Gentleman Sinner(72)
‘Izzy, look at me,’ he begs, his hand reaching for mine slowly. I don’t withdraw or stop him, but instead let him tentatively brush across my skin before he takes hold of my hand. I look up at him, finding sorrow and despair to match mine. ‘I want to be your safe haven,’ he whispers, lifting my hand to his cheek, holding it there. The feel of his bristle across my palm is harsh but so soft. I don’t want it to be, but it’s soothing.
I’m losing my battle to keep my emotion at bay, and tears tumble down my cheeks as he gently takes me in his arms. I feel overwrought and helpless, yet safer than I’ve ever felt before. He’s taken away my safe place and replaced it with another, but my new safe place is probably impenetrable. It’s made of steel and reinforced with iron. It’s real, and it can truly protect me. It’s him.
I sob into Theo’s chest, my head a riot of troubled thoughts. I can have my job and the security of the hospital, or I can have Theo and the security of him. Simply him. And as I cling to him, my tears soaking into his T-shirt, my small body jerking in his strong hold, I silently accept that no one can keep me safer than Theo can. But I have to work. I want to keep doing what I love.
He sighs into my hair as he cups the back of my head, pushing me more and more into his chest, as if wanting to meld us together. And he holds me for the longest time until my jerks have subsided, and my tears finally stop falling.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says on a sigh. ‘So sorry. I’ll make it right, I promise.’ He frees me from his arms and smiles sadly as he wipes under my eyes. ‘Forgive me?’
How can I not? How can I reject him when he’s looking at me like this, with sincerity and hope in his tired eyes? I swallow and nod, breathing out. ‘You need to control your temper.’
He nods, looking away and falling into thought. It’s reassuring, because I can see he’s silently agreeing with me. ‘Come.’ He plants the gentlest of kisses on my forehead and then slowly turns me in his arms, leading me out with his palms engulfing my shoulders.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, reaching up and sliding my hands on to his. I feel heat close in at my ear, my shoulders rolling up, my eyes closing.
‘My room,’ he says, so seductively, the super-low tone going super low into my groin. I bite my lip as he pushes me on up the stairs, sparks of anticipation dancing across my skin. ‘We’re about to have make-up sex for the first and last time. Are you naked under my robe?’
My mouth is suddenly parched, so I nod. He growls mildly, flexing his hands beneath mine, a silent instruction to move them. The moment I peel them away, one of Theo’s palms slips down to my waist, taking the tie of the robe. He tugs until it loosens, still walking us up the stairs. When we’ve reached the top, I’m steered right, and he grips the soft material at my shoulders in his fists. ‘Keep walking,’ he instructs, and I force my sight forward, focusing on the door to Theo’s private quarters ahead. Cool air finds my breasts first, teasing my nipples into hard bullets, then crawls across the rest of my naked front. I shiver, concentrating on keeping my slow pace as Theo looms behind me, following my steps and drawing the robe away from my body. I hear the light thud as the mass of fabric hits the carpet. He’s dropped it, and while I know it will be found by Jefferson before Theo is done with me, I haven’t the inclination to tell him to pick it up. His arm extends past me to reach for the door, and his lips meet my naked shoulder. I turn my face into him, letting my eyes flutter open as the heat of his mouth on my skin chases away the coolness engulfing me. I’m hot, lustful.
‘Please don’t tie me up,’ I beg quietly, letting him at my face, his teeth nibbling across my cheek to my lips. I want him to let me touch him, feel him, to hold him like he holds me.
My plea is ignored, his front pushing into my back. I walk forward, hearing the door close behind me, and then I’m swooped into his arms and carried into his bedroom. He lays me on the bed, placing my hands over my head. I look up and see the bedposts. Then back down to see the cuffs he bought me in his hands. I hold my breath, watching as he unfastens the leather bands one at a time, as he walks on his knees and settles his jean-clad arse on his calves, fixing the cuffs around my wrists.
‘I want to touch you,’ I murmur, locking eyes with him, hoping he sees in their depths just how much.
He pauses, straightening a little, looking down at his chest briefly before back at me. ‘Then touch me,’ he replies, taking my hand and resting it on his pec.
I relish the feel of him, but it isn’t what I meant. ‘While you’re making love to me.’
He smiles, understanding, but goes back to his job of securing me. ‘I hope in time, sweetheart.’ He fixes me up with both cuffs and collects two long lengths of satin from the drawer beside the bed. He loops a length of material through each chunky metal hoop and ties them to the bedposts, pulling them taut so my arms are stretched to full length. I breathe in deeply, my legs shifting, my breasts aching painfully with need. This time, he leaves my legs free and straddles my waist, still fully clothed. A palm lands on the mattress at each side of my head, his face coming close to mine. I pant, my heart hammering a needy beat as I search his eyes, finding need in him, too. But on top of that, desperation, hunger and, most of all, devotion. It’s shining from his eyes like shards of hopeful light.
He lets his mouth gently brush over mine, from side to side, back and forth, and I moan, lifting my head to catch his lips. But he pulls away, and I whimper, letting my head drop back to the bed. He draws a perfect line down the bridge of my nose and on to my mouth. ‘Don’t think,’ he breathes, dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. ‘Don’t speak.’ Then he replaces his thumb with a worshipful kiss. ‘Just feel how much I want you. Feel how much I need you. I’m just Theo, Izzy.’ Keeping his body suspended on one arm, he reaches down with his other, his fingers walking their way across my stomach, down, down, down . . .