Brody’s buzz had worn off hours ago, while he watched Capri gasp and moan in his bed. He’d thought she might start thrashing around and reopen her wound, but she’d stayed quiet, keeping most of what haunted her in her own mind.
Her skin was so soft against his rough palm. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from lingering. Where was his goddamn control? All he could think about was finishing the thing they’d started back in her fancy apartment on Mars.
Just once, before Ekon doled out his punishment and she was gone for good. Just once, to show her what it was supposed to be like between a man and a woman. Just once, to get her the hell out of his system.
Her lips were soft and hypnotic, but before he could make a move, she kissed him.
It wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, and he tensed. But she was patient, insistent, and with a frustrated groan, he gave in. He slid his hands into her hair, tugging so that her chin tilted, giving him better access to her mouth.
She moaned, opening herself to him, as anxious to taste all of him as he was to taste her.
He laid her down on the bed and stripped off his sweater. She’d never gotten around to showering and changing after the gunfight, and her pretty new clothes were dusty, the left sleeve torn off and the fabric bloodstained. He stared at the hard, brown spots, fresh guilt assaulting him.
He almost retreated again, but Capri didn’t let him.
She picked up where he left off, unbuttoning the top of her jumpsuit, and he leaned down to kiss each inch of pearly-white flesh as she revealed it. He’d seen her exposed before, but this was different. She wasn’t here because she had to be. She wanted to be with him; God or the like only knew why.
She sat up to help him pull down the top. His fingers slid gently over her injured arm and stopped at her waist. He moved her so that she was standing in front of him, between his knees. He had to lean forward, closer to her, to avoid hitting his head on the bed above him. They hadn’t been designed with sex in mind. The skin beneath his massive hands was so smooth, so pretty, nearly unmarked. Nearly.
A yellow bruise peeked out at the top of her hip, a souvenir from the attack in the alley. Another strike against him, another thing to atone for. If Ekon hadn’t wanted him dead for kidnapping, he certainly would now, once he saw the condition in which his precious Prize was being returned.
Brody felt a surge of fury at the idea of another person seeing her body so intimately. He would be stupid to think he’d be the last, but in this moment he wanted to be. Capri, unaware of his thoughts, brushed a hand gently over his head, and he pressed his lips against the mark, to soothe her or himself.
He moved his lips to a clear patch of sensitive flesh while he pushed the outfit down to the floor. Capri shivered. He pulled her to him, and she stepped into his arms, straddling him so that her knees were on either side of his hips. She felt too good, moving against him in a steady, dreamy sort of rhythm, her good hand grasping the frame above her for support.
He captured her mouth again and ran his fingers down her spine, relishing in the way her body responded to his touch. He thought she might come just from riding him through his jeans, but she stopped to reach for his zipper. With deft fingers she pulled him out and guided him in, trembling like she’d never felt the touch of a man before.
He thrust into her, fingers sinking into the flesh of her hips. He was holding on too tightly, he knew, but he needed something to ground him, something to help fight the impending urge to come. He took her nipple into his mouth, and she gasped, holding him against her, breath coming faster, small noises of pleasure reaching a higher pitch.
He cupped her ass and snuck a finger between the two round cheeks. She cried out. Her movements were artless, honest, and he relished in the way she lost control until her body went rigid and she came.
Brody smiled between her breasts. He had her right where he wanted her—until she grabbed his face in her hands and pulled his lips hard against hers, kissing him senseless in the midst of her orgasm and bringing him crashing into his.
He was lost in her, in her taste, her breath, her sounds. He was lost in the way her fingers raked through his short-cropped hair, making his scalp tingle and his body shudder. She made him feel like he was water and she was dying, and damned if she wasn’t the same to him.
He came down from the high breathing heavily, caught off-guard by the intensity of their fucking.That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.
She’d done it to him again.
He rested his face in the curve of her neck and bit down hard on the soft flesh, punishing her for making him feel, for taking away his control again. But she only shivered and moaned, the movement around him a stark reminder of what they’d just done.
He lifted her body, damp with mingled sweat, and laid her down on his bed. He had every intention of sliding out of her and leaving, but she was so warm around him, and she was watching him, her eyes like magnets to his.
He understood how women had once been mistaken for witches, long ago before the Migration. She ran a hand down the front of him, fingertips brushing his chest, his abdomen, and then very near to the place where they were joined.
It was just supposed to be one time. Why would they need more? But he did, and she did, so he brought them both to orgasm once more, and then he forced himself to pull away, to turn his back on her and pull up his pants before he spent the whole goddamn morning inside of her.
He hesitated, intending to leave without looking at her again, but he couldn’t. And why the hell not? Why did he care about how he left her? He had to get his shit together, but he’d already turned back.
She watched him from the rumpled bed, naked, beautiful, chest still heaving with exertion. Part of him wanted her to say something, to beg him to stay, just so he could hear himself say out loud that she meant nothing to him.
But she didn’t. She already knew better, and even that got him in the gut. She knew him better than she ever should. He held her gaze for another moment, then picked up his shirt off the floor and put it on.
Still, she just watched him, silent, unmoving, like he was a memory. Something already gone.
And then he was.