Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
KAYA
“We made the best dessert, Miss Kaya.” Tucker pats his belly then sags in his chair.
This kid is too cute for words. “You get more credit than me.” I load the last bite of tart onto my fork and lift it to my lips. “You did all the hard work.” I pop the berries and cream in my mouth and resist the urge to moan as it hits my tongue.
I don’t miss Ray’s shameless staring or the fire in his eyes as the fork slides from my lips. His eyes have been on me the entire meal. Fixated on my eyes, my mouth, my throat when I swallow.
Since his cooking lesson earlier, a low hum has glimmered in the air between us. Subtle yet tangible. An ever-expanding bubble of anticipation. And each time I glance up to see his eyes on me, memories of him, of us, flit through my mind. The hard lines of his body pressed flush to my softer curves as he stepped into me. His breath warm on my skin, lips ghosting the sensitive flesh beneath my ear. His hands on mine, guiding me, controlling me during the lesson . The shiver that rolled down my spine to the tips of my limbs when he praised me with a breathy good girl.
“Yeah, I did,” Tucker says, snapping me out of my reverie. “But you’re the best helper, Miss Kaya.”
I set my fork down, wipe my mouth, and smile at Tucker. “Thank you. We make a good team.”
Across the table, Ray freezes.
Worry swirls in my belly as I study his blank expression. As I mentally repeat my exchange with Tucker, wondering what triggered his reaction. But I don’t ruminate long.
His shoulders visibly relax as tenderness softens the corners of his eyes, his vacant expression replaced with something more affectionate. Longing. Reverence. Unrivaled tenderness. A gentle smile tugs at his lips then vanishes just as quickly.
Ray scoots his chair back and rises. “T-Man. Why don’t you and Kaya go pick tonight’s movie while I clear the table.”
Tucker shoves his chair away from the table and fist-pumps the air. “Yes!” He scurries to my side, grabs my hand, and puts all his strength into yanking me from my seat. “Come on, Miss Kaya. Let’s pick a movie.”
Snickering, I move to stand. Tucker’s exuberance for the simple things in life melts my heart. “Go turn the TV on,” I suggest. “I’ll be there in a second.”
Tucker bolts for the living room.
“Let me help.” I pick up my plate and glass but don’t get far.
Ray rounds the table and blocks my next step, his hand cupping my elbow as he shakes his head. “I got it.” He inches impossibly closer, leaning in, his breath tickling my ear.
Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump .
My heart rattles my rib cage as my lungs beg for air. Eyes rolling closed, I get lost in his proximity, the way he makes my blood sing, his sweet and spicy scent. Him .
Ray is the sun—radiant and warm, steady and constant, essential and boundless—and I am but a planet basking in his glow, grateful to be in his orbit, anchored by his intensity.
His fingers trail up my arm from my elbow. Unhurried. Unmistakable. A transcendental caress.
Goose bumps dance over my skin as a shiver rolls up my spine.
“Mmm,” he hums near my ear. “You have no idea what that little shiver does to me, Fire Eyes.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but as I inhale a shaky breath, Tucker calls me from the living room.
“Miss Kaya…” he says my name with fussy impatience. “Come on.”
Ray’s hand falls away as he snorts under his breath. Tipping his head toward the living room, he shuffles back and reaches for my dishes. “Go.” His fingers stroke mine as he takes the plate from my hand. “Or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
At a loss for words, I swallow, nod, and release my grip on the plate. Blink out of my foggy state and attempt to compose myself as I spin and amble toward the living room.
Several negotiations later, Tucker and I agree on the same superhero movie. He insists we leave the lights off so it feels like we are at the movie theater. A great idea, I concur and take a seat on one end of the couch, Tucker sitting in the middle.
Salty butter wafts through the room as Ray enters with a bowl of popcorn and two glasses. He hands Tucker the bowl and insists he swaps seats with me on the couch so he’s closer to the end table. Ray hands me a glass of wine, takes the now vacant seat, and presses every possible inch of himself to me. Not a breath exists between us.
The movie blurs as superheroes fly across the screen. Character conversation echoes through the speakers, but I don’t catch a word of it.
