“Yes, now shut up and do me.”
His eyes narrowed at the vulgar tone and she wondered if she’d pushed him too far. But then he swore under his breath and lifted her, wedging her thighs further apart to rip at her panties.
The sound of satin tearing echoed in the cavernous space and then his fingers were digging into soft flesh as he positioned himself to thrust hard. Her head dropped back, the brutal swell of desire tempered by shock as he impaled himself to the hilt, her slick flesh stretching to receive him.
He buried his face in her neck, pulled out and plunged back. She held onto his shoulders, anchoring herself as best she could against the stunning pressure, the punishing pleasure. His grunts and her sobs sounded raw and primal as he drove into her. Again and again. Flesh slapped against flesh, the spiral of heat yanking tight, surging up from her center, threatening to tear her apart. The feeling of loss and longing and regret burned away on the savage swell. Brutal, tumultuous, unstoppable.
She fisted her fingers in his hair, urging him on, crying out as the orgasm overtook her at last, exploding through her senses. His yell rang in her ear, his seed flooding her.
She floated down on the wave of afterglow, her heart thundering right out of her chest. But as her fingers relaxed in his hair, her palms brushed the rough skin of his cheeks, the day-old stubble, and she had the sudden yearning to cling to him forever.
He slipped out of her and lowered her to the floor. She felt raw and too open like a seeping wound—his semen wet against her thighs. The sense of loss overwhelming. She locked her knees, to keep from collapsing, the last of the pleasure chased away by the wave of horror. As realization dawned of what they’d just done. And what she would have to do and say now. To push him away for good.
She would have to pay the price for her recklessness. Because Zelda had discovered long ago that if there was no such thing as a free fuck, there was certainly no such thing as a free fuck-up.
*
Ty’s breath sawed in his lungs as he shoved his cock back in his pants, surveyed the tattered remains of his shirt. Had that actually just happened? Had he just taken Zelda against a wall in Sully’s basement? And come like a freight train? He stared at the familiar stacks of beer kegs, inhaled the musty smell of damp brick and stale Guinness.
She looked blank, shaky, her lips pursed in a thin line as if she were trying to hold onto control. Was she in shock? Because he thought he might be.
“Jesus, Zel.” He cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb across the delicate skin, so soft, so fragile. “I didn’t come here intending to do that. I just wanted to talk. But you do something to me. Something I can’t control. Something I don’t want to control. Not anymore.”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and drew his hand away from her face. “Well you’re going to have to, because that’s all there is.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, her dism
issive tone, the flat acceptance in her eyes scaring him.
She was so precious, so special. Why couldn’t she see that?
“Something happened last weekend.” His voice sounded small and far away. He paused to take a breath, and push the confidence into his tone he used when presenting evidence to a jury. “Something important. And it was never just about the sex. It meant something to me. You mean something to me. I don’t want this to be over.”
She stepped away from him, her face flat and expressionless and his panic careened up another notch. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ty. This can’t go anywhere. Our worlds are too far apart.”
The barb was well-aimed, hitting him right where it hurt the most, at his pride. And that niggling doubt underneath, that told him he would never be good enough for someone like her. She was beautiful and cultured and rich and aristocratic, the daughter of an American ambassador who had probably been to every major city in the world, while he’d never been outside the US. She lived in a townhouse on the Upper East Side twenty times the size of the apartment above them where he’d grown up. She probably earned more disposable income in a week than he could earn in a year.
But she didn’t look at him when she said it and the chip that had ridden on his shoulder all through Columbia Law, because he couldn’t afford to join a fraternity, and didn’t want to have a corner office in some pricey, midtown law firm, toppled off. Zelda wasn’t a snob. She didn’t judge people by their hourly income. She was simply feeding his own prejudices back to him. He knew an unreliable witness when he saw one.
“Don’t do that.” He grasped her chin, forcing her gaze back to his, and he saw that flicker in her eyes that he had seen once before. “Don’t play the Park Avenue princess when I know you’re not. If there’s a reason why you don’t want to explore this thing further, tell me straight what it is. And I’ll back off. But you have to give me a reason I can believe.”
He was through being on the defensive, through playing this game by her rules. If she had secrets, he wanted to know what they were. He was entitled to know, because he’d told her every one of his.
She slapped his hand away. “Fine, I’ll give you a reason. I don’t do relationships.”
“That’s not a reason, it’s a platitude. Tell me why you don’t?”
“Because I’m no good at them.”
“How do you know if you won’t even try? I’m not asking for anything more than a chance here, Zel, to see where this is going, without putting obstacles in our path.”
“There’s no point, when I know I’ll screw it up.”
“Why would you think that? Is this something to do with your jerk of a brother?” That had to be it. She needed someone to show her exactly how precious she was. And he could be that guy. If only she would believe in herself enough to let him in. “Can’t you see his neglect has made you think you’re worthless?” he continued. “That you can’t do this, when you can.”
He tried to gather her close, but she struggled free and shoved him back.
“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? You arrogant bastard. We fucked for three days. You don’t know anything about me.”