He pitched forward until his forehead hit the window. Hell, she often leaned against him, seeking his support or protection whenever they were within five feet of each other. That kind of shit meant something to him.
Something had happened that caused her not to trust men. She failed to recognize how deeply she yearned for the stability he could provide. He couldn't quite figure out the source of her hesitation—whether it stemmed from a past boyfriend or was learned in childhood.
Soon, he'd know more about her and could make sure she never doubted her place in his life. He straightened and moved away from the window. From here on, Aubrey was his job. To hell with the corporate world. Money had never made him feel the way Aubrey had.
At the edge of the bed, he looked down at Aubrey. He would satisfy her in ways she had never imagined, and in return, he hoped to quell the demons inside him. The ones crying out to hurt, run, and survive.
Last night, she thought enthusiastic sex equaled the roughness he desired. His chest warmed. She had no fucking idea the level he needed. But she'd learn.
Fully dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her. "Time to wake up."
She puckered her lips. He trailed his finger along her slim brow, softening the frown from her face. She moaned in her sleep, and he hardened. He liked the susceptible side to her as much as her temper.
Last night, he learned his silence angered her. His authority scared her. And, when he put his mouth between her thighs, she lost all control of her body. When on the verge of a climax, she'd open her mouth, and when she orgasmed, she bit down on her bottom lip. He wanted to unzip his jeans and curb his lust for her, but they were running out of time.
He stood, yanking the sheet off her naked body, and spanked her bare ass. "Get up."
She jolted into a sitting position on the bed. He took pity on her and kissed her hard, taking away the sting from his hand. When she relaxed and got her bearings, he pulled back. He grinned at the dazed look on her face.
"Time to take a shower." He pulled his shirt over his head.
"What time is it?" She stifled a yawn.
He held out his hand. "Six."
She latched onto his fingers, unfolded her legs from the sheet tangled around her knees, and stood on the bed. "It's Saturday. I need to get to the shelter."
Instead of jumping down to the floor, she pitched herself at him. He had just enough time to put his hands under her butt and hold her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder. Pleasantly surprised at the position, he stood holding her. He liked how he could carry her, as if she depended on him to move her to the other room.
"You go to work. I'll have someone head over to your house and bring your clothes here." He moved across the room. "Do you need anything else?"
Her head came off his shoulder. "I don't think that's necessary. I can get a bag later."
He continued to hold her as he turned on the water in the shower. "That takes time off of us. I'll have him grab your clothes and whatever's in your bathroom. Later, you can bring whatever other belongings you need to the house."
She struggled against him. "Put me down."
He ignored her and locked his arms around her hips. She was going to get a bigger surprise if she kept moving against his erection.
"Serge!" she said.
He braced his foot against the tub, letting her straddle his thigh with her feet off the ground but keeping her on him. "We talked about you staying here, remember?"
Naked and moving, she tilted, trying to get one of her feet on the floor but he held her up too high. He ignored the way her heat pressed through the leg of his jeans and straight to his thigh. Letting her put all her weight on the one part of her that he knew would make her listen, he hooked her neck and held her by the hair. Not enough to hurt but bring her attention around to him.
"I'm only staying for the weekend," she said.
He glanced down, and his chest expanded. "Do you really want to walk away from this?"
"It's happening too fast. I need time," she said through her teeth. "I'm not willing to lose—"
"You still have a house." He moistened his lips. "Later, when you understand that you're not going anywhere, that I'm not going anywhere, you can rent your place out, sell it, or leave it empty, I don't care. That'll be up to you. I'm not taking anything away from you. I'm trying to give you everything you want, and right now, that's me and what I can do for you."
Her mouth grew tighter as she fought for balance on his leg, and the pressure on her scalp intensified. "All you're doing is hurting me."
"Am I?" He wiggled the leg propped up on the tub. "I can practically feel the dampness from your pussy soaking into my jeans. Tell me, again, am I hurting you?"
Her eyes shifted to his chest, and the cords on her neck convulsed. He waited. She had some preconceived notions that he wanted to take everything away from her. The truth was much different.