In this atomic blip in time, all I can focus on is the way his body feels pressed against mine. The heat wave pulsing between us. The turbulent whir of energy beneath my skin and in my bones. The faint crackle in the air as his hand drifts closer, closer, closer. My ragged breaths mingling with his. And then his fingers weave through mine. Slowly. Impeccably. I melt into his touch, so intimate, so intense, yet nowhere near enough.
Time is measured in staggered breaths and inconsistent heartbeats. Every stroke of his thumb sparks a new fire. Every ounce of his weight has me weeping for more. The movie drags on far too long, but the entire room comes into hyperfocus when Ray shifts and leans impossibly closer, his lips at my ear.
“He’s out.” Inching back, his penetrating gaze pins me in place. “Sit tight while I put him in bed?”
Buzzed from his proximity, his touch, and a little from the wine, I nod.
He sets his glass on the table, pauses the movie, scoops Tucker up from the couch, and pads across the room to the stairs. When he disappears from view, my breath catches in my throat.
Since our kiss in the kitchen, every heated glance, every fevered touch, every strategically spoken word has been a match strike to the kindling that is our next step. The most tantalizing foreplay. And I’m on the literal cusp of shattering.
I want him. Need him. More than air. More than anything.
Is it too soon to take the next step? Every cell in my body screams to leap, to claim him. Unfortunately, my mind isn’t fully on board.
Yes, Ray and I are the epicenter of our relationship. But it’s foolish to ignore the aftershocks of each step we take. One wrong shift could set off an endless chain reaction. We may be the core, but everything we do impacts more than just us.
Before we make the first ripple, I need to know if we’re both on the same wavelength. With this, we can’t assume.
Light footsteps echo nearby, and I become keenly aware of Ray moving through the dimly lit room. Neither of us says a word as he resumes his spot next to me on the couch. As his leg, hip and arm wedge mine. As our heavy breaths and my thunderous heartbeat steal my hearing.
The television screen saver kicks on, darkens the room further, and I gasp. The air crackles, charges, takes on a life of its own. Perspiration licks my skin as the couch dips, and I’m hyperaware of his chest pressed to my arm. Of his calloused skin on mine as he laces our fingers.
My breaths come in short, stuttered sips as I twist to meet his gaze in the dark. And when our eyes lock, I stop breathing altogether.
Intense and palpable, his want , his need , his ache reflects my own.
With a single look, any concerns I had vanish.
Inch by drawn-out inch, he eviscerates the last bit of distance between us, the soft thrum of anticipation swirling in my belly. My eyes fall shut a breath before soft, warm lips sweep mine in a chaste caress. Taking a small taste. Hinting at what’s to come.
Cupping my cheek, he changes the angle of the kiss, holds me steady, keeps me in his control. In a matter of heartbeats, the kiss turns unyielding, insistent. A moan rumbles his chest, his tongue darting out and trailing the seam of my lips in silent permission.
Fisting his shirt, I part my lips and let him in. Taste him for the second time tonight. Twirl my tongue with his and melt when he moans into the kiss.
Goose bumps dance over my skin as his fingers trail my jaw, my pulse point, the nape of my neck, before curling in my hair. At his mercy, he tilts my head the other way, fists my hair harder, plunges his tongue deeper. I take everything he gives me and silently beg for more.
With a yank of his shirt, I haul him closer. Moan unabashedly as his lips flutter over my jaw, the shell of my ear, the length of my throat. He feels it, doesn’t he? My pulse throbbing under his lips. My fevered skin on his tongue. How desperate I am for air as he licks the length of my collarbone.
Head tipped back, I open my mouth to tell him I need more—of his lips, his taste, his touch—but the words die on my tongue. A shiver rolls through me as he pulls away. Confusion knits my brow as mortification eases in. I drop my chin to my chest, swallow, and keep my eyes shut.
Is he having second thoughts? Does he think this is a mistake?
God, I hope not.
“Look at me, Fire Eyes.” His voice is a seductive caress, a delicious plea.
