XXXXXX
You may have my number,
you can take my name,
but you'll never have my heart...
Adele
xxxxxxxxx
Chapter 3
It was much too dark and eerily quiet.
Sophie stepped into the house and turned on the lamp in the entryway, quickly securing the door behind her. She paused, scanning the space around her, fighting the urge to travel through every room and turn on the lights. The silence and the shadows unnerved her, the elements that she had once savored now providing nothing beyond anxiety and dread.
Resisting the urge to light up the house, she reassured herself as she hung up her coat. She was alone. There was no one else here. She had no reason to be afraid.
Heading into the kitchen, she allowed herself the luxury of turning on at least one light, wincing as the bright florescent caused the pain in her already throbbing head to intensify. She massaged her temples as she strode to the sink, opening a nearby cabinet and grabbing the bottle of aspirin she kept stashed there. She swallowed two pills, and downed them with a glass of water as she leaned against the counter top, her eyes darting nervously around the empty room.
God, how she had grown to hate coming home to this dark and lonely place so late at night.
She wished now she hadn't been so picky. That she had put more of an effort into making a connection. If so, she might not be alone right now. And she certainly wouldn't be here.
Despite her frustrations, the irony of the situation did not escape her. It seemed like such an absurd idea to consider seeking comfort in the arms of a stranger, given that was the source of all her problems to begin with.
For the hundredth time, she cursed the large man who had so cruelly forced himself into her life and now had taken up an unwelcome residence inside her head. It had taken some time for the realization to hit her, but she soon discovered that he'd stolen much more than just her body on that fateful night. Her confidence, her happiness, her peace of mind—he'd stripped them all away, stealing the joy from everything she had once loved, shattering the shell of the person she had once been.
Now she just felt lost. Confused. Empty. And at this moment, very, very tired.
Finishing off the water, she collected her cell phone from her purse and left the kitchen, the bedroom upstairs beckoning to her, even if the bed itself would be cold and lonely.
It had been another disappointing evening. And it was entirely his fault, as it had been the other dozen or so times she had ventured out of the house in a vain attempt to enjoy herself. She had failed miserably, as she had all the times before, memories of their unnerving encounter still weighing heavily on her mind, even after all this time.
The men had still come, even if it was in fewer quantities than before, the black cloud that had taken up residence over her head apparently more perceptible than she had hoped, her melancholy mood an unfortunate but efficient deterrent to many of her potential suitors. The ones who had braved her dark mood had made a valiant effort. But in the end, she found that none of them had really appealed to her in any way. The trivial conversations bored her to tears. And the thought of being intimate with any of them left her with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sensation that was exacerbated by the realization of the mental comparisons she found herself making.
She'd shaken it off, or at least tried to. But in the end, she just couldn't seem to focus. She'd drank too much, talked too little, and eventually had staggered home alone, desperate for some peace and solitude, away from the boisterous crowd. But now that she was here, alone, she longed to be back inside the noisy bar, surrounded by those dozens of annoying patrons, comforted by the music and the dialogue and the laughter, even if it was appreciated from a distance.
Sophie shook her head, frustrated by her thoughts. She hated this indecisiveness. This restlessness. Every nerve in her body coiled and twisted tight in anticipation of some future circumstance that, as of yet, remained unseen. She felt as though she was on the verge of insanity, her common sense in constant battle with an overactive imagination, fear and logic warring against each other until she was filled with a longing to fling herself into the nearest corner, bury her face in a pillow and scream until her throat was raw and her voice was gone and there was no energy left to scream anymore.
Feeling even more defeated, she rubbed the back of her neck as she ascended the stairs and wondered if she still had a couple of sleeping pills tucked away in the back of the medicine cabinet somewhere. For her sake, she hoped she could find them. Otherwise, she was going to be in for a long night.
Halfway up the staircase, she paused, suddenly feeling faint. Tilting her head, she held her breath, listening intently.
And then she heard it.
The sound of running water trickled down to her from the bathroom above.
