Beautiful Bastard

mussed and sticking to his damp forehead, the tendons in his neck pulled tight.
    Ducking his head between his outstretched arms, he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. “Oh, God,” he panted. “I just . . . I can’t stop.”
    I arched to get closer, needing to find a way to pull him deeper, more completely into me. I’d never wanted to consume another body as rabidly as I did when he was inside me, but even like this, I could never seem to get close enough to the parts of him I wanted to feel. And it was with that thought in my mind that the delicious, ratcheting tension along my skin and in my belly crystallized into an ache so heavy I slipped my legs off his shoulders, pulling all of his weight on top of me and pleading, “Please, please, please,” over and over.
    I was so close. So close.
    My hips circled, and his hips answered rough but steady, as savage above as I was underneath. “So fucking close, please. ”
    “Anything,” he growled in reply, before bending to bite my lip and growl. “Take fucking anything. ”
    I screamed as I came, my nails digging into his back and the taste of his sweat on my lips.
    He swore, his voice deep and hoarse, and with one last powerful thrust he tensed above me.
    Exhausted and shaking, he collapsed with his face against my neck. I couldn’t resist the urge to run my trembling hands through his damp hair as we lay there panting, his heart racing against my chest. A million thoughts skittered through my mind as the minutes passed.
    Slowly, our breathing calmed and I almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he moved his head away.
    My sweaty body was instantly chilled as he started getting dressed. I watched him for a moment before sitting up and putting on my dress, feeling heavily ambivalent. More than just physically fulfilling, sex with him was some of the most fun I’d had in a long time.
    But he was such an asshole.
    “I assume you’ll ignore the account. I realize this can’t happen again,” he said, startling me from my own thoughts. I turned to look at him. He was shrugging on his torn shirt, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
    Moments passed before he turned to look at me. “Say something so I know you’ve heard me.”
    “Tell Susan I’ll be there for dinner, Mr. Ryan. And get the hell out of my car.”

Six
    The burning in my chest was almost enough to distract me from the mess inside my head. Almost.
    I increased the incline on the treadmill and pushed myself harder. Feet pounding, muscles on fire, it always worked. That was how I lived my life. There was nothing I couldn’t accomplish if I just pushed hard enough: school, career, family, women.
    Shit . Women.
    Disgusted, I shook my head and turned up the volume on my iPod, hoping it would distract me long enough to get some fucking peace.
    I should have known it wouldn’t work. No matter how hard I tried, she was always there. I closed my eyes and it all came back: hovering over her, feeling her wrapped around me, sweaty, aching, wanting to stop but not being able to. Being inside of her was the most perfect torture. It satiated the hunger I felt at that moment, but like a junkie I found myself consumed by the need for more as soon as it ended. It was terrifying, because in those moments with her, I’d do anything she asked. And that feeling was starting to bleed into moments like this too, when I wasn’t even with her and still wanted to be what she needed. Ridiculous.
    My earbud was tugged free, and I turned toward the source of the annoyance. “What?” I said, glaring at my brother.
    “You keep that up, we’re gonna be peeling you off the floor, Ben,” he replied. “What’d she do to piss you off this time?”
    “Who?”
    He rolled his eyes. “Chloe.”
    I felt my stomach tighten at the sound of her name and focused my attention back on the treadmill. “What makes you think this has anything to do with her?”
    “Because I’m not a fucking idiot.”
    “Nothing’s bothering me. And even if something was, why on earth would it have anything to do with her?”
    He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve never met anyone who gets this kind of reaction out of you. And you know why, don’t you?” He had shut off his machine and was now focusing all his attention on me. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little unnerving. My brother was perceptive; too perceptive at times. And if there was ever anything I wanted to keep from him, it was this.
    I kept my gaze forward as I