Rough Edge (The Edge #1)(48)

“Not tonight.”

I tried to close the door in his face, but he held it open. “Are you all right?”

I got the coat up around me. “I double-booked. Sorry. We have to get dinner another time.”

“Sis. What’s going on?”

“My husband’s getting home for the first time after days of back-to-back surgery. I’d like to spend my evening doing what married people do, not letting my brother continually ask what’s wrong, okay?”

The gears in his head turned. Behind him, people walked the street below. I was a woman in a coat talking to a man on my stoop.

What I wouldn’t have done for a porch and a driveway.

“Fine, I get it. You two. Jesus.” He shook his head.

“Tomorrow,” I called when he was halfway down the steps.

“Sure, sure.”

He opened the front gate just as Caden approached with a stride and a face stiffened with jealousy. It turned into a charming smile when Colin turned and Caden could see him. They shook hands. I went inside and closed the door but didn’t lock it. When Caden came in, I was on the couch in my coat.

He locked the door. Looking at me, he tossed his keys onto the table. His beeper. His wallet. The bulge in his pants was distracting me, but not him. He was slow and deliberate, as if nothing could rush a man without feelings.

“I said naked,” he said.

“Colin came to the door.”

“Put your heels on the edge of the couch and spread your knees.” He put his jacket on a hook and came to me, rolling up his sleeves.

I got my knees up, spreading them to show myself. His businesslike gaze had physical presence. He didn’t just look between my legs; he stroked without even touching me.

“Naked is naked.”

I shook off the coat. He undid his buckle, metal clicking on metal. Every cell in my body was drawn to him. Every inch of skin trembled for his touch.

I’d never seen him like this. He was as stone cold and far away as he’d ever been. I didn’t know he could be this far inside himself.

And yet, he was still the guy in the stairway. The man who was afraid he would hurt me. The husband who risked everything for our marriage.

He looped the belt, holding the ends in his fist. “Don’t flinch.”

He tapped the loop of the belt in his palm, looking between my legs. My breath picked up, getting shallower and faster.

“What’s naked?” he asked.

“Naked.”

He slapped the inside of my thigh with the leather, and I flinched before it struck, then gritted my teeth from the raw sting, twisting with my knees together.

“Open your legs.” He pulled them apart. “What are you afraid of?”

“You’re going to hit my pussy with the belt.”

He acted as if the thought had never occurred to him, raised the belt, and let it fall gently between my legs, sending sensation from my clit to my knees. The second tap was a little harder, and the third made me jump.

“You’re afraid,” he said, “and you’re turned on.”

“Yes.”

“You think those two things might be related?”

A hard swipe fell inside my other thigh, leaving a burn behind.

I kept my legs open this time, daring him to do it again.

He smiled and bit his lower lip. “We do this thing every time. I hurt you or I control you, then I lose it for a second, and boom, I’m back to normal until I’m not anymore. Right?”

“Yes.”

He reached his arm back, looking right at my cunt for aim, and I flinched. I flinched a lot. He put his arm down and smiled before he dropped the belt. He kneeled between my legs.

“What I thought today on the way here was, why do I rush to that middle part?” Then he pressed four fingers flat against his mouth and licked them. “Why? When you like getting hurt so much?”

He slapped his wet hand hard against my clit. It hurt so badly I lifted my bottom from the couch and screamed, but every sting, every jangling nerve blossomed into pleasure, and I gasped.

“You like it.” He slapped again, and the pleasure bloomed bigger.

“I love it.”

“What are you going to do when I feel too guilty to do this?”

The slap after was harder than the others, and I howled. He yanked my legs apart, and when I looked down, he had the belt again.

“No,” I whispered.

“Come on, Grey. What’s a limit if you can’t push it?”

He hit me with the belt. The pain was extraordinary, exquisite, nearly unbearable, and so was the explosion of pleasure. I cried to God when he touched my raw clit, pinching it between two fingers. I was overstimulated and sore, overwhelmed with sensation.

Tight in his fingers, hood pulled back, he exposed my bare, red clit, pinching until the blood flowed to the rawest part. I got up on my elbows and locked eyes with him as he lowered his head and flicked it with his tongue.

My body expanded, taking up the entire room in electricity and heat, but I didn’t explode. The detonator got warm but didn’t blow.

“I think I knew the minute I met you.” He gave me a tortuous lick. “I think I knew about you, but I didn’t know about me.” Still pinching, he flicked his nail on a raw membrane and thousands of nerve endings screamed in pain.