Someone had turned on the shower.
Gripping the railing tightly, she hesitated, glancing behind her at the front door below, which was still securely locked, then at the cell phone clasped in her other hand. Her legs suddenly felt as though they'd been filled with lead, impairing her ability to flee, fear freezing her in place.
She felt numb with disbelief.
How was it that she'd lived here for two years without a single threatening incidence and now she was facing a second random break-in in just a matter of weeks...
The thought trailed off, replaced instead by a surge of anger.
This was no random intrusion.
She knew exactly who she would find in the room upstairs.
She covered the remaining treads as quietly as she could, hesitating at her open bedroom doorway before peering inside. The room was still mostly dark, illuminated only by the light from the partially open bathroom door. And it was currently empty, but it hadn't been for long, as evidenced by the pile of discarded clothing on the floor at the foot of her bed.
She slipped inside the room and switched on the lamp, staring wide-eyed at the bathroom door as she listened to the water running on the other side.
He was back. And she could only imagine what he had come for.
After she'd spent so much time convincing herself that she was safe, that he wouldn't return, that she wouldn't see him again, here he was. Back inside her house. Standing in the middle of her shower. Naked.
Images flashed through her mind, remembering the hard set of his jaw, the power of his strong arms, the sturdy muscle of his broad chest...
She chased the wayward thoughts from her mind and tried to focus. She would not let herself fall for his tricks again. This time, she was prepared.
Gliding across the carpet to the other side of the room, she placed her phone on top of the dresser before opening the top drawer. Moving aside a stack of neatly folded t-shirts, her hand closed around her most recent acquisition. Withdrawing it, she tested the weight of the pistol in her hand, instantly feeling nauseous, just as she had the day she'd purchased it.
Whether she was being paranoid or just cautious, she'd gone straight to the gun store the day after her frightening encounter. If nothing else, his actions that night had at least opened up her eyes to the fact it was foolish for her to be living alone in such dangerous times, with no way for her to defend herself if the need arose. As badly as she hated to admit it, she needed some protection.
A quick internet search had provided her with a list of nearby places that specialized in what she was looking for, and she had reluctantly picked one at random and paid them a visit. Thankfully, they had been rather slow, so the nice older gentleman who had waited on her had taken plenty of time to help her choose the right model for her needs and to show her how to load and use it. He had even taken her out to the firing range to let her shoot a few rounds, so she could get a feel for how the thing worked. Supposedly, she'd done well for her first time, although she suspected he was merely being nice. But she'd thanked him anyway, and left the store with it tucked away securely in her purse, barely making it back to her car before she'd lost her breakfast in the middle of the parking lot.
She had tried to offset her anxiety by telling herself it would likely never see the light of day once she got it home. That just the idea of having it would provide her with some much needed security. A mantra she had repeated to herself over and over again so often, that she had hopefully started to believe it.
And yet, here she was, the weapon loaded and clenched tightly in her hand as she practiced the stance the salesman had shown her, the sickness returning with an unforgiving vengeance. And it was all due to the selfish bastard who was waiting for her on the other side of the door.
Call the police, she told herself, glancing at the cell phone resting on top of the dresser. Let them deal with him this time.
They would catch him red-handed. There wouldn't be an issue.
Or would there?
Doubts swirled through her mind. They would demand an explanation. How much would he tell them? Did he know she still had the video? If so, how would she ever defend herself against his own accusations?
She stepped back, widening the distance between herself and the bathroom door. She couldn't take the chance. Whether it was foolish or not, she would not involve the police. She would deal with this particular problem all on her own.
Almost on cue, she heard the water shut off. She readied herself, trying to steady her nerves as she listened to him moving about on the other side of the door.
"I want you out of my house." she stated, her voice firm but calm.
Her heart pounding, she held her breath as she waited for a response. Minutes seemed to tick by in silence.
"I said, I want you to leave my house. Now!" she repeated after a moment, when he did not reply.
The door swung open.
"Heard you the first time, Princess."
