And he held on.
Nine
Sophie rested her head on Joshua’s chest, his steady heartbeat a reassuring thud under her ear. She should move. Should order him to leave since the sex was over, and her senses had winked back online. But her limbs, weighted down by postorgasmic lethargy and wrapped around his torso and thigh, wouldn’t obey. Besides, when he’d left the bed to get rid of the condom, he’d returned with a warm, wet bath cloth to clean her. After that tender and thoughtful consideration, it would be rude of her to kick him out.
Okay, and that sounded weak even to her own ears.
She might as well just admit it; she wanted him here in her bed. His weight next to hers. His heartbeat echoing in her ear.
So dangerous. She was entering such treacherous, risky territory.
Saturday night, she’d been so certain that she would be able to contain the passion between them to one night. That she could walk away unscathed.
God, she’d been so arrogant.
He’d left her singed to her soul. And days later, she still felt the burn. So much that when he’d shown up on her doorstep, she’d tried to convince herself again that she could separate physical from emotional. That she didn’t need his trust. Didn’t need anything but another release that left her feeling like a postapocalyptic refugee.
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the direction of her wayward thoughts, but that only caused a livestream of how she’d spent the last hour with Joshua. Of their own volition, her fingertips brushed her lips. And she shivered, experiencing again the fierceness of his possession.
He was the first man she’d gone down on. Had he been able to tell? No other had stirred the need to share that intimacy, to make herself so vulnerable. To give so much—her mouth, her throat...her control.
But Joshua wasn’t just any man.
Somehow, he’d sneaked beneath her carefully constructed armor and touched more than her body. He’d infiltrated her heart.
Terror barreled through her as she admitted the truth to herself.
And this time, when she squeezed her eyes shut, it wasn’t the erotic reel that played over the backs of her lids. It was her, alone, curled up on her couch, hurting. Her, staring at her computer screen staring at an image of Joshua with another woman on his arm. Her, crushed and lost, gazing at her apartment door, willing a knock to sound. For him to be standing on the other side.
Pain cascaded through her in a crimson shower. Pain and fear.
He’d warned her about not wanting a relationship. Straight up told her he didn’t want to be in one with her or any woman. But especially not her. He might not have voiced that, but the words had been there, ringing in the room. Not a woman who might betray him or use him for a story. He would never be able to disassociate her from her job. So once more, she faced the decision—love or her career.
Well, she would be faced with that decision if he wanted her for more than sex.
Which he didn’t.
But the fear went deeper than his rejection. It reached down to the core of her that dreaded becoming dependent on a man for her happiness, her security. Because when he left, where would she be?
A shell.
“That’s the second sigh in as many minutes,” Joshua said, his voice rumbling under her ear. He traced a meandering trail up and down her arm, and she savored his touch. Committed this relaxed version of him to memory. “What’re you thinking about?”
Of how I’m foolishly falling for you even though I know you will shatter me.
“Actually, I was thinking about you.” Not exactly a lie. But sharing the truth wasn’t an option.
Tension invaded his body, and she hated it. “What about me?” he asked, the same stiffness coating his question.
Heaving a sigh—her third—she sat up, her hip pressed to his, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “While I was working on my follow-up article, it struck me again how much you do for those who are in your employ and this community. All without any expectation of credit or acknowledgment. It’s so admirable, and if I could put all of that in bold, font size eighteen, I would. People should know that you’re not just a CEO consumed with making money. You’re not just another businessman with the ‘rich getting richer’ mentality. You actually care about people and their welfare and their success.”
Joshua rose, resting his back against her headboard, the sheet he’d pulled over them pooling around his lean waist. “I don’t do it for accolades or recognition, Sophie. None of that is important to me.”
“Isn’t it?” she whispered. His hazel gaze sharpened, narrowing on her. Though her heart lodged in the base of her throat, she pushed on. “You might not do it for public consumption, but I suspect personal acknowledgment drives you even more.”
A frown creased his forehead, and anger, as well as another unidentifiable emotion, flashed in his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snapped.
She should let it go. He obviously didn’t appreciate her playing armchair therapist. Especially not from the woman he was just fucking. But she couldn’t. Joshua might not want her outside this bedroom, but God, he deserved so much more than this half life he lived. He was too good a man, had sacrificed so much for family and those who had been devastated by the Black Crescent scandal. And if no one else cared enough to tell him so, to let him off the hook he’d leaped on himself, then she would.
“Maybe not. But I know what I’ve seen. And as I told you before, I know you.” Lowering her legs, she curled them under her hips and fully faced him. “Every time you set up a new program assisting those less fortunate than you... Every time you donate to a worthy cause... Every time you make another
