Chapter 18
Castle de Durbin
Angie craned her neck and peered through the windshield. “Where are we going?”
“To my place. I need to change.” He swept a hand down his torso and thigh to emphasize the point.
Hesitation clouded her features. Ignoring it, he turned into the driveway that led to his underground garage. “Come on. Let me show you around Castle de Durbin. Besides, my place is closer than yours.”
She hesitated. “Closer for what?”
“I need to get cleaned up.” He pulled into his parking spot. “I’ve seen your place. Aren’t you even a little curious about checking out my setup? Make sure I’m not lying when I say I bought all that PT equipment you told me to get?”
“Um …”
“C’mon, Ange. You know me. I don’t bite.”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” she scoffed, but it held a soft, flirty tone that lit him up.
He threw open his truck door. “Fair. I only bite when and where you tell me, so I can only assume you like it. And don’t forget, you bite back.”
When he came around and opened her door, the blush had returned to her face, but she didn’t resist when he helped her out.
An elevator ride up and he opened his apartment door, studying her face, gauging her reaction as she took in his digs.
His stomach curdled at the thought she wouldn’t like what she saw.
Eyes wide, she swiveled her head, scouring the walls and high ceilings. “Wow. So much potential.” She leveled her gaze on the floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed a Rocky Mountain panorama. “I’d live here for the view alone.”
His gaze followed the tour hers had taken. “Potential?”
“You’ve got a lot of white walls that would make the perfect backdrops for your pictures. Like a gallery, especially with all that light from the windows.” She gestured toward his couch and coffee table. “And lots of room for a comfy chair, some end tables, and a rug for a pop of color.”
“Huh. Let me show you the bedroom. You might be able to give me some decorating ideas for that too.” Like you, naked, spread out on top of my comforter. That sort of decoration would make the space way more inviting.
Christ, he was getting hard again just picturing the scene.
She cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him, and he couldn’t hold back a wolfish grin. “After that, I’ll show you the bathroom. There’s this huge shower that could probably fit the entire team.”
Her second eyebrow joined the first. He ambled toward her and lifted her ponytail, brushing it against his chin, where it caught on his stubble. “You picked up a little animal grime yourself today. I’d be happy to scrub it off you.” His eyebrows rode up and down his forehead.
“Why does your offer to get me clean sound so dirty?” Her lips tipped up in a smirk, but her eyes betrayed her when they dropped to his mouth. That’s when he knew he had her.
He pulled her against him, and she came willingly. Lowering his mouth to hers, he murmured, “Because it totally is.”
Her lips parted in invitation, and he didn’t hesitate to lay claim. Soon they were pulling off each other’s clothes, and he was walking her backward into the bathroom, tongues entwined and lips sliding in a sensuous dance full of the promise of so much more.
Unwilling to let her go for even a second, he fumbled with the shower controls. Cold water spurted on them, and he smacked at the handle, capturing her squeal of surprise as he shut off the water stream.
He backed her against the tile walls and caged her in with his forearms, his mouth on hers the entire time.
The little moaning noises she made nearly drove him out of his mind.
When she arched her back and pressed her sweet tits against his chest, he nearly launched.
It was as if someone had lit a match inside him. A pack of matches. A fucking bonfire.
Soon they were a hot mess of limbs, tongues, and rising moans that caromed off the shower’s stone walls. He needed to be inside her. Now. But when he tried to hoist her up and slide her onto his throbbing cock, his ankle complained. He wasn’t about to let it slow him down, though.
“Turn around,” he growled instead. The shower had a built-in bench that ran its length, where shampoo and bodywash and other crap rested.
He swept them out of the way, letting them clatter to the floor as he bent her over.
“Brace your hands on that ledge.” His voice was low, gruff, a gravelly command.
She obeyed, spreading her legs wide as she got ready to take him in, her beautiful creamy ass on full display.
Sweet Jesus!
He should have spent a few minutes getting her ready, but patience was a taut thread at its breaking point.
He gripped her hips, digging his fingertips into her soft flesh.
When he entered her, it wasn’t slow and it wasn’t gentle.
They each let out a shout, hers dissolving into a moan of desire and his transforming into a series of guttural grunts.
She felt so damn good!