He appeared in the doorway, filling out the space impressively before propping himself nonchalantly against the door jam. He raised an eyebrow in interest as his gaze drifted from her tense face to the gun gripped firmly in her hand.
The moment she saw him, Sophie felt her courage falter. She'd almost forgotten that he was so big. So sturdy. So completely overwhelming. Not to mention the fact he stood before her nearly naked, dressed only in the plain white towel that was wrapped tightly around his waist.
She swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't notice the effect he had on her.
"Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared if you decided to come back?" she challenged, motioning with the gun in his direction, as though to drive the point home.
He studied her for a long moment, his face void of emotion. If he had any concerns regarding the weapon she held in her hands, he didn't show it.
"Too bad I can't say the same about your judgment..." he finally replied, his voice that low, steady rumble that made her stomach flutter.
Sophie felt her jaw clench, his cockiness infuriating her. Was he really choosing this moment to insult her?
She tightened her grip on the pistol instinctively as he pushed himself off the door frame and took a step forward.
"Stop. Right there." she warned, although she was unable to prevent herself from taking a step backward away from him.
Gunnar paused a moment, smirking slightly as he watched her. Ignoring her command, he took another cautious step forward, testing her.
She shifted the weight of the gun in her hands, and he hesitated again, just for a moment.
"Don't come any closer." she warned, although once again she retreated from him. "Don't think I won't do it."
He narrowed his eyes, his face darkening and Sophie cringed. She'd seen that look before and she knew exactly what it meant.
She steadied herself, her finger on the trigger as he moved closer.
If you're going to do it, do it now, she warned herself, although in reality, the only response she could offer was to take another step in the opposite direction.
Silently, he stalked toward her as she stumbled away, and she found herself regretting the fact that she'd been so stupid. That she'd pridefully not called for help while she had the chance. She was in over her head on her own, in no way prepared to deal with a man of his size or his temperament or his unwavering determination.
Shrinking from his advances, she jumped in surprise when her back came in contact with the solid frame of the wall, realizing that once again, he had her right where he wanted her. Trapped.
Not quite. I still have a weapon.
But by this time, she realized it was a moot point. He already knew she wasn't brave enough to use it.
He stopped at arm's length from her, the shaky barrel of the gun almost pressed into the broad expanse of his chest. She stood frozen as he reached for her, one hand encircling her wrist, carefully shifting the direction of the gun until was pointed safely toward the floor beside of them. With an equal amount of caution, he nudged her finger from the trigger and slid the weapon from her grasp.
"First rule, Princess. Never point a gun at someone you don't intend to shoot."
He turned to place it carefully out of reach on top of the nearest piece of furniture. Sophie took the brief moment to glance toward the open doorway beside of her, but before her mind could even process the possibility of an escape, he was standing in front of her again.
He stepped closer, and instinctively, she felt herself shrinking against the wall, as though she could will herself to disappear right through it. The possessive nature of his gaze both frightened and thrilled her, his eyes devouring her body as though she was in as much of an unclothed state as he currently was.
From this close vantage point, she could see he was still damp from the shower, his skin glistening in spots where the water still lingered. She studied his bare chest, his tattooed arms, the dip of his belly button just above the edge of the towel-anything to avoid meeting his stare again. She didn't want to see what thoughts she might discover there. Or worse yet, what thoughts he might discover in her's, if he probed deeply enough.
He was too close. This was too familiar. The memories from that night that she'd tried so hard to suppress rushed to the forefront of her mind, and she realized with horrific certainty that she wasn't nearly as strong as she wished herself to be.
A drop of water fell from his still damp hair, landing on the smooth plain of his chest and she fought the sudden urge to lean in and lap it up with her tongue, as it trickled along the broken skin of his scar. Heat rose in her cheeks and she closed her eyes, trying to block the tempting thought from her mind. Then she felt him run the back of his hand down the side of her face, and she trembled as the intimate touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her.
"So full of surprises..." he murmured, seconds before he bent his head, kissing her fiercely.