On a shaky inhale, I ease my eyes open and meet his waiting gaze. Undiluted hunger shimmers in those dark irises. Unfiltered lust stares back, begging to be satiated. But the longer I stare, the more I realize that’s not all. Past the carnality lies something… deeper. Softer. Significant. An emotion neither of us should disregard.
Apprehension.
Gaze locked with his, I lift a hand to his face. Stroke the scruff on his jaw. Caress the apple of his cheek.
His eyes roll closed as he leans into my touch. Then he twists to kiss the heart of my palm. So tender and a complete juxtaposition to the man kissing me a moment ago.
I like how romantic and kindhearted he is one moment, and libidinous and urgent the next. I like that he doesn’t hide who he is from me, that he shows me sides of himself not everyone gets to see. His vulnerable side.
My thumb traces his bottom lip, my eyes following the action. “What’s wrong?”
He kisses the pad of my thumb. “Need you to know I have no expectations tonight.”
My gaze flits to his and holds it. “Me either.”
“I dream about us, though.” His hand on the nape of my neck flexes. “How good we’d be together.”
Adrenaline races through my veins as an ache blooms low in my belly. Suddenly, my skin is too hot. My clothes too tight. I swallow past the pulsing swell in my throat. “Me too,” I admit, voice dry, breathy.
Hunger swirls in his dark irises as they dart between mine, a litany of questions lingering in the air. But he doesn’t ask a single one. Instead, he rises from the couch with my hand still in his. “Come with me?”
With a stilted nod, I tighten my hold on him and push up on unsteady legs. “Yes.”
Ray guides me through the house to the stairs, our pace unhurried. One foot in front of the other, we ascend. Thrill swirls in my belly with each step. Desire pools between my thighs as we hit the landing. Hand in hand, we enter his bedroom. He closes the door behind us, the gentle snick of the latch deafening.
Golden light filters through the room and highlights a massive bed in the middle, fluffy pillows at the head, a tufted bench at the foot. An accent wall behind the headboard, as well as the wide floorboards, stained a rich brown. Cream floor-to-ceiling curtains cover the far wall and shield what I’m sure is a spectacular view of the mountains. The occasional pop from black, brass, and ivory fixtures and decor offsetting the rich, earthy tones.
As I survey the rest of the room, I feel him at my back. His heat. Every inch of his broad, muscled frame molded to the length of mine. His strong, capable hands curl around my hips. His nose dives into my hair, inhaling deeply, a faint growl vibrating his chest.
On a shudder, my eyes roll shut.
Humming, his grip on my hips softens. Inch by slow, tempting inch, his fingertips flutter up my forearms, my biceps, along my collarbones. My body quivers under his touch. Cries out for more as he sweeps my hair off my shoulders.
His breaths a warm staccato at my ear, I gasp. And for a beat, time stands still. Neither of us moves. But as quickly as it stopped, time speeds back up.
He shifts his hips and pins his impressive length firmly to my lower back. Hisses between his teeth as his hands drift down, down, down the outer swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist. When he reaches the flare of my hips, his grip turns bruising. His fingers flex and knead once, twice, and then haul me back until nothing exists but him.
Every delicious, solid inch of him pressed to me, he drops his lips to the curve of my shoulder. “I want you, Fire Eyes.” He peppers kisses up the length of my neck until he reaches the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “God, I fucking need you.”
The last of my restraint snaps.
Maybe it’s the heat of him at my back, his hands in all the right places, or the sheer lust in his voice. Maybe it’s all the above. Either way, it shatters my self-control.
I spin around, push up on my toes, and claim his mouth. Lick the seam of his lips and suck the bottom one with unfettered hunger. Devour his moans as he opens for me and meets me stroke for stroke. Relish in the fire that burns brighter, hotter between us as he kneads my curves and shapes my body with his in a new way.
Strong arms snake around my waist and hoist me off the floor, our kiss feral as he pads across the room. Then he lowers my legs, my feet landing on a soft rug, the edge of the bed grazing the back of my thighs. His hands coast up either side of my body, over my shoulders, along my neck to cup my jaw.
Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead on mine, a hint of trepidation rimming his eyes. “Please tell me you want this.” His gaze drops to my lips. “Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”
I weave my fingers through his hair. “I want this. I want you. ” I fist his thick strands and give a slight tug. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before his lips seal mine with a scorching kiss. A kiss that puts all its predecessors to shame.
