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“Harder.”

A third finger joined the first two, and his thrusts increased in rhythm and strength. Not enough.

“Harder, Jay. Like you’re punching me there.”

“Fuck,” he moaned against her damp skin. The muscles flexed in his pounding arm. He slid up her body, taking one of her legs with him, bending her in half. His knee landed on the seat beside her, and his dick ground against the back of her raised thigh. He kissed her fiercely, desperately, and his fingers drove in and out with hard hitting velocity.

She wanted to come. She wanted to hurt. What a worthless slut. His beautiful girl was so dirty and pathetic. She whimpered against his mouth and her shield quivered, threatened to collapse. No, she couldn’t let it. Couldn’t let her repulsive desires tumble out around him. She held it in place, stayed her orgasm, but she couldn’t stop the burn ripping through her sinuses or the achy feeling in her eyes.

His mouth was relentless, moving over hers, sucking her strength, and hammering her wall. “Fucking hell, you’re sexy.” He spread kisses over her lips as he banged her with his hand. “And you smell incredible.” He peppered a trail along her jaw. “You’re gorgeous.” His voice cracked and he dragged his nose along hers. “And brave.”

The storm around her heart thundered against his. She tried to blink away the wet blur as he caught her wretched wails in draining kisses.

“You’re perfect. You’re…” He leaned back and choked on a gasp, his eyes wide. “Crying?”

48

A tear curled into Charlee’s mouth. Embarrassed, she swiped at the streak on her cheek and squared her shoulders. “I’m not crying.”

Jay moved his hands to her knees and looked up, his face a white sheet. “What have I done?” he whispered.

In the next heartbeat, his arms were around her, lifting her. He took her seat, settled her sideways on his thighs, and pressed her face against his neck. “I fucked up. I’m so sorry.”

What? She pushed against his chest and grabbed his face with both hands. “You didnotfuck up. It’s me.Ifucked up.”

He flinched at her touch, but before she could move her hands, he gripped her arms to hold them in place.

She drew in a ragged breath. It was awful feeling guilty when she didn’t mean to upset him. Maybe it wasn’t guilt at all, but remorse over her inability to make him happy. She leaned in and brushed her mouth over his in an attempt to bring back the moment they had just shared.

His lips were tight, unresponsive, and a lump swelled in her throat. Twisting her hands out of his hold, she dropped them in her lap and turned her head away, the ache in her chest threatening to well her eyes again. “I’ll just…get dressed.”

Holding her hips to his lap, he helped her collect her clothes from the floor. As she dressed, he stared at the door behind her, his arm locked around her waist. He wouldn’t let her stand even as she dragged on her pants.

“I can’t decide if you’re mad at me or just appalled.” Her voice was so quiet, she felt it scratch more than she heard it.

He jerked his eyes to her and cocked his head, matching her volume. “What?”

She coughed. “We should go back to our seats. We’re probably missing dinner.” The thought of eating rippled nausea through her stomach.

“Bullshit.” He glared at her. “We’re going to talk about what just happened. Right here. Right now.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and mumbled, “Now that you have clothes on.”

Shame scalded her cheeks. Did he think she was dirty? She jumped up and he yanked her back to his lap.

She shoved at his arm. “If you find me so repulsive, let me go.”

His eyes bugged. “Repulsive? Good God, Charlee. Are you crazy?” He gripped her waist and scooted her to his knee, glaring at his erection and back at her.

Oh. “You still want me?”

“Of course I still want you. I’m trying to fucking restrain myself.”

“What I begged you to do…and I couldn’t…come…I thought—”

“That’s part of your problem.” He tried to work his zipper up and couldn’t stretch the fly over his dwindling arousal. “You’re thinking instead of feeling.” He gave up on his pants and fixed his eyes on hers. “I don’t know why you feel bad about what we just did.” His tone softened. “From where I’m sitting—” He shoved a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and breathed, “It was really,reallysexy.”

Sexy? She shivered with memories of her orgasmic screams piercing the walls of Roy’s stockroom. “It’s not sexy. It’s sick. As in Roy Oxford’s favorite flavor.”

He lowered his hand to hers with a delicateness that contradicted the emotions marching across his glare. “Yeah, we’re going to talk about that, too. Hand me my shirt.” He pointed at the floor.