Surprised, Sophie's first instinct was to fight him off. Push him away. She knew if she didn't put an end to this now, it would soon be too late. But her arms simply refused to cooperate, instead taking on a mind of their own as they wrapped themselves tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, her body melting into his.
Effortlessly, he gripped her waist, lifting her up as he pressed her into the wall, groaning at the feel of her legs winding around his own midsection in her attempt to balance herself. Aiding her, he clutched one hip tightly in his hand, while the other slid along her lower back, holding her to him.
There was no exchange of words this time. No teasing touches. No slow seduction. Tonight he was all business, the desire evident from the gleam in his eyes, the tension in his body. Fueled by her quiet moans of delight, he deepened the kiss, his mouth slanting over her's hungrily as he kneaded her hip, the firm outline of his arousal settling perfectly between the juncture of her thighs as his body pressed deeper into her's with obvious want.
Suddenly, he shifted, releasing a low grunt as he moved, and Sophie clung tighter to his broad shoulders as she felt the wall disappear behind her, relieved when it was replaced by the gentle cushion of her bed.
As though he'd thrown some invisible switch, his demeanor similarly softened, and he managed to rein in his momentary loss of control with surprising restraint.
His touch gentled, the fierceness of the first kiss replaced by slow, indulgent caresses along her lips, her neck, her throat. She sighed in delight, her fingers trailing through his hair, the nails skimming along his scalp as she savored each sensation. At least he was a quick learner, she surmised, as evidenced by his effective use of the erotic information he had acquired during their last spontaneous rendezvous.
His hands, warm and solid, slid beneath the hem of her shirt, tantalizing her, even as it reminded her of the extreme variations in their state of undress. But, she had no doubt he would remedy that problem soon enough.
He moved again, and Sophie reluctantly let her hands fall away, her fingers twisting through the sheets as his mouth caressed the newly exposed skin of her abdomen. She gasped as his fingers glided teasingly across the ridge of each rib, progressing steadily upward as he revealed even more skin, his lips following eagerly in their wake. He stopped just short of the restrictive band of her bra, skipping over it to draw his tongue along the valley between her breasts, ending the torturous caress with another searing kiss.
She released her grasp on the sheets in favor of his biceps, her nails digging sharply into the skin as he lifted her from the bed. They separated, only long enough for him to slip the confining material of the shirt over her head, their lips joining again before it had time to even hit the floor, her bra quickly following in its path.
Sophie moaned as he laid over her, his heavy weight pressing her firmly into the mattress, the feel of his bare skin on her's heavenly, so hot and smooth. Her body tightened in eager anticipation, recalling the pleasure she knew awaited at his hands if she were to give herself over to him completely once again.
But beyond that, she was stricken with the stark reality of what awaited for her in the morning, once this exciting fantasy was over. Waking to a cold bed. The shame and humiliation of her actions. The sick, empty feeling in her gut at the fact that he was gone.
He had already used her once, for his own selfish needs, without a single regard for her wishes or her feelings. And now he was back for more, to do whatever he pleased, to take whatever he wanted, without a single consequence for any of his actions.
Frustration welled inside of her, tears forming behind the tightly closed lids of her eyes as she released her desperate grip on him, intent on forcing some distance between them.
Gunnar sensed her sudden change in demeanor, felt the way she stiffened beneath him, and he moved quickly, grasping a wrist in each hand and pinning them to the bed before she had a chance to swing, which no doubt would have hurt her much more than it would ever hurt him.
"Get off me!" she demanded, following the exclamation with a string of curses as she strained against his powerful grip.
He gazed down at her through lust-filled eyes, his longing undeniable as he pressed himself deeper between her jean clad thighs.
"Easy, Princess."
Desire swirled low in the pit of her stomach at the gentle inflection of his voice, the sensuous vibration of her appointed nickname as it passed across his lips undermining the resentment rising inside of her. If she had known him any better, she would have sworn that he was doing it on purpose, as though he knew exactly the effect the sound had on her, as though he knew exactly how to keep her under his spell.
