Not Until You Page 9

  She lifted her lashes and reached up to touch his face, to brush her fingers along his stubble. The tender intimacy of the move almost undid him. “And you’re better than the fantasy, Foster.”

  He dropped onto his forearms, unable to bear another second without kissing her. His mouth met hers in a hungry rush, tongues and lips clashing. She laced her fingers in his hair and pulled tight. Out of his conscious control at this point, his hips begin to thrust into her with more force. She whimpered into his mouth, and the bed squeaked beneath them as sweat glazed his skin.

  He didn’t break the kiss, but reached a hand in between them to find her clit. The moment he touched it, her pussy gripped him, contracted.

  “Come with me, angel,” he said, lifting up only far enough to watch her face and then picking up speed.

  He angled his hips to brush his cock over her where he knew she needed, and strummed her clit. A long, gritty moan passed her lips, and he felt the precise moment she shattered. It was all he needed. His balls drew tight and the all-encompassing explosion of pleasure shot through him like a bullet train.

  The sweet, erotic sounds of her orgasm danced around him, driving him higher as he emptied every bit of him inside her, his body throbbing and pulsing, all with need for her. Just her.

  And the realization didn’t hit him then.

  It didn’t even hit him as he lifted off her, kissed her face all over, and eventually tucked her into a robe.

  But then he went into the bathroom to toss the condom.

  And saw red.

  And he knew, knew what had been haunting her eyes in the elevator.

  Never have I ever . . .

  He leaned against the bathroom wall, his heart sinking.

  Fuck.

  TEN

  I rolled to the left, bumping into tattooed, sleep-warmed skin. The obstruction spun my hazy brain into confusion for a moment. Where was I? Was I dreaming? I blinked in the predawn darkness, finding Pike snoring softly, his bare back to me. My mind stumbled, then rewound, the memories of the night dropping back into place.

  A long breath pushed past my lips as I lay back on the pillows and rubbed my eyes. No, this had been no dream. My achy, tender body punctuated that conclusion. I’d actually done it—shoved past all my worry and inhibitions and gotten naked with not just one of the neighbors I’d been fantasizing about, but both of them. And I’d had sex with Foster. Sex. I was a virgin no longer. I waited for the shame to hit me. The morning-after regret I’d heard about from friends, but none came.

  The only thing clawing at me was the memory of the way I’d felt when Foster had held me and kissed me, the way he’d felt filling my body. The physical discomfort of it had been expected, the initial wave of it breath stealing. But that pain had faded to a soft hum in the background when my eyes had locked with his. Something far deeper than the sensations my body was experiencing had passed through me. An intense oneness with him.

  It’d probably been the simple fact that he was my first. Girls were wired to get romantic notions about that, right? But later when Pike had joined the two of us in bed again, I hadn’t felt the same thing kissing and cuddling him. Being with Pike was fun—he was sex personified and he made me laugh—but I didn’t get that tight feeling in my stomach when he looked at me.

  I turned to my right, seeking the man who was stirring up the turmoil in me, but that side of the bed was empty. I reached out and touched the rumpled sheets. Cold.

  I frowned and squinted at the clock—a little past five A.M. Careful not to disturb Pike, I scooted across the bed and climbed to my feet, grabbing the robe I’d thrown over the high-backed chair in the corner. My body protested at the movement, soreness fully setting in now. But in a way, I welcomed the discomfort, the proof that the night had really happened and wasn’t some fantasy. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I padded across the plush carpet and slipped out of the bedroom.

  The living room was still in twilight, but the silhouette of a man standing in front of the large windows drew me. Foster stared out at the coming dawn, the lights of downtown Dallas starting to blink off, preparing for the sun’s appearance. He held a mug in his hands, blowing across the top of it.

  I hung in the shadow of the far side of the room, simply enjoying watching him. The muscles in his back shifted and caught the light as he lifted his coffee to his lips and sipped. There was an elegance to his economy of movement, to his stillness. His brows were drawn low, his profile a sculpture of deep thought.

  I almost turned back toward the bedroom, afraid to interrupt the sanctity of his quiet morning, but when I stepped backward, my robe brushed a nearby lampshade, sending the lamp chain clinking against the metal base.

  Foster tipped his head in my direction, a slight turn, but didn’t take his eyes off the view. “You’re up early.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “Said the rooster to the chicken.”

  He looked at me then, a quirk of a smile. “I’m not so good at the sleeping-in thing. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “You didn’t.” I stepped out of the dark and headed to the oversized chair near the window. When I sat, my body reminded me again of all I’d been through in the last few hours. But even the tenderness of my backside had a flash of lust zipping through me. God, I was a glutton for punishment. Since when was pain a good thing? I tucked my legs beneath me and resisted the urge to go over to Foster and kiss him good morning. “I’m not sure what woke me up. Maybe Pike’s snoring.”

  Foster chuckled. “Don’t tell him he snores. It will devastate his Mr. Suave self-image.”

  “Never.” I pantomimed zipping my mouth shut.

  Foster’s smirk remained in place, but I sensed this lighthearted conversation was simply pretty decoration on top of a pile of crap that wasn’t been said. The lines around his mouth, the way he gripped his coffee, even the set of his shoulders had my nerves rising, my fingers fiddling with the tie of my terrycloth robe. He knew.

