Up in Smoke Read online

  He started to protest. No. No. Her orgasms belonged to him. No matter that he had limited means with which to give them to her, he would find a damn way. “Erin, don’t you—”

  She took him deep, deeper…all the way, his inches disappearing one by one past her lips. “Oh, God. Oh, fuck yes. Give me that hot little mouth.” His body moved on autopilot, drawn to the insane pleasure she was providing like a dose of potent drugs. He dug his heels into the mattress, drew out of her mouth a bit and slowly ground himself back up into her sweet warmth. The hand that wasn’t working furiously inside her panties dug into his thigh and she moaned. Loving it? Christ, he’d thought this girl was incredible, but he’d had no idea. Just as he’d told her, she kept those beautiful eyes trained on him, sending him sprinting toward his release.

  “Fuck, I’m going to come so hard. Erin.”

  His words seemed to ignite something inside her. She wrapped her hand around him tight and jerked him fast while her mouth continued to take deep pulls. All the while, she made these sexy whimpering noises that echoed in his head, battered his skull. His focus became her fingers, circling as she drove herself to orgasm. Something sharp impaled his chest…a need to be the one who wrung the climax out of her…unbelievable frustration that he couldn’t. On top of it all, a rushing of pure, mind-bending pleasure blurred everything. Weak. Strong. In that moment, he felt both emotions as control wavered from his focus. In a blinding rush, it was all swept away, his world fracturing into a thousand tiny pieces. He heard himself shouting, but couldn’t make himself stop. It was too fucking amazing…her mouth wouldn’t stop.

  “Take it, take it, take it. Greedy girl. My fucking girl.”

  For a brief, blinding moment, he lost track of everything. His body felt depleted and whole at the same time. He’d just begun to marvel over the singular feeling when Erin let out a cry and fell forward onto his chest, body shuddering as she came. His mind screamed in denial, hands fisting on the bedspread. No. I’m supposed to give her pleasure. Supposed to control when and how. Gone was the euphoria of a moment ago, replaced by shame so thick he could choke on it. Being passive was killing him. How long could he withstand this?

  Erin’s head came up. “What’s wrong?” She scrambled back onto her heels and he bit back the need to grab for her. “Did I…did you not like it?”

  He jackknifed into a sitting position, bringing their faces a breath apart. “I loved it. You were so damn perfect, sweetheart. I’ve never had it that good. Never.”

  Some of her worry disappeared, but not all. “But?”

  Connor turned and threw his legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m not a passive man, Erin. I’m not built to watch my girl get herself off. I see to your pleasure. I need to.” His breath came out in a rush. “I just need a minute and I’ll be fine.”

  For a while, there was no sound in the room save their slowing breaths. When Erin’s arms wrapped around the breadth of his back from behind, his head fell forward. Her body settled against his back, head tucking into the space between his shoulder and neck. “Don’t give up on me already,” she whispered.

  His heart plummeted. Is that what she’d thought? If so, she had a lot to learn about him. “It’s going to take more than damaged pride to keep me away from you.” This is where he turned around and took her in his arms, reassured her the only way knew how. But that wasn’t an option. Erin seemed to sense his inner turmoil, because she tightened her hold on him and tried to scoot them both back on the bed. After a few seconds of her struggling to move him, Connor went. He lay facing away from her, the exact opposite of what he wanted, while she held him from behind, face buried in his back.

  It took him a long time to fall asleep, but when he did, he fell deep.

  Chapter Eight

  Trapped. Trapped. Trapped.

  Erin’s body felt feverish and whip-tight. Oxygen felt like it was being sucked in through a straw to her aching lungs. Was that wheezing coming from her? A dense band of steel lay across her chest, her legs, making it even harder to breath. Heavy. So heavy. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t form a rational thought. One that would get her shifting, trying to get free. Useless. It would be useless anyway. Once she allowed the trap, it ruled her. How had she gotten here? Allowed this?