"Don't call me that." She demanded, glaring up at him as she struggled weakly in his grasp. "I have a name. If you weren't so damn self-centered, maybe you'd know..."
"I know more than you think...Sophie." he murmured, his grip softening as her movements lessened.
She stilled beneath him and he smirked slightly at the hint of wonderment in her eyes at his latest revelation.
"I know everything about you." he added quietly, the certainty of his tone sending a shiver down her spine. It left no doubt that his statement was true.
She stared up at him in silent contemplation, her mind full of questions she wanted to find the courage to ask, but couldn't. Despite her best efforts, she found her anger dissipating under his lustful stare, her mind at war with her body, as she considered all the things she wanted him to do to her.
"No lies. No secrets." he prodded gently, reminding her of the discussion they'd had during his first night here.
Her thoughts immediately shifting to the video camera hidden away downstairs, Sophie felt her face flush with embarrassment and she studied him for a long minute, swallowing hard as she turned her head.
"There are plenty of secrets..." she whispered, a reminder that for all his apparent knowledge, she still knew absolutely nothing about him.
Gunnar tilted his head in a silent acknowledgment of her dilemma.
"Some things...are better left unknown..." he argued, dipping his head to nuzzle the side of her neck, his hot breath rushing over her skin.
She closed her eyes, unable to stop herself from responding to the touch. The finality of his words were understood, cryptic as they were. This was all she would get. It was all he would allow her to have.
No explanations. No promises.
Just tonight.
That was all he was willing to share.
But she would take it.
Even if the regrets would plague her tomorrow, even if she knew he would be gone when she awoke, he was here with her now. He was her's.
And she wanted him.
Badly.
Sensing her gradual submission, Gunnar continued his distraction, smothering the smooth skin of her throat and the dip along her collar bone with soft kisses and gentle bites, satisfied with the way her breath caught occasionally in the back of her throat. He didn't want her to think or to question. Nor did he want to do the same. He'd spent enough time doing that over the past several weeks to last him a lifetime. Tonight, he only wanted to submerge himself in her presence again, to lose himself within her, to forget that anything else even existed.
For tonight, at least, there would be nothing else for him to consider.
No worries. No problems.
Just her.
He smiled at her show of astonishment at the discovery that he knew her name. Little did she know that he'd taken advantage of her most recent nightly foray to allow himself a more thorough exploration of the house while she'd been out. A quick sweep of her office had provided him with all the information he could possibly desire, and more. Name, phone numbers, lists of friends and family members, employment information. He'd absorbed even the most minute details with interest, although he couldn't really explain why. Only that he felt compelled to learn every single thing about her while he had the chance.
Even after all this time, he found it simply impossible to rationalize any of his actions. He was quite aware that their last confrontation had been extremely reckless on his part, given that things could have ended on a very different note. But he had abandoned all caution without even a second thought, personal preservation shoved aside in favor of his raving addiction.
Regardless, he had hoped by some strange miracle that, risky as they were, his exploits would've in some way helped to calm the raging fire that had so severely consumed him. The chase over, the conquest complete, he had expected his interest in her to wan, the two of them parting ways as if he'd been nothing more than a one night stand of her own choosing.
But to his surprise, if anything, he'd found that it had only fueled his interest that much more.
Still, he'd fought it. Like a drowning man struggling against the fast flowing undercurrent threatening to drag him under, he'd fought with every ounce of strength he'd had. But in the end, just as the drowning man, he'd lost the battle, the lure of her charms stronger than any drug or drink he'd ever tasted.
He'd barely lasted two weeks. Two long, agonizing weeks before he'd finally given in and resumed his pursuit. Although, this time, he didn't have to hunt for very long.
