Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

“What do you want me to do to you?”

She whimpered. He was going to make her beg. “Fuck me.” Again it came out rasped through a groan as he plunged another finger inside with the first.

“Such language for a sweet little thing like you. Try again.”

“Make love to me.”

“Now, that I like.” He pulled his fingers from her, and when he started rubbing his cockhead through her moisture, he leaned to her ear, watching her closely in the mirror. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the sound of the word fuck when you’re moaning it as I pound into you.” He moved to her other shoulder, kissing it gently before looking back to her in the mirror. “But I’m concerned you may be confused on exactly what it is we’re doing together.” His voice was deep, slow, and simply oozing with masculine control. “Keep those palms on the counter.” She nodded, and then she felt the pressure.

He was pushing into her, distending her and slowly forcing his way up into her body. There was nothing quite like the filling sensation as he entered her body. She just watched him in the mirror over her shoulder. His hands were on her hips, and her palms were on the counter. His grip was tight, and he was holding her in place as he moved up into her.

She was quite certain she had no business allowing this to happen when she was so thoroughly confused about her place in his life, but with his erection planted firmly in her gut, there was no denying him. His eyes were intense, his expression was likewise, and as he pulled out, almost leaving her, his expression didn’t change. This was calculated torture—blissful torture.

“Who were you talking to on the phone?” He pushed slowly into her again as he spoke.

She groaned. “Harold. My PO.”

“What were you talking about?” He slid gently back out again. She said nothing for a moment, and he sank back into her core. “Answer me.” He pushed marginally deeper, and it ached as he pushed her limits.

“Darren!” It was strangled as it came out.

“Tell me.” He froze in place, waiting. The fullness was almost painful but so incredible.

“He asked if I was returning to Memphis.” Darren’s lips twitched in a snarl for a moment before he pulled out of her entirely. His teeth nipped her earlobe, and she started panting. She was empty, and she hated it. He was trying to drive her insane, and he was doing a damn fine job at it.

“And what did you tell him?” He pushed just the head in, teasing her entry.

“Please.” She wasn’t begging him to stop questioning her; she was begging him to fuck her, and she expected he knew it perfectly well.

“No. What did you tell him?”

“I said I didn’t know.” She forced herself to hold his eyes. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

“Don’t you?” He inched in as he studied her and waited for a response.

“No.” He pulled her hips back as he ground his pelvis against her bottom.

He stilled, studying her, and she watched as he swallowed over a lump in his throat. She had no idea what he was thinking, but after he stared at her for a few moments, he gave up whatever the fight was, if one could call it that, and he started plunging, pounding, and forcing himself up into her. She kept her palms in place, and he used one hand to tease and rub her clit, while his other gently gripped the front of her neck, holding her body still with his chest to her back. He watched her in the mirror, never looking away from her eyes as he humped. She could feel his breath against her neck as his breathing sped and lurched. Hers did too, and when his jolting thrusts put her over the edge, and his fingers that were stroking her sent her mad, she collapsed against the countertop, spasming in torrents of pleasure. He thrust hard to her center one last time, and with gritted teeth and a pained look on his face, he came inside her.

He was bent over her collapsed body, breathing against the back of her neck. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her back, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart as he relaxed.

“Stay.” He stood, stepping away from her and moving beside her, clutching the edge of the countertop in his hands. He stared at his own reflection as he waited for her to say something. He looked horrified or maybe terrified. Whatever it was, it wasn’t happiness.

She righted her posture. She hated this. She loved him. She wanted him, and he was asking her to stay. She could have what she wanted. He was standing there, watching, waiting for her to give in, but there was no ignoring what wasn’t being said.

“Do you forgive me? Have I suffered enough to make up for what I took from you?” Her voice was shaky, and she could barely look at him. She swallowed over a lump in her throat, and she could feel her brow wrinkling. She waited, knowing this was going to hurt.

