Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
T roy collected the rest of the cards, shuffling as he asked, “Do you want me to separate them back into two packs?” Then he winked. “Before I claim my prize?”
“You are so cocky.” But he saw that gleam in her eye. Anticipation? Maybe she wanted this kiss as badly as he did.
She shrugged almost nonchalantly, although he wondered if it was as offhand as it appeared. “We might as well get the kiss over with,” she drawled.
He slapped the cards onto the table, then patted the seat beside him. “Come over here.”
“We could lean forward and do it over the table.”
Christ, she was a tease. “My win. My terms.” He patted the sofa again.
She rose slowly, and his mouth watered over her beautiful breasts, her long legs in those tight leggings that revealed how shapely she was.
She strolled around the coffee table, then sat two feet away from him, closed her eyes, and puckered up.
He laughed. “Oh no, you’re not getting away with that. Get over here.”
Hand on her hip, he dragged her across the couch until she was right beside him, their hips touching. Then he cupped her cheek, holding her like that for a moment, gazing into her beautiful, sensual eyes. He wanted this kiss to last. Maybe all night long.
“Now you can pucker up,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes again, puckering up like Popeye’s Olive Oyl. And he kissed those puckered lips, not raising his mouth from hers in case she said that counted as a kiss. Licking along her closed lips, he wanted to groan at her taste. He kissed and tasted and lost himself in her.
The stiff pucker she’d offered him softened beneath his kiss. As he again ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she parted them slightly. He was sure the sound rising from her throat was a moan.
He didn’t let her go, slipping his arm across her back, molding her against him as he eased his tongue into her mouth.
Then she opened for him, almost begging him to come in.
She tasted like cheesecake and the sweet curacao in the Blue Hawaii.
And hot, sexy woman. He was sure he could smell her pheromones swirling around them, combining with his, creating a miasma of desire.
He plundered her mouth until he couldn’t breathe.
There’d never been a woman who tasted as good, who smelled as sweet, who felt as soft against him. Their tongues flitted together, whirling, sucking, and then she was in his mouth, too, a groan of pleasure rising up from deep within her. She wound her arms around his neck, held him tight.
Christ, yes, she wanted this as much as he did. His hand moved almost on its own, dropping to her hip, pulling her up and over until she straddled him.
And the kiss ignited, her arms around his neck, his across her back, his hard ridge between her legs.
As she moved on him, his hard body caressed her sweet center.
She angled her head, her tongue going deep again.
They took each other—one moment she was the aggressor, the next he was.
Slipping his hands beneath her sweater, he rode her smooth skin up to her breasts.
She backed off enough to let him get his hands on the tight beads beneath her lacy bra.
He squeezed, rubbed, pinched lightly, sure the lace created an even greater friction as she moaned into his mouth and moved on him, mimicking the moves he craved.
Then she backed off, breathing hard, looking down at him. “I can’t breathe.”
“I’ll breathe for both of us.”
His greatest fear was that she would end this. He would freaking die if she did.
But she trailed her hand down his chest, reached between her legs, and stroked him. It was only with the greatest effort that he didn’t come right then. He was no young teenager, but her touch turned him into an animal.
Then she whispered, “Maybe we should do something about this.” And she squeezed him.
Oh God. She wanted him so badly. She didn’t care about tomorrow, didn’t care about consequences. In two seconds flat, he’d pushed the coffee table away with his foot. Then he stood, his arms still around her as she let her feet touch the carpet.
Holding her gaze, he asked, “Are you sure?”
She would have preferred that he didn’t ask, if they could just let it happen. But, hands on her hips, squeezing, he waited for an answer. And finally, she had to say, “I’m sure.”
He moved faster than a roadrunner, stripping off her leggings, her panties, her sweater, her bra. Almost in the blink of an eye, his clothes were gone, too, and they were skin to skin, his chest smooth and hot beneath her fingertips.
He lifted her again, as if she weighed nothing, laying her on the lounger, his big body coming down on hers.
He kissed her, stealing her breath all over again, then he licked and trailed kisses along her throat, her chest, her breasts.
She cried out as he sucked and swirled his tongue around a hard nub.
