But I Need You - W. Winters Page 0,35

out to pick up his old habit.

Rather than counting up her debt, I happily contribute to it and say, “I have something to help you sleep if you need it.”

I can hear her swallow from all the way over here.

“It’s called sweets.”

“My father told me not to take candy from strangers—” she starts to say but then stops herself midword. With an instant pang of sadness and regret evident on her beautiful face.

With her head falling back, her bottom lip drops as her mouth opens and sorrow overwhelms her inhale. She’s trying to stifle her cries.

“Come here,” I say. It’s a demand and I’m not sure how she’ll take it, so I soften my next words as I add, “Let me make you feel better.”

Delilah

It’s not the wine. I can’t tell you the number of defendants I’ve seen in the courtroom who blamed their actions on alcohol. It’s never the buzz of a night out that’s to blame for what they’ve done. Never.

We do the things we want to do. It’s that simple.

If it wasn’t already planted in the back of our minds, the seeds of the action wouldn’t exist.

So it’s not the wine. As much as I’d like to believe it is. The sweet taste is still on my lips as I stare across the dark room at a man who terrifies yet excites me.

I could claim my actions before were due to curiosity. I could claim that I wanted information, not unlike an undercover detective. In fact, that excuse had lingered on the tip of my tongue ever since those first unforgivable thoughts entered my vivid imagination.

Marcus’s large hand smooths the comforter beside him. My body is heavy and weak; every piece of me is practically lead, weighed down in this moment.

Hot, molten lead, to be more specific. Unable to keep its form and desperate for somewhere to go.

There’s not a single soul I could have confided in. Not one … not even Cody.

No one but the man who beckons me to come lie with him. And if I’m honest with myself, it’s something I’ve wanted since he first whispered my name.

Swallowing thickly, I make my way to him, letting the floor emphasize each of my steps with a creak. I don’t bother with pretenses, so in that time, I lift the hem of my tank top over my head, uncovering my small breasts and the cool air instantly caresses my body.

I don’t know how he’ll react but I imagine this is what he’s after, and with the weight of today still firmly weighing down on me, I want it too. I’m eager to forget it all and feel something else that is far more intoxicating to lure me into the depths of sleep.

A hiss of intake is followed by a groan of satisfaction from the man in the room, but I don’t bother to look him in the eye. Leaning against the bed, I kick off the loose-fitting sweatpants, but leave on the one garment that will stay between us for the moment. With my clothes tossed carelessly on the floor of the cheap motel, I drag down the comforter that he just smoothed and crawl in.

It’s not lost on me that I’m exposed, bared to a man who stays in the shadows and won’t let me see him.

Something about that fact makes it even easier to do what I’m about to do next.

When I crawl on the bed, the springs give a slight protest with a soft squeak. My fingers dig into the mattress and I lean forward on my hands and knees at the top of the bed. My eyes are closed, my breathing even and I plant the barest of kisses on his hard jaw lined with stubble. He’s rough against my gentleness, but something about the simple act, breaks down any wall of protest.

“Tell me it’s going to be all right?” I whisper the plea, my forehead resting against his temple. If he were going to push me away, now would be the time and it’s quite possibly something that will happen. An act that would destroy me.

But I would take it. I’d take it just as much as I’d take him laying me down on my stomach and fucking me raw on this bed. If he’ll make everything right again, I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me.

Time tortures me as I wait for what feels like forever for an answer. My eyes remain closed even when I feel him move,