He wanted to pause and linger, wanted to savor the feel of her body gripping him in its velvety vise, but his hips began to flex of their own accord.
Helpless to do otherwise, he let his mind go and let instinct take him where it wanted to go.
He thrust over and over, picking up speed, driving harder.
Soon he was pounding into her, their bodies slapping, the friction building to an unbearable ecstasy that formed a fiery pool at the base of his spine.
When she cried, “Oh God, Sam!” a bolt rocketed from that hot spot through him, seeming to leave his body at the same moment he emptied himself inside her.
Slowly, his conscious mind returned to him. He was draped over her back, his palms braced on either side of hers, his heart jackhammering against her shoulder blade. Their breathing was noisy, erratic, and completely out of sync.
She exhaled. Loudly. “Wow, you sure do know how to treat a girl.”
Shit, had he gone too far? Something about her sent him sailing off the Cliffs of Insanity. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all,” she purred.
Embedded deep inside her, self-satisfaction sizzling through him, he hauled her upright and cradled her back to his chest, trailing kisses along her shoulder, up and down her neck, relishing the taste of her salty skin as he went.
She sucked in a steadying breath. “Thought we were going to shower.”
His tongue swept out and traced the shell of her ear. “I have this problem when I’m around you. I get distracted, and I forget what it is I’m supposed to be doing.”
Turning in his arms, she wriggled free and rested her back against a different side of the shower. His shrinking dick immediately missed being enveloped in her warmth.
She raised her arms above her head in a pin-up pose. “I think I’m dirtier now that I was before. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
A salacious grin tugged his mouth. “I’m up for the challenge.”
When they would actually get through the shower, he had little clue … and it didn’t matter at all.
Angie’s stomach rumbled. “Have you got any food in that fancy kitchen of yours?” She sat propped against the headboard beside Sam, wearing one of his Blizzard T-shirts and nothing else, sipping on a vitamin water Sam had fetched from the fridge.
Floating in a state of suspended bliss, she leaned against his solid shoulder, loving the heat seeping from his skin through the fabric of the T-shirt.
It stroked her, caressed her, kept that side of her warm.
Not that she was cold, but the feel of him was a weighty comfort.
Having Sam beside her was like being wrapped in a security blanket.
He chugged his own vitamin water, wiped his gorgeous mouth with the back of his hand, and gave her a lopsided grin. “Sounds like you worked up an appetite.”
“Didn’t you?” Between last night and their latest escapades, she wasn’t only exhausted, she was famished.
After they’d finally cleaned up, they’d entered his bedroom damp and naked, and things had ignited all over again.
The current state of his sheets was irrefutable evidence of the way they’d burned them up.
The man was a beast, despite an injured ankle that should have hampered him.
The way he’d taken her in the shower and later in bed …
She couldn’t remember so much strength in one package before.
And she loved it. Loved that he could easily muscle her whichever way he wanted, that he turned all alpha when he was rocking into her, that when he lost control, he seemed to lose his mind.
And she loved knowing she was the reason.
He picked up a lock of her hair and twirled it between his fingers. “I could definitely eat, and to answer your question, I do have food. There’s this chef who brings meals and fills my fridge.”
“Wow. Living the fancy life.”
“He does it for a lot of the guys. If I were left on my own, I’d do nothing but takeout, which isn’t as healthy and probably more expensive.” He stood and held his hand out to her. “Let’s check the inventory and pick something out.”
She trailed after him in bare feet, admiring the way his gym shorts hung low on his hips and showed off his perfect, square man-butt she wanted her hands on. Her mouth on. As she was pondering getting that opportunity later, she noticed a hitch in his step.
“Are you limping?”
“Nope,” he tossed back easily as he entered the kitchen. She joined him beside the fridge, where he was scanning its contents. As if sensing her next question, without looking at her, he added, “I’m fine, Ange.”
“Mind if I take a look? I promise I won’t lecture. I just want to see. We were pretty … vigorous. If your ankle’s giving you trouble, we can do a mini therapy session after we eat.”
He levered himself to his full height and looked down at her. “A mini therapy session? Sounds interesting.” One corner of his mouth quirked.
She rolled her eyes in answer.
He leaned his elbow on the open fridge door and struck a contemplative pose. “It might have bothered me a little bit, but I have the perfect solution.”