And even if he did, the power to say no.
My hips thrust in rhythm with his fingers. His hungry gaze locks on mine, and he watches, making no move to kiss me. Overpowered by sensation, by his fingers and the rasp of his jeans against my inner thighs, I steady my hands against his chest and bite my lip to stifle my cries of pleasure.
His free hand glides from my hip, up over my breast, to cup my neck. “No holding back, Mouse.” He pulls at my chin to free the flesh from my teeth.
My lip pops out on a gasp. He rewards me with more pressure, and even though I know he wants to hear me, I bite down. The embarrassment is too much, the shame too heavy. He doesn’t know what he’s asking.
Come on, Laylay. Let me hear you.
My building orgasm ebbs. No. I push back against the voice from my past. I won’t let his memory ruin this.
His fingers slow and threaten to retreat. “You okay or—”
“I’m okay.” I nod and relax my jaw. I don’t have to be that woman anymore. I’m in control of me.
Faking the freedom I felt when we’d started, I skate my hand down his rippled abdomen to his crotch. His hard-on strains against his zipper. I grab him tight, and he lifts his hips into my hold. My belly tightens at the affect my touch has on him.
Our hands work us into a sweat, and I lean in to feast on his mouth. He meets me halfway, attacking my lips and forcing me to hold his shoulder to stay upright. Frenzied and racing to release, we push harder. Together.
He tugs at the low-V of my shirt to release my breasts. “Mouse.” The impatient sound of my nickname incites my ravished delirium.
“Take ’em.” I pull down the satin cups, exposing my bare breasts.
“Fuck yeah.” He locks his mouth around one nipple while his fingers toy with the other. His hum of approval vibrates against my sensitive skin.
“Blake, I…” Overpowered by sensation, my body jerks hard. Desperate for release and terrified of falling apart in his arms, I hold back the tidal wave that threatens to destroy me.
Come for me, bitch.
“No…” I shake my head and drop it to his shoulder. The tendriled shadows of my past curl up my back and strangle me. “I’m scared.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Let it happen, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses his fingers in tight. “Just let go.”
You don’t want me, but your slutty little body can’t say no.
The voice from my past smothers me, contrasting completely with the way my body feels. My belly tightens, threatening my release, but I slam it back again. He works harder, hitting the spots that make my breath hitch. But a dark veil falls between my body and my mind, cutting me off.
On an instinct so powerful I can’t avoid it, I detach from the driving force that’s hell-bent on release. “I… I can’t.”
Gently positioning me, he kisses a path down my throat. “Yes, you can.” He pulls my nipple into his mouth.
The pinch of suction is too familiar and reminds my body of the past.
I’ll never let anyone have you the way I do. Never.
“Shut up!” I shove Blake’s chest and scurry from his lap.
He throws his hands up but doesn’t stop me. “Shit, what did I do? Did I hurt you?” His gaze works the length of my body as he does a visual check of my well-being, but he makes no move to touch me.
I shake my head and tuck my breasts back into my shirt. My heart races, and I’m panting.
“Talk to me. Are you okay?”
I nod over and over, waiting for the fear to calm. Blake’s not a monster. He won’t hurt me. He’d never hurt me. Breathe.
“Fuck, Layla, talk to me.” He moves to reach for me, but I recoil from his grasp. “I’m sorry. I—”
“No… I’m good, I’m…” The shame and horror of what I’ve done settles on my shoulders. “I should go.” Searching the floor for my jeans, I wipe at my forehead, hot and humiliated by my outburst. I know better than to let myself hope that things might be different with someone else. Where are my jeans?
“No, you’re not leaving. Not like this.” He snags my pants from the floor. “Talk to me.”
My cheeks flame, and I break out in a sweat. “I’m fine.” Dammit, my voice cracked.
“I won’t touch you. As much as I want to pull you in my arms, I’ll give you your space. But you gotta let me in. If I did something wrong…?”
It’s so hot in here. I pull my hair back and tie it in a knot. I like Blake. He’s been so good about accepting me, invisible scars and all. Chances are that flare-up from my past has destroyed our newfound “more than friends” status. He knows the worst of it, but this—so humiliating. He’s asking, practically begging, for it. But can I trust him?
His green eyes dance over my face, searching. Pleading.