Wanting What She Can't Have

His hands found her hips and he used the leverage to move beneath her as she set up a rhythm designed to send them both screaming into a molten mess of fulfillment. She grabbed at his wrists, pulling his hands free from her hips and guided them to the lush fullness of her breasts. He cupped and held them, his fingers massaging their softness until his fingertips caught tightly beaded nipples between them and squeezed.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, her hips grinding into him. She pressed her breasts more firmly into his touch, so much so that he bore most of her weight now on his arms. She was magnificent. Her hair in disarray around her head, her slender throat arched and her shoulders thrown back. His climax built inside him, demanding release, but he held back, gritting his teeth and fighting for control, and then he had no need to hold on a moment longer. A thin keening sound escaped Alexis’s throat and he felt her entire body shudder. His shaft was gripped by a silken fist that squeezed and released until he, too, tipped over into heady addictive gratification.

Alexis slumped against him, and he drew her close, her breasts now squashed against his chest, strands of her hair caught on his whiskered jaw. She shifted her legs to be more comfortable but they remained joined together and somehow it felt right. For now at least.

Refusing to question it a moment longer, Raoul allowed himself to drift into a slumber of sheer exhaustion, his arms still locked tight around her waist. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the recriminations that would undoubtedly meet him in the mirror in the morning.

Eight

Alexis felt the cool sheets beside her and knew he’d gone, withdrawn from her again in every sense of the word. She’d hoped they’d stay together the whole night but she was realistic enough to know he had to be dealing with some serious personal demons about now.

She opened her eyes, searching for where he’d thrown her nightgown, understanding that it would probably be best if she returned to her room.

It was still semidark. A sound over by the floor-length window caught her attention. Raoul stood there, naked, framed in the window. His gaze was fixed on something in the distance, his body caressed by the silver hint of moonlight. She slipped from the bed and came up behind him. Her arms slid around his waist as she leaned against his back.

Still he didn’t move, or acknowledge her presence. It was as if she was hugging a statue.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

She felt his body tense, then his rib cage expand as he drew in a breath.

“Yes...and no.”

“Talk to me, Raoul,” she coaxed. “I’m right here.”

“What we did. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have come to you last night.”

“Raoul, I’m glad you did. We needed each other. What we took from one another, what we gave, we did that honestly. There’s no reason for shame between us.”

He remained silent for a while but she could still feel the conflict that coiled and strained inside him. Eventually he shook his head.

“I can’t do this—”

He gestured futilely with one hand. Alexis loosened her arms and stepped back.

“It’s okay,” she said, even though she felt as if she might fracture apart.

It took all of her strength to hold her emotions together. Last night had been deeply special to her and, she’d hoped, special to Raoul, too. Apparently hoping that had been premature. So they were simply going to have to take this step by baby step. If she could give him his space now, perhaps it would allow him to realize that he deserved happiness, too.

“No, it’s not okay. I have done nothing to earn your understanding. I’ve used you, Alexis, can’t you see that? Don’t you think you deserve better than that?”

She fought not to flinch at the harsh words. “Of course I do. We both do. But don’t you think I got to use you, too? You’re not alone in this, Raoul, no matter how isolated you feel, no matter how alone you try to be. I’m here...for you.”

He faced her and she could see the scowl that twisted his handsome face into a mask of displeasure.

“Can’t you even allow me to apologize for what I did?”

She shook her head vehemently. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing!” she repeated with even more emphasis than before. “Did you feel me try to push you away? Did I ask you to leave or did I turn my head away when you kissed me? No. I welcomed your touch, Raoul. I welcomed you. We all need help sometimes. Trouble is, you’re too afraid to ask for it and if you do, you see it as some kind of weakness, something to be sorry about.”