He didn’t want to feel any tenderness, she realized. He was searching only for physical release—and she wasn’t opposed to letting him have it. She wanted to feel him inside her as much as he wanted to be there, even if it had to be like this.
But everything moved too fast for her to feel satisfied. The feral intensity was exciting, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before—except that when he finished, she felt a strange sort of disappointment.
Since he was done with her, she started to get up. She’d known what he was going through tonight—how upset he was and how much alcohol he’d had. She figured she had no right to be surprised or offended, since he’d delivered exactly what he’d promised. She was the one who’d agreed to settle for whatever he was willing to give, which was why it startled her when he slipped an arm around her waist, lifted her back onto the mattress and pinned her down.
He stared at her, wearing a fathomless expression on his face. She thought she saw some regret there and was hoping he’d soften—kiss her and caress her as he’d done before.
But he didn’t. He held her hands above her head as he suckled her breasts. Then he ran his lips down her stomach, kissing and biting her.
Lourdes gasped as he raised her legs over his shoulders and held them there. He wouldn’t let her move, wouldn’t let her withdraw from him. He’d taken control. But she didn’t want to escape him...
She writhed on his bed, her hands clutching the bedding as his mouth brought her to a quick and powerful climax.
*
Although Lourdes had seen plenty of animalistic, rip-your-clothes-off sex depicted in the movies, she’d never experienced it firsthand. Not until tonight. She had to admit there was a certain eroticism to it. Still, she preferred the gentleness with which Kyle had touched her before the fire. But he’d been out to make a point, and she couldn’t deny he’d done a good job of it.
When she tried to return to her own bed, once again he caught her by the waist, and this time he pulled her back against him.
She told herself she’d stay until he fell asleep and then she’d go back to her own room. Given the temporary nature of their relationship, she didn’t think it was wise to cuddle up with him. That would only defeat the purpose of making love so forcefully and fast and devoid of any endearments.
But she was tired, too. And the warmth of his body provided such a comfortable place to sleep that she soon felt too languid to move. It wasn’t until early the next morning, when there seemed to be several people banging on the front door and ringing the bell at the same time, that she opened her eyes and realized she was still in his bed.
Roused by the noise, he got up and grabbed some clothes. Then he took one look at her and scowled as if he wasn’t too happy to see her.
She tugged the blankets up and scowled right back at him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to run out and tattoo your name on my arm or anything. You made sure I couldn’t mistake ‘fucking’ for ‘making love.’”
He pushed a hand through his hair. It was sticking up on one side, and yet he still managed to look sexy. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m sort of an all-or-nothing person.”
“I didn’t ask you to show me what nothing was like,” she said. “I was just putting you to bed. What happened after that was your idea.”
“I know. And I’m afraid it wasn’t a very good one.”
“You’d been drinking. Should I have refused?”
“Not because I’d been drinking. I’m not blaming that. Or you.”
“But you’re not happy about last night.”
“How could I be? I was an asshole.”
“People do weird things when they don’t want to get hurt. But just so you know... I don’t want to get hurt, either.” He’d been vulnerable when they were together before the fire, feeling more than he should. They both had. So she didn’t find it such a shock that after the fire he’d try to get what he wanted while also trying to erect the barriers he felt would keep him safe. “Anyway, as far as ‘fucking’ goes, that wasn’t bad.”