When he'd found her at home on the first night, it had surprised him. Even more so, the second night. And after nearly a week of observation without a single sighting of her outside the house, his concern had heightened tremendously. Had something happened to her? Had she been injured? His thoughts again drifted to the very first time he'd seen her and the dangerous liaison he'd protected her from, wondering if she'd met with a similar fate in the short time he'd been away. But much to his relief, the following night, she finally emerged from her hiding place, no doubt back on the prowl after some necessary time off.
He'd trailed after her again, as he had before, intent on keeping a close eye on her. However, he'd soon discovered, much to his disappointment, that he had inadvertently created quite a dilemma for himself.
Now that he'd made himself known, he was no longer free to roam the interior of the bar, having lost the luxury of anonymity. She would spot him the moment he dared to step inside. Instead, he found his surveillance limited to the darkened shadows of empty alleyways or obscure street corners, where he was left to simmer, along with his rampant imagination, as he envisioned the activities that were no doubt transpiring just beyond of his line of vision.
Of course, he'd known that there was always the possibility that when she finally emerged from one of her nightly haunts, she wouldn't be alone. Bracing himself for the certainty of the situation, he'd considered his options, weighing his personal satisfaction against any potential jail sentence he might incur. But to his surprise, there hadn't been even one incident to test the limits of his patience. She'd been alone every single time.
For some reason, the knowledge sparked his curiosity, as he wondered whether or not the circumstances were a result of her own choosing. Being fully aware himself of how she commanded a room once she stepped inside, he found it hard to believe that not one single man had expressed an interest in her while she'd been out. Certain that she'd had plenty of opportunities to resume her thrilling hobby, he wondered what it was that had prevented her from following through with her obvious intentions. Perhaps it was possible that he'd had more of an effect on her than he originally believed.
It was that single thought that had finally been his undoing, compelling him to return to the safety of her home, to the serenity of her arms.
He'd come, seeking answers, searching for the truth.
And with the first passionate kiss, she had revealed to him everything he had wanted to know.
Gunnar kissed her again, his tongue stroking her's in long, slow movements, his body grinding against her own with the same leisurely rhythm. He felt her relax beneath him as the last of her reservations fell away, and he released her wrists, using one now free hand to explore her delectable curves. He was pleased to find that she did not resist him, her smaller hands skimming along his back and up his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly across the base of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.
As before, he took his time, his mouth delighting every inch of her skin from the curve of her neck, to the delicate bones of each shoulder, to the stiff peak of each breast. He lingered there, lavishing each taunt nipple with slow, swirling caresses, spurred on by the gasps and whimpers that broke the silence of the room.
Almost reluctantly, he shifted his attention, moving lower as he kissed a path down her stomach, reveling in the way the muscles twitched beneath the ticklish motion of his tongue. His fingers deftly unfastened the button of her jeans and he dipped his tongue into the indention of her belly button, steadying her hips with one hand as he slowly lowered the zipper with the other.
Their eyes locked as he rose on his knees, his gaze never wavering from hers as he slowly slipped off her shoes and peeled off what few clothes remained between them. Still kneeling between her splayed legs, his fingertips traced over the fine bones of each ankle before trailing up the side of each leg and along the inside of each thigh, the muscles quivering beneath the faint touch. Starting just above the knee, his lips pursued the same path his right hand had taken, content with the sigh that escaped her lips as he stopped just short of her slick center. Repeating the action along the inside of the opposite thigh, he enjoyed the way she squirmed against him, her frustrations building with every teasing stroke he made.
Thankfully, he did not make her beg, although she was certain he could have done so if he wished. But the moment his mouth finally covered her, stars exploded behind her eyes and she gasped in pleasure, having lost the ability to do anything else. Instinctively, her body arched up to meet his teasing tongue, moments before the weight of a strong forearm settled over her waist, offering him a slight measure of control as he continued his torturous explorations.
Her heart racing, Sophie moaned as his fingers joined his mouth in the torment, first one and then a second sliding deep into her center. He stroked and teased her, the sensations heightening and her body tightening with anticipation, her sighs quickening along with his rhythm. She couldn't think, couldn't speak, could barely remember how to breathe as he held her entire body, her entire being, literally in the palm of his hand.
