‘Something you wanted to say, Elle?’
His fingers were there, one more caress away from touching her where she needed him to. One inch higher. She waited, only to realise he’d stopped.
‘Elle?’ he prompted huskily.
He was going to make her say it.
But of course he was.
‘Fitz...please...’ She shifted so that his fingers should have come into contact with her.
He was too quick.
‘I want you,’ she managed self-consciously.
Their interaction, his teasing, it was all so much more than she was used to. And while there was no doubt that she preferred it to the mechanical routine with merely a few grunts as a soundtrack, she still wasn’t quite sure what to do with this exhilarating, all-consuming side of sex.
‘You want me to touch you?’ he questioned wickedly.
‘Fitz...’
‘Like this?’ Without warning he swept a
finger over her.
A mere brush over the lacy fabric of her briefs, but it sent shockwaves crashing through her. She gasped, squirmed, sought him out again, but his hand was gone, sliding around to cradle her backside.
‘Or like this?’ he murmured.
Before she could process what he was doing, she felt his breath on her skin and then his mouth.
Hot. Urgent. Terrifying.
Elle’s entire body went rigid, her eyes focussing as she pulled desperately away.
‘I don’t... I don’t do that.’
She could barely bring herself to look at him, crouched down there, and when she did she wished she hadn’t. He was frowning up at her, his eyes locking with hers, scanning, assessing, disbelieving. Like she was some kind of...freak.
‘You don’t do that?’
Elle jutted her chin out, ignoring the two bright spots of shame that seemed to be burning holes high in her cheeks.
Strangely, though, it didn’t make her want to stop altogether. It didn’t make her want to give up on the idea of a night together. It just made her want to get past this moment, this awkwardness, and get on with the rest of what might be to come.
‘I don’t do that,’ she repeated, agitated. ‘Can’t we just...move onto something else?’
‘Why don’t you do that?’
Direct but firm, he clearly wasn’t going to take any excuses. But, then, Elle wasn’t about to give in either.
Images of Stevie crowded her head, making her feel hemmed in. She could count on the fingers of her two hands the number of times he’d done that for her in their entire time together, and always hurried, clearly resenting it, and only ever so that she would do it in return. And his attitude had meant that she, in turn, had hated it. The feel of his hands tight on the back of her head, keeping her on him even when she wanted to move away, the way he’d groaned how good she was just to give himself the excuse that he hadn’t had time to pull back at the end.
When she’d hesitantly told him she didn’t like that, he’d played the guilt card, claiming that he missed her, that her career took her away too much, that she’d never have become a doctor but for him. So she’d done it, and quickly she’d decided it was too painful to go through the charade of him pretending to do the same for her. But she carried the shame of it with her, even now.
Especially now. She couldn’t tell Fitz any of that. She didn’t want to be that person tonight. She wanted to be the new Elle, the version of herself that she’d decided should be born the moment she’d finally had the courage to walk out of the only relationship with a man she’d ever known. And she wanted to keep this perfect image of Fitz. The way he touched her body and set off fireworks inside her very core, not the way he would change once he gave her cursory attention and then expected her to service him in return.
‘I don’t like it,’ she offered at last, when his piercing gaze refused to let her off. She licked her lips uncomfortably. ‘Can’t we just go back to where we were before?’