‘A tree... You got a Christmas tree,’ he said, the gruff rumble of his voice filled with a raw edge that only made her more wary, more insecure.
‘Yes.’ She forced herself to look at him at last. The coloured lights glittered in his dark eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he stared at the tree. His face was an implacable mask, a cover for some deep emotion he wouldn’t let her see. It was the same expression she remembered from that day in the park, several weekends ago now, when she’d asked him about his siblings, and he’d shut her down.
‘You don’t like it?’ she said dumbly, feeling hurt, even though she knew she shouldn’t be.
It’s just a wee tree. Don’t overreact.
He blinked, as if waking from a trance, his gaze focussing on her at last. What she saw wasn’t boredom though, or indifference, whatever it was it was fierce and passionate and all-consuming.
He grasped her wrist and tugged her into his arms. ‘Come here,’ he growled.
She went to him, her heart getting lodged in her throat as he framed her face and slanted his mouth across hers.
His tongue thrust deep, turning the kiss from desperate to demanding in a heartbeat. As his hands roamed down to cup her bottom—triggering the instant hunger—and the thick length of his arousal prodded her belly, she couldn’t help but respond. She opened her lips to let him take more, to meet his demand with demands of her own.
She didn’t know what was happening, why he was so tense, his emotions more volatile than she had ever seen them, but whatever it was it felt better than indifference.
He yanked off her top, unhooked her bra with clumsy fingers, and pressed his face into her breasts, capturing each nipple in turn and suckling hard, making them harden and the desire swell and pulse at her core.
‘I need you,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said, the desperation in his voice spurring her own passion. She drove her fingers into his hair, but was forced to release him as he stripped off her clothing. Lifting her naked body, he placed her on the couch. The coloured lights shone off his hair as he stood over her to tear off his own clothing, his urgency as arousing as his desperation.
Finding his wallet in the pile of discarded clothes, he took out a condom, ripped it open and rolled it on the huge erection with trembling fingers.
The dark desire on his face had turned to something more, something brutal and overwhelming as he grasped her hips, angled her body and thrust in to the hilt.
Her sodden flesh struggled to adjust to the thick intrusion—so powerful, so overwhelming—but as he began to move, digging ruthlessly at the spot he had found months ago and exploited so many times since, she felt taken, devoured. Whatever he was hiding from her, he needed her, and for the first time ever he had let her know.
The pleasure swelled, like a wave, battering her, brutal in its intensity.
‘Come for me,’ he growled, his hips pistoning now, forcing her to the pinnacle too fast, too soon.
She clung on, as if perched on the edge of a precipice, scared to fall, as she struggled to control the firestorm of need and the brutal swelling in her heart, wanting to understand the pain in his eyes.
But as the vicious climax gripped her, flinging her over the edge, she found herself falling into a bottomless abyss.
She cried out, bucking against his hold, the pleasure shattering her.
He shouted out as his own orgasm hit, his big body collapsing on top of her.
Their rasping breathing filled the quiet night, but as she gazed at the tree lights, which had seemed so sweet only minutes ago, she felt dazed, and disorientated, and scared. Because she knew she had just lost the battle she hadn’t even realised she’d been waging for weeks, to keep her heart safe. From him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Christmas Eve
ALEXEASEDOUTof bed and headed into the shower. He turned on the jets, forcing his body to wake up. Not easy after the night he’d put in.
He’d taken her, too many times to count. They’d ended up eating cold takeout off their laps, the tree lights twinkling in the background and mocking him.
Because the more times he sank into her, the more times he saw the compassion in her eyes, the more desperate he felt.
He’d been looking forward to doing dumb, Christmassy things with her today for over a week. Had planned to take the day off work, maybe build a snowman in the park, hire a chef to cook them a fancy dinner on the terrace. He’d even bought her a gift. The first gift he’d ever got a woman he was dating that he’d picked out and ordered himself instead of delegating the job to Cheryl. He had even ensured Eleanor didn’t have a bar shift today, thanks to his trusty inside man, Mel.
But as he walked back into the bedroom, and saw her curled up on the bed, still asleep, the tightness in his chest made it hard for him to breathe.
He couldn’t stay with her today, doing Christmas stuff, without thinking about all the things he had to tell her. About Roman, about the people she’d trusted.