The climax grabbed her so fast and so hard, she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle the scream that worked its way up from deep in her chest. Still, she was certain she'd cried out, her body shuddering as everything spun around her, her mind swimming behind tightly closed lids.
As the sensation ebbed, she finally opened her eyes to stare down at him, only to realize at that exact moment that she had a large patch of his hair clenched tightly in her fist. She forced her hand open, releasing her furious grip. Still, his eyes did not register any pain, only sheer lust as he gazed up at her over the flat plane of her stomach.
Rising, he crawled up her body, pausing long enough to tantalize each breast, before claiming her mouth again. Without hesitation, Sophie wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, her body craving to feel his hard power as he thrust deeply inside of her. And he did not disappoint, giving her exactly what she needed as he gripped her hips, angling them upward as he entered her fully.
There were no words spoken between them, his heavy breath and her furious heartbeat the only sounds audible to them within the confines of the room. His mouth found her throat, her neck, stoking the fire burning inside of her, as his tongue traced over each of those sensuous spots that he'd long ago committed to memory. Her hands ran along his back, luxuriating in the strength and power she felt bundled beneath each muscle as he moved. She could feel the tension building again, her hips matching his rhythm as the pace quickened, the pleasure swirling tighter and hotter deep within the pit of her stomach.
Still weakened from her earlier release, she could only cling to him helplessly, the delicious friction of each thrust driving her ever so closer to that precarious ledge. He possessed her completely, taking her, claiming her as his own as he had that first night, her moans and cries spurring him on until he felt her tense beneath him, her body gripping him tightly as he drove her over the edge yet again.
The last of his control slipping away, he took her fiercely, pounding out his own release with a furious passion. He groaned, the tension seeping from his body along with the pleasure, his grasp on her almost dangerous in it's intensity. Completely spent, he rolled to his side, bringing her with him so her head rested against his shoulder, his grip easing only slightly in the process.
Her fingers curled against the firm muscle of his chest, Sophie tried to fight off the fatigue that coursed through her, sleep teasing at the edges of her mind. He was so warm and comforting, and if their meeting had been under different circumstances, she considered how safe and protected she might feel wrapped so tightly in his arms. How safe she did feel, even now, after everything that had happened.
But she knew it was all an illusion. She would find no salvation here. Not when he was the danger that she needed protecting from.
His chin resting on top of her head, his hand stroking soothingly along the bare skin of her back, Sophie found herself losing her battle with consciousness. Despite her misgivings, she allowed herself to relax fully in his embrace, all thoughts of her vulnerability fading away as he lulled her into a peaceful slumber.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Waking from a very solid sleep, Sophie opened her eyes, her blurry vision settling on the door to the bathroom, quickly reminding her of what had transpired there only a few short hours earlier.
Blinking away some of the fogginess, she remained still, not bothering to look behind her to see if the large man was still around. She could tell by the absence of his warmth that he was no longer there, his spot on the mattress beside of her having long grown cold.
Growing restless, she reluctantly rolled to her back, staring up at the ceiling as the pleasant soreness throughout her body revealed the effects of the strenuous activities from the night before. She closed her eyes, replaying the scene over in her mind, chills popping up on her skin at the recollection of his touch, at the thrill of his kiss. He'd proven himself to be very capable in such matters, discerning her preferences with relative ease and committing them to memory with similar effort. The results had been more than satisfying, she couldn't deny. Yet, it left her with a terrible feeling of unease, one that was entirely different from what she had experienced on that first morning not so long ago.
He'd broken her one rule.
In all of the years that had passed since the breakup of her only serious relationship and through all of her numerous sexual trysts, he was the only man she'd shared such intimacy with for longer than one night. And although his familiarity with her body had been both rousing and comforting in ways she could not imagine, it went against every personal belief she had. Her strict code of conduct, the credo by which she'd lived her life for so long, simply did not allow for such emotional investment in any of her conquests. Especially not him.
