Page 103 of Geordie

The chair scrapes along the floor as he pushes his bulk away from the counter, red anger coloring his face. Panic rises. I've gone too far this time because I'm always testing him, wanting him to prove himself, to be sure he won't hurt me. He's not Stephen; he's never lied. I know he loves me, or at least cares for me. Have I destroyed that too?

I step in front of his path. He steps around me, but as he attempts to pass, I hook his arm, stopping him. “I told you I'm a fuckup sometimes. I seem to be a serial one with you.” He's facing away from me, but I still keep my tenuous control. “Let's start this conversation again.”

He turns to stare down at me, unmoving, waiting. “How are you, Geordie?” My hand curls over his tense bicep. “What's it been like for you these past weeks?” I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, holding on tight, praying that he doesn't reject me. I have no claim on Geordie. I wouldn't blame him if he pushed me away.

We stand like this for a time, me holding on, with his arms limp at his sides until he lightly places them around me. It's not the tight, almost bone-crushing hold he normally gives, but I'll take it and try to burrow into his chest.

“Isolated, lonely,” he murmurs absently. “This differs from physical pain; it's insidious. The blackness finds you at the oddest times then slowly pulls you apart. All you want to do is find a way to be numb so the mood will pass, but it never does, not completely.”

A wave of sadness overtakes me as I imagine his pain, our pain. I should have been there like he's been here for me. “You won't be alone.” Pulling his hands away from my waist, I rock onto my toes until our gazes lock. There's still mistrust in those steel-blue eyes; he probably thinks I'll let him down again.

I brush his lips, but he’s unaffected by my efforts. I guess he needs more to know this isn't a tease. Leaning into him, I wind my arms around his neck, drawing him to me. This time my lips make hard contact, my body pressing into him. My tongue darts, catching the corner of his mouth. I even tug at his lower lip, challenging him to play, but he's making me do the work. I stop, pushing away, giving him a hard stare. “Respond to me, goddamn it. Isn't this what you want?”

He snatches my wrist to bring me back. “You don't know what I want, and your offering is suspect at best. I'm not interested in a kiss and a cuddle.”

“If you don't want what's on offer, then let me go.”

We stare at one another, neither of us flinching. It's his move. I'm just waiting for a decision. He said he wasn't falling in love with me… then what were those longing looks at me about? I try to jerk my hand back, but he holds it tight.

He stifles my protest as he jerks my hand toward him, pulling me off balance. I stumble, and Geordie catches me before I fall. I look up into his pissed eyes. “Ya wee witch, you have no right to be this important to me,” he grinds out. His hands tangle in my hair as his lips smash into mine. I can't catch my breath as my insides explode. His hands rub down my back. I inch back, countering his forward momentum until my body bumps the wall.

His tongue slips between my lips, urgent to have more. I know he'll fuck me against the wall, knocking a hole in the plaster, if I let him. I slip out of his reach, then hook two fingers in his belt loop, leading him like my personal giant puppy to my bedroom.

I slip my fingers out of his jean loop while pushing him hard. I watch him tumble back, landing sprawled on my bed, still regarding me with suspicion. Damn, he's fucking fine, stretched out for the taking. With that sexy Scottish brogue, the way his T-shirt skims over the ridges of his abs, and that cock-sure arrogance, he doesn't know what a turn-on he is.

He rolls onto an elbow, the lust in his eyes turned down. “Don't do this unless you're sure,” he warns. “Don't do this if you feel pity for me.”

I kick my shoes off and crawl on top of him until we're nose to nose. He's amused as he quirks a half-grin. “I don't think any woman in your life has given you a pity fuck, and I won't be the first.”

“So, it's a fuck, is it? That does change things,” he says, his hand idly stroking my waist. “Why are you doing this now, unless you have another motive in mind or you see no alternative? Are you out of options?”

The challenge makes me sit back on my knees, straddling him. I kinda like the view of looking down at him as if I'm in control. “Because I'm ready.”

His lips twist down. “Have you fallen out of love with him?” He gives a bitter chuckle, his head thumping at the headboard. “Is love's bloom off the thistle?”

Closing my eyes, I blow out a breath. I've thought about this question a million times. Should I lie and pile on more distrust with him, or can I be honest? “I still love him,” I admit. “You can love more than one man. Anyone that says differently is a liar. The difference is, I choose to be with you.”

“Ah, you choose to be with me?” He cocks an eyebrow. “What does that mean to you?” He throws a hand between us. “Where do you see this going?”

Heat floods my cheeks; I hadn't thought past us on the bed thrashing around, making it up as we go. “I, ah, well, it's about…”

“Sorry if I'm not impressed that you've come to your senses, or is it because you've burned that bridge and can't go back?”

“You're a fucking bastard,” I mumble under my breath.

He cocks an ear at me, as if he didn't hear.

“I get it, it's a no,” I say, as flippant as possible. Am I irritated or more embarrassed that he turned me down? I make a move to climb off him, but his hands clamp down on my thighs. “What the–” I start, trying to pry his fingers off.

“I thought there was a fuck on the table, lass? We haven't finished negotiating.”

“What's there to negotiate? I offered; you either accept or not. It looked like it was a no. This is the weirdest foreplay I've ever experienced,” trying again to pry his fingers off my thigh.

“We've advanced to foreplay?” His face is framed in disbelief. “No matter. If I do this tonight, it's a one-off.”

I scrunch my face, more from the effort to free myself, but I really don't understand what he’s saying.

He lets go of my thigh, and I scramble away before he snatches me again.

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