Pause by Kylie Scott

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Idon’t think this is traditionally how it’s meant to be done.”

“Anna, baby,” he says, gesturing with his hand while doing an impressive thrust of the hips. Very Elvis. “Give me more. I don’t dance for free.”

Since I left my shoes at the door and I’ve already thrown my white embroidered button-down at him, I stand and shimmy out of my dark blue jeans. Those I kind of kick across the floor in his general direction since it would be dangerous to throw them if the belt buckle caught him in the face. I like his face how it is just fine.

“Thank you,” he says and does a twirl. He’s quite the dancer. That he can leer at me in my underwear while dancing at the same time is a hell of a skill.

“I like this song.”

“Hozier is great.”

At this point he attempts the moon walk, but I’m sad to say it doesn’t quite work. Maybe he needs to try it again in just socks instead of wearing his boots. Too much grip.

“That was great,” I lie encouragingly, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in my underwear. Because why not be comfortable? Only Leif can see me and he apparently appreciates the view. This is my home now. Though this does mean the Maintaining a Reasonable Standard of Clothing in Joint Areas of the Household rule is well and truly out the window.

“I need to practice more often.” He grins. Then he stops grinning and gives me his serious expression. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“Oh, right . . .”

Now he’s doing the twist. And waiting for my next words. This is expressed through some come-hither-type hand movements. Unless he’s doing a mangled version of the mashed potato. In all honesty, it could be either.

“Are we exclusive?” I ask, sitting up straight. Like I’m being interviewed for a job position or something. Which is silly. Maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted it out, but we’re never going to get anywhere if I’m not open and honest. I know that much for sure.

“Yes.” And that’s it. That’s all he says.

“Um. Okay. You don’t want to discuss it or anything?”

“Nah.” He pauses. “Wait. Did you not want to be exclusive?”

“No, I do. That’s fine with me.”

“Good,” he says. “Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

I think it over. “No.”

“There’s nothing else on your mind? Are you sure?”

“You mean like what are we going to have for dinner or something?”

“No,” he says, with a pained expression. “I mean like the you-feeling-uncomfortable-with-me-seeing-other-women’s-body-parts-sometimes-when-I work issue.”

I frown. “Ed tell you about that?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t need to. I could tell you weren’t exactly comfortable while I was with Courtney.”

Guess it’s not exactly a surprise Ed told him, what with them being family and everything. But I need to bear in mind that conversations I have with him in future might be shared with Leif. Think I need to practice my poker face in general.

“You’re right, I wasn’t,” I say. “But that’s not an us problem.”

“There’s an us?”

I shrug.

“I’m fine with it, just curious. So. How is this not an us problem?”

“Whatever our relationship is, seeing body parts is part of your job,” I explain. “You’re not asking these women to take their clothes off in front of you for kicks.”

“Of course not. I have you for that.” He holds out his hand. “Bra, please.”

I dutifully start wrestling with the closure. I have a serious problem saying no to this man. “Leif, I still think it’s you who should be stripping for me here.”

“Nah. My way is better.”

“Whatever,” I say, tossing the item of underwear at his head. “Get dancing then. Show me those moves.”

“I really wish I’d learned ‘Single Ladies’ by Beyoncé. Now that would be impressive.”

“It would be cool,” I agree.

He starts doing a side-shuffle-type thing. The man has snake hips. They’re mesmerizing really. “You were explaining why your discomfort over certain aspects of my work isn’t a conversation that involves both of us despite us doing vaguely heavy-duty-relationship-type stuff these days.”

“Heavy duty?”

He just shrugs.

“Well, for the simple fact that it is your work and I knew that before getting involved with you,” I explain.

“And?”

“I need to get over it.”

“And you can do that?” he asks. “Just get over it?”

“Yeah.”

He raises a brow.

“Don’t give me that look. It might take me a little while, but I will indeed get over it.” I laze back on the couch, getting comfortable. Oh the sweet relief of taking your bra off after a long day. So good. And apart from the occasional dip of his gaze to my chest, he’s doing an excellent job of keeping his focus on my face while we talk. “The fact is, we’re roommates with benefits. We’re exclusive sex friends, fuck buddies, stuff like that. I don’t have the right to demand you make any major life changes for me. Even if I felt I did have the right, asking you to no longer perform certain aspects of your work because I was uncomfortable would be unreasonable.”

“Huh. Okay. Panties, please.” He holds a hand out, clicking his fingers.