  You let your guard down and now you’ll pay. Next comes the dark box. Just like the closet. They’ll throw you in, laughing while you plead. Oh God, please don’t let them forget to take the handcuffs off again. Please. Tears blurred her vision before coating her temples, burning the corners of her eyes, wetting her hair. She couldn’t move her hands or turn her head to get rid of them. Locust wings started to flap. Louder. Louder. A scream rose in her throat but it wouldn’t release. No one would hear her anyway. The face in the whirlwind fed off her screams. They gave him more reasons to trap her. Call her crazy.

  The smell of sanded wood and pine needles infiltrated her frenetic thoughts. Tears continued to flow, breathing was still painfully difficult, but a tiny bubble of comfort found its way home through the terrible noise. Still trapped. Trapped by Connor? No, that couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t, would he? Had he been a trap, disguised as a magnificent mirage?

  “No,” she keened into the dim room. “Not him.”

  The steel bands across her chest and legs twitched. Miraculously, they yanked away and she could inhale. She couldn’t move yet, but dragging in the sweet air was enough. Enough for now. She managed to turn her head and focus on the window across the room, but it was blocked by a large object. Connor. It was Connor and he was shouting at her.

  “Erin. Ah fuck, sweetheart. No.” He gripped the headboard in his right hand and she heard the wood creak. “I’m so sorry. Dammit.”

  “Window,” she croaked. Understanding dawned in Connor’s eyes and he reached for her, obviously intending to scoop her up and carry her over. He jerked his hands back at the last second and cursed, low and vilely. As she watched from the pillow, he started pacing the room like a caged lion. Terrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time. She wanted to say something, do something to comfort him, but she couldn’t think past getting to the window, regaining her equilibrium. Testing her legs and arms, she was surprised to find they moved, accommodating her need to crawl across the bed and dismount on the window side. Odd, it usually took her much longer to gather the strength. The courage.

  Connor met her at the glass. “You’re not going out there. Don’t you dare leave me here remembering how you looked—” He raked a hand through his hair. “Tell me how to make it better.”

  “Just stand there.” She reached over and laid a hand on his heaving chest. “Right there. You needed a minute last night and I need one now. Okay?”

  After a beat, he nodded. “I fell asleep.” His voice sounded far away. Hazy. “I must have…there was a minute before I woke up where I felt so relaxed. Calm. It’s been a long time since I felt like that. And the whole time, you were suffering. Jesus, I hate myself for that.”

  A dark shadow obscured her view of the street, draping over her and folding inside her chest. His words bounced around her consciousness, damaging her wherever they struck. I hate myself. If this morning had proved anything, it was that she was beyond repair. Even after the kindness and understanding Connor had shown her, she still wasn’t healthy enough to withstand an embrace. She never would be. Her life had been lived too long this way, and her patterns were set.

  Discreetly, she watched Connor’s reflection in the glass. He looked haunted. Ravaged by the need to fix his mistake, when there was no remedy. They’d only known each other for two days and already she’d frustrated him, hurt him. Made him hate himself. She needed to get away from him before she did any more damage. Really, it was selfish of her to have stayed in his magnetic orbit this long. But she could be merciful to them both now. Cut and run. It’s what she did best. After he got over the initial sting of failure, he would be grateful.

  She almost laughed when she saw herself in the
glass. Hair a rat’s nest. Leather bustier twisted above her stupid You Wish thong. Yeah, he probably did. Probably wished he had a girlfriend who didn’t have a panic attack from being in his arms. She might as well be a ghost.

  “Maybe I am.”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  His sleep-roughened voice didn’t fail to heat her insides. She may have made the decision to leave, but that wouldn’t make her attraction to him any less intense. “This isn’t going to work.” She spoke to his reflection in the glass, but it still hurt. Especially when his eyes blazed open at her words. “What were we thinking? I spend my life avoiding being tied down. You need to control and fix and manage. It’s a fucking countdown until you start to resent me. Let’s cut this short, shall we?”

  “Don’t.” His voice vibrated. “Don’t do this when we’re both upset. Please.”

