She bit back her pleas, but her mind willed him lower. Surely he could see the effect he’d already had on her. He must want more. She needed more.
As if sensing her struggle, he dove, the heat of his lips connecting with hers in a fierce, needy kiss. His fingers trailed over the light smattering of downy hair between her thighs, tugging gently, then harder. It was stimulation overload. All the while, his tongue explored her mouth with sensual determination, licking and sucking on her bottom lip before pulling her in deeper, every movement making her wetter, forcing her heart to beat faster.
It was all too much. Her body was ready to collapse in on itself, and the only way to survive was to ease the building pressure herself. With one hand still propping up her body, she reached between her thighs and began caressing herself, sending sparks of wildfire through her. Her body shook with every stroke, and she breathed a sigh against his lips. So close. So very close…
“That’s so hot,” he ground out, pulling away from her to watch as she tried to soothe the ache pulsing inside her. The old Sarabeth wanted to cover up. To stop and hide her face. But the new her loved the needy look in his eye as he clung to her every movement. When she finally stilled, panting and damp with sweat, it was because her body needed his.
Now.
“Please, Gavin.”
…
That was all he needed to hear. He pulled her hand away and dropped to his knees, landing straight in front of the sweetest sight he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d thought that her birthmark was scintillating the first time he’d seen it, and he’d known that her body was killer, but he had no idea exactly how perfect she’d look, splayed out as she was, on his kitchen table. It was a wet dream come true.
He took a deep breath, mesmerized by how beautiful every inch of her body was, and in the next instant he was tasting her. His tongue explored her lips, tracing her slit before pushing deeper. When he met with her clit, she fell back, her thighs shaking against his firm grip. Her back arched hard against the table and she strained toward him, her broken gasps like music to his ears.
He worked her with his tongue until whimpering moans became muttered cries. Taking it as his cue, he slipped a finger inside her gripping channel and she screamed.
“Sorry,” she rasped, clasping a delicate hand over her mouth.
He pulled back and shook his head, running his tongue over his mouth. “There’s no neighbors to hear you, Doc. Only me. And trust me, I want to hear it all.”
She gave a shaky nod and lay back down, and he returned to what was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime until he heard her soft cries begin anew. “That’s right. Let me hear you,” he ground out.
“Yessss.” She screamed a hoarse, needy cry, and his c**k throbbed, desperate to fill her. “I need you inside of me,” she chanted, her body bowing and quaking.
It was too much for one man to endure. With one last lick, he rose and gazed down at her. She was gorgeous. Her bottom lip was red and swollen from her biting down on it, and it made the cherry red of her cheeks that much more seductive. Her hair was wild tangle around her, her lids heavy with want. Her rosy skin begging for his touch.
He needed to deliver.
He straightened and yanked his pants off.
Her eyes were wide as she stared. “You weren’t kidding about that eight inches.”
He barked a laugh and took her in his arms, nibbling on the hollow of her collarbone before responding, “You been thinking about that a lot, Doc?”
He didn’t think her cheeks could have turned a deeper red, but he’d been wrong.
“I think this conversation is distracting from the matter at hand—” She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, giving him a firm pull and licking her lips. “Don’t you think?”
Damn, her touch was magic, sending bolts of desire coursing through him. His stomach tightened with every movement as she continued to work him up and down. The only thing that kept him from exploding was the memory of her wet, pink center. He needed to bury himself deep inside her and never, ever come out. But first he needed to get her onto a bed. No way their first time was going to be on the kitchen table.
Now to hope there would be a second time…
He pushed her hand away, ignoring her groan of disappointment.
“Come on.” He scooped a forearm under her knees and hoisted her into a fireman’s lift before starting through the living room.
“Where are we going?” she squealed, laughing. He wanted to answer, but the press of her supple br**sts against his back was distracting as hell.
He swatted her bottom gently, and she sucked in a breath.
“That’s for asking questions,” he muttered.
There was a tiny pause, then with the slightest hint of a smile in her voice, she asked, “What did you say?”
He spanked her again, harder that time, and her body squirmed. So f**king hot. The woman was going to be the death of him.
When he got to the top of the stairs, he pulled open his bedroom door and sprinted to the bed. He laid her in the middle of the sheets as he had in each of his nightly fantasies.
