Beauty from Pain(41)

I lift myself from Paige’s body and kneel between her legs from behind. I kiss the dip in her lower back and taste the salty moisture created during our sexual frenzy. It’s another way I love to taste this sweet girl.


I glide my hands from her waist to her shoulders and begin massaging her tense muscles. It takes a few minutes, but I feel her eventually relax under my touch and I contemplate how to justify my possessive outburst.


I could say that I don’t know where my irrational demand came from, but that would be a lie. There should’ve been no room for anything in my head other than how good it felt to be inside her, but something else slipped into my thoughts. Someone else—Ben Donavon. I can’t believe I let that little bastard get into my head. He wants what’s mine and I’m forced to deliver her to him tomorrow. She might as well be served on a silver platter.


For two days, I’ll be in Sydney and she’ll be with him in his apartment. They might find themselves alone. That’s when shit happens.


I might have gone about it poorly, but I want to be clear with Paige; she is mine while she’s in Australia. I won’t share her with Ben Donavon or any other dick.


I lean forward to kiss her shoulder and then skim my nose across the nape of her neck. She smells so good—all fruit, sweat, and pheromones. Lots of pheromones. If I keep sniffing her, I could get sidetracked from what I need to do.


I place the side of my face against the center of her back and leave it there while I try to regain some of the footing I may have lost over my less-than-gentle treatment. “I’m sorry if I was too aggressive.”


“You were pretty intense.” She peers at me over her shoulder. “But I never said I was opposed to intense.” I feel her words rumble against my ear pressed to her body. “However, I’m a little confused about what you said.”


I roll off her and lie on my side. She does the same and props her head in her hand. She pokes her lips out at me as she mocks me in a husky tone. “You look so serious.”


I am. Dead serious. “We may only be together for a few months, but you’re mine while you’re here. I won’t share you with Ben Donavon or any other man.”


I see the confusion on her face. “What brought this on?”


Oh, hell. I’m going to sound like such a chick. “You live with him.”


She’s giving me that duh, really? look that my little sister gives me. Women must be born with that special talent. “And you knew that when we met. You didn’t just figure that out.”


“I know, but I have to take you back to him tomorrow.”


The realization clicks in her head and she understands. “You’re not relinquishing custody of me to Ben. You’re taking me to the place where I stay with my best friend.”


“Which happens to belong to a man who wants you in his bed.” I didn’t see it before, but it’s become clear to me. Now that I’ve had Paige in my bed, her residency at Ben Donavon’s is going to be a problem for me.


She shrugs, as if she couldn’t care less. “It doesn’t matter if he wants me or not. I don’t want him.” She gets up and straddles me. “But I do want you.”


She is going to use sex to distract me from this conversation. I’ll allow it—this time.


It’s Christmas Eve morning. When I wake, I see Paige asleep on her stomach again. I’m learning things about her. She’s a stomach sleeper. She doesn’t want to cuddle when it’s time to sleep. And she likes her space in the bed. All these thing are fine by me.


Instead of getting up to have coffee and read the paper, I stay in bed. I want to be next to her when she wakes because I’m going to have her again before I take her back. I want to be freshly on her skin and inside her when she returns to him.


My American girl isn’t a morning person. She likes to sleep in, so I get to lie next to her, studying her form for almost an hour before she wakes. I’m on the verge of going back to sleep when I feel her roll in my direction. My eyes spring open and she’s staring at me.


Hmm. The watcher becomes the watched.


She laces her fingers together across my chest and props her chin on top of her hands. “Good morning.”


I lift my head and kiss the top of her hair. “Good morning to you, sleepyhead.”