  She spun around with a laugh, searching the floor for her shorts. “One or both of us has been upset the entire whopping two days we’ve known each other. We’re a couples counselor’s wet dream.” Having found her shorts just inside the door, she shimmied them up her legs, gasping when Connor growled at her action. Ignore him. Move faster.

  “It won’t happen again,” he promised quietly. “It was an accident. We shouldn’t have—”

  “What? Slept in the same bed? Isn’t that something you want to do with your girlfriend?” She realized she was shouting and reined herself in. “Look at you. You’re dying to pick me up and shake me, tell me I can’t leave, but you can’t do it. Not without more guilt. More failure. I will ruin you.”

  “No.” He strode toward her, stopping a foot away. “I was ruined before we met. You didn’t do that. I did it to myself.” She didn’t have a chance to respond to his impassioned speech before he continued. “Or maybe I don’t even know what being ruined means yet. I’ve already decided you’re mine. If you take yourself away from me, I might find out.”

  “You can’t put that on me,” she whispered. “Maybe you’re too noble for your own good. Maybe you can’t see it, but I’m doing what’s best for us both. You need something I can’t give. And I need something you can’t give.”

  The wind left his sails right before her eyes, breath whooshing past his lips. She barely kept herself upright at the guilt driving spikes through her gut. “What can’t I give you?”

  “Freedom. You’ll want to tie me down. Inside bed and out.” She swallowed a sob. As much as it would hurt to say what came next, she had no choice. “‘Don’t you dare go out the window, Erin.’ ‘Don’t get yourself off, Erin.’ I can’t live with the threat of my independence being taken away. I can’t live with you.”

  Her words fell like a boulder between them, lodging into the floor and sending cracks to split the room in half. His half. Her half. She wanted to leap over the divide, crawl up into his warmth, and apologize until her heart gave out, but she wouldn’t. This was why she didn’t get nice things. She broke them. Connor was the nicest thing she’d ever had. That’s how she should have known it couldn’t last. Unable to witness the regret, the guilt, in his eyes another second, she darted from the room, snatching up her boots where she’d kicked them off by the couch. She shoved her feet into them and tied the laces way too tight.

  “No. You can’t leave right now,” he said from right behind her. “It’s not safe this early in the morning.”

  She straightened. “How are you going to stop me?”

  “I’ll go. You stay.”

  Tears threatened once again. She actually had to press both hands to her eyes to keep them from flowing. This was bad. Leaving after two days should have been easy, but her organs felt like they might rupture if she walked away from him. “Stop trying to help me. Just stop. I can’t stand it.”

  He moved in front of her, eyes raging like a storm. “You don’t want to end this. I see right through you, sweetheart. So guess what? I’m not letting you.” His gaze dropped to her lips as if he wanted to kiss her, but she stumbled back to avoid him. No way she could allow his kiss. It would slay her. She’d never make it to the hallway. Connor followed her, though. Slowly. “You want freedom? Fine. I can’t stop you from slipping out windows or walking out doors. If I have to go insane with worry in order to keep you, I’ll do it. I’ll do it for how I feel when you show up again. I’m not giving up. And you insult me by thinking I can’t take some frustration. Some pain. Bring it, Erin. I’m fucking ready.”

  Time slowed, but her pulse sped up. She must have been secretly hoping he would resist, because relief swamped her. Not just relief. Pride. In him. A totally foreign emotion, since she made it a point never to take pride in anything or anyone, save her escape plans. “We can’t cure each other.”

  “Watch us.”

  Such confidence scared the shit out of her. She would let him down. She knew it. Being responsible for someone else’s happiness was horrifying when she didn’t even know how to be happy herself. “What if it takes a long time? Do you…will you need other women?”

  His jaw flexed. “What would you do if I went to another woman?”

  Red filtered her view of him. If she was standing in the kitchen instead of the living room, she would have flipped on all four stove burners full blast. Her throat tightened with the need to shout until she couldn’t hold it in. It ripped out of her like a gale wind. “I’d scratch her fucking eyes out.”

