised and then confused. Both looks mingled when I wrapped my hand around his shaft and squeezed.

‘Then why –’

I shook my head. ‘Now now. I can’t. I can’t explain,’ I said, softly. Trying very hard to control my voice as I felt the rush of unshed tears. I didn’t want to cry and I didn’t want to sound weak, but I could not deal with this here and now.

‘Shh, OK. I’m sorry.’ He kissed me again, dragging his warm wet tongue along my lower lip to tease me before kissing me more deeply. ‘Spread your legs.’

I opened my already open legs further and Dorian stepped between them. He grabbed my ass and squeezed roughly as the kiss grew deeper, wetter, more insistent. I gasped against his open mouth. He dragged me the last inch or so towards him and we were squeezed together. His hard cock pressing the wetness between my spread thighs. I wiggled a little further forward so I could feel the smoothness of his cockhead kiss my thumping clitoris.

‘Hurry,’ I said.

‘I’ve been waiting for ever for you to talk to me – for us to be in the same room together – and you want me to hurry?’ The hint of anger in his tone made my heart flex painfully. ‘I won’t hurry, Clover. I’m taking my sweet goddamned time.’

‘I’ve had about a million dreams about this since Nantucket.’ His lips travelled my neck and then streaked along my shoulder. My bared nipples rubbed against his chest, so sensitive it was nearly maddening. He stroked his cock along my slit and I tried my best to stay still. Not to arch against him in my desperate need.

I didn’t want to admit I’d had more than my share of steamy dreams too. That I’d woken damp with sweat, my heartbeat pounding in my chest, my temples, between my legs. More than once I’d had to make myself come just so I could get back to sleep. Once during work I’d had to get myself off so that I could return to my job and focus. Did he really need to know that? Did I really need to confess my weakness for him?

I guess I did because I muttered, ‘Me too, me too …’ as he slipped inside me slowly. I gripped his muscular forearms so tight I feared I’d hurt him but he only grunted softly and pushed into me more forcefully. When fully in me, he stopped and stared into my eyes.

‘I have missed you so much. I miss your presence. Just seeing you smile. The world is a better place with you in it, Clover.’

I shook my head, unable to manage any words. Unable to speak because if I did I’d start to cry. Instead of words I gave him my body. I arched up and prompted him to move. Prompted him to grip my hips and begin thrusting into me. My heart was wedged firmly in my throat and when he kissed me I felt as if I’d die from his kiss, strangle on my own feelings.

He pressed me to him, thrusting into me over and over again. Every time he banged against my body it stimulated my clit. I moved more eagerly against him, letting my head fall back. He kissed my throat and lower, his fingers biting into my hips, hurting just enough to mingle with my warm, easy pleasure.

‘Dorian –’ I said. I didn’t have any intention of saying anything else. I just needed to hear his name as the orgasm crashed down around me. I moved faster, squeezed my body around his and came with a low cry that echoed around us in the hall full of marble.

‘That’s it. That’s what I like. I like to hear you say my name. I like it when you make those noises,’ he said, soft lips pressed to my ear. My braids swayed with every thrust as he fucked me. They tickled my breasts and my shoulders. They rustled against his tan chest. I kissed that chest, bent my head to drag my tongue across his nipple and it was his turn to groan.

‘I like to feel you flicker around me,’ he went on, ramping up my pleasure. Triggering more of my slick arousal. ‘I like the way you get wetter and more slippery. So fucking tight. So fucking wet. For
me
,’ he said. ‘And that gets me off. That it’s for me. Just for me.’

I wanted to tell him that there’d barely been anyone before him. I wanted to tell him that I liked that it was for him too. I wanted it to be for him – just for him. And yet part of me did not want to tell him. Part of me wanted to guard that information like a dragon guarding gold. It made me feel weak and vulnerable. And in my head I could hear Natalie’s mocking ‘dear’ and I knew that the word would sound the same from his mother’s mouth.

The differences between us did not matter – not to him. But that was his luxury. One I did not have.

‘Stay with me,’ he said. ‘Don’t drift off. Whatever you can’t reconcile about us does not belong here. You promised me only this,’ he said, kissing my hair, holding me close as he moved into me even faster. His movements more aggressive, his breath a rush of air across my brow. ‘So give me this.’

I nodded and reached around to cup his ass in my hands as he moved. Then the pleasure became too great and I released him. I tilted my body back slightly in his embrace, opening myself more, moving against him. Trapped in the rhythm he and I were building together. Trapped in the magic that was always so evident when Dorian and I were united.

‘That’s cheating,’ he said.

I smiled. I even laughed. I moved faster again, squeezed tighter again. His thumb found my clitoris, ground out eager circles on my flesh. When I came I slammed my hips up and forward and said his name one more time. ‘Dorian.’

He came with a strangled cry that spoke volumes. How one sound could convey happiness, sadness, frustration and melancholy all at once was beyond me. But I heard every emotion in that cry. It echoed the sound of my own.

* * *

There was that moment. That after-the-fucking moment where I wanted to fold up against him and let him hold me. And for just a moment I allowed us that time. Dorian brushed my braids back over my shoulder and rested his forehead against mine.

‘Paris,’ he said.

He was still breathing hard. I could feel his ragged breath and his jumping heart beneath my fingertips. I smoothed my hands flat upon his chest and tried to recall when he’d whipped off his shirt. I couldn’t. It had all been a massive blur of need and emotion.

‘What?’ I finally managed. The single word had penetrated the fog of confusion that had surrounded me.

‘Paris. Come to Paris with me. I have to go. My mother and I are going to some opening of some art gallery. The last thing my father invested in – his time
and
his money, so that’s saying something.’ He sighed. ‘It means a lot to her that we go for it. And to “represent” the family.’