“This is ridiculous. You’re fully dressed.”

He shakes his head all sad like. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just ask that you politely and promptly follow them.”

“You do so make the rules.”

“Give me the panties, Anna. Don’t make me ask again.”

“This is my point exactly,” I grumble. Then I raise my hips and shimmy the panties off too. Nice, sensible white cotton underwear again. If the man wants fancy then he can provide some. These days, comfort is my thing.

“I think you like me taking control sometimes,” he says with a certain look in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

I think it over. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed. Just never thought of it that way.”

“It’s kind of a trust issue, right?” he asks, twirling my panties on a finger. Like a pervert. “I mean, either you trust me not to do anything you wouldn’t be okay with or not. Both in bed when we’re messing around and at work when I’m tattooing.”

I shrug. Trust isn’t really a topic I’m keen on discussing for various reasons. “As for work, you’re in the back room generally for these types of jobs. I can’t keep an eye on you. Nor do I want to. I’m not your mother. I’m not even your girlfriend.”

“Eh,” he says.

I’m leaving that one alone. We’ve only been sleeping together for a short while, for heaven’s sake. There’s no rush. Not with everything that we’ve both been through. Maybe he’ll decide he doesn’t really want to be with me. That it’s too complicated or something. So we’ll retire to our separate bedrooms and go back to being just friends. It could happen. Lacking a crystal ball and any psychic powers, I have no idea of what the future holds. Except the thought of us taking a step back from the intimacy we have now hurts my heart. And my loins. Let’s be honest here. When a man has the power to talk you out of your clothes on the thinnest of pretexts, something is definitely going on. Sitting bare-ass on the sofa, I can admit this much.

“Anyway, this is all very mature and understanding of you, Anna.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve had varied reactions from women I’ve dated. But none that were actually right there and had to see it happening,” he says. “Sort of. I mean, you were in the next room and all.”

“I get it.”

“Have to remember that you might be a bit younger than me, but you’re way ahead of me in relationship experience.”

“Long-term relationship experience, maybe.”

“Yeah, that.”

I cross my legs and receive the heaviest of frowns.

“No,” he says. “Spread ’em.”

“I’m not spreading my legs.”

He continues to sway his hips in time to the music. “Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Still no.” I laze back against the couch, bracing my head with one hand. “Reciprocity, buddy. Show me some skin.”

“That’s not the way this game goes,” he says, voice fake outraged.

“You want me to go get my robe?”

He rolls his eyes and tucks my panties in his back pocket. No idea if I’ll be getting those back later. Then he finally at long last thank God tugs off his T-shirt. Oh yeah, baby. This is what I’m talking about. The right to now ogle him guilt free is a beautiful thing. I can stare and stare to my heart’s delight. Maybe I’ll even snap a picture or two with his permission. The strong lines of his arms and upper chest are enchanting. The dips and planes of his six-pack. For certain, all of the running with his brother and midnight exercise sessions have paid off and then some. The man is a visual delight. Without being asked, he toes off his boots and tugs off his socks. This necessitates a pause in the dancing lest he fall on his gorgeous ass. Which would be sad.

I never got to play before. Not like this. I like playing with Leif very much.

And the growing hard-on tenting the front of his jeans is a joy to see. In all honesty, he makes my mouth water and my thighs clench. There’d definitely be a party in my pants if I were in fact wearing any. Because my want to tackle him and take him to the ground is intense. To have my wicked way with the man. To suck on his neck and mark him as mine like some feral teenager in the backseat of a car. Then all of the Courtneys in the world would know exactly who he belongs to. Good God. He’s making me primal. A wild thing.

“Do you trust me?” He pauses and cocks his head. “That’s got to be a big thing for you, right?”

I blink. Changing my thought process from dick-struck to decision-making takes a moment. A long, hard one. Ha-ha.

“After everything that soggy ball-sack did to you, you’ve got to have some real issues around trust,” he says.

Ugh. And there’s that word again. “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“I think we should.” The damn tease toys with the top button on his jeans. “Don’t you? It’s only fair. You got to ask an us question and now it’s my turn.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Spread your legs, by the way.”

“No,” I say. “If we’re talking about my issues then my legs are staying closed for now. Allow me some defensive maneuvers.”

He thinks it over for a moment. “I strongly disagree with that decision, but okay. Talk to me, Anna.”

