Pleasure's Edge (24 page)

thirteen

Dylan opened her eyes. Sunlight poured in through the slatted plantation shutters on the windows, the rays catching dust motes.

She glanced at the clock and was surprised to see she’d slept until almost noon.

Alec was stil asleep beside her, lying on his stomach, the wide muscles of his back revealed by the sheet bunched around his waist. Just the sight of that smooth skin made her want to touch him, made her body light up with desire. But she needed to take some time to get her head on straight. Because it sure as hel wasn’t anywhere near straight this morning.

Funny that he used white sheets, just like her own. So many men she’d known preferred darker colors. But he was unusual, in so any ways. Maybe the purity of white linens appealed to him, as it did to her.

They had more in common than she would have thought initial y.

They were both writers, but for some reason she hadn’t expected anything more. She didn’t know why, now. They were both sexual y open people, liberal-minded. They seemed to agree on so many subjects. They seemed to be tuned to the same channel.

Or maybe she was simply being overly romantic again.

But something had definitely happened between them last night.

Something intense. He’d felt it, too. Her memory of exact incidents was a bit vague, but the one thing she remembered clear as day was the look in his eyes. Connection. Wonder.

She’d felt it, too. That part—everything she’d
felt
, was stil feeling—burned through the fog that was the subspace she’d been in last night. That she was stil in a little this morning, maybe.

She was scared. Wanting to run again.

Calm down. Try to work through this in some rational way.

But she wasn’t feeling rational at al . She wanted to cry. It was so unlike her, she was stunned by the urge. She wasn’t a crier.

Wasn’t a sentimentalist. But as she’d said to Mischa, her experiences with Alec were opening her up. And maybe simply Alec himself.

Alec.

She turned to look at him. His face was buried in one of the big down pil ows, but she could see the dark stubble coming up on his cheek and neck. His hair was mussed, the black curls tipped with blue where the light touched it. He looked so peaceful. She’d never seen him like this. But even now he radiated power, perhaps simply because of the sheer size of him. And she loved that about him—in some purely girlish way—that he dwarfed her, made her feel smal and feminine. Fragile, as though he could crush her if he wanted to.

God, was she real y thinking these things? What had happened to the independent woman she’d prided herself on being her entire adult life? Hel , since she was ten years old and her mother had real y lost it, leaving Dylan to care for their smal family. She’d always been the one in control, the one to run things. That was her life. Who she was. And now this man was making her question
everything
.

Her breath caught in her throat, a sob wanting to escape. She bit her lip, bit the sob back.

Calm down. Everything is fine.

She curled her fingers around the edge of the dark red quilt, forced herself to breathe evenly.

That was better.

She was being unreasonable. It was just the intensity of her night with him, that was al . They’d only known each other for two weeks.

What did she real y know about him?

She knew from looking at his bedroom that he was neat. That he loved heavy wood furniture, antiques, which seemed to imply an earthiness about him. That he was basical y down-to-earth, despite his level of sexual sophistication, how wel -traveled he was. From the books stacked on the shelf of the nightstand next to the bed she knew he liked to read the classics, science fiction, thril ers, like the ones he wrote himself. She’d known already that he loved to travel, but next to the books was a stack of travel magazines:
Travel + Leisure
,
Condé Nast Traveler
.

On top of the high wood dresser were framed photos: Alec and several other men on top of a mountain. Alec and some of the same group again in diving gear on a boat floating on bril iant turquoise tropical water. Alec and one of the same men sitting on big, shining motorcycles on some curving mountain road, smiling broadly.

Interesting that there were no family photos. But maybe he had those downstairs.

He hadn’t talked about his family, other than that one conversation. It seemed the only one he’d ever been close to was his father. But she understood that. The only one she was close with was her grandmother. She knew you couldn’t choose your family, and being related to someone didn’t mean you were automatical y close. She knew that al too wel .

She’d never had a choice. Not about her mother. Or about taking care of her brother. Or trying to, anyway. And she’d screwed that up. Horribly. And now Quinn was dead. Which was why she deserved to be alone.

She shook her head. She was being morbid this morning. And did she real y think she deserved to be alone? She simply preferred it that way. Didn’t she?

But at least she’d distracted herself enough that she no longer felt like she was about to jump out of her skin. As long as she didn’t think too much about the part where she melted under Alec’s touch like warm butter.

Alec shifted, sighed in his sleep, and she focused on him once more. His muscles real y were massive, his body absolutely hulking, like a pro footbal player. He’d turned onto his side, and she could see his sleeping face. The black goatee always made him look a little evil, but his mouth was loose and lush, sort of the way it looked when they were having sex.

A wave of pleasure shimmered over her skin. She remembered clearly the way his cock felt pushing into her body. The way his eyes glowed with something purely animal as he raised himself over her.

God, she was crazy about him. About his body, what he could do to her. And maybe something more.

No.

But she couldn’t deny it.

It was just sex, she reminded herself for the mil ionth time. Great sex. But just sex. She’d had great sex before. She understood how intense sexual chemistry could draw a person in.

You are so full of crap.

She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the long curls.

Maybe she should go, before she had any more of these ridiculous ideas. Ideas like continuing to see him once she was done learning enough for her book.

She’d already learned plenty. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she was seeing him now, submitting to him, purely because she wanted to.

Damn it.

She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the big bed.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Alec growled, his voice husky with sleep.

“Alec ...”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

His arm snaked around her waist, and he dragged her over the smooth sheets, until her bare flesh was pressed against his bare flesh. She could feel the heat of his body against her back, her buttocks. His silken skin.

