Chapter Five
T he room was still and the quiet stretched for an uncomfortable pause.
He was still fighting himself. A glance at the fire in Seneca’s eyes told him she wasn’t about to back down.
The determination in her eyes made him painfully hard and, as much as he hated the fact this was only happening because she was mad with him, it didn’t stop his body from demanding he give her what they both wanted.
She toed her boots off one at a time, then flicked the button of her jeans open. A teasing scrap of black lace winked at him and his chest burned from the stalled breath trapped in his throat. By the time she had the zipper down and the flaps open his hands were on hers, swift, firm, and desperate.
He pushed her hands out of the way and dragged her jeans down her legs, his teeth nipping at the exposed skin of her hips and thighs as he descended.
He avoided shoving his face in her mound just then.
Oh, he wanted nothing more than to take in the smell of her arousal and let his mouth worship her.
But he needed to take his time. Not just because he didn’t want to embarrass himself, but also because he needed to give her an out.
And if he was extremely honest, he needed one too.
Each second that passed was a moment to think about the line he was about to cross. This wasn’t about his job. He’d declared his relationship with Seneca and his boss had still asked him to consider the promotion. As far as he was concerned, the professional issue was a nonstarter.
But taking this step with Seneca, in this way, it abraded something inside of him. Maybe it was his pride, but when she’d told him all she was interested in doing was fucking him, it felt like a sharp blade slicing into flesh.
When she was out of her denims, he stopped, kneeling before her, trying to gather the sense God gave him, and trying to think better of what he was about to do.
She’ll never take you seriously if you do this. Just walk away.
There it was. His rational mind had finally shown up. He took a breath. Renewed with the will to do what was best, he closed his eyes and stood up.
He placed his hands on her hips and tried to slow his breathing and get his body back under his control.
But in an effort to collect himself, he let his head drop down as a sign of contrition, and when he opened his eyes, all he saw was a vision of Seneca’s luscious body leaning against the counter in nothing but a black lace bra and a matching thong.
Goddamn!
“Woman, you are trying to kill me.” His hands disobeyed his order to stop touching her.
Instead, of their own volition, they slid from her waist, down her exposed cheeks.
He didn’t need to see her. His hands were creating a map of every curve, every dimple, committing it to his memory.
Wide, round, luscious, and breathtaking, the tempting lure of the thin lace, black material that disappeared between them damn near made him drop to his knees again.
He’d known this woman for nearly two months, and he’d had no idea this was what was beneath her clothing.
His hands floated up, grabbing on to her hips to anchor himself, pressing his denim-covered erection into the crease of her heat, wondering which was better: the sweet invitation their embrace promised, or the need to satisfy his wanton desire.
She swiveled her ass slightly and he closed his eyes and growled. “Unless you want this to be over before it starts, I’d suggest you stop that.” He was a man made of bone, flesh, and blood. He had willpower, but even he wasn’t strong enough to deny his body what it craved in this moment.
She lifted her eyes to him and smiled. It was a dare, a willful taunt that waved her lust like a red cape in front of a bull.
His hands still on her waist, he let them slide forward until they rested against the softness of her stomach.
He skimmed the lace edge of her panties slowly.
The fabric tempting and frustrating him all at the same time.
He wanted so much to slide his hand beneath the material. He would, but he needed to slow this down. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, he needed her to know that—for him at least—this was more than a convenient romp in the hay.
“Have you been walking around the ranch since I’ve known you with lace thongs and bras on?
” He slid his hands slowly up her torso until they were cupping her full, heavy breasts.
He’d always known she was well endowed. Seeing her in a T-shirt was enough to know her bosom was bountiful.
But feeling them in his hands, full, straining against the lace of her bra, it made his blood rush through his vessels to the fevered pace of his fast-thumping heart.
She slid her hands carefully up his chest, and the light drag of her nails against his flesh set him on edge.
