Page 78 of Ruthless Savior
"Oh." Her voice is small, and I hate how disappointed she sounds. She licks her lips nervously, and my cock throbs.
"And there's the practical consideration," I continue, forcing myself to be blunt. "No matter how careful we are, sex carries risks. If you got pregnant..." I shake my head. "That would complicate everything. We talked about this last night. Why I pulled out of you. We can’t risk a child."
Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed quickly by something that looks like hurt. She draws in a slow breath. "So you don’t plan on sleeping with me again. After last night."
Fuck, I want to tell her how wrong she is.I want to pick her up and set her on the edge of the sink, eat her out, and then bend her over it, fucking her while I watch her moan for me in the mirror. But that’s not what either of us needs. No matter what my body says otherwise.
“No,” I say firmly. “We won’t be doing that again.”
She's quiet for a long moment, studying my face like she's trying to read between the lines. Then, surprising me completely, she steps closer.
“What if I want to do it again?” she asks quietly.
The question hits me like a physical blow. "Leila?—"
"What if I liked it?" she continues, her voice gaining strength. "What if I want to… learn more?"
Learn more.The innocent way she phrases it makes my blood run hot. The image of teaching her, of showing her all the ways two people can please each other, floods my mind before I can stop it. I was starting to soften, but my cock is fully hard again so fast it makes me dizzy.
"That's not a good idea," I manage to say, though my voice sounds strained even to my ears.
"Why not?" She takes another step closer, and now she's close enough that I swear I can feel the heat radiating from her body. "You said yourself this is temporary. What's the harm in making it… enjoyable while it lasts?"
Because every time I touch you, I’m going to want more. Because you’re already all I can think about, when I should be thinking about how to protect you. How to keep you safe. Because you’re a distraction.
Because neglecting my duty got my first wife killed.
But I don't say any of that. I can't, because she's looking up at me with those bright eyes, and I realize she’s moved close enough to touch me. Her hand is resting lightly on my chest, and every rational thought in my head is drowning in the memory of how she felt on our wedding night.
"You don't understand what you're asking," I say roughly.
"Then explain it to me," she challenges, her hand sliding up to rest against my neck. "Show me."
The wordshowin her voice, soft and breathless and full of trust, breaks whatever remaining control I had. Before I can think better of it, I flip her around, pressing her back against the wall with my cock wedged between us as my hand slides under the edge of her sweater.
I don’t kiss her. I didn’t kiss her on our wedding night. There was the kiss at the altar, a soft brush of lips, but that was a necessity. Just like our wedding night was.
I have to draw a line in the sand to keep a boundary between us. Kissing is intimate. Possessive. Deeper than necessity.
Siobhan never kissed me after our wedding day. And I’ve decided not to kiss Leila again. It would mean something, I think, if I kissed her. And thiscannotmean anything.
I find the warm skin beneath her sweater, soft and smooth, and she arches into my touch with a gasp that goes straight to my cock. But even as I touch her, even as she responds with the same desperate hunger she showed on our wedding night, I'm aware of where we are, of the fact that we're in a bathroom on a plane, with other people nearby.
"Not here," I say roughly, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. "Not like this." It’s a last desperate attempt to stop this from happening, to get her to leave so I can finish myself off and hopefully go back to what I should be doing, because I can’t seem to force myself to make her leave on my own.
But instead of stepping away, instead of letting me restore the distance between us, she surprises me by reaching between us, her fingers gliding against the side of my cock.
It’s so close to my fantasy that it’s dizzying. "Leila," I warn, catching her hands.
"You said no sex," she murmurs, looking up at me with eyes that have gone dark with arousal. "You didn't say no touching.”
Christ.The distinction she's making is both technically accurate and completely beside the point. Touching her, letting her touch me, is going to be just as dangerous to my peace of mind as actually being inside her again.She needs to go.But I can still feel the brush of her hand against my cock, and I want more.
She tugs her hands free of mine, her hand wrapping around my length between us. "Show me," she whispers. "Show me how to make you feel good."
Fuck. I feel like I can’t breathe. I groan as her hand loosely encircles my cock, fingers exploring, all the way up to the swollen head. She drags her thumb through the sticky pre-cum there, and I hiss through my teeth, my eyes widening as I feel my balls tighten. I’m not going to last.Christ, I’m going to come from a fucking handjob. When was the last time that happened?
I turn us both again, my arm going around her hips as I back her against the sink counter. I fumble her jeans open, pushing them down her hips as I lift her and set her on the edge of the counter, my hand sliding between her thighs as she gasps and grabs onto my shoulder with her free hand.