  He released a long sigh and moved away from the window to perch on the arm of the couch across from me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I stared down at fidgeting hands. “Tell you what?”

  “Cela,” he said in that commanding tone he’d used in the bedroom. “Look at me.”

  A hot quiver rippled through me, but I raised my gaze to him.

  Sharp disapproval edged his features. “You left something pretty important off that list of yours.”

  My cheeks heated. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “Didn’t want to say anything?” he said, his exasperation loud in the dead quiet of the hotel room. “Cela, we could’ve hurt you. If you had told me, I would’ve been gentler, more tender. I hit you for Christ’s sake.” He dragged a hand through his already disheveled mop of hair. “Your first time’s supposed to be sweet and romantic and I . . .”

  “Stop,” I said, sitting up taller in the chair. “You didn’t hurt me. And this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell either of you. The guy I told you about, the one who made fun of me? I had gone on a few dates with him and when things started to heat up, I let him know before anything happened. He laughed and asked if I was some religious fanatic. Then he left because taking a girl’s virginity was ‘too heavy’ for a hookup.”

  “Well, thank God for that. That idiot definitely didn’t deserve to touch you. But you know I wouldn’t have done that.”

  “I know you wouldn’t have teased me, but you would’ve backed out the instant you found out.”

  “No, I wouldn’t’ve.”

  “Liar,” I said, frustration building in me. “You just said it. Everybody has all these notions about what a first time is supposed to be like, and it freaks people out. Dudes are afraid the girl is going to cling to them like some let’s-be-together-forever teenager, and girls are afraid that i
f the heavens don’t open up and the angels don’t sing that it’s a losing-your-virginity failure. I didn’t want any of that.”

  He shook his head. “What did you want?”

  You, my mind whispered, exactly what happened. And angels had sung. Or maybe those were devils . . . I kicked the thought aside. “I wanted a good time. I wanted to get that big branded V off my resume before I have to go back home and start my real life.”

  Something flickered through his blue eyes, like a biting wind in a winter storm. “A good time. Right. Well, that’s our specialty.”

  He stood and walked back toward the window, dismissing me.

  The iciness in his voice and stance cut though my thick robe, chilling my skin. The shift in his mood had my defenses rising, anger welling. “Isn’t it? Or are all those girls I’ve heard visit your apartment your ‘twu wuv.’”

  His wince was almost imperceptible, but I caught it.

  I rose to my feet, arms crossed. “Be honest, Foster. If I had told you last night that I was a virgin, would you have slept with me?”

  He stared out the window, his jaw twitching, and I thought he may ignore me. But then after a few long seconds, he spun on his heel, set his coffee down, and stalked into my space.

  His nearness had my thoughts scattering, my emotions splintering. Words wouldn’t come.

  He cupped my shoulders, a grip that vibrated with restrained power. “I don’t know. But if I had, I would’ve made it different. I would’ve made it special for you, would’ve taken my time, gone slow. And I certainly wouldn’t have invited Pike or used any kink.”

  I swallowed hard, his earnest speech curling around me, making me ache for him all over again. “It was special, Foster. And yes, I’m new at all this, but what you did . . . how you acted . . .”

  “Was irresponsible.”

  “Was hot.”

  His eyebrows lifted.

  “I asked you to take control. I didn’t realize you would take it where you did, but . . . I liked it. I felt lost and safe all at the same time. I never expected sex to feel like that. I had an idea what it would feel like physically. I know my way around a vibrator. But this was . . .” I paused, not sure if the right words even existed. “Transcendent.”

  His thumbs caressed the curve of my shoulders as he stared down at me, his head tilted ever so slightly, like he was working out some riddle in his head.

  A door squeaked behind me.

  “Why the hell are you guys up so fucking early?” Pike groaned. “And why am I alone in a cold bed?”

  Foster’s hands dropped from my shoulders, and he stepped back, the moment broken. “Sorry, we couldn’t sleep.”

  “Great, two insomniacs,” Pike muttered and made his way over to us.

  I couldn’t help but smile at him, his spiked hair flat on one side and his eyelids heavy. He looked like an overgrown teenager shuffling in for breakfast. Before saying anything else, he grabbed Foster’s cooling coffee off the side table and swigged. Grimaced.

  “Cream is an option, you know,” he said to Foster.

  “So is getting your own damned coffee.”

  I laughed. “Y’all have lived together too long.”

  “No fucking doubt,” Pike said, setting the cup down and then reaching for the belt of my robe. He pulled me to him like I was a fish on a line and wrapped his arms around my waist. “And how are you this morning, gorgeous?”

  The embrace was warm, affectionate, but suddenly being this close to Pike felt strange. Even though I’d happily pleasured him last night, had even curled up with him when I’d fallen asleep between the two of them, something had changed in those early morning moments. The attraction was still there, but the dynamic was askew. My gaze flicked to Foster, who stood like a sentry behind Pike—stiff and stoic.

