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My body shudders as my orgasm overtakes me, his words making my heart soar, despite knowing I shouldn’t take pleasure in something we can’t act on.
I throw my head back, watching out of the corner of my eye as his movements go jerky, cum spurting on his hand, narrowly missing his expensive shirt, his grip so tight on himself it seems painful.
I look over at him as languorous warmth spreads all through me, a satisfied smile on his face. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” he jokes, making me chuckle. He grabs a tissue off the end table, using it to wipe himself off, and tucks himself back into his boxers. “When can we do it again?”
The warmth dissipates, cold realization taking its place. As amazing as this was, it can’t happen again. Everything in me is screaming to kiss him, to wrap myself around him and never let go, but that isn’t an option. It shouldn’t have gone this far to begin with.
We didn’t touch each other inappropriately, but the spirit of it was still the same.
I readjust my bra cup and close the sides of my dress, covering myself as I answer, “We can’t.”
He stills, his eyes taking on that intense expression I normally love seeing on him. “Why?”
I gaze at him, his inky black locks tousled, stubble dotting his jaw to give him a deliciously disheveled appearance. He’s so gorgeous, even more so now that I really know him, what a good soul he has, one that hardly anyone else sees. It’s only those eyes that are out of place, alight with misgiving.
“Because it’ll lead to more. And I can’t. I can’t be that person.”
“I’ve told you,” he growls, voice hard. “It’s not cheating. It’s all fake.”
I shake my head, the ethics of it too much to get into again. “I didn’t touch you tonight, but the temptation was there, nearly unbearable at times. And I thought, what’s one little touch? No one would know.” I smooth down the front of my dress, then finally tie it shut. “But I would. And then I’d start justifying to myself why the next touch would be okay, and the next, and the next, until we’re in this full-blown affair. I don’t want that happening.”
He grinds his teeth, unable to refute my words, even if he doesn’t like what I’m saying.
I stand and find my shoes to slip them on, glancing out the windows one more time at the amazing view.
He follows me to the door, standing close but not touching, respecting my wishes.
“Thank you for a fantastic night,” I whisper. “But I won’t be back. Being alone here with you will only lead to something worse.”
He nods, his face both defiant and sorrowful. “I’m not sorry. Not when it means I got to share that with you.”
That temptation returns, that powerful urge to reach out and touch him, to simply stroke his jaw and discover if his stubble really is as prickly as it looks, to trace his lower lip and see if it’s as soft as I remember.
But I keep my hands to myself, clenching them tightly to my sides, my dress flaring out slightly as I whirl around to exit, putting myself out of temptation’s grasp. Resisting this gorgeous, considerate, sensual man who ticks all my boxes.
Kind to others. Check.
Makes me laugh. Check.
Breathtakingly handsome. Check.
And sexy as fuck. Triple check.
Plus, so many other things. I can’t count the favors he’s done for me, the ways he’s come to the rescue.
But he’s not mine.
And he never will be.