Inch by mile-long inch, my hands drift down his chest to the hem of his shirt. The need to touch him, to feel him skin to skin, overrides everything. I shove his shirt up, skim my fingers over each delicious ridge and dip of his abdomen. He tears his mouth from mine long enough to tug the shirt over his head and toss it aside. Then his lips are on mine, our tongues tangling as if it’s the first time. And the last.
My body sighs as he caresses the apples of my cheeks, grows hot as he trails the length of my neck, wobbles as he roams the lines of my collarbones. Delicately, precisely, his fingers slip under my dress, ease the strap off one shoulder, then the other. The cotton puddles at my feet as I tear my mouth from his, tip my head back, and gasp.
He doesn’t stray from my body for a single beat. Greedy lips kiss the line of my jaw. Eager fingers caress my bare back until they reach the hooks of my bra and set them free, the lingerie joining my dress on the floor. Goose bumps freckle my skin and I shudder.
His tongue darts out and he tastes the sensitive skin beneath my ear, licks a trail of fire down the length of my neck, traces the hollow of my throat, then nips and sucks and savors the swell of my breast.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips and fingers memorizing my curves. “Absolutely perfect.”
A desperate ache blooms low in my belly, an insatiable hunger pooling between my thighs and dampening my panties. My nipples pinch and stiffen to hard peaks. My body vibrates, desperate for more.
Instinct takes over and I reach for his shorts, clawing at the button, greedy for more of him. Every kiss, every touch, every breath in this moment feels essential. Primal. Feral . It’s too much and nowhere near enough.
I pop the button of his shorts and drag the zipper down the teeth. Groan when they hit the floor with a resounding thump . Then his mouth is back on mine, starved and wild. His hands clutch my hips, kneading, bruising. Then he eases up. Gives me more of his weight as he guides me down onto the bed.
“So soft,” he whispers against my lips as his fingers caress the curve of my breast. “Delicate.” His thumb circles then rolls over my nipple. He takes my mouth in another searing kiss, then nips my chin and drifts down to explore my body. I gasp as his tongue flicks and teeth graze a trail from one breast to the other.
Nip.
My fingers dive into his thick locks, my body writhing beneath his weight.
Lick.
Kneading fingers massage their way down my sides then hook in the waist of my panties.
Suck.
Frenetic energy coils around my spine, expands low in my belly, and screams for relief. With each touch, taste, hum of his approval, I crave more. Beg for more.
If I’m a dormant fire, he is the oxygen triggering my explosion.
Slowly, purposefully, he slides my panties down my hips, my thighs, then tosses them to the floor. The room goes impossibly quiet as I lie bare beneath him. Every inch of me on display, vulnerable, exposed.
Those rich, dark eyes lock with mine as he kisses his way down my body slower, with more tenderness, affection. As he worships me from my navel to the apex of my thighs. As he hooks one thigh, then the other over his shoulders.
“Dreamed of this moment,” he confesses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Tasting you.” Fire flares in his eyes. “Fucking you with my tongue.”
His admission fuels the roaring fire inside me. Makes me impatient, ravenous. More brazen than ever. “Then taste me.”
His eyes flare as he clutches my thighs in a bruising grip.
Gaze anchored to his, I wet my lips and swallow. “Fuck me.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, giving my thighs another squeeze. Then, with his eyes still hooked to mine, he drops down and drags his tongue through my center. A feral growl vibrates against my skin as his nails bite my flesh.
My fingers dive into his hair. My back arches off the mattress. Again and again, he flicks my clit with his expert tongue. But it’s not enough. I need more pressure, more of his rough stubble.
I dig my heels into his upper back. Rock my hips into him. Tug his hair.
He burrows deeper and fulfills my silent request for more. Moans his approval against my clit and devours me libidinously, without shame.
It’s been too long since I’ve had sex. Since I’ve been fully immersed in the feeling of it all. Of someone else’s hands and lips and tongue on my skin. Their fingers gently caressing and hungrily kneading my flesh. How different the buildup feels, especially after hours of foreplay.