  Some vulnerable part inside me wanted him to intervene, to pull me into his arms instead of letting Pike embrace me. But then I realized how ridiculous I was being. Just because Foster was the one I’d had actual sex with, it didn’t mean we had something different between us than Pike and I did. All of this was exactly what I had described it as—a good time. Naughty fun.

  No big deal.

  Right.

  I brought my focus back to the man in front of me. “I’m exhausted, but in the best way possible.”

  “Mmm,” Pike murmured. “I know what you mean, doc. Last night was fantastic.” He peeked over his shoulder. “Even though Foster hogged you at the end.”

  “Oink, oink,” Foster said, his voice too tight to deliver the intended humor.

  “Well,” Pike said, pulling the tie on my robe and slipping the halves open, his hands along my waist. “Why don’t we rectify that? I think there’s a big ol’ hot shower with our names on it.”

  Despite feeling a bit off balance, Pike’s soft touch against my skin had interest stirring in me. And if my heart was getting all mixed up because it was pulling the virgin-getting-attached card, maybe a morning wake-up call with Pike was just what I needed.

  I closed my eyes, trying to block out Foster, and leaned my forehead against Pike’s. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “That’s our girl,” Pike said, his tone dipping into that low, sexual place that was impossible for my body not to react to despite the tug-of-war in my mind. “Come on, doc.”

  He guided me toward the bedroom, all sleepiness gone from his face.

  Before we crossed the threshold, he called back to Foster. “Shower fits three, my brother. Door’s open.”

  But when I sent one last glance Foster’s way, he hadn’t moved an inch.

  PART III

  NOT UNTIL YOU CRAVE

  ELEVEN

  The trip home from the hotel was painfully quiet. I sat in between Foster and Pike in the back of the cab. Pike was leaning against the window, eyes closed, half dozing, and Foster was like an automaton version of himself—only speaking when absolutely necessary.

  I had no idea what had changed in the span of the last few hours, but my wild night out had morphed into something decidedly more somber. I tugged on the short tennis skirt Foster had bought from the hotel shop to save me the walk of shame in my wrinkled dress. The gesture had been thoughtful, sweet even. But he’d shirked off my thank-you like he hadn’t even heard me.

  Anxiety bubbled in my stomach at the thought of the good-bye this morning. Why in God’s name had I chosen my neighbors? Last night, the crush-driven idea had seemed ingenious. Now I realized how stupid I’d been. Morning-after awkwardness was bad enough, but there was no way I was going to be able to avoid facing them regularly during these last few weeks I was living here.

  The cab rolled to a stop at the curb in front of our building, and Foster paid the driver. He slid out of the car and held his hand out to me, the consummate gentleman, even in his cool state. Once I was on my feet and had grabbed my plastic bag of discarded clothes, I moved to let go of Foster’s hand. But instead of allowing me to escape, he gathered me to his side, planting a hand at the small of my back.

  I sent him a curious look but let him guide me toward the door. Pike jogged in front of us and grabbed the door to hold it open for the two of us.

  “You’re a hard man to read,” I said, half under my breath.

  “Am I?” Foster asked, continuing to look forward as we climbed the stairs. “I would think I’m painfully transparent at the moment.”

  “You’re angry,” I said, speaking what I already knew.

  He sighed, his fingers pressing into my back. “Not at you, angel. Not at you.”

  “We need to—” I began, but my words lodged like popcorn in my throat when I reached the top of the stairs and saw the imposing figure leaning against my doorway. “Oh, shit.”

  Foster tensed like a Rottweiler spotting a pit bull in his path. “What the hell?”


  Andre turned around and spotted me, my brother’s dark eyes filling with relief. “Marcela. Jesus, you’re all right, thank God,” he said, coming toward me.

  But when his gaze jumped to the man beside me, Andre reared up, stiffened, and took on that badass cop pose I knew so well.

  I instantly moved away from Foster’s touch. “Andre, what are you doing here?”

  He stared down at me, his eyes jumping to the Hotel St. Mark insignia on my polo shirt, then back to my face. I could almost hear his teeth gnash together. “I stopped by to take my baby sister out for brunch to celebrate her graduation.”

  “You could’ve called.”

  He raised his hand, cell phone facing out. “I did. Four times. And your house phone. You know how scary it is to have your sister tell you she’s in for the night and then she’s nowhere to be found the next morning? I was picturing you dead on the road somewhere, Cela.”

  I winced. “Sorry. I decided to go out.”

  “And not come home until the next morning, wearing hotel clothes?”

  “I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” Foster said, his tone almost bored.

  Of course, Pike, who’d stayed behind to grab the mail, chose that moment to step up behind us. “Hey, doc, you forgot your purse in the cab.”

  I closed my eyes, wishing my brother would just poof into thin air and that this was some waking nightmare.

  But when I opened my eyes again, Andre’s face had gone red—a feat, considering his skin tone. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “Andre,” Foster said, obviously nonplussed by the imposing force that was my brother. “I suggest you take a breath and stop talking to your sister like she’s a child, especially considering the glass house you’re about to throw a rock through.”

  That caught Andre’s attention—and mine. I looked between the two of them. Andre’s eyes narrowed as he studied Foster. “I know you from somewhere.”