Chapter 92 92
She arched her back, and reared up on her elbows, forehead resting on her clenched hands. “More. Don’t stop.”
He reached beneath her and caressed the spot where her pleasure centered. Sherry jerked and moaned. Timing the stroke of his finger to the slide of his shaft, he took them both to the edge and hovered there. “Do you want to come?”
She said a word that once again destroyed her resolution. Justin chuckled, but it was a breathless, weak sound. The air in his lungs had evaporated. Suddenly, his control snapped, and with a groan, he pushed all the way to the core of her and pumped recklessly as he gripped her hips and emptied himself into the warm welcome of his unlikely lover.
Hours later, he rolled over and glanced at the clock. Sherry was in his bed this time. The comfortable king mattress accommodated his lanky frame. He held her close, relishing the sweet, trusting way she rested in his embrace. They had made love for hours, finally abandoning the living room and coming upstairs to collapse into bed. Sighing deeply with repletion and contentment, he succumbed once again to the warm embrace of much-needed sleep.
When he opened his eyes the second time, Sherry was gone. The stone of disappointment that crushed his chest was enormous. Yesterday morning, he had understood her need to flee. But last night he thought they had forged a tenuous understanding, a fledgling truce.
His mouth was fuzzy and his head ached. Reluctantly, he dialed back his expectations for the remainder of the weekend.
Sherry was not like other women. And there was absolutely no way to predict her reactions from one minute to the next. Perhaps all she really wanted from him was sex. For any other guy at any other moment, that would have been a pretty sweet deal. But Justin and Sherry had a past, a connection, an undeniable chemistry. BenTel or not, the potential was there to create something wonderful.
He was beginning, however, to have a sinking suspicion that she was determined never to let that happen. Was it because he had rejected her once upon a time? Was it because of her brother? Or did she simply not want anything more from him than one naughty weekend?
Sherry hummed as she worked, her body aching pleasantly, and her cheeks heating as she relived each moment of the incredible night before. Justin Covington was a genius. Even with her limited experience, it was evident that he had devoted a lot of time to learning about women.
Perhaps she should have been jealous. His sexual expertise was no doubt the product of many intimate liaisons. But oddly, she didn’t begrudge any of those women their momentary connections to Justin l. He wasn’t with any of those women now. He had moved on.
Despite the painful experience in the past when she threw herself at him and suffered an ignominious rejection, she and Justin had known each other for a very long time. They had a relationship. It might not be the stuff of romantic fiction, but it was something. Even if this weekend turned out to be all she ever had of him in a sexual way, the tentative resurrection of their friendship would be enough.
The essence of that thought rang false, but she ignored the warning signs.
Justin wasn’t hers to keep. He deserved someone who wanted the things he wanted. A woman who could create a home and a family with him. Sherry was unable to do either of those things. There were still secrets between them. She could feel it. But that was okay. Because after this weekend, they would be something they hadn’t been in many years. Friends.
She pulled out her laptop and perched on a stool. She didn't want to start daydreaming about her and Justin. She hadn’t been lying when she told him she didn’t really like romance. Romance was what had led her to throw herself at him when she was twenty-three. Romance made people stupid, and Sherry was not stupid. Besides, even if by some miracle she and Justin fell in love and managed not to drive each other nuts, Adam aside, the truth remained. She was not wife material.
His long-ago words still rang in her ears: Men like gentle, feminine women…soft, self-effacing. Perhaps he hadn’t really meant that. He said he’d been trying to let her down easy and keep her from doing something stupid with another man who might have accepted her artless invitation and tossed her aside afterward.
But even so, he’d said the words out loud, and their power lingered.
Sherry wouldn’t change herself even if she could. She liked who she was.
But she had to accept that there were some things her upbringing had cost her. And having a family was one of those.
“There you are. Have you had breakfast?”
Justin's voice startled her so badly she nearly dropped her laptop. She closed it and stood, clutching it to her chest like armor. “I had some toast and coffee.”
“Did you sleep well?” His topa? and chocolate eyes searched her face, his sculpted mouth unsmiling.
She squirmed inwardly. “Yes, thank you.” Good Lord. This was a man who had seen her naked, who had done exquisitely intimate things to her and with her. Why was the aftermath so damned difficult?
He lounged in the doorway, his hands shoved in the pockets of faded jeans. Another flannel shirt, this one gold with a navy windowpane pattern, strained across his broad shoulders. His eyelids drooped and his hair was mussed. He looked like a man who had been up all night.
Her prim response amused him. His lips quirked, and he cocked his head, studying her with an intensity that seemed to strip the clothes from her body. “I think we need some exercise.”
The color in her face deepened as her thighs clenched. “Well, I…uh…”
“Outside,” Justin clarified. “In the fresh air. The temperature has come up considerably. There should be some gear around. How about it?”
She glanced out the window to the world of white. Suddenly, nothing sounded more appealing. “I’d like that.”
In twenty minutes they were bundled up in layers of warm clothing. The first bite of cold air as they stepped outside took her breath away, but when they rounded the house to the side sheltered from the wind, where Justin had scraped a partial path, it wasn’t bad at all. The sun shone down valiantly, doing its best to melt the snow.