Free Maybe by Amber L. Johnson Page B

spreading me wider until he’s flush between my legs. With one push upward, he’s hard and warm, getting to his feet to carry me to the bed, where he lays me down gently. Tyler raises my right leg up to his chest. He kisses my ankle and unwraps old silk, letting the ribbons fall and brush against skin. When he repeats the process with my left leg, I don’t think I can want him any more than I do right now.
    When he lowers himself, I clutch his neck and wrap my legs around his hips, anchoring and pulling his hair while we kiss, both tongues sweet like candy. He pulls back to tug up my shirt with one hand and lower my shorts with the other. I’m arched, letting him undress me, but he doesn’t hurry. He breathes and licks, presses and rolls, and I’m caught up in it, too far gone.
    The shirt is off and my shorts are halfway down my knees when I start to reach for his belt, but he pulls back a bit.
    “Don’t do that,” I whisper and grab on to the leather while shaking my shorts free.
    “Emily.” It’s not a sigh or sweet sound that comes out of his mouth. It sounds like a warning.
    His belt falls open, and I push his denim down his legs, catching the boxers along the way. Clutching on to his shirt, completely naked beneath him, I slide farther down to the edge of the mattress. He’s right there, and I reach between us to pull him closer, feeling his tip slide against me, resting right at my entrance, but he doesn’t move.
    “Just tonight. I’m leaving soon, okay?”
    “We can’t. We should stop.” He angles back a little, and my hips rise to follow, but he grounds me to the bed with his hands.
    Realization floods my mind and body, and I flush hot. “Is it about a condom? I’m covered, if that’s all. It’s okay.”
    His eyes open to meet mine, and his jaw flexes. “Yes, it’s about a condom. No, that’s not all.” He guides me up farther onto the bed, his hand coming to rest where I want his cock. “I can make you feel good, Peach. I can lick your pussy, and I can finger fuck you until you come. I can hold you at night while you sleep and touch you, but I can’t have sex with you.”
    My heart hammers, and my knees start to close, but he slips and slides and curls his fingers until I’m quivering under his touch, even though my good sense wants to respond.
    “I’m not going to have sex with you. Or make love to you, if that’s what you’d think this was. You don’t deserve to be fucked in Austin before you leave. You don’t want this.”
    I’m struggling to tell him that he doesn’t know what I want. He doesn’t get to tell me how I’ll feel in the morning. I’m stone cold sober. His fingers are in me, so even though I want to say these things, the only sound that comes out of my mouth is a stilted cry when he makes me come.
    Breathing heavily, I push back so that he’s no longer touching me, curling my legs against my chest to shut him out and cover up. “Go away.” It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, but he’s punching a hole in my chest.
    He crawls up next to me and grips hold of my thigh. “Admit it, okay? If we have sex, it will mean something to you. It’s not just a one-night stand. You’ll go somewhere and think about this but won’t come back. Ever. I’ve seen the map. I’ve heard you talk about your job and your life, and that doesn’t include this. You know it, and I know it. You’re not this girl, and I’m not this guy. You don’t want this. I don’t want you to regret it.”
    “You don’t get to tell me what I want. Maybe I would come back. Maybe I’d stay. Maybe I just want a one-night stand because I’ve already fucked up my job so why not at least get what I want for just a few minutes?”
    His lips twitch. “It wouldn’t be a few minutes.”
    Every last wall I’ve built up, he’s infiltrated in less than a month. But I’m strong. If this is the end, I can figure things out in the morning. “You need to leave.”
    He doesn’t make a move to go, so