She recalled how she had awakened sometime during the early morning hours, only to find the immense stranger still asleep in the bed beside of her, one thick arm draped loosely around her waist. Her thoughts running rampant, she'd slipped carefully out of his embrace, intent on quelling the panic that she'd felt winding sinuously through her mind. But she'd barely gotten her legs over the edge of the bed before his arm had snaked around her waist, pulling her effortlessly back to his side.
She'd resisted him, or at least tried to, but as before he had subdued her easily, one simple kiss all that was needed to rekindle the fire that had burned so bright just a short time before. He'd taken her again, without remorse or restraint, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop him, herself practically begging him for more by the time he was done.
She did her best to try to calm her anxiety. After all, it wasn't as though they had shared anything more than a couple nights of passionate sex. Still, it left her feeling vulnerable, as though he was forcing himself into a part of her life where he was not welcome to stay.
With a sigh, she tossed back the covers and slid from the bed, shuffling to the bathroom in anticipation of a nice, hot shower to soothe her tender muscles. Pausing in the doorway, she was momentarily surprised by the sight of the towel that was draped across the shower door. Apparently he'd been considerate enough to hang it up to dry before he'd left.
She tugged it down and tossed it in the laundry basket, all the while trying not to remember how good it had looked wrapped around his waist as he'd stood in the open doorway. Stepping into the shower, she turned on the water, a strange feeling settling over her when she remembered that he'd been in this exact spot only hours earlier. She tried to imagine his large frame packed into such a compact space and she smiled. Surely, by this point in his life, he'd gotten used to adapting to such situations.
Catching her train of thought, Sophie scolded herself for letting her mind travel down that particular path. Nothing the man did in his life was of any concern to her. And she had no reason to let herself ponder on it.
She took her time in the shower, as if she lingered long enough, the water would wash away all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that seemed to weigh her down. She felt only slightly better by the time she was done, but she turned off the water anyway and stepped out onto the mat to dry off. Afterward, she slipped on her robe, her fingers running slowly over the silky material as she took in her image in the mirror, remembering the first night he'd come to her. How he'd peeled the fabric from her body with such sensuous slowness. How he'd devoured her with such thorough attentiveness.
She shook her head and let the thoughts fade away. They weren't any she needed to have. Not now. Not ever.
Wrapping the fabric tighter around her, she stepped back into the bedroom, her eyes lingering on the disheveled bed. With a sigh, she approached the nearest side, tugging the sheets back into place, trying not to linger on the images of them locked together in a passionate embrace. Striding around to the opposite side, something at the foot of the bed caught her attention. Glancing down, she spotted a few small coins that laid scattered about on the carpeting, no doubt having fallen from his pocket when he'd discarded his clothing there the night before. Bending over to pick them up, she spotted something else protruding from beneath the bed and she retrieved it as well, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress as she examined her findings.
The coins were insignificant, as was the second item, which turned out to be nothing more than a worn business card. Some kind of complex formula and lettering had been scribbled on the back side of the card, but it was nothing Sophie knew or could understand. Turning it over, she saw that the card was for a business called "Tool's Tattoos," the words imprinted plainly on the paper in faded blank ink. She studied it for a long time, running her fingers over the lettering, a strange melancholy washing over her as she considered both of the tattoos inked into the big man's arms. Perhaps this establishment was the place where he'd had his artwork completed. Or maybe it was possible he was just looking to have some additional work done sometime in the near future. She smiled, considering what the new addition might look like, or where he was likely to have it placed.
Frowning again at her thoughts, she crumbled up the card, intent on throwing it away. Then she hesitated, reconsidering her actions as she smoothed it out and studied it for another long moment. Second guessing her decision to discard it, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and placed it inside, along with the coins, tucking them safely away.
They might not have been of use to anybody else, but for her, the items would provide a simple but very somber memento of the fleeting time they'd shared together. If she could have nothing else, she could at least grant herself that much. After all, what harm could there be in remembering...