His hands grabbed my ass and lifted me off my feet. Fisher kissed me and carried me up the stairs like a drunk man on a mission.
Through the door.
Down the hallway.
Onto his bed.
His demanding mouth made it impossible to protest, not that I had one ready to go, not yet. We’d been there before, done that. It wasn’t sex. I was still in control.
He discarded my shirt. I still had control.
When he ripped down the cups to my bra and did things to my breasts that made me moan and claw at his back, I still had control. I could play his game.
Fisher sat up, kneeling between my spread legs, eyes hooded, lips parted as he unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them from my legs.
I … I had control.
He kissed his way down one leg, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh as his finger slipped beneath the crotch of my panties, circling my clit once before sliding lower. Keeping his mouth on my leg, that finger pushed inside of me.
I sucked in a breath. It was a finger, larger than a tampon but not his dick.
In. Out. In. Out.
Agonizingly slow, my vision began to blur. Fisher removed his finger and slid off my panties. After tossing them aside, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper.
“I’m …” I breathed embarrassingly heavy. “I’m not having sex with you.” Despite my slightly compromised position and lack of blood going to my brain, I felt proud of my will power. The days of being Fisher’s toy … his favorite game … were over. I was the master, the powerful queen who would take down the king.
Checkmate.
“No?” He leaned forward and slid his hands behind me, unhooking my bra. As he slid it off my arms, he smirked. “We’ll see.”
“Ah!” I jerked when he bit my nipple, when that finger slid inside of me again, when he added a second finger partway, making me feel so filled. Was he going to take my virginity with his fingers?
His mouth latched onto mine. My hips and legs braced, not moving an inch because Fisher’s fingers edged me out of my comfort zone.
What if he pushed them inside of me the whole way? Would it hurt? Would I bleed?
And then … they were gone. He stood at the end of the bed and removed his jeans, challenging me. I saw it in his eyes.
“I won’t do it. You don’t deserve it. You had your chance.” My bravery tank nearly hit empty.
“We’ll see.” He crawled onto the bed and his tongue went to work. Swiping between my legs. Flicking my nipples. Making a trail up my neck, and finally landing in my mouth, making slow strokes as his pelvis settled between my legs. That dangerous thin layer of cotton the only thing separating his dick from my entrance.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
I reminded myself that we had done this before. We’d been in that position. And we didn’t have sex.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
My hips lifted from the bed to meet him. That was when he pulled back. That was when he rolled onto his back, taking me with him so I sat on top of him, my legs straddling him right there.
With one look, he dared me to quit. And he dared me to keep going.
“No sex,” I nearly choked on the words.
Fisher jackknifed to sitting, his face a breath away from mine. “We’ll see.” He kissed me, tangling one hand in my hair while his other hand guided my hand beneath the waistband of his briefs.
So warm.
So hard.
I stroked him as he teased his tongue against mine.
I stroked him as he fingered me again, but just that agonizing partway.
Slow. Too slow.
The more I stroked him, the more I wanted more. Not just more. I wanted all of him.
He broke our kiss and stretched his torso to the side, opening the drawer to his nightstand and pulling out a condom.
That was when things got real.
Using his teeth, he tore it open, tossed the wrapper to the side, and pushed down the front of his briefs to roll it on.
He grabbed my face and kissed me a little softer than just seconds earlier. Dragging his lips across my face, dotting it with kisses, he whispered in my ear, “Your husband can thank me.”
Those words stopped my heart. The warm blood in my veins ran cold, sending an icy jolt along my spine.
Fisher lifted my hips and positioned me over him, pushing into me an inch, maybe not even.
Tears filled my eyes as I stilled, not letting him move my hips any farther. And I saw it in his eyes.
The pain.
The love.
The conflict.
More than anything, I saw all the reasons I fell for Fisher Mann. He knew we weren’t at the right place to make us work, but he was willing to give me the one thing I thought I wanted. He wanted to give me all he had to give, even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough.