Where You Least Expect (18 page)

“Please what—”

She stopped abruptly, and then he stared at her, silently begged her to get mad, to do something.

She didn’t. No, she just stared back at him, unblinking eyes wide, and it almost gutted him. He’d done this to her. Arm extended, he approached her and was happy as he could be given the circumstances that she didn’t pull away when he grabbed her hands. Her long fingers were strong, warm, in his hand, and he couldn’t resist stroking the little callus on her index finger from where she’d held her pencil too tight.

She’d once fretted about the callus, said that it made her “big, stupid” hands, as she’d called them, look even more masculine. But he’d just rubbed it and told her that it proved she was working hard for her dream and she should be proud of it. And for one of the few times he could recall, she hadn’t argued. She’d just nodded briskly, a slight smile on her face, and he’d been overtaken with the need to show her just how feminine he thought she was.

The current expression on her face told him that she was remembering that time as well, except now, filtered through his stupidity, it probably wasn’t the pleasant memory of an afternoon together but just another confirmation that his words of encouragement and affection had been nothing but lies.

He laced his fingers through hers and didn’t break eye contact as he lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss on that little callus. But Verna didn’t respond; she stood with that same wide-eyed expression. Joe started getting desperate. He couldn’t let her push him out like that, not now when he’d just started to see how much she meant to him. He kissed that spot on her finger again and then moved to place a kiss on her palm and then one on her wrist, right where he could faintly feel the thump of her heart under his lips.

That got a reaction, faint, but nonetheless present. The little streak of desire that had lit her eyes in the instant before she’d snuffed it was a tiny drop in the ocean of need that usually lit her eyes, but he’d take it. The alternative, letting her go and retreat into herself until everything they’d shared became, at least in her mind, a fantasy, something that hadn’t been real, was no alternative at all. He’d wanted to talk to her, throw himself at her mercy and beg for her forgiveness, but if he had to do it with his body and not his words, he’d do so gleefully if it meant he had a chance to get through to her.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his body, but she stayed rigid and didn’t melt into him or press her curves against him as she usually did. The weight of her unrestrained breasts pressed against his chest, the soft curve of her belly against his stomach, and when she leaned back, he stared down at her, hoping she could see his remorse and that she believed it. She returned his stare, but her eyes were dark, unreadable, and for the first time since he’d met her, that connection that had always pulled him toward her, even when he’d tried to pretend it didn’t exist, felt as if it had been severed.

That unreadable expression in her eyes remained as she reached up and rested her hands against his shoulders and then stretched up and brushed her lips against his, tentative at first, but then harder, almost frantically, her tongue darting between his lips. He mimicked her actions, returning her fervor with his own, and everything faded. The only thing that mattered in that moment was touching her, being inside her, showing her how much he cared.

As they stumbled their way up the stairs and into her bedroom, her hands roamed over his body, her urgency matching his own. She pulled at his shirt, sighing out a groan of displeasure when he broke contact to remove it. She did the same, and soon both were naked, her body bathed in the moonlight, the shadows and light playing against the curves and shining off the brown of her skin.

He stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her body, roving his hands over her hips, down the roundness of her thighs. Her nipples were hard little points that poked into his chest, the scrape of the tight buds against his skin setting off little explosions of sensation where they touched him.

After breaking his hold, she walked backward and lay across the bed. Her gaze connected with his and, without breaking eye contact, she spread her thighs and beckoned to him. The hurt in her gaze was as clear as her desire, and he wanted nothing more than to chase it away. That thought in mind, he stretched out atop her, the feel of her soft form beneath him more perfect than it had ever been before.

The warmth radiating from her pussy burned against him, and he stroked his cock between her lips, rubbing his crown against her clit until they both cried out. Cream seeped from her, coating his shaft. More than anything, he wanted to bury himself in her warmth, feel her against him skin to skin. But he knew that he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to or how good it would have been.

She bucked beneath him and traced her lips along his neck and jaw, asking without words for what she wanted. He sheathed himself quickly, relieved that Verna had started to keep condoms in her nightstand, and began pushing inside her, torn between the need to feel himself buried inside her with the desire to make this first entry last as long as he possibly could.

In the end, it was Verna who decided by wrapping her legs around his hips and pushing down, urging him to go deeper, faster, her harsh breaths against his ear and the way she gripped at his sides sending his need into overdrive. He thrust hard, spearing her, and she released a sound that was half moan, half sigh, the relief in that sound mirroring what he felt.

As he moved inside her, he captured her head in his hands and held her gaze with his. She moaned out her pleasure, her murmured sighs and pants impassioned enough to make him forget anything but drawing more sounds, driving that urgency and desire that had her thrashing beneath him higher and higher until she reached her peak. And so he did, thrusting into her with hard, sure strokes, reaching down to thrum her clit, but not for a single instant allowing his gaze to stray from hers.

Her walls clamped down around him, drawing a groan from him, and with one final tweak of her clit, he felt her come apart in his arms, her body taut with her orgasm. He followed her in an instant, his cum exploding from his body, the physical pleasure and the emotional edge mixing to create a mind-blowing sensation. Pulling her closer, he rode the wave with her until they were both spent.

He stayed inside her as long as he was able, a sense of loss piercing his chest when he slipped out of her, noticing she’d closed her eyes. After disposing of the used condom, he reached out for Verna and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her softly, nuzzled her ear, her neck, her cheek, but she didn’t look at him.

“Verna,” he whispered in her ear, his voice rough with emotion, “I’m sorry.”

She kept her eyes closed.