“Oh, man,” I groan, my head falling back against the couch. “I trust you with certain things, okay? It’s complicated.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman lay that one on me before. ‘It’s complicated,’” he says. “I know I’ve used it a couple of times, but never actually gotten it thrown back at me.”

“It’s the truth.”

He nods. “I know. I get it.”

“Can we stop talking about this now?” I ask. “Please?”

“Not quite yet. Just out of interest, what things do you trust me with?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. I trust you as a friend.”

“But not as a lover?”

“I trust you not to hurt or humiliate me in bed. To make sure I have a good time.”

“That’s good,” he says. “I’m glad you’re at ease with me when we’re having sex. But I take it trust out of bed is going to take longer?”

I don’t know what to say.

“Your heart’s locked up tight, huh?” It’s more of a statement than a question. And important to note, he’s not saying he wants my heart. More like he’s testing my limits or something. This new dalliance of ours is so confusing.

“Leif,” I say, voice low and a little anguished. “We just started this.”

“Right, right.” He gives me his best fake smile. Guess it’s been a day for those. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I get that.” He takes a breath. “You know I’ll always do my best to be careful with you, don’t you? Tell me that much is clear.”

“Yes.”

His smile turns into something more real. Something with actual warmth. “You wouldn’t believe how many times today I thought about your pussy.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve seen some pretty vaginas in my lifetime, but yours is beautiful.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He scratches at his stubble all contemplative like. “It’s actually on the verge of becoming an occupational hazard, my obsession with your pussy. If I’m not careful I might lose track of what I’m doing and someone might accidentally wind up with your clitoris tattooed on their shoulder. Your labia inked out on their leg. Who knows?”

I laugh. “Oh my, God.”

“I did a quick sketch during my lunch break if you’d like to see it.”

“Of my . . .”

“Of your cunt. Yes.”

“You did not.” Heat rushes into my face. “Leif.”

He just grins.

“You’re joking.” I sag in relief.

“Am I?” he asks, acting all coy. Bastard.

“This is the strangest discussion I’ve ever had.”

“I thought about you all day long,” he says.

“A part of me.”

“All of you really. I was just messing with you.” He tips his chin. “Come over here.”

“So you didn’t really draw my . . .”

“Oh yeah, I did. I was serious about that,” he says. “But I haven’t just been fixating on just one part. It’s more the whole of you that’s making me happy.”

“Is that so?” And there’s this warmth inside of me. Like my heart is too big for my chest. I don’t want to feel so much, but I can’t help it. He does things to me. “I thought about you too.”

“Good to hear.”

I cross the floor, fingers itching to touch the man. I’m such a fool for him and I couldn’t stop it now if I tried. That’s the truth. All of my anxiety and second-guessing is for nothing. I’m holding onto this thing between us for as long as I can. My hands slide down his chest, taking in all of his hot, smooth skin.

“I like it when you’re bold,” he says in a deep voice. “When you take what you want.”

“So do I.”

“There’s no judgment here, baby. You can do whatever you like. Have whatever you want.” He licks his lips and heat rushes through me.

“Leif . . .”

“Hmm?”

“Enough already with the pants.” My smile is all sharp teeth as I tear into the button and fly of his jeans. With the material bunched up, I push them halfway down his thighs. Past his spectacular tight ass and all the rest.

“What can I do you for, Anna?”

“Just stay still.”

A brief frown of confusion crosses his face.

“It’s my turn to give,” I say, sinking to my knees.

While there’s a definite art to sucking cock, any man worth your time is just going to be happy you want to use your mouth on him. That’s the fact of the matter. Still, I lick my lips and gaze up at him.

This whole situation gives me a thrill. From the hard wooden floor beneath my knees to the cool night air on my bare skin. For all he says I like giving up control, it’s hard not to feel like I have all of the power with my teeth so close to his dick. A wicked thought, but I don’t back away from it. All of this is a revelation. This is what it’s like to enjoy someone fully, to be safe with them. I never realized how it was missing, how much I wanted it, until Leif started giving it to me. Though I don’t say it, I hope he feels cherished. Wanted. Adored. I want that for him with all my heart and soul because he’s been through more than enough. We both have.

“Okay?” I ask.

His nod is terse, his hands fisted in anticipation.