“I. . .” He shook his head as though he were stunned, confused. “I’m not angry . . . anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. I just. . .” His voice was lurching, and he was breaking her heart. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear—what she needed to hear. She hadn’t expected it would be.

“No, it’s fine. I understand. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her words were rushed out quietly as the knot in her stomach left her wanting to double over in pain. But rather than share her pain, she stood beside him for a moment. His body was rigid, and she was chewing viciously on the inside of her cheek to keep her reaction calm. “It’s okay.” She turned and walked out. It wasn’t okay, and it was never going to be.

She tossed a T-shirt on, and she escaped downstairs. Soon she had coffee brewing as she stood stunned and disheartened in his kitchen. He’d not come down yet, but she knew he wouldn’t be long. He was cutting it close to get to the hospital on time, and when he finally appeared, he looked as awful as she felt. He approached her as she stood at the counter. He fidgeted for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he looked at the floor.

“Will you be here tonight?” He’d never once asked her that question since he brought her back here. It was assumed, and he didn’t question it. She nodded, but she was struggling to look at him. He kissed her forehead quickly before he turned and walked away.

She had Michelle on the phone the moment she heard him start his car.

“What is wrong with me?”

“You’re fabulous. You have, however, been through a lot lately, so if you’re expecting me to rail against you and pick out all your flaws, you picked the wrong friend to call.”

“You’re my only friend. My options were limited.”

“Honey, I’m thrilled you’re so conscious after a week of being a zombie, but I hate what you’re asking. I love you. I think you’re amazing, and I can’t imagine where this is coming from.”

“Darren and I—”

“I should have known.” She groaned.

“He wants me to stay, and he’s been amazing this past week. But . . . well, I just had to ask. And now I’m miserable.”

“Ask what?”

“If he’d forgiven me.”

She listened to Michelle inhale deeply, and it was many long seconds before she responded. “Do I want to know how he responded?”

“I wouldn’t be miserable if he’d said yes.”

Michelle groaned in frustration. Bailey understood how she felt. “I don’t understand that man! He loves you so much. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind, but he is just . . . just—”

“Hurting.”

“I was going to say in denial. And hurting, I suppose.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”

It was Bailey’s turn to be silent for a moment. “Michelle, I can’t stay without it.” Her eyes teared as she said it. She hated what she was saying.

“I know you can’t.” Michelle’s voice was quiet.

“I can’t wonder when he will, if he will. I can’t spend my life hoping he can find it in himself to. It’s not a matter of whether I deserve it or not. I just can’t live like that. If I stayed, I would just be waiting for it to fall apart. And knowing us, it would fall apart in a spectacular disaster.”

“You shouldn’t have to go through that just because you love him. What are you going to do?”

“Harold is coming over this afternoon at three. I’m going to tell him then that I intend to go back to Memphis.”

“You don’t have to go back to Memphis. You don’t have anyone there. Move in with me.”

“If I’m here, I’ll see him. If I see him, it’ll torment me. I can’t.”

There was little else to say, and by the time they hung up, Michelle sounded as sad as Bailey felt. Time to run away again. Nothing had changed. They were still destined to destroy one another. How could nothing ever change for them?

“Are you prepared to lose her today?” He stood stunned, still with a stethoscope to old Jerry McHenry’s chest as Michelle tore the curtain back. “Well? Are you?” Her voice was shrill, and her arms were crossed on her chest. She stood there tapping her foot on the floor as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

“You realize this is restricted access? How did you get back here?”

“I told the nurse I felt faint.”

“And do you feel faint?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I do.” It wasn’t Michelle. Jerry was a frequent flyer. He was also the world’s biggest hypochondriac. Darren could suggest just about any malady to the man, and he’d be certain he was dying of it within five minutes.

“Jerry, you came in concerned that a splinter was gangrenous—which it’s not, by the way.” Then turning back to Michelle, he cocked his head, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why she was barging in on him.