Page 198 of Holding On To Good

He was bracing for impact. Ready to withstand the upcoming storm.

Forcing her to be the one to bring it into their lives.

Like that day so long ago, they once again stood in his bedroom, their relationship about to change forever.

Except this time, he wasn’t making it easy on her.

“I mean exactly what I said,” she told him, but despite her best efforts to sound strong and steady and confident, her voice wobbled. Her lower lip trembled. “We can’t… we can’t do this anymore.”

Eyes narrowing, he took a step toward her. “This?”

She stepped back. “This,” she repeated, a snap to her tone because the man knew damn well what she was talking about. And he kept walking toward her, forcing her to keep right on stepping back. “This,” she said again, waving a hand between them, then gestured at the bed.“You don’t want me to touch you anymore?” he asked, crowding her until she was pressed back against the wall next to the window. Leaning forward, he laid his hand on the wall next to her head, caging her in, capturing her gaze. “You don’t want me to kiss you? To make you feel good?”

His words stroked over her skin like a touch. Even after three mind-shattering orgasms and the most intense, erotic, and pleasurable sexual experience of her life, she still wanted him.

She would always want him.

He lifted his free hand as if to touch her and she knew if he did, she’d be lost. Swept away by the way he made her feel.

“We agreed,” she blurted. “We agreed that when one of us was done, we’d go back to how we used to be.” She swallowed, had to drop her gaze before she added softly, “I’m done.”

His hand stopped, hung there in the air, fingers twitching until he finally curled them into a fist and lowered it to his side. Even with her eyes on the strong line of his throat, she knew he was studying her. Cataloging every nuance of her expression. Searching for everything she wanted to hide.

Looking for some hint as to how he could turn this around.

Turn it back to his advantage.

Just like he’d done only minutes ago when he’d led her to believe she was in control. He’d let her straddle him. Had let her use his glorious body for her own gratification only to flip everything—her included—and take that control away.

Then he’d done the one thing she’d been so careful to avoid these past few weeks with him.

He’d made love to her.

The bastard.

He’d known exactly what he was doing, too. She wouldn’t put it past him to have planned the whole thing, like that romantic dinner. All part of his nefarious plot to lure her into complacency. Screw her into acquiescence until she was so blissed out from all those fabulous orgasms, she’d just go along with whatever he wanted.

Tricky, sneaky bastard.

The worst part? It’d almost worked. She’d never felt more connected to another human being as she had in those moments when Urban had moved inside of her with such purpose. Had never felt so seen as when he’d watched her come apart. Never more valued than when he held her gaze and emptied himself inside of her.

It’d been hot and sweet and so emotional she’d been about two seconds and one more orgasm away from handing him her heart on a silver platter.

Until she’d remembered she’d tried that once.

What was that quote about people not smart enough to learn from history being doomed to repeat it?

Well, she may be stupid when it came to Urban Jennings, but she wasn’t dumb.

She’d learned her lesson sixteen years ago.

“Let’s go have that glass of wine,” he coaxed. “We can talk—”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” he insisted, because he was, at heart, a stubborn, stubborn man.

One who hated to lose at anything.

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