The Enigma (Unlawful Men)

“Talk,” she whispers, vehemently shaking her head. “We need to talk.”

My hands land on her knees and spread her legs, and she whimpers, somewhere between distress and desperation. “There’s something else I need to say first.” My fingertip draws a perfect line down the inside of her thigh to her knee. “And this is the only way.”

She convulses, her breathing becoming ragged. She wants to stop this. And yet she can’t.

“Kiss me, Beau,” I order, and she dives forward, her flaky restraint gone, and smashes her lips on mine, taking out her frustration at me with this kiss, whipping her tongue through my mouth.

“That’s it,” I growl, standing, dragging her up with me, returning her crazy pace. “Give me all you’ve got, baby.”

She whimpers, and I snake my arm around her waist, lifting her and walking to the vanity unit, placing her on the edge. I yank at the waist of the shorts, loosening them, before tugging them down her legs, her kiss never faltering, my actions blind but efficient.

“Spread,” I order against her mouth, and she immediately makes room for me as I undo my fly and pull out my cock. I break our kiss and pull back, panting, looking her in the eyes as I guide myself to her. “Don’t look away,” I warn, and she inhales, feeling the warm, wet head of my erection brush across her opening. “Never look away.” I slip in slowly, my face strained, my bite on my lip harsh. And the sensations, every inch of me buzzing, take me to where I need us to be.

Her dark eyes are magnets, hypnotizing, luring me further in. “Could you ever look away?” she asks quietly, her spine lengthening little by little with every inch I sink inside her.

As if to make my point, I let my forehead fall onto hers, our lashes now nearly touching. I advance a bit farther, and her inner walls clench, squeezing me. “Never,” I breathe, pushing forward the final few inches, hitting her deep. Her injured arm rests between us, her good hand behind her, supporting her weight, and I start to pump steady and slow, in and out, each drive smooth, each retreat measured, each grind slow. I’m burning up, the bathroom air becoming wet with condensation, the T-shirt she’s wearing starting to stick to her skin. And yet, despite us both being partially dressed, me more than her, it’s the most intimately I’ve ever taken her.

It’s her eyes.

Eyes full of the unknown.

Eyes she refuses to take off me.

This isn’t fucking. This is making love. It’s a form of manipulation. I know that.

There’s something else I need to say first.

I’m mad for you.

“You love me,” she whispers, and I still abruptly, swallowing. Shocked. But my eyes? They don’t break with Beau’s. “Is that what you’re trying to say now?” she asks.

“I don’t want to love you, Beau,” I admit, drawing a delicate line across her eyebrow. Beau is fierce, strong, despite what she thinks of herself. Her losses are great, but her determination, her fire, her bravery to find justice is formidable. Admirable. But love is dangerous, as I saw with my parents. My dad loved my mom to his death. He protected her. Worshipped her. I saw his devotion, how his eyes followed her because she was his light. Like my eyes have followed Beau since the first moment I saw her. Knew her. But like there was with my dad, there will be an enormous cost for loving Beau. And not only that . . . “There’s no place in my life for love.”

“Then what am I doing here?” she asks, not appearing at all hurt. She simply needs to know.

“You’re here because I can’t seem to leave you the fuck alone.”

“Try.”

I shake my head and take her hips, picking up my pace again, but this time I’m not as gentle, and Beau ups the ante too. She’s frustrated. With me. With herself.

I can relate.

I don’t want to love either.

And yet here I am, in love with her.

51

BEAU

For the first time since he demanded I shouldn’t, I look away from him. I can’t fall if I can’t see him. I have to stop myself. Stop this.

There’s no place in my life for love.

My jaw is grabbed, and my face forced to his. “I said, do not look away from me.”

“Fuck you.” I slam my eyes closed and yell when he punishes me with a hard buck of his hips, his cock filling me to the brim. “Fuck you, James.”

Bang!

No more making love. Because this isn’t love. It’s fucking.

Bang!

I yelp, gritting my teeth, enduring his brutal pounds.

“Beau,” he grates, and I turn my face, fighting his hold, further maddening him. And the pleasure just keeps on coming, strike after strike. My clammy skin burns, my insides burn, my brain burns. I will take this pleasure, this mind-numbing bliss. I will take everything he has to give. It’s the only thing I’ll allow between us.