Waking Kiss (BDSM Ballet 1)

He arched against me and made a noise like he was dying. He released my hands and I clung to him, hiding my face in the soft, flowing curtain of his hair. His arm came around my waist and he lifted me right against him. It felt like dancing—hot, violent dancing. He collapsed on me, heavy and still, his cock twitching inside me. I buried my face against his chest.

“Please don’t let go,” I whispered.

“I won’t.” His voice sounded harsh with his own short breath. His fingers moved over my back, a light, soft touch like velvet. After a while, after he pulled away and we were breathing normally again, he bent his head to mine. “Ashleigh, baby. I think it worked.”

I grinned and closed my fingers in his hair. “I think so too. I never imagined it could feel like that, that it could feel so good. It was nothing at all like I…” Like I remembered. We both filled in the words but I didn’t want to say them. I didn’t want my father to have any part of this moment, any part of this experience between us. All I wanted to remember was this closeness and my feeling of finally being normal. There was nothing wrong with me, and nothing to keep me from doing this again and again with whomever I wanted.

But I only wanted Liam. “Can we do it again?” I asked.

He didn’t make me beg. We did it again, and then again. The last time I started to feel sore but I didn’t care. I was insatiable, like a sugar-deprived child let loose in a candy store. I was binging on sex, but it was more than that. It was a connection to Liam, something above and beyond lessons and advice.

After the third time, we slept the sleep of the dead, Sleeping Beauty’s hundred-year sleep, and woke up still reaching for each other.

Well, this was why we’d come here. Why not fuck and fuck and fuck? We ate and drank right in the bed, only to gain the necessary energy for more sex. The second day, when I started to flinch at each thrust, when my body couldn’t keep up with the demands of accommodating his size, he brought out lubricant and we kept going, slipping and sliding together. By Monday afternoon we’d had sex at least ten times, in several creative positions. I loved the way he moved me around, the way he pinched and stroked me, and slapped my ass sometimes, and basically did whatever he liked.

But that was why I’d chosen him to help me in the first place. He knew what he was doing. He hadn’t let me down. “Thank you,” I said the second day, as we lay resting together. “You fixed me.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead to mine. “And then I think I broke you again.”

You didn’t break me, Liam. You saved me. He was so talented, this man. He could open locked doors and heal broken women. He was patient and seductive, and oh, so caring. I could have stared into his eyes for hours, but I was afraid he’d see the guilty truth in my gaze. I’m in love with you, Liam Wilder. I was head over heels in love with this man. I loved him hard enough to marry him if he asked.

He sobered and ran a hand over my waist, and up to my neck, like he was measuring me. “Beautiful girl,” he said. “You’ll make someone so happy.”

I almost flinched. How could he say such a thing, just as I started planning our fantasy wedding? It hurt me so badly that I blurted out stuff I shouldn’t have. “Why not you?” I drew back to look at him. “Why can’t I make you happy?”

“You do make me happy.” He traced across my cheek bones, avoiding my gaze. “But you should meet someone who can make you happy. Who’ll give you all the things you deserve.”

“You make me happy,” I persisted, even though his expression wasn’t welcoming. It was like he’d heard the words in my head and was arguing against them. I closed my eyes, fighting a wave of tears. He didn’t say anything for a long time but I felt the band of his arms around me loosen a little.

I bit my lip, determined not to say anything else, wishing I hadn’t said so much to begin with. I sounded pathetic, whining for him to want me. This was Liam, who could have any woman he wanted, whose play room was filled to the hilt with sexy, available sirens every Saturday night.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was out of line. Forgive me.”

“Stop,” he said, touching my lips.

“I just… I know. I remember. This was supposed to be no strings attached. I forgot for a minute because I felt so close to you.”

He sat up in an abrupt motion. “Jesus. Speaking of remembering…” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I was supposed to check in at the office an hour ago. Maybe you should get some rest.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re calling in to work?”

He nodded. My close, warm, slippery-sliding Liam wasn’t there anymore. This was the Sir side of him, that was focused and businesslike. “It’s okay,” he said. “You could probably use a nap. Do you need anything? Something to eat or drink?”

“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I forget sometimes that everyone in the world doesn’t have Monday off.”

“Okay.” He moved to go but then turned back and gave me a peck on the lips that felt as cold and impersonal as a handshake. I forced a smile to answer his fake smile, swallowing back the emotion choking my throat.

He dressed and grabbed his phone off the table. I closed my eyes and lay back in the fluffy counterpane, hugging his pillows against me. They smelled like him, the man I wished would fall in love with me. I’d gotten what I asked for, and now I wanted more, which is what he’d warned me would happen. I can’t say no to what you’re asking, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you in this process. I won’t mean to, but I will.

Now I’d freaked him out, pressured him for a deeper relationship. I heard him talking on the phone outside, and it sounded business-y, but he could have been setting up his next date. I shut it all out. My feelings, his voice, his scent on the pillows and the memory of his lackluster kiss. I wiped my lips on my hand and forced my eyes closed. At some point, I must have slept, because next I knew Liam was sitting beside me on the bed, nudging me awake.

“Hey,” he said. “You’ve been sleeping a couple hours. How do you feel?”

I nodded through the haze of fading dreams. “I’m fine.”

He brushed my hair back when it fell over my eyes. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but something came up at work. A touchy situation, and the office is in an uproar.”

Lies. Horrible lies. “If you

need to go, we can go,” I said, using every ounce of my strength to sound casual. “We accomplished what we came here to do.”

“We did,” he said, seizing on my words. “And it was amazing. Honestly, Ashleigh, I’m so proud of you. I hope it was all you wanted. I hope you feel…”

“Fixed?” I took his hand to still its nervous motion. “I feel wonderful, Liam. And now I feel well-rested too. But you must be tired.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to working through that. I’ll be fine. Maybe in a few days, after you have some time to recuperate, we can meet up again.”

To have sex? To have dinner? To say our final goodbyes? He didn’t specify and I was afraid to ask. I was afraid to press him now when he seemed so desperate to get away from me. Maybe in a few days, with a little space, he’d realize there were things he liked about me, perhaps enough things to…

Oh God, I was back to creating impossible fantasies. I might as well be scrapbooking about Rubio again. Liam had done what I’d asked him to do, at great personal and emotional expense. He’d gone out of his way to help me, and now I had to let go of him the way I’d promised. “I’ll get dressed,” I said, throwing back the covers. It was cold in the room, and not just because of the weather. “I’ll be ready in a minute, if you want to start packing the car.”

Chapter Fifteen: Free and Clear

“Liam. Liam, dear?”

I looked up at the sound of my stepmom’s voice. My dinner plate was cooling in front of me. “Yes? I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

She put the back of her hand to my forehead. “Do you feel all right? Are you getting enough sleep?”

I smiled at her, the best smile I could muster. “Not really, but when do I ever?”

It was Sunday, and tomorrow was Monday, the day Ashleigh would have come over, except that I had messaged her and told her not to come. I told her work was still hectic—and it was. But it always was. She’d messaged back with chipper, depressing acceptance.

That’s okay. I understand. : )