Chapter 27 Lara #2
I couldn’t look away from his eyes and the way they splintered with untold truths. “Calder—”
“What else?”
I wanted to probe, but I also didn’t want to talk about my sister any more tonight, which invariably was where that conversation would lead. So instead, I slid my fingers along the side of his neck, feeling the hammer of his pulse against my fingertips.
“This. Sternocleidomastoid. Thyroid and cricoid cartilage.” I traced over his Adam’s apple and then swept down to his collarbone.
“Trapezius. Deltoid. Biceps.” His skin felt like molten metal, hot and hard and impossibly smooth.
“Pectorals. Rectus abdominus.” His abs tensed as my hand climbed down their ladder, careful to avoid his wound.
“I used to think you had more than was anatomically possible.”
“Do I?” he rasped, his gaze lethal as it followed the path of my hand.
“Technically, no,” I answered, trailing my fingers to the V that cut in at his hips, and then dancing along the edge of the towel.
“So what do you think about me now?”
“I think . . .” I drew my lip into my teeth and hooked my fingers into his towel. “I think I still haven’t seen all of you, Wild Man.”
Leaning closer, Calder’s hand covered mine, directing it to release the fabric and let it fall to the ground.
There was no explanation for the way my lungs ceased to work and how my tongue felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Even godly didn’t seem to do justice to the specimen of man in front of me, though something otherworldly seemed appropriate to describe his massive cock.
The length jutted from a nest of dark hair, hanging low under its own weight.
He was so long and thick . . . maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t been able to see much outside, or once again I would’ve wondered if he—we were anatomically possible.
“Now you’ve seen all of me, Dr. Crane . . . what do you think?” he demanded again, and I swore his cock swelled the longer I stared.
“Now I think . . .” My eyes swung to his. “Now I think I need to touch you.”
There was hardly any space between us, but still Calder caught my wrist before I could reach him. “Calder—”
“You spent months studying my anatomy,” he said gruffly, eyes glittering with lust. “Now it’s my turn to study yours.”
In a flash of movement, he tugged me to him, swept his other arm around the back of my knees, and pulled my legs out from underneath me.
I fell back into the softness of the bed with something that started as a laugh and ended as a moan as he climbed over me.
He was mountainous like this, looming above me, hard and ridged and breathtaking, pinning my hand above my head.
His muscles rippled, strong and powerful and poised, like a predator about to devour his prey.
“Calder . . .” I rubbed my thighs together, loving the way he took the control I offered without making me feel weak.
His head lowered gradually, holding just a second above my lips before he claimed my mouth.
The kiss was slow and deep. Outside had been a surgery.
Demanding. Necessary. Life changing. But this .
. . the deep strokes of his tongue, the exploration, the cataloging of which spots made me moan and which drew me to shiver .
. . what was happening right now was an autopsy.
A systematic dismantling of my erogeny for his study.
And the man doing it was a different Calder.
The slow and in-control Calder. The reserved and determined Calder.
The Calder with the hungry eyes and slow touch that promised to peel me apart cell by cell before he put me back together.
“Calder.” It was a question and an answer all wrapped in one breathless plea.
He nipped at my upper lip, and I felt the pad of his finger press just above. “Philtrum.”
I sucked in a breath. “You remembered.”
He traced my lips and then took hold of my chin. “I’d never forget a single thing about you.”
And just like that, a blanket of goose bumps layered over my skin, my nipples pebbled, and a familiar heat flooded my veins. My core ached for him. Throbbed to the point of pain.
My eyes drifted shut as he pressed his mouth back to my jaw.
My cheek. My neck. “Sternocleidomastoid. Thyroid cartilage.” My throat bobbed as he covered each spot with slow, languorous kisses.
“Clavicle. Sternum.” The heat of his breath warmed his path, and as it reached my breast, I felt myself arching toward him, aching for that touch.
“What’s this, Dr. Crane?” he taunted, dragging his finger in a circle around the swell of flesh.
“Breast.” The word rushed out.
“And this?”
My eyes snapped open as he flicked my nipple. “Areola.” My reward was the heat of his mouth sealing over the sensitive peak. Instantly, I grabbed the back of his head, clutching him to me as his tongue swirled and teased.
He kneaded my begging flesh, plumping me to his mouth like a man starved.
“God, Calder,” I panted and gasped at the scrape of his teeth. Their sharp bite. And then the fast, soothing flick of his tongue.
