Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Calvin didn’t think his heart had ever beat this hard. His entire focus narrowed to the feel of her lips on his. The taste of her mouth. The softness of her skin. The blazing heat between her legs. A lust like he’d never experienced burned through his veins. He wanted this woman desperately. Completely.
Another emotion lurked beneath his desire. Something deeper and more complicated that might have been growing ever since the moment she’d glared at him when he’d pulled her over that first night. Maybe the seeds had been planted nineteen years ago, and all it had taken was one bat of dark eyelashes over furious blue eyes to make them take root.
He was hurtling over a cliff with death waiting at the bottom, and he didn’t care because she was finally here, ready, willing, and his.
He should’ve taken her inside. Should’ve looked away from her to make sure none of the neighbors were watching. Should’ve treated her like a gentleman was meant to.
The problem was, he wasn’t feeling like a gentleman at all.
When he popped open the button of her pants and slid down the zipper, Daphne’s chest trembled with anticipation. Her hands slid over his chest and up to his shoulders, pushing his uniform out of the way. He loved the way she touched him. It was soft and sweet and desperate. She touched him like she never wanted to stop. Like there was something about his skin she couldn’t get enough of.
He knew the feeling.
Because the moment he slid his hand into her underwear, Calvin knew they weren’t going to make it inside until she came on his fingers. “You’re so wet,” he marveled, his voice rough as gravel as he touched her. “So wet and hot, Daphne.”
She let out a breath that might have been a laugh, her fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. Her nails dug into him, drawing a groan from his lips. He loved the way she kissed him, with an edge of wildness, a stubbornness, like she’d demand her pleasure from him if he held back.
This was the iron will he’d glimpsed in the flashes of her eyes. The side of her she kept well hidden, lest anyone think she was anything other than the perfectly responsible, perfectly good Daphne they saw.
But she’d demanded this from him the moment they’d pulled up outside his house. She’d kissed him like she’d craved it. And now she rolled her hips into his touch and panted out his name like the sweetest music he’d ever heard.
Her panties were lace. Again. Dark blue this time, so he could see the contrast of his skin beneath them as he touched her. He watched the movement of his fingers, studied the trembling of her stomach. He wanted to memorize this woman. All her moods, her shape, the sounds she made when she came for him. Calvin wanted to drink in every little detail, every reaction, every sigh, and store it away to examine later. He wanted to know all the ways she came undone. Wanted to be the man who learned every secret she kept locked away.
She felt perfect in his hand. Wet and soft and warm and so fucking perfect he couldn’t think of anything else. He stroked her until she trembled, fingers finding that bud of pleasure that made her pant. She looked so good when she was flushed and needy and desperate.
Sliding his finger inside her, he watched the flutter of her lashes against her cheeks. His cock was hard as stone, the pressure an aching reminder of what this woman did to him. It was impossible to stop the moan from escaping his lips when he felt the soft clasp of her on his finger. Daphne’s lips fell open as he touched her, her chest heaving when he pumped his fingers, then moved to circle her clit. The nails were back, then, little points of pain in his shoulders as she clung to him.
“You feel so much better than I imagined,” he rasped, nose tracing her jaw, the shell of her ear. “And I imagined you’d feel like heaven. Can’t wait to get inside you.”
If he could do that without moving from this exact position, he would. But he dropped his gaze to the movement of his hand, dark lace against his hand, soft, soft skin beneath his fingertips—
“Oh!” Daphne cried on an exhale, hips jerking. “Calvin—” Her hands scrambled for his own pants, but he clicked his tongue and slid another finger into her warmth.
“Stop touching me,” he said, curling his fingers until her mouth fell open.
Her eyes were hazy as they met his, the tips of her fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants. She licked her lips as he touched her, then shifted her gaze to the movement of his hand beneath the navy lace.
Nothing existed except her body, her breath. Time lost all meaning as Calvin’s attention narrowed to the woman sitting beside him. He felt dizzy with the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her. His own need became a feverish thrum inside him, the kind of insistent pressure that felt like it was too much and not enough all at once.
His will was ruled by her soft commands, whispered in the close heat of his car: Like that, don’t stop, softer, harder, yes.
He’d run headlong into hell if she told him to do it with that voice.
And then she let go. Her cry was a sweet surrender. The arch of her back an image Calvin would remember always. He drank in the line of her neck, the harshness of her gusted breaths, the feel of her hands gripped around his biceps, the jerk and roll of her hips as she chased the pleasure of his fingers.
Her eyes were hazy when he finally slid his hand free. He couldn’t resist pressing another kiss to her lips, loving the way she softened at the barest brush of his mouth against hers. Then he was furtively checking the windows to make sure they were alone as he haphazardly buttoned his shirt, and once he was sure they hadn’t been seen, he got out of the car and circled around to Daphne’s side. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him pick her up. Her cheeks were a soft shade of pink, her eyes the blue of a clear summer sky.
“I can walk now, you know,” she told him as he brought her to the front door, her voice still pleasure-drunk and sultry. “There’s no need to carry me.”
“I know,” he said; then he unlocked the door, picked her up again, and carried her across the threshold.