Page 53 of Tough Nut to Crack

I swallow down the self-recrimination and do my best to just enjoy this moment rather than focusing on how quickly it'll change.

My body is wound tight, my core already fluttering down the length of his fingers. Although I'm distracted by what he's doing to me, he isn't annoyed. He shifts his hips, fucking himself into my grip when I don't have the wherewithal to move my hand myself.

"Mac," I groan when he adds his thumb into the mix, swirling it around my clit. "Going to come."

"I know, baby. Me too."

In the next breath, my lungs seize, my body seeming to implode for the briefest of seconds before that energy radiates out to tip over every part of my body. Somehow, I manage enough cognizant thought to feel the warmth of his orgasm coat my hip.

My body shudders, my hips shooting backward from too much sensation when he continues to rub that sensitive spot.

He chuckles, the laughter soft and teasing against my skin before his mouth seeks and finds mine. The kiss is slow and languid as if we do it all the time and have for years.

The threat of tears stings my eyes, confusing me. I don't know if I'm emotional from two very spectacular orgasms or if I'm sad that the more I have, the closer I get to the end of whatever this is between us.

Wordlessly, he grabs the shower gel, squeezing some onto his hands before rubbing it into my skin.

I should probably offer to do the same for him, but once I'm rinsed, I step out of the shower, needing just a few breaths to myself. My head is racing with a million thoughts, and it feels too full to keep them to myself.

Within a minute or two, after I've dried myself and I'm reaching for my clothes, he turns the water off and steps out onto the bathmat.

I do my best not to look in his direction, hoping he'll offer me the same courtesy, but resisting the sight of him, water droplets glistening on his skin and traversing the peaks and valleys of his muscles, is simplyimpossible. The man is utterly delicious, and I have to question his sanity when I see him looking at me much the same way, a hunger in his eyes that never seems to be satiated.

"Why?" I ask as I wrap a towel around my body.

"Why what?" he asks as he reaches for his own towel.

"Why do you always watch me like that?" I say, most of my nerve to have this conversation beginning to slip away.

"Like what?"

I clear my throat, fighting the urge to tell him never mind, but I'm tired of not having answers. "You watch me like you're not satisfied, as if you're wondering if we fuck again if you'll finally get what you need from me."

I pull my eyes from him, unable to face him directly when he calls this entire thing off.

I shake my head, another wave of burning tears threatening behind my eyes, and I hate myself for the weakness that will be displayed to him when the first one falls.

"If you aren't satisfied," I continue. "Then why keep having sex with me?"

His chuckle makes me see red, and if I were dressed, I’d storm out of that damn bathroom and walk right out into the freezing cold with a promise never to set eyes on him again.

"Riley," he says, an unease in his tone.

I clear my throat again, but it does nothing to dislodge the emotion clogging it.

Then his warm hand is on my arm, stopping me from grabbing my clothes and finding another place in the house, one without a witness, to get dressed.

"Riley," he repeats when I keep my eyes downcast.

He pulls in a ragged breath, and it angers me further. As if the man has any right to be annoyed right now.

"It has nothing to do with satisfaction. I'm beyond satisfied. You feel like an addiction at this point, that what we've done is so fucking good, part of me is screaming to stop, that it can't be good for me."

That is not what I thought he was going to say, and the surprise of hearing it forces my eyes to his, but there's no smile on his face. He doesn't seem like he's lying or saying something to try and take the sting out of what I thought he was feeling.

His eyes search mine, but he remains silent for several long beats.

My jaw flexes as I try to think of any reasonable explanation for him wanting me the way he does, and that right there is a red flag on its own. I've worked way too damn hard for me to be questioning my self-worth because of the value I've somehow placed on who he is and what I deserve because of how he looks on the outside.

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