Page 48 of Hold You Close
“Ian. Move.” I shove at his giant slab of a muscular torso. “I need air.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He lifts himself off me, pulling out and rolling onto his back.
I stay on my back too, still trying to catch my breath. I’m not quite sure how that just happened. Hadn’t I gone to sleep on the couch in order to avoid this very problem?
Ugh, now I was one of them—those stupid, flighty girls who can’t resist Ian’s charms or his body or his big stupid dick.
His big, stupid, magical dick.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself not to think about it. Not its size or its talent or the way it felt pulsing deep inside me. Because its owner is not good for me. Those fantasies I had earlier in the night were just that—fantasies. Clearly I let them work me up a little too much, so much that I was unable to resist Ian’s advances. He’s probably laughing at me inside his head, congratulating himself on yet another conquest.
I sit up. “This was a mistake.”
He looks at me. “It was?”
“Wasn’t it?” I risk a glance at his face, but can’t read his expression in the dark.
“I don’t know. You said it.”
“Because I think it was. And we can’t do it again.”
“Why not?”
“Ian. We can’t stand each other most of the time. And we’re supposed to be working on getting along for the kids’ sake. Throwing sex into the mix will only complicate things further.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“That’s not the point.” I swing my feet to the floor. Where the hell are my pants?
“Where are you going?”
“Home. The kids shouldn’t find me here.”
Ian sighs and gets out of bed. “Don’t go anywhere yet. I’ll be right out.” He disappears into the bathroom while I hunt around for my clothes, and by the time he comes out, I’m dressed again, sitting on the foot of the bed.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, apparently unperturbed at being naked in front of me. “I’m just going to grab a shower first.”
I stare at the floor. “I prefer to go home.”
“Why? It’s nearly morning anyway.”
“Exactly. I have to get up for work soon.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
“Do you have a sitter for tomorrow night—tonight—Jesus, I don’t even know what day it is.”
“Told you I could make you forget that.”
I look over at him, careful to keep my eyes on his smug expression and not let them drift lower. “You did. Congratulations.” I stand up. “But what I didn’t forget was who you are and who I am and all the reasons why you and I do not belong together.”
“Jesus, London. It was just sex.”
Just sex. Right.
“Did you not want it?” he asks when I remain silent.
“I wanted it.” I refuse to let him make me a victim.
