Usually I take pleasure in watching my companion ride that high that seems so goddamn intense for a woman, but this time I don’t have the wherewithal for that. She tenses around me and pulls me to the edge hard and fast. My vision goes white, then black, as the ball of energy churns in my gut and branches out to my limbs like the beginning of a lightning rod. The combination of her crying out and me pressing her legs back so I can get as deep as possible drives me to the point of no return.
I climax with a hard groan as the electricity bursts through me, my nerve endings singed, my muscles tensed, and my body riding that sexual high. My dick is so goddamn sensitive that her muscles’ contracting causes me to pull out quicker than usual.
As I gaze down at her lying on the bed, a blanket of hair framing her flushed cheeks, and her body still quivering, I smile shyly with awkwardness at her and get a smile in return, but it’s the look in her eyes I can’t read. She looks conflicted, guarded, like she wants to tell me something but isn’t speaking up.
I shrug away the feeling because my fingers are still gripping the flesh of her thighs and my dick’s coated from her pleasure, so does it really matter what the hell she’s thinking? Maybe she’s just uncertain what to say, because what’s considered polite conversation when we’ve just fucked after meeting for a whole twenty minutes max?
We both startle when the ring of my cell phone cuts through the uncomfortable silence. And I swear I catch my sigh of relief before I blow it out; although I’m relieved to be saved by the bell, I want to mitigate any inevitable discomfort between us.
A gentleman would ignore his cell, and normally I’m just that. But in light of the situation and the fact that I’m waiting for a call from Rafe, I’m going to take the convenient out. When I glance to the floor where my phone sits faceup, I can just make out his name on the screen.
“Sorry. I can’t not get this.” I feel like such a dick, but it doesn’t stop me, and I squeeze her inner thighs in a show of regret. “I’m sorry,” I murmur again, meeting her surprised eyes as she unwraps her legs from around my waist. I take a step back, and I quickly avert my eyes as I toe the edge of embarrassment.
She murmurs something about understanding that I’m not sure I believe as I pick up my phone and head toward the bathroom to try and get some privacy in this tiny room.
“Dude. Do you have any clue what fucking time it is?” I ask the question to save face on why I sound winded, but then I look at my watch and realize it’s two o’clock in the damn morning.
“No. No damn clue, but you picked up awfully fast, so I know you’re not sleeping.” His statement hangs on the line like a question, but I just ignore it.
“What do you need, Rafe?” I glance over my shoulder to see BJ lying on the bed but covering herself up with the sheet. Shit. Well, I guess I can look on the bright side; more sex might be in my immediate future. That’s never a bad thing.
“Got your new photographer lined up. Name’s Bo Croslyn. I set it up for you two to meet in the normal place,” he says, referring to the hotel’s one pseudo–conference room all of us correspondents have taken over as our place to do official business when we need privacy and we’re not out in the field.
I knew this phone call was coming, knew I was going to get a new photog, but for some reason having it actually happen makes me feel like I’m betraying Stella. Ridiculous.
“Experience?” I ask as I take the condom off and toss it in the trash can next to the toilet. The line fills with silence while I turn the faucet on and clean up. “Rafe? What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing abroad just —”
“Nothing abroad?” My voice escalates. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re sending me a goddamn newbie? Some fresh-faced kid that’s going to get himself killed… or better yet, get me killed. What the —”
“Calm down. That’s not what —”
“This. Is. Calm.” I grit the words out. The false calm from the whiskey and the orgasm that were like a salve to soothe the invisible wounds is now gone. “Jesus H., man. After Stella… after how that went down, you’re gonna do this to me?”
“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Bo’s pictures are killer.”