Hot and Bothered (Some Like It Hot 3)

The woman had a way of crumbling all his defenses and touching him in ways he’d never, ever experienced. She was so selfless, so giving, and he was an ass for being so abrupt and turning her down, yet he couldn’t take advantage of her generous offer under the current circumstances.

“After everything you’ve been through the past couple of days, I think we need to take things slow and easy for a while. It’s for your own good.” And his, as well.

Before she could issue an argument to refute his flimsy excuse, he scrambled out of bed, headed to the bathroom, and locked the door behind him for good measure. He shoved off his sweatpants, his body still shaking from arousal and adrenaline, and his erection still standing at attention. He shook his head in disgust, knowing without a doubt he’d never make it through the rest of the day being so on edge, especially when he planned to be in such close proximity with Natalie.

Something had to give, and the logical solution was to relieve the sexual tension building within him. Taking a cold shower wouldn’t even come close to doing the trick this time, so he turned the water to hot and stepped inside the glass-enclosed cubicle. He quickly washed his entire body and hair, then with the spray beating against his shoulders and back, he braced a hand on the opposite wall and encircled his still aching cock with his fingers. He pumped his erection through his tight fist, from the base of his shaft all the way back up, until his thumb brushed over the plumb tip and he trembled from the overwhelming sensation.

He closed his eyes, recalling Natalie’s soft hand on him, her wet mouth. He clenched his jaw tight, and three strokes later he came in a hot, scalding rush that ripped a low, guttural growl from his chest. The explosive feelings went on and on, draining him until he slumped a shoulder against the tiled wall and gulped air into his lungs.

The deed was done, his lust for Natalie slaked for now. Unfortunately, his need for her remained.

* * *

Natalie opened cupboard after cupboard in the kitchen, searching for a frying pan to make bacon and eggs for breakfast while fighting back tears of overwhelming frustration. She couldn’t even recall where the pots and pans were, for crying out loud. Nothing seemed familiar, and she hated that she felt so weak and helpless.

She wanted to remember. She wanted to feel a sense of normalcy. She wanted to understand the conflicting feelings swirling within her. And mostly, she wanted to understand how Noah could be so generous with her pleasure, yet retreat and keep her at arm’s length when it came to his.

It’s for your own good.

His words echoed through her head, and another rush of hurt swamped her, adding to her tumultuous emotions. After this morning’s incident with Noah, she’d been struggling to understand his actions and make sense of the upheaval in her own mind. Deep in her heart, she knew he was giving her time to accept her new state of mind and adjust to her current situation before adding the intimacy of making love back into their relationship. But dammit, she didn’t need him to coddle her when she desired him, heart, body, and soul.

While her mind, memories, and thoughts seemed so fragmented, Noah was her anchor. He made her feel protected and secure in his presence, as if she honestly had a place where she belonged. And the part of her that felt so lost and disjointed needed to be close to him, emotionally and physically.

He was doing his damnedest to be honorable and noble when that was the last thing she wanted from him. He might have given her multiple orgasms last night, but her desire for him was far from satisfied.

With a sigh of defeat, she gave up on the frying pan and started looking in the pantry for a can of coffee, figuring that had to be fairly easy to find. Her search was fruitless, which only served to mount her growing agitation. Her chest grew tight with distress and her temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache.

Minutes later Noah strolled into the kitchen, fresh from his shower and looking gorgeous and sexy in faded jeans and a beige T-shirt that outlined his broad shoulders. He took one look at her standing in the middle of the room with her fingers pressed against her forehead and immediately closed the distance between them.

With his thumb tucked beneath her chin, he raised her face up to his. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asked in that caring way of his.

She knew he was concerned about her, knew she ought to be grateful that he was so considerate. But at the moment his benevolence was the last thing she wanted from him and he became a perfect target for her pent-up irritation and confusion.

“No, I’m not okay,” she blurted, throwing her hands into the air in a dramatic display. “I can’t even find a frying pan or can of coffee in this stupid kitchen!”

Reaching for her, he gently pulled her into his embrace, and she automatically stiffened, not wanting to give an inch when he was the source of her cranky disposition. She’d changed into a casual, comfortable cotton dress she’d found in the closet while he’d showered, and the heat and strength of him penetrated the material, sparking a new awareness of him.

“Just relax and don’t try so hard.” He rubbed his big hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture and kissed the top of her head. His actions were warm and affectionate, but there was no denying he was much more reserved with her after their episode this morning. “It’ll come to you in time.”

“I don’t think I’m a patient woman,” she muttered, trying not to groan or give in to his persuasive tactics as he kneaded the taut muscles along her shoulders.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her ear. “No, you’re not.”

She ought to be offended, but he was so sweet she couldn’t stay mad at him for long. He melted her irritable mood with his voice, his wonderful hands, his mere presence, and she finally let her tension unravel.

“You’re bound to be emotional and sensitive for a while.” He let her go, then guided her to the oak table in the corner of the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you breakfast.”

Because her own little tantrum had exhausted her, she did as he asked and settled into one of the chairs. She watched him putter around, finding utensils and food items with ease and whipping up a meal for the two of them as if it were a task he did every morning of the week.

Unlike her, he was back in control, his emotions and the awareness between them seemingly compartmentalized.

Fifteen minutes later he placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of her, along with a plate of scrambled eggs and crisp bacon. The aroma was heavenly, and she ate with gusto.

A sudden thought entered her mind and slipped out before she could stop it. “It’s Monday, and I have a test at school today.” She was so excited to recall something so mundane yet so crucial to her day-to-day routine that she grinned at Noah, who was sitting across the table from her.

He blinked at her in surprise, a smile of his own making an appearance. “Yes, it is, and yes, you did.”

“Did?” She didn’t miss the past-tense usage of the word.