I grab hold of his half-hard cock and give it a few pumps. The solid heat and velvet of him is intoxicating. Especially combined with his musky, salty scent. And I know he’s going to taste the same. The dark of his pupils are so large I think I could drown in them. As if I could lose myself in the way he’s watching me. Like I’m everything he could ever want. Same as always, it’s a dizzying sensation, receiving all of this man’s focus. Having the whole world narrowed down to this moment, to just him and me. It’s like he’s magic, the way he does this to me each and every time.

My mouth waters and my heart pounds as I guide him to my lips. I drag the flat of my tongue over the head of his cock again and again, getting him wet. Then I take just a little into my mouth, tracing the rim of his cockhead with the tip of my tongue. He sucks in a breath, letting it out slow. I swear the man doesn’t even blink. When I suck on him good and hard, his jaw goes rigid. My hands work the rest of him, one fondling his balls and massaging his perineum while the other tightens and tugs on the thick length of him. I lick him and drag my lips down as much of his length as I can manage. Loving him with my mouth. Giving him my all. And it’s nothing less than delightful to see his thigh muscles bulge as he fights to stay still, to stay upright.

“Fuck,” he says, gruff and deep.

After a few more minutes of this, he can’t hold out any longer. His stomach muscles tightening and eyelids squeezing shut. Veins stand out beneath the velvet skin and his balls draw up tight to his body. Beads of pre-cum hit my tongue.

“I’m close,” he hisses, giving me warning.

And when he does go, losing all control and fucking my face with vigor, I swallow over and over. Doing my best to take it all in. To take all of him. An expression somewhere between rapture and torment takes him over. It’s nice to be appreciated. When at last he’s finished, I ease up, being sweet, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before letting go. His whole body is sort of slumped. And the look in his eyes . . .

“You liked it,” I say, with a smile.

“Like is far too tame a word.” Hands beneath my armpits, he hauls me to my feet and plants a kiss on my lips. His hands cup my face, gentle but firm. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being here with me.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, gaze full of something I’m not ready to label. “Anytime, Anna.”

If I wasn’t awake before the hand smacked me in the shoulder, I certainly am after. Head foggy with sleep, I switch on the bedside lamp. Leif is thrashing about on the bed. He’s making these heartbreaking wounded sounds. Not words, exactly. Something else. And it’s horrible. But the startled, partly muffled yell is even worse.

“Hey, Leif,” I say, shaking his arm. Carefully keeping my distance just in case. “Leif. Babe, it’s okay. Come on, wake up. You’re having a dream. It’s just a dream.”

His eyelids blink open, his gaze dark and confused as he looks around.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Anna?”

“Yeah.” I switch from shaking his arm to petting it. Long, gentle caresses of his feverish hot skin. I smooth his hair back from his face, touching him slow and sweet. Doing my best to soothe him. This is the first bad dream I’ve been present for and it was a doozy. “Must have been a hell of a nightmare.”

A grunt from him.

“Was it about the accident?”

He winces, then nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Can I get you a glass of water or anything? Is there anything I can do to help?”

For a moment, he just stares at me. Only the streetlight creeping around the curtain’s edges provides any light. The night is silent now that he’s woken. Perfectly still. Apart from the harsh breaths pumping in and out of his chest. Whatever he saw has freaked him right out.

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arms. I stretch out at his side, resting my head on his shoulder. Eventually, he says, “First one I’ve had since we started sleeping together.”

“Yeah.” And it feels like a failure, that I couldn’t fix this for him, but that’s stupid. It doesn’t help anybody. Lacking superpowers or mystical abilities, all I can do is be there for the man. And that I intend to do with my whole heart.

His arms wrap me up tight, his jawline resting against the top of my head. Slowly, steadily, his breathing calms. Against my hip, his fingers tense and release, over and over again. “You were stuck in the car and . . . I couldn’t get the motorbike off me. My arm was all fucked up and the bike was so damn heavy I just couldn’t shift it. I was trapped.”

Reaching up, I stroke his jawline. The harsh stubble leading to the softer skin.

“I couldn’t get to you.”

I inch up until our faces are on the same level. Until we’re looking at each other. And there’s a haunted expression in his eyes that I hate. Nice and gentle, I press my lips to his in a show of benediction. A blessing mixed with gratitude. But one of his hands grabs the back of my head, holding me to him for something longer, deeper. And I’m happy to give.

“You’ve got me,” I say.

“Have I?”

“I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Nothing from him.

“The accident was horrible and it hurt us, but we survived. We got out of there.”

He lets out a deep breath. “Okay.”