“I spent seven years in prison wearing what amounted to orange pajamas and granny panties. The first thing I did when I got out was order a bunch of things that made me feel pampered. So, thongs, push-up bras, Bath and Body Works lotions and shower gels, anything that felt even the least bit decadent and reminded me I was human and deserving of feeling good in my own skin.”
Something inside his chest felt broken, crushed by the small bit she’d shared about her harsh reality.
He’d read her jacket. He knew what she did to land in prison.
But somehow, the woman he’d known, the woman filling his arms right now, didn’t resemble the person described in that thick file.
That this woman, with her natural beauty and ethereal glow—a glow that kissed her skin and tempted him beyond good reason—ever endured anything that made her feel less than treasured, made him ache inside.
He looked down at the thick, jet-black plait that fell over her shoulder, resting on the sepia-colored flesh of the mound of her breast. He clasped it delicately.
The soft coils tickled the thick, roughened skin of his fingers, and he wondered what it was about her that seemed to penetrate all the hardened and calloused parts of him.
Too afraid to let that thought take root, he focused on unraveling her neatly groomed hair. The thought of any part of her being bound, of him being unable to reach all of her, it twisted in his gut. When it was free, he breathed a relieved sigh.
He hadn’t known her before her prison sentence, but he imagined she looked something like she did now.
Her thick mane was wild and free, proud shoulders pulled back putting her gorgeous tits on display, wide ass and hips that promised him the ride of his life, and lips that threatened to make him lose his control when he fantasized about what they would feel like gliding across the skin of his painfully erect cock.
“From the first day I met you, you’ve always worn your hair bound. And every time I’ve laid eyes on you, all I’ve wanted to do was set it free and thread my fingers through it.”
He watched her heavy lids fall when his fingers lightly caressed her scalp.
It was so simple and yet it sent the heat burning through him up another notch.
“I can’t imagine what it’s been like rebuilding your life.
But if you ever need to feel treasured, you don’t need soaps and lingerie.
Please, just call me. Let me have the honor of pampering you. ”
She said nothing in response to his plea.
She simply leaned forward, the hunger in her eyes calling for him to meet her halfway.
He didn’t disappoint. He simply pressed his lips to hers and it was like throwing gasoline on a grease fire.
All the restraint he had melted once she parted her lips on a delicious moan and gave him the opening to lick his tongue out and taste her.
And boy did he taste her. Sweet and spicy, with the perfect amount of neediness mixed in made her flavor irresistible.
He tore his mouth away from hers and glanced down at her decadent body.
Ripe and lush with full curves, he couldn’t wait to feast. The sight of the black lace against her reddish-brown skin erased any thought he had of taking this slow and easy.
They could do slow and easy later. Now, he just wanted to devour her like a long-awaited gift he’d been endlessly hoping for.
She pressed herself against him and the painful thrill it sent to his cock made him hurry to unbutton his denims and slide his fly open. He moaned as the opened flaps gave him slight relief. But nothing would soothe this ache completely until he was buried inside her.
He placed his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath so he could speak.
He pulled his wallet out of his denims, snatching a condom out, slamming it on the counter on one side of her and his wallet on the other.
“Sen, baby”—he let his hands slide up her arms, trying to slow things down because he was ready to explode—“you know you don’t have to do this, right?
I’d be perfectly happy to take my ass on down the road if that’s what you wanted. ”
A knowing smile hitched the corners of her mouth into a sarcastic grin.
She smoothed a hand down his chest, raking his nipple with a single fingernail, making his blood rush in anticipation of where her journey was going to end.
He watched as it slowly continued until her entire palm was cupping his hard length.
When a tortured groan escaped his lips, she chuckled. “You sure about that? Because this feels like an urgent matter we need to tend to right now.”
She was absolutely correct. He’d hurt himself trying to get to his truck in his current condition. But he’d do it to make her feel safe. He pulled her hand from his cock and planted a soft kiss there before lacing his fingers with hers. “It’s not about me. It’s about you.”