Behind Closed Doors

“Not your friend,” he mumbled.

“Eh? What was that you said?”

He took a deep breath. “I'm not your friend,” he said more clearly.

Novak gave him an approving smile, as if he were a dull child that had just gotten a difficult math problem right. “That is absolutely correct, Edward,” he said. “You are not my friend. You are my slave.”

Jesse was standing on the boat, wearing Seth's black leather jacket. He knew it was his jacket became it was far too big for Jesse. The shoulders drooped off Jesse's narrow shoulders, the sleeves hung down all the way to his fingertips.

He was very pale, freckles standing out sharply against his skin, his green eyes somber. “Be careful,” he said. “The circle is getting smaller.”

In the dream, Seth understood perfectly what that meant. “How small? “ he asked.

Jesse held up his hand, thumb and forefinger touching in a circle. Then he was a child again, dwindled down to the size of the five-year-old he had been when he came to live with them. The jacket now hung down past his knees. “Very small,” he repeated, and the water behind him glittered as a bolt of sunlight pierced the clouds. Something was dangling from Jesse's little-boy fingers, flashing green and blue fire. Raine's grandmother's necklace.

Seth slid into waking consciousness, fixing the details of the dream in his mind as he registered the luxurious sheets he was tangled in, the flower-petal softness of Raine cuddled in his arms. She stirred, trying not to wake him, and he feigned sleep as she dropped a kiss on his shoulder. She slid out of his arms. The door to the adjoining bath opened. The toilet flushed. The shower began to hiss.

He had resisted sleep to the very end, but Raine had been as fierce and demanding as he was; and after hours of wild lovemaking, sleep had finally claimed him. He stretched, enjoying the remarkable comfort of the huge bed until the bathroom door opened, then the armoire. He heard a gasp, and opened his eyes.

Raine was standing in front of the closet, wearing nothing but a towel. Her wet hair hung all the way down to her perfect ass, and he was relieved to see that the curls were back in full force. He tried to see what had alarmed her, but all he saw was plastic-wrapped clothes.

“What's the problem?” he asked.

She smiled over her shoulder at him, but her eyes were anxious. “Those bastards took my glasses! And my clothes are gone, too! I left my suit here, and my shoes, but now there's just... this other stuff.”

“So? Those glasses were pretty weird anyhow, sweetheart. You've got the contacts you wore last night, right? No problem. Pick something out of the stuff that's there “ he suggested. “I'm sure it's all for you.”

She rifled through the clothes. “Lord. I can't take these. Armani, Gianfranco Ferre, Nannini, Prada... there's a fortune in this closet”

“Does that surprise you?”

She scowled at him. “I don't like being shoved around, Seth! I want my cheap blue suit back. I paid for it, and it's mine.”

The movement had caused the towel to slip, catching on the top of her nipples. His morning erection throbbed urgently, as if he hadn't spent the night having the hottest, most prolonged sex of his whole life. He threw the covers off mid lunged for her. She backed away, but there was no place to run, and he was all over her, dizzy with the fragrance of soap and shampoo and Raine. Honey and violets. Good enough to eat.

“I'm too nervous to make love again, Seth,” she whispered.

He stared over her shoulder into the mirror at the graceful curve of her back and cupped her round, rosy buttocks in both his hands. “Don't be nervous,” he urged. “It doesn't matter what you wear. You always look gorgeous. I like you best stark naked anyway.”

Her arms stole around his waist, and she nuzzled his chest tentatively. “I can't go out there stark naked.”

He tossed her down onto the rumpled bed. “Sweetheart, your outfit is the least of your worries this morning.”

She took his words more seriously than he had meant her to, and her face clouded with real fear. “You're absolutely right,” she said. “Seth, I'm not sure if I can—about the—”

He kissed her hard and put his mouth to her ear. “Not one word.”

Her mouth trembled. She closed her eyes, and two crystal bright tears squeezed out between her lashes, flashing down her face. “But—”

He covered her mouth with his hand and kissed the tears away, trying to communicate without words that it was a done deal, no going back, no longer negotiable. She stared into his eyes. Her breath came in short, panting gasps, trapped beneath his weight.

It seemed as natural as breathing to push her legs apart and start petting her. She moved against his fingers, getting slick and wet for him almost instantly, and he eased me head of his cock inside her, kissing her as she tried to speak again. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, muffling the cry she made as he forged into her. The almost scalding heat of her body shocked him. He hadn't put on a condom.

But it was so good Amazing. Just a few strokes, careful and controlled. He wouldn't come inside her, just enjoy some unprotected bliss for a few delirious moments. She loved it, too. He could feel her soft body quiver beneath him. But the intensity of his bare flesh inside hers was driving him out of his head. His thrusts grew harder, deeper.

She was trying to speak again. He kissed her words away, didn't want to hear them, wanted to stay in the spell. But she was shoving him, pushing his face away. “Please, don't,” she said.

Seth stared down at her, horrified at the tears trembling in her eyes. He could have sworn she'd liked it. “What?” he demanded.

“Don't use sex to control me.” Her voice shook with anger.

He was dumbfounded. He studied her for a long moment. “I didn’t know I was doing that,” he said. “I just wanted you.”

“You're good at manipulating. You use whatever weapon comes to hand. But don't use sex against me.”

He was shivering, even though he still felt as hard and hot as a brand inside her. He withdrew from her clinging heat, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. All his past relationship fiascos paraded through his mind. The air felt cold and inhospitable on his dick, which lay, wet and disconsolate against his belly. He tried to think of something to say, some way to convince her that it was different than she thought No words came to him.

“I'm sorry,” he said finally, just to say something. Anything.

Raine pulled herself up onto her knees and looked down at him silently. She laid her hand on his chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?” His voice sounded gruff and ungracious, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“That was a very nice apology,” she said. “I liked that there were no ifs, ands or buts attached to it. It was very simple and effective.”

“Oh.” He squinted, bewildered. “I'm, uh, glad you liked For the first time, he'd gotten something like this right, but not by intelligence, or sensitivity, or technique. Just by pure, dumb luck.

The thought was not a comforting one.

“So you're, uh, not mad at me anymore?” he asked cautiously.

Raine smothered a laugh with her hands, and shook her head. She leaned over, and placed her hands on either side of his head, gazing into his eyes with searching tenderness. Her hair hung around them like a perfumed tent and her breasts dangled like lush, ripe fruit above him. All he wanted was to seize them, stroke them. She leaned down, dropped a kiss on his lips, a light, brushing touch.

He thought that was his cue to pull her closer, but he got it wrong again. She stiffened, pulling back with a nervous murmur.

He let his arms drop and opened his hands. Afraid to speak, afraid to breathe. No threat, he fried to say with his body, with his eyes. No moves, no agenda, your call He couldn't bear to feel her flinch away from him again, so evidently frightened.

She gave him a tremulous, uncertain smile, and he let out a sigh of relief, which turned into a gasp when her