I rest my head back on his shoulder, holding on tight. I didn’t even have the nightmare and I’m scared and shaken. Maybe it’s seeing Leif so affected. I don’t know.

“I think you should talk to someone about these dreams,” I say.

Immediately he tenses beneath me. “Anna, no.”

“Fine. Whatever. Maybe we should go to couple’s therapy, though. I have some concerns.”

“I thought you said we weren’t a couple.”

“No,” I say. “I said our relationship was complicated.”

“Ah.”

“But on the off chance we become a serious couple we’d already have the therapy out of the way. Imagine how healthy our relationship would be!”

He makes a noise in his throat. Disbelief, perhaps. “Is this the sort of couple’s therapy where you drag me along on the pretext of it being about us communicating and then make me talk about my nightmares to a professional?”

“Maybe,” I admit. “All right, yes. But would that really be so bad?”

Nothing from him.

“And it would be amongst discussing our other issues, of course.”

“Such as?”

“Well . . .”

“I’m waiting,” he says, voice on the verge of cranky. This is clearly a difficult topic for him.

“There’s my penchant for being judgy to be considered,” I say. “I can be quite the highfalutin bitch when I set my mind to it, as you’ve noticed on several occasions.”

He snorts. “You’re not so bad.”

“And then there’s my trust issues. We could work on those.”

With a heavy sigh, he draws a line with his fingers up and down my spine. “Anna . . .”

“It’s just a thought.”

“I know.”

I search my mind for the right thing to say and come up empty. Probably because it’s like two in the morning.

“I thought we weren’t rushing things between us,” he says. “Couple’s therapy not even a week into our roommates-with-benefits relationship seems like a hell of a leap.”

“But it could take months to actually get in to see a good therapist.”

A grunt from him.

I just let the silence linger. Right up until I can’t. My mind is going a mile a minute. “The psychologist in the hospital that I talked to really helped me get things sorted out. To manage my expectations and adjust to the new way of things. To overcome the trauma of it all.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah.”

“But the dreams will go away eventually,” he says. Not even sounding convinced himself. If anything, he seems tired, hurt, and defeated. “I don’t need anyone messing around with the inside of my head.”

“It’s coming up on a year since the accident,” I say in a gentle voice.

“That’s still a ways off.”

“It’s not that far.”

“Hmm,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“Just think about it. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Totally,” I say, shuffling up and around until I can nuzzle the side of his face. “I am more than open to bribing you, baby.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Like, I’ll share my skincare routine with you.”

“Wow,” he says in a flat voice.

“Right?” I smile. “That shit’s taken me years to get down and here I am just offering it up for free.”

“I cleanse and moisturize.”

“Yeah, but do you chemically exfoliate before applying a serum, eye cream, hydrating gel, and moisturizer mixed with facial oil for enhanced hydration?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“There you go. Amateur.” It’s official. Nibbling on Leif’s neck is now my new favorite thing. “I wonder if a therapist would think our attachment was unhealthy due to us meeting through the accident and everything.”

“Where the hell did that come from?” he asks, back to sounding cranky again. Whoops.

“I don’t know. Just a random thought.”

“That’s it. We’re not going to therapy,” he says. “We each have enough hang-ups without that sort of negativity entering into things.”

“They might not say we’re unhealthy. You never know. I was just overthinking things.”

“Mm.” He says nothing for a moment. “Do you worry about that? About our friendship being unhealthy?”

“I didn’t really until now.”

Which is when he rolls me beneath his big body with minimal effort. “New household rule, Anna. No coming up with new problems until we’ve dealt with the ones we have already, okay?”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“I know you’re a worrier, but we have to keep things in check or we’re both going to get overwhelmed.”

“Okay.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Maybe I should just not say everything that goes through my head.”

“I like you sharing. Just . . . take it easy. All right?”

I nod.

“Good. Thank you. And now for the sex.”

“Again?” I whine and pout just because. Makes it hard not to giggle when his mouth latches onto one nipple and his hands starts creeping between our bodies, making for my vagina.

“You’re the one who wanted to get her experience levels up,” he says. “Don’t blame me. This is all your own damn fault. Like there aren’t other things I could be doing with my time right now.”

“Fine. But I’m very tired. Don’t blame me if I fall asleep.”

Which is about when he bites my breast. The man has teeth. Fortunately for him he also has a tongue to soothe the sting. Neither of us have any nightmares again that night. Though, to be fair, we don’t actually get much sleep.