“Alec, I have to get up. I have to go. Please.”

“Not again. It’s not happening, Dylan, so you might as wel get used to it. You go when I say you can go.”

“God damn it, Alec. How many times do I have to remind you I am not one of your subbie girls?”

“I’m not saying you are. But you could stil be spacing and you’re not going until I think it’s safe.”

“I can assure you, it’s perfectly safe. I don’t even have my car. I’d have to cal a cab, so there’s no danger of me driving. I want to go.”

“No.”

Oh, she was mad now. “Don’t pul this power trip on me, Alec.”

“You think that’s what this is? A power trip?”

“You
are
physical y restraining me.”

“You were fine with that last night.” His eyes were burning, dark.

Angry.

“That was last night.”

He released her, so quickly she would have fal en had she not already been lying down.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I don’t do non-consensual.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

He sat up. She felt the shift in his weight on the bed. But she couldn’t look at him. If she saw him, she was afraid he’d have her.

“Dylan, what the hel are we doing here, huh? You’re fighting this and fighting this.”

“I never promised I could do this, Alec. That I could real y submit.”

“And yet you do, every time.”

She was quiet a moment. She felt stunned.

“And,” he went on, “you only panic the next day, when you have a chance to think about it. Stop thinking so much, Dylan.”

“I can’t.” She turned to him then, fury burning through her. “That’s the problem. I can’t stop thinking. That’s the way I operate. That’s how I’ve gotten through life.”

“Maybe it’s time to learn another way.”

“I don’t think so.”

He leaned toward her, the bulk of his big frame a little threatening. “It hasn’t gotten you very far, has it? You have a career, and you managed to live through taking care of your family, but what’s left for you, Dylan?”

“You’re one to talk! Like you have any more personal connections than I do.”

“It’s different for me.”

“Are you kidding me? Is that what you tel yourself? That’s a flimsy excuse, Alec. At least I can be honest with myself. I have an empty life because I choose it. Because I’m not wil ing to deal with the emotional fal out of a relationship. Is that what you wanted me to say? Okay, I’ve said it. But you are no different from me. That’s bul shit. You’re the one trying to get me to stay here. And it may be presumptuous of me, but I don’t think that’s just you being the responsible dominant.”

He sat, staring at her.
Through
her. His gaze was a burning, bril iant blue. And as she watched, the anger faded, his jaw and his shoulders loosening.

“You’re right,” he said.

She was ready to keep arguing. But his comment took al the wind out of her. Took her breath away.

“What?”

“I said that you’re right. I want you here because I just . . . want you here.”

“Damn it, Alec.”

She did not want to hear this. And yet it was everything she wanted to hear.

Her head was spinning.

“Come here.” He reached for her, grabbing her hand, and she tried to pul away.

“Alec, I have to think . . . ”

“I said enough thinking. Christ, Dylan, stop fighting me and come here. I know you want to, so don’t give me any non-consensual crap. Don’t use my moral code against me, Dylan.”

“Alec ...”

But he had her, pul ing her closer, until her breasts were pressed up against the hard planes of his chest, and suddenly she was half in his lap.

His cock was rigid beneath her, and he bent to kiss her, his lips crushing, bruising. Commanding her once more.

She wanted to fight him. To struggle. But he tasted right.

Smel ed right.
Felt
right.

He kept kissing her, until her blood sang with desire, her sex hot and needy. When he turned her body and grabbed her thighs, shifting her until she was straddling him, she didn’t argue. She couldn’t. She was a hot, melting pool of desire, helpless against it.

Helpless against him.

He pul ed his mouth from hers and fumbled in the nightstand with one hand, coming back with a condom. He tore the packet with his teeth, and she helped him rol it onto his hard cock.

Then he was kissing her again, hot, urgent kisses, his mouth devouring her. He lifted her and, arching his hips, impaled her.

She moaned into his mouth. He groaned into hers. Then he was pumping up into her, while pleasure shivered like an electric current through her body: her breasts, her sex.

His hand slipped between them, his fingers teasing her clitoris, and she was coming almost instantly, her climax hard and fast and bril iant. She let her head fal away from his mouth, let it fal back, keening his name.

“Alec, Alec, Alec . . . ”

He was stil thrusting, his cock driving into her, over and over, hot and thick and pulsing.

“Dylan,” he gasped.

She opened her eyes, looked into his.

“Yes. I need you to look at me. You are so damn beautiful, my girl.
My
girl.”

Their skin grew slick with sweat. She didn’t care. She held on to his broad shoulders, pleasure rising once more, cresting impossibly.

“Dylan . . . baby . . . I’m coming.”

A few more hard thrusts, and she felt the heat of it, his climax making him shudder al over. And feeling him come set her off again, another orgasm rippling through her in long, undulating waves.

“Ah, God, Alec . . . ”

He bit into her neck, his tongue licking at her skin. And she was coming and coming.

His arms went tighter around her waist, held on to her so hard she could barely breathe as they both stopped moving.

“Fuck, Dylan.”

“Yeah ...”

They stayed that way for a long time. She thought they did, anyway. Time was suspended for her. Al she knew was his body pressed against hers, the feel of his flesh, the scent of him.

“Dylan.” His voice was muffled, his face stil buried in her neck.

His breath was warm on her skin.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t think.”

“I’m not. Not yet.”

He lifted his face, but not enough that she could see him.

“What’s going to happen when you start thinking again?”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“I’l try,” she told him, wanting it to be true, but stil unsure as to what she was capable of.