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, Verna looked over at Joe, trying to take in every nuance of him while she could, letting her gaze follow the ridges and planes of his sleeping face, then letting it trace the faint fine lines around his eyes and mouth that gave him just enough imperfection to make what could have been an alienating beauty nothing short of devastating. She wished she could touch him but didn’t want to risk waking him. It would be tough enough to get out of bed without rousing him from sleep, so she couldn’t press her luck.

Through some miracle or other divine intervention, she managed to get out of her bed and out of the room without him stirring. At least one thing had gone in her favor, and she hoped it was a sign of things to come. This morning would be difficult, and she’d need all the help she could get. After quickly showering and dressing in the guest bathroom—she still thought of it as Ethan’s bathroom even though her sweet little godson was long gone, off growing up with his parents in Geneva—she crept downstairs to wait.

The minutes passed with excruciating slowness, and with each that went by, the tension in her gut increased exponentially. She had no other choice; last night had proven as much but that didn’t make things easy. Before Joe had come over, and after they’d made love, she’d thought about everything that had transpired, and decided she should be grateful.

What he’d done had hurt; the thought of it and of the casual cruelty with which Joe had tossed away everything she’d allowed herself to believe was between them left a faint throb in her chest and had her eyes tearing. But still, as painful as it was, it was better to hurt now and spare herself in the long run. This thing with Joe, a drunken confession that had led to a no-strings sexual affair, had gotten out of hand. That his actions had the capacity to wound her so deeply showed her that she’d been burned by the fire with which she’d recklessly played. And she needed to put a stop to this immediately, before she got in so far that she wouldn’t make it out, at least not with her heart intact, assuming it even still was.

Not seeing him as much, not being able to touch him, would take some adjustment, but as much as his tenderness and affection, the easy, fun times they’d shared, might suggest otherwise, he hadn’t been hers to begin with, so she had no right to be upset that he hadn’t considered her feelings. And besides, Joe would want to move on soon enough anyway. Even absent what he’d done last night, she’d known it was only a matter of time before he’d want a better, more suitable woman to spend his time with, someone more attractive, less weird, less Verna.

As his friend—and she considered him that if nothing else—it was only right that she stop monopolizing him, let him be free to find whatever he was looking for. And so what if her heart twisted and her stomach squeezed into knots at the idea of him being with someone else? That was her problem, not his, and she wouldn’t visit her feelings upon him. If she were smart, she would have sent him home last night. But she was as dumb as she was selfish, and she hadn’t had the strength to send him away and had let herself give in to the need to be with him one last time.

Her gaze flew to the staircase where he was ambling down slowly, his legs, torso and finally his face revealed with each step. She’d perched on the couch opposite the staircase to wait for him, and when he reached the bottom, she stood. He stepped toward her but then, after looking her from head to toe and then back again, stopped, leaned against the foyer wall, and folded his arms across each other. The motion made his biceps bulge in a way that she’d salivated over for what felt like forever, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted, not now. She needed to do this before she lost her nerve.

After a few moments, Joe hadn’t said a word and didn’t seem to feel any inclination to change that, so she launched into the speech she’d been preparing in her head most of last night and all of this morning.

“Joe…” She trailed off and then cleared her throat.

“Joe, I, uh, just want to say… Well, first, good morning,” she said, flashing him what had to be a stupid smile.

He said nothing, but she could see the tightness in his arms increase as he seemed to brace himself for what she might say.

“So, this has been great. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and spending time with you, and I had fun…you know…with the sex stuff…”

He looked thunderous, so she sped up.

“But I think, I mean, it’s time to end that part of our relationship.”

Still, he said nothing, but his eyes practically burned with anger and she felt her own beginning to rise in response. This wasn’t easy, and he wasn’t making it any easier standing over there glaring at her like he was hurt and mad at the same time.

“I want us to be friends still, but we need boundaries. I’ve never wanted to be a burden, hold you back or embarrass you, and while I’ll forever appreciate and think fondly of the times we shared, that has to end now.”

Somewhere during her statement, her gaze had wandered off over his shoulder, but when she refocused on his face, the anger there was enough to make her look away again. She’d seen Joe mad before, used to get a great deal of twisted amusement out of watching his temper flare, but this was something else. He wasn’t the bear she was used to poking, one who swatted at her but was ultimately harmless. No, this was Warrior Joe, and her first real glimpse at what he probably looked like in battle. But that didn’t make sense; she was doing him a favor, so why was he going nuclear?

“What?” she said, her voice sounding exasperated.

He didn’t answer her question but instead responded with one of his own.

“So that’s it, huh? I do something fucked-up and idiotic, and instead of calling me on it, you’re throwing in the towel?”

“Joe, I—”

“Cut the shit, Verna. You’re just going to pretend that I didn’t do what I did last night, that you weren’t upset by it, that this epiphany that we need boundaries just so happened to occur to you separate and apart from me being an asshole?”

The mere mention of last night had the image—and the wretched feelings it induced—replaying in her brain, and she realized that while she may not have decided so consciously, that was exactly what she was planning to do.

“Why does it matter to you?” she asked, her voice much more needy and pleading than she wanted.

It seemed to soften him and he dropped his arms, tilting his hands out toward her.

“Verna, I care about you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

His words were like knives in her soul, and she had to redirect the conversation before they cut too deeply.

“Of course you do, Joe. That’s why you’ve been so nice to me, because you’re a nice person. And like I said, I appreciate it; I really do. But I wouldn’t feel right if I continued to take advantage of your kindness.”