For long minutes, I dissolved into an offering of whimpers and moans, a tithe to the torture of his mouth on one breast and then the other.
He didn’t stop—not even to breathe, it seemed—as he savored every bit of pleasure from my body.
Savored every inch of me until I started to squirm, my core so slick and needy for more.
I never knew anatomy lessons could be like this.
“Please.” I reached for his shoulders in some poor attempt to pull that mouth of his back to mine.
Instead, he moved in the other direction.
Calder bent between my thighs, and I’d never felt more on display than in that moment. He pushed my legs wide and spread my pussy open for his attention. A rush of heat welcomed his gaze, and all I could do was stare, his expression a masterpiece in salivation.
“Calder—”
“Don’t,” he ordered, his eyes gold daggers slicing into mine. “I don’t need help with this one.”
Oh god.
My arms started to shake, but I couldn’t look away. Not when I needed to brace myself for every touch that was to come.
“Clitoris,” he said as the pad of his thumb skated over the swollen bundle, sending me into a cascade of shivers.
His low groan caught my attention, and he slid two fingers along my entrance.
“Damn, that made you wet,” he rumbled and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.
“So wet for me, Dr. Crane.” And then he helped himself to seconds.
Gasping, I clutched the blankets at my sides. “Enough,” I panted, my nails scoring into his sheets. “Calder, please—”
“Shh.” He gave his head a slow shake, but his eyes didn’t leave my core. “I’m not done with my lesson yet.”
Air heaved from my chest, taking a strangled cry with it. “Calder—”
I didn’t get a second warning before his mouth covered me, and my eyes rolled back into a sea of white-hot stars.
Sounds rammed their way from my chest out through my throat.
I grabbed for his head. I needed him close—closer.
I needed the heat of his mouth, the dip and swirl of his tongue, the suffocating pull of his lips on my clit. I needed more of it all.
I’d asked him to be wild, and in turn he was making me insane. But I was doing the same to him.
Calder devoured me like he couldn’t get enough.
Not just of my sex, but of me. Of this moment.
Of my hums and quivers. Of my pleas and desire.
Somewhere in the onslaught, I’d hooked my legs over his shoulders and held on, with a prayer that I’d survive the way he consumed me.
The scrape and tug of his teeth. The hit of his tongue.
His lips tugged on my clit, and my hips pushed forward, arching for more.
Pleasure seeped from every pore, swelling with every stroke of his tongue and surging with every pull of his lips. By the time he paused his assault to let me come up for air, my head wouldn’t stop spinning.
“Who knew anatomy lessons tasted so good?” he growled, then sucked my clit hard and let it pop free. “There’s just one last thing . . .” His fingers picked up where his words had trailed off, sliding through my tight, sore muscles, preparing them for what was to come.
“Calder!”
“There it is.” His curled fingers stroked over my sensitive front wall, the nerves there humming on edge. “G marks the spot, Tomb Raider.”
His mouth found my clit again, and I was a goner. My pleasure spots hunted, tracked, found by the wild man I’d always wanted.
“Yes!” I cried as my orgasm knocked the air from my chest, crashing my body into a spiral of tremors, surging and gushing around him. Fast. Demanding. Destructive. The only thing I could do was hold on to him so it wouldn’t swallow me whole.
My chest heaved. My heart raced. And as the waves subsided, the first thing that registered was Calder’s deep, dragging groans as his tongue mopped up every ounce of my desire. It was everything . . . and not enough.
“Don’t stop,” I begged breathlessly, a big enough part of me afraid he’d try to be chivalrous again.
But the narrowed eyes that looked up and caught my gaze contained nothing of his golden chivalry—only that dark, savage hunger. As he rose over me, the light from the kitchen created a halo around him.
“I can never seem to stop myself when it comes to you. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.” His voice was resignation seeded with raw hunger, and my legs simply fell apart, leaving me spread and bare to his gaze because I didn’t have the strength to do more.
Calder splayed his hand on my stomach, giving him a front-row feel to my quivering as he fisted his thickness with his free hand, hardly able to close his grip as he guided himself to my entrance.
The tension in that moment was combustive, my whole body braced to take him again. His voice cut through the hazy fugue. “Open your eyes, Tomb Raider,” he ordered, and my lids snapped open. I hadn’t even realized they’d drifted shut. “Watch me fuck you.”