The Player and the Pixie
Page 27

Not feeling well.
Breakfast instead?
Lucy.
As I went to quickly shove the note under Rick’s door, I stepped outside and came face to face with Sean. His fist was raised mid-air, as though he’d been about to knock. I looked him over, noticing he still hadn’t changed out of his wet clothes.
“Um,” I said, biting on my lower lip as his hot gaze swept across my toweled form.
He didn’t reply, but simply stepped forward, entering my cabin as I instinctively stepped back, dropping the note. Slamming the door shut behind him with a foot, he kept coming at me until the backs of my knees hit the sofa. I think I may have let out a tiny squeak but really couldn’t be sure.
“Let’s try this again. I want you,” he said as his hands clasped my neck and he pulled my mouth to his.
His kiss was hard and unrelenting, and I felt my legs grow weak. As though sensing this too, he slid a hand around my waist, holding me tight against him. Before I could stop him, he broke our kiss and released my towel. It fell away, exposing my entire body, and I trembled under his astute attention.
Sean’s molten-hot stare devoured me, tracing the dips and curves of my form before swearing and bending to suck one of my nipples into his mouth. I yelped in surprise because his teeth smashed against my skin.
Perhaps he was just eager.
This definitely seemed to be the case when he swiftly lowered me onto the sofa. My head knocked against the armrest and my breath whooshed out of me.
Well, that hurt a little . . .
Sean began sucking at my breasts in a hot frenzy as his hand went between my legs. I was so aroused by the fact that I was naked and he was touching me intimately that it took me a moment to realize he was doing everything wrong.
And I mean, seriously wrong.
His hand was on my vagina, but he was just rubbing away with no rhythm or technique. He might as well have been trying to get a persistent stain off the carpet. I mean, his fingers were nowhere near the vicinity of my clit, and that was the most important part.
The most important part, people.
His other hand squeezed my breast harshly and rotated it back and forth in a wax-on, wax-off movement, like he was disconnected from the ramifications of his touch. Plus, his tongue was playing no part in the action, only his mouth. I frowned but he didn’t see, because he was too busy giving me the worst foreplay of my life.
How could he be such an amazing kisser but such an unskilled lover?
Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I awkwardly pushed him away and he groaned like I was ruining a perfectly good time.
“Wait, wait a minute. Stop,” I said, wincing because I felt terrible. I mean, how do you tell one of the most attractive men you’ve ever met that he sucks at foreplay?
You don’t.
You don’t tell him. You beg off and pretend to have a headache, which was a crying shame. Really, Sean’s inability to put his body to good use was a crime against all womankind.
“Ronan will never find out,” he assured me and moved to get right back to business.
I stopped him again, wincing. “That’s not why it’s a bad idea.”
He stared at me, his eyebrows suspended between panic and frustration. “What’s going on, Lucy?”
His low, gravelly voice almost undid me. Almost. But then I remembered his clumsy, uncomfortable, decidedly unsexy maneuverings. I was never good at faking, and I wasn’t going to start now.
“I’m, well, I’m not really feeling it, Sean.”
He stared at me for several protracted moments. I was certain no woman had ever pressed pause on him before. Christ, most of the women he slept with were probably so elated to be doing it with Sean Cassidy that they didn’t even care if the sex was crap.
Well, not this woman.
If sex didn’t feel good, then there wasn’t really a point for me. I didn’t shag for status.
“You’re not feeling it.” The statement of acceptance rang with a note of hallow self-contempt, surprising me, forcing me to take a closer look at Sleazy Sean Cassidy.
Resentment hardened his features, but his bitterness was turned decidedly inward. He wasn’t angry with me. He was upset with himself.
And that’s when I realized the truth.
Sean knew he was rubbish at foreplay. Something in my expression must’ve registered my discovery because he flinched and sat back away from me. He ran a hand through his hair, looking humiliated.
Sean Cassidy was blushing.
“You’re right,” he said through gritted teeth. “This was a bad idea.”
Rising from the sofa he brushed off his shirt and without another word, turned to leave.
A brick dropped to the pit of my stomach, my gut twisted and I suddenly felt terrible. He was so big, so powerful, cocky, and yet in that moment appeared terribly inconsequential, defenseless, and humiliated. Alone.
Without thinking, I stood, grabbing the towel and quickly covering myself before going after him.
“Wait,” I called.
He turned around stiffly, hands on his hips as he stared at the floor. “What?”
Jeez, he sounded angry. “I’m sorry.”
Now he looked up, his stare glacial. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize for not wanting to have sex. You were just being honest.”
“Yes, true. But, here’s the thing, I do want to have sex, with you. I do.”
He barked a bitter laugh. “A pity fuck? Don’t do me any favors.”
“No,” I replied firmly. Now I frowned at him. “That’s not what this is. I like you. You turn me on and I want to have sex with you, but I just think we’re playing from two different songbooks. Like, I’m performing Mozart but you’re rocking out to Led Zeppelin. We both need to be playing the same tune.”