Gripping her ass with both hands, Mitch pulled her into him while driving forward.
“Oh . . .” Halina’s head fell to the side. “Yes.”
Oh fuck hell yes. She was beyond gorgeous, face flushed, muscles tight, body undulating and thrusting to the rhythm he set. So open, so sexual with one arm stretched above her head to the bar, the other hand digging into his forearm.
Mitch added a bend in his knees and used all the strength in his thighs and ass to drive harder, deeper, lifting Halina and letting her fall back onto his shaft, her body weight adding force to each thrust in the most intense, mind-bending slam Mitch had ever experienced.
“God,” Halina cried, every muscle in her stunning body taut. “Mitch . . . God . . .”
Just another minute. He had to hold out just another—
She spasmed around him, gripping him so hard his throat closed. His control snapped. And the orgasm hit him like a tsunami—a wave that had appeared deceptively manageable until it crested into an uncontrollable monster and crashed. The first orgasm exploded at the center of his body and blasted through him.
Her walls continued to squeeze and suck at his cock, drawing him back into a vortex of repeat orgasms where he never quite came down from one before another built and peaked. Built and peaked. Built and peaked.
Until Halina’s body had finally relaxed. Then Mitch found every muscle wrung out, every brain cell wiped clean, and every emotion but raw ecstasy shoved way into the recesses of his mind.
Just before his legs gave, he locked his knees and swayed there, using her hold on the towel bar to keep them up.
“Don’t . . .” he rasped between breaths, “let go . . .”
Halina’s face rested against her bicep, her chest rocking with her own pants. “’Kay.”
The aftermath hit Mitch in continuous tingling ripples of contentment, relaxation, and pleasure. He couldn’t think, his mind like a downed prizefighter, struggling and stumbling back to the mat with every attempt to get to his feet. The sensations were indescribable. Body-wide. Excruciating perfection.
“Baby,” he barely slurred, “I think . . . that was a . . . multiple . . . record . . .”
He’d never had sex that good. In fact, he’d never had multiple orgasms with anyone other than Halina.
Too damn bad it was just a onetime fuck.
A shadow dimmed the sparkling aftermath. Disappointment, disillusionment, self-disgust. It all hovered, far too close. He needed to put space between them now that it was over. Before the emotions washed in. If he was close to her when that happened . . .
He forced the muscles in his legs to engage and hold him up, then gripped her waist to lift her from his half-hard erection. But she leaned forward, melting against him, draping her arms over his shoulders and pressing her face to his neck with a warm sigh across his skin.
The unexpected intimacy took a double-fisted grip on his heart. Soft, deep, intense emotions tightened his chest, and right on their tail, anxiety crawled in. He battled them all away. Just enjoy the moment. That’s all he had to focus on. And when he gathered her close, she slid into his arms willingly.
As hard as he fought to smother that little light deep inside him, it continued to glow—brighter with each moment she lay sated and content against him. He continued to remind himself not to think. Not to hope. Not to open.
“Are we going to stay like this all night?” she murmured, with no sign of objecting to the idea.
A smile broke across his face. He gritted his teeth and forced it away. “Nice idea, but I wouldn’t last more than a few minutes.”
She lifted her head and met his eyes. Hers were that smoky, satiated aqua he remembered well from their time together. Despite all his good intentions, the sight pulled an array of memories from his mind—all better left buried. She pressed a soft, slow kiss to his lips, whispered, “Thank you,” and dropped her head to his shoulder again.
Dual streams of hot and cold ran down his chest. Thank you? What the fuck . . . ? Yes, exactly that . . . a fuck. Thank you for the great fuck.
Nice. Definitely time to untangle.
“Ready to move?” He didn’t wait for her answer before lifting her. And then immediately froze as an unfamiliar sensation encompassed his shaft. A very wet, very warm, very . . . real sensation.
“Oh . . . shit.” His gaze went distant. He’d forgotten. His stomach rolled with that hollow pre-puke ugliness. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“What?” Her head came up, hand tightening on his shoulder as her gaze scanned the room then returned to his face, worried. “What’s wrong?”
Mitch turned to rest his back against the wall. He was suddenly sweating again, and this time not from pleasure. A tremble started in his arms and not from muscle fatigue.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never made this mistake. Ever. Ever. Not even when the woman swore up and down she was on birth control, had every negative STD test known to man, and showed him a negative AIDS screening. He always, always, always wore a condom.
With every woman.
For seven goddamned years.
“Mitch.” She pushed back and took his face in her hand, giving him a quirky little smile that made his heart fold. “Stop messing a—” She stopped when she saw his face. Her smile fell away, replaced by a deep frown. “What’s . . . ? Are you okay?”
“Hali . . .” He’d sworn he’d never say this to any woman. But this wasn’t any woman, this was Halina. Only, that didn’t make it okay. It would have been better than okay seven years ago. It would have been everything he’d ever wanted. Now, it wasn’t the least bit okay. Now, it was a catastrophe. And that killed him. Absolutely fucking killed him.
“What?” Halina said. “What is it?”
He licked his lips, hoped for a last-minute miracle, and looked her in the eye. “Hali, are you . . . using birth control?”
A fleeting second of confusion filled her eyes before the realization hit. And in that moment he knew the answer was no. Just as he’d thought. He’d known the answer before he’d even asked. But he’d had to ask.
“Fuck me.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall, but immediately lifted it again and met her gaze. “Hali, I’m so sorry. I don’t know . . . I’m always careful. I always, always—”
“Mitch,” she said softly. “Put me down.”
She pushed off his shoulders, and Mitch lifted her then set her down. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she turned for the door.
“Hali, hey, Halina.” He caught her by the waist and held on to her before she broke away and freaked out. He’d figured it out first, shouldn’t he get the first freak-out rights? “Wait. Let’s talk about this—”
“Mitch, I just need . . .” Her voice was breathy, unsteady. “Can I have just a minute to think? I need some space.”
If they were in a better situation, he would have ribbed her about using classic letdown lines and suggesting she come up with something more original, like, say, “Oh, by the way, this is my husband, and we’re moving back to Russia . . .”
Now that was original.
“Halina, this might not be as terrible as it seems.” It took every ounce of second-rate Pollyanna in him to conjure this crap to keep her calm. And he loathed what was coming next. He never talked girl-stuff with women. The topic was off-limits. But he heard himself say, “Where are you in the month? I mean, when was your, you know, your period?”
Halina’s fingers dug into his biceps, her body still straining toward the door. If he released her, she’d spin like a top. Her throat rocked as she swallowed and a small self-deprecating smile turned her mouth. But when she looked up at Mitch, she clearly wasn’t happy or even relieved; the expression was ironic, cynical. “Exactly two weeks ago. And I’m as regular as a goddamned clock.” She huffed a breath that was probably meant to be a laugh. “I can’t even seem to handle something as simple as safe sex right.” She glanced up, her light eyes sparkling through her lashes, her expression swamped with regret. “I’m sorry. I . . . was obviously . . . carried away. Please, Mitch, give me a minute.”