I want to live in this moment forever. In my fevered skin, too tight for my body. With my lungs heaving as I pant and plead for more air. With this constant, wild hunger for more—of him, of this, of the things we have yet to explore.
His tongue teases my clit as his finger trails up and down my entrance. On the next stroke, he thrusts inside and fills me. Gasping, I bow higher off the bed. Slowly, shamelessly, he pumps in and out as he takes my clit between his lips and sucks. His eyes never leave mine as he inserts a second finger, as he curls them slightly and hits that sweet spot deep inside me.
Meeting him thrust for delicious thrust, my legs quiver and body trembles. My mind dizzies and lips tingle. Each flick of his tongue, each pump of his fingers, I climb higher and higher, my breathy whimpers the crescendo of the most luxurious anthem.
“That’s it, Fire Eyes. Give me what’s mine.”
Tightening my grip on his hair, my knuckles burn as I dig my heels in and seek more pressure. Unabashedly, I grind against his face, his rough stubble, his formidable tongue and talented fingers. Roll my hips in time with his thrusts. Cry out as I edge closer to the precipice.
Heat ripples from the center of my chest, up my neck and blooms on my face as my orgasm swirls, expands, intensifies, takes over. “Oh, god,” I mewl as the first wave hits.
He moans against my clit, his fingers unrelenting as everything in me tightens.
My eyes slam shut, stars dancing behind my vision as I yank his hair and clench my thighs. Tremors rack my body as I work to steady my breathing. As I slowly come down from the best orgasm of my life.
“Fucking perfect,” Ray whispers as his fingers ease out and he unhooks my legs from his shoulders.
Boneless and dizzy, a lazy smile curves the corners of my mouth. But it quickly morphs into surprise when he grips my waist and flips me onto my belly then hikes my hips up.
The swish of a drawer opening, followed by the crinkling of a package, floats through the room. On the next breath, I feel the thick head of his cock at my entrance. He flattens a palm on the small of my back, his hand gliding up my spine and pressing my shoulders into the mattress.
“You make me wild, Fire Eyes.” His fingers thread through my hair then curl and twist. “Feral.” With a swift tug, he yanks my head off the mattress. “Ravenous.”
I moan and rock my hips back.
A growl vibrates the air as his other hand bruises my hip. “So eager.” He licks his way up my spine, then moves to my ear. “And all fucking mine.” Then he rocks his hips and fills me with his thick length.
Our fused groans ring throughout the room. I fist the bedding and revel in the feel of him, the delicious stretch between my legs, how full I am.
“God, you’re tight.” He eases out then rocks his hips forward again. “But damn, look how good you take all of me.”
A hand in my hair and the other at my waist, he pistons his hips faster. Thrusts in and out harder. Hits that sweet spot deep inside again and again as he sets a sublime pace. Skin slapping skin bounces off the walls and mingles with our immodest moans.
He tugs my hair as his other arm bands around my waist and lifts me until I’m flush against his chest. I hook an arm back and comb my fingers through his hair. Turn into him and claim his mouth. Pin him to me as I taste and take and devour.
Deft fingers trail up my body, knead my breast, dig into my flesh, tweak my nipple.
I whimper into the kiss. Fist his hair harder. Bite his bottom lip.
“You love it like this, don’t you, Fire Eyes?” He yanks my head to the side and licks the curve of my neck. “Rough.” He nips my earlobe. “Filthy.”
“Yes,” I rasp out.
He clucks his tongue in my ear. “Such a naughty girl.” He grips my chin and twists my head until his eyes lock onto mine. “ My naughty girl.”
“Yours,” I moan.
He claims my mouth and rocks his hips impossibly harder, faster. Releasing my chin, his hand dips between my thighs and circles my clit. “Give it to me, Fire Eyes.” He pounds my body relentlessly. “Come on my cock.”
A little more pressure on my clit, and my body detonates. A relentless torrent, my orgasm pulses again and again, taking over all my senses.
“Good fucking girl,” he praises, breathy, before he bruises both my hips and roars out his own release.
I drop forward on the mattress, limp and sated… and officially ruined by the man behind me.