Her core turned to liquid, waiting for him, needing him.
He kissed his way down her belly, and the first touch of his tongue on her was like wildfire.
He took his time, even though she wanted him to move faster, as if he wanted to make her rise slowly, to make her wait, to make everything more intense, backing off when she moaned, coming back again and again to take her a bit higher each time.
She craved the peak so badly, and yet he kept it from her, turning her almost feral, a growl of need rising up her throat.
Then he slipped a finger inside her, stroked that tight inner spot as he swirled his tongue around her. The combination blew her mind, her soul.
Yet she wasn’t quite there yet. He knew it. He was doing it on purpose. He wanted her crazy, wanted her to beg.
And she gave it to him. “Please, Troy, please.”
He slipped another finger inside, filling her up. She writhed beneath him, her body arching, begging without words. Until finally, he sucked her hard, his tongue and his fingers driving her to the edge.
She grabbed his hair, tugged him close, her thighs around his shoulders, her legs shaking. Sensation built higher and hotter inside her, then all her nerve endings seemed to shoot down to her core.
And she screamed, coming hard in a whole-body vibration, his hand clamped on her butt as he held her to him, not letting up. She came, laughing and crying at the same time. Until she had to wriggle away from him as the intensity spiked, became unbearably good.
He looked up at her, his mouth wet with her taste. Her breath came in gasps, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, laughter bubbling up, something she couldn’t stop. And she whispered, “Oh my God.”
His gaze was deep and dark. “Was it good?”
She couldn’t tell him it was like nothing ever before. She couldn’t even admit it to herself, so she just nodded and gave a muffled, “Really good.”
He rose on hands and knees and crawled to her, like a predator ready to spring. Then he kissed her, hovering over her, his thighs bracketing her hips, his hands braced beside her shoulders, nothing else touching but their lips and their tongues, his taste and her taste mingling in her mouth.
Then he whispered, “Do you want everything?”
She had no idea what everything was. Because, somehow, what he’d done to her, what she’d felt, was everything. But still, she whispered, “Yes. I want everything.”
Leaning over, he reached for his jeans and extracted a condom. Before she could open her mouth, he said, “I swear I didn’t expect anything. But I hoped. And though I was never a Boy Scout, I’m always prepared.”
“You didn’t think I was a sure thing?” she asked softly. But she was so very glad he’d come prepared. He was an Olympian, and he thought of everything.
“Never a sure thing,” he whispered. “Just the best thing ever.”
Then she took the condom from his hand, tore it open, and handed it to him. “Put it on.” She cleared her throat when she thought she might choke. “I want to watch.”
It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, the way he touched himself, rolling down the condom, stroking himself to seat it properly. She wished suddenly she’d been the one to do it.
“I want you so bad, I’m shaking.” He held up a hand, and indeed, it shook.
Then she pulled him down to kiss her. He stretched out on top of her, his tongue filling her mouth as his body pushed her legs apart. She felt him right there, hard and ready. And as his kiss stole her breath yet again, she felt him ease inside.
He took her the same way he’d used his mouth on her, slowly, gently. His body stroked her on the inside, finding that sweet spot all over again, riding it, making her shake and quiver.
“How did you get to be so good?” she asked, immediately not wanting to know.
But he answered anyway. “Because I’ve been waiting for you for so long. And I wanted to make it perfect.”
He couldn’t have said anything that would make her heart soar higher.
Lifting slightly, he fit his hand between them, caressing her with the same perfect tempo of his slow stroke inside her. Sensation rose all over again with the sweetness of his touch and the hardness of his body.
Then wildfire rushed across her skin, through her limbs, down, down, down to her center, to him.
And she shattered around him. As her body clamped down on him, he took her hard and fast, the way she needed him to, the way she’d dreamed of.
The sensations went on and on. As if it were forever.
Until she felt his muscles tightening, and he growled like the predator he was, until he throbbed hot and deep inside her.
Arching up on his arms, his head back, throat stretched, his body tight to hers, he gave himself up to her.
Until finally he came down on her, gathered her into his arms, and held her tighter than anyone ever had in her entire life.