  Connor didn’t flinch at her ear-piercing volume. He only nodded. “Good. Don’t ever ask me that again.” His eyes darkened. “It goes unsaid that if you go near another man, I’ll end his life.”

  Desire rippled in her midsection. It turned her on, that violent possessiveness. It stirred her, called to her own nature. But this was a lot to take in all at once. She needed some distance before she could accept it. Accept him and what he was offering. Five minutes ago, she’d written this relationship off as a mistake, mostly on his end. Walking away was the right thing. This little experiment would fail. She was positive of that. And yet the thought of never touching him again, not having the right to be possessive of him…it made her want to crumble.

  So she did what she did best. “I’ll see you later.”

  She walked out the front door and escaped. For the moment.

  Feeling light-headed, Erin rounded the corner at the end of the block. She’d felt Connor watching her from the apartment window, but now she was out of view. God, he must hate that. Must be climbing the walls with the need to follow her. But he wouldn’t. He’d meant what he said about giving her freedom. She was grateful for it, even if she half wished he’d come with her. She’d left him only a few minutes ago and already she missed his scent, his reassuring presence.

  Yeah, she was fucked.

  Also, she was so damn hungry her stomach felt like it might cave in on itself. They hadn’t eaten dinner last night after she’d opted for a game of Slip ’n Slide with the olive oil. Not that it hadn’t been seriously worth it. The feel of him in her mouth, the things he’d said…the growling.

  Pancakes. Focus on getting some pancakes.

  Up ahead she saw an intersection with fast-food restaurants on either side. Surely there would be a twenty-four-hour diner where she could chow down and clear her head. Thinking would be easier on a full stomach. One thing she’d learned to appreciate during her short stays in prison was food. She never left a bite on her plate or complained about temperature. Hell, once you’d eaten stale granola over flavorless yogurt containing undefinable lumps, you were happy with damn near anything.

  Connor’s image drifted into her head. The way he’d looked with morning stubble, hair a mess on top of his head. Those loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips, but managed to hug his ass perfectly. His intensity when he backed her down in the living room. Bring it. A shiver coasted down her arms. Damn him. Didn’t he realize she wasn’t equipped to make a man like him happy?

  Even as the insecurities mounted, one fact continued to make itself known. He wasn’t giving her up. There was such overwhelming
comfort in that, it cocooned her like a warm blanket. If he could see her in the throes of a full-blown panic attack, accept her jealousy, her faults, and still want her, maybe he truly meant it. He wasn’t giving her an avenue of escape. But would this be the first time ever she didn’t want an escape?

  “Pancakes,” she muttered, crossing the street toward a Denny’s. At the curb, she pulled up short. Sitting beside the window inside the restaurant was Polly, all by herself, looking exhausted. Erin sauntered through the entrance, ignoring the hostess to take a seat across from her teammate.

  “Come here often?” The mug paused halfway to Polly’s mouth, but she didn’t react otherwise. Erin studied her, wondering what she was doing up this early. Probably not an epic mental meltdown and a near breakup, unlike a certain someone.

  Polly set her coffee down on the table with a plunk. “Being that I just moved here from Los Angeles, no. But the food isn’t shit and they leave me alone, so I might make it a habit.”

  Erin studied her. Was that glitter on her neck? “Late night?”

  That earned her a look that said back off. “I could ask you the same. I assume Connor didn’t object to the roommate situation?”

  “Nope. But I blew him anyway just for good measure.”

  Polly laughed, that girlish laugh that was unexpected every time. “And he didn’t even offer to make you breakfast?”

  Erin signaled the waitress for coffee. “Morning afterglow isn’t really my thing.”

  “Shocking.”

  The waitress appeared with a menu and coffee. Erin waved it away and ordered a tall stack of chocolate chip pancakes. “So how does working with a computer land you in prison?”

  “When you hack into the White House Twitter account.” She sipped her coffee. “And you tweet screenshots of email correspondence between the vice president and his mistress.”