kept building and exploding, building and exploding until her body was only a quivering mass of scored nerves and unspeakable needs.
The sensations pounded at her, massing too quickly to be separated. She only knew he was doing things to her, incredible, wicked, delicious things. The next climax slammed into her like a fist.
Rearing up, she grabbed at him, thrashing until they were rolling over the bed. Her mouth sprinted over him, just as greedy now, just as frenzied. Her questing hands found him, cupped him, so that her system shivered with fresh and furious pleasure when he groaned.
"Now. Now." It had to be now. He couldn't stop himself. His hands slid off her damp skin, gripped hard at her hips to lift them. He drove himself inside her deep, panting as he positioned her to take even more of him.
He rode her hard, plunging further each time she rose to meet him. He watched her face as she plummeted over that final, vicious peak, the way her clouded eyes went dark as her muscles contracted around him.
With something perilously close to pain, he emptied himself into her.
Chapter Seventeen
He'd rolled off her and was staring at the ceiling. He could curse himself, he knew, but he couldn't take back what he'd done.
All of his care, all of his caution, and in an instant, he had snapped. And ruined it.
Now she was curled up beside him, quivering. And he was afraid to touch her.
"I'm sorry," he finally said and tasted the uselessness of the apology. "I never meant to treat you that way. I lost control."
"Lost control," she murmured and wondered how it could be a body should feel limp and energized all at once. "Did you think you needed it?"
Her voice was shaky, he noted, and rough, he imagined, with shock. "I know an apology's pretty lame. Can I get you something? Some water." He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself again. "Talk about lame. Let me get you a nightgown. You'll want a nightgown."
"No, I don't." She managed to shift enough to look up and study his face. He didn't look at her, she noted, but only stared at the ceiling. "Grayson, you didn't hurt me."
"Of course I did. You'll have bruises to prove it."
"I'm not fragile," she said with a hint of exasperation.
"I treated you like-" He couldn't say it, not to her. "I should have been gentle."
"You have been. I like knowing it took you some effort to be gentle. And I like knowing something I did made you forget to be." Her lips curved as she brushed at the hair on his forehead. "Did you think you frightened me?"
"I know I frightened you." He shifted away, sat up. "I didn't care."
"You did frighten me." She paused. "I liked it. I love you."
He winced, squeezed the hand she'd laid over his. "Brianna," he began without a clue how to continue.
"Don't worry. I don't need the words back."
"Listen, a lot of times people get sex confused with love."
"I imagine you're right. Grayson, do you think I would be here with you, that I would ever have been with you like this if I didn't love you."
He was good with words. Dozens of reasonable excuses and ploys ran through his mind. "No," he said at length, settling on the truth. "I don't. Which only makes it worse," he muttered, and rose to tug on his trousers. "I should never have let things go this far. I knew better. It's my fault."
"There's no fault here." She reached for his hand so that he would sit on the bed again rather than pace. "It shouldn't make you sad to know you're loved, Grayson."
But it did. It made him sad, and panicked, and for just a moment, wishful. "Brie, I can't give you back what you want or should have. There's no future with me, no house in the country and kids in the yard. It's not in the cards."
"It's a pity you think so. But I'm not asking you for that."
"It's what you want."
"It's what I want, but not what I expect." She gave him a surprisingly cool smile. "I've been rejected before. And I know very well what is it to love and not have the person love you back, at least not so much as you want, or need." She shook her head before he could speak. "As much as I might want to go on with you, Grayson, I'll survive without you."
"I don't want to hurt you, Brianna. I care about you. I care for you."
She lifted a brow. "I know that. And I know you're worried because you care more for me than you've cared for anyone before."
He opened his mouth, shut it, shook his head. "Yes, that's true. It's new ground for me. For both of us." Still uncertain of his moves, he took her hand, kissed it. "I'd give you more if I could. And I am sorry I at least didn't prepare you a little better for tonight. You're the first... inexperienced woman I've been with, so I've tried to take it slow."
Intrigued, she cocked her head. "You must have been as nervous as I was, the first time."
"More." He kissed her hand again. "Much more, believe me. I'm used to women who know the ropes, and the rules. Experienced or pro, and you-"
"Pro? Professional?" Her eyes went huge. "You've paid women to bed them?"
He stared back at her. He must have been even more befuddled than he'd realized to have come out with something like that. "Not in recent memory. Anyway-"
"Why would you have to do that? A man who looks like you, who has your sensibility?"
"Look, it was a long time ago. Another life. Don't look at me like that," he snapped. "When you're sixteen and alone on the streets, nothing's free. Not even sex."
"Why were you alone and on the street at sixteen?"