This time, he didn’t need to spread her thighs apart. She opened them to him, the best invitation he’d ever received.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.”
Her smile reached her eyes, and she hooked a come-hither finger toward him.
One thing was for sure. There was no way in hell she’d have to ask him twice.
She held her arms out, and he slid over her, leaning down to kiss the tips of her br**sts reverently. It was impossible to decide which part of her to touch from one moment to the next, her pale skin was all so soft and inviting. As he went, the ruby blush in her cheeks traveled downward, tinting her br**sts with a delicate pink that only made them that much more enticing.
He thumbed her center, her wetness perfect and ready for him. He was harder than a hammer, and every second was more of a struggle to get through than the last.
“Gavin, I need you,” she begged.
He growled and lunged for the bedside table, fumbling until he’d yanked the drawer open and gotten what he needed. With a quick tear of foil and both of their desperate hands on the job, he was sheathed and ready for her. Without another word, he reared back and balanced himself on his elbows. Her face was a mask of need as he cupped his c**k and pressed it into her, inch by straining inch. She was impossibly tight, almost to the point of pain, so wet and warm that her body seemed a perfectly molded paradise just for him.
“You feel so f**king good,” he breathed. He watched as she shook beneath his every movement, her legs hooked around his back to pull him farther into her sweet core.
Her hips rocked against him in mesmerizing circles. Every thrust was an invitation to finish it. Every flutter of her eyelashes, every soft moan, beckoned him to grip those toned thighs and pound, fast and hard, in and out of her until she was filled with him. His body demanded it, but he held back, waiting…waiting.
“I want to watch you,” he murmured, pulling back to make space between them.
She smiled and traced a finger slowly down her body, past her breasts, until she met her core. Her fingers moved as she rubbed her clit, soft moans escaping her lips with every delicate motion.
She tightened around him, her movements becoming frantic, and the blood pounded in his ears as her body dragged him toward the precipice.
“Come for me, love,” he commanded softly. “I want to see it.” Her cries were low at first but grew louder, and louder still as he flexed his hips faster and deeper with each thrust.
Then her walls quaked around him, squeezing and pulling, sucking at him as tremors racked her body. Her legs wrapped around him. Her back arched, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He gripped her thighs and ground into her in long, hard strokes. It was primal and savage, his need to fill her, but there was no controlling it. With a growl of his own, he collapsed onto her, his needy mouth closing on her neck as he came in hot, frantic spurts.
Long moments passed before his pulse finally steadied and she stirred against him. With a sigh, he pulled away, rolling to his side. He didn’t look at her. It was an uncomfortable thing, but there was a decision that needed to be made, and he wouldn’t be the one to make it. Was this going to be something she regretted instantly or…
“Well, that was…that was fun,” she breathed. He turned back to find her sitting with her legs slung over the side of the bed, smiling, her arms crossed over her still-rosy chest. She looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. Hope lodged in his heart, and he grinned back.
“I agree.” He’d been through plenty of awkward afterglows, but he’d never had to deal with knowing the person would still be living with him afterward.
“We’ll have to do it again sometime…soon?”
At first he thought he hadn’t heard her, but she was looking him in the eye so intensely that there was no way it could have been a mistake. She bit her lip hard enough that the thing looked fit to bust, so he rushed to put her out of her misery.
“Yes. As a matter of fact”—he leaned in and kissed her, pushing back the warning blaring in the back of his mind with a vicious shove—“why don’t you join me in the shower in five?”
Chapter Twelve
In the days since he and Sarabeth had first slept together, he’d made an effort to leave bed as little as possible, with the exception of working her case and getting her in shape for the basics of self-defense. Every time he thought he wouldn’t be able to muster the energy to pleasure her in every way he could imagine, she’d turn over in the sheets, and he’d catch a peek of those sweet pink nipples. Or she’d get out of bed to use the bathroom so that he could see the curve of her heart-shaped ass swaying as she walked away from him. By the time she was back in bed, his worries were always long forgotten.
He still had to leave more often than he’d have liked, but every time he got to come back to bed and find her there was another reward for all his hard work.
That morning, however, he slipped out while she slept, reluctantly leaving her in Maddy’s capable hands for an hour. He got to his office in record time, determined to get in and out so that he could get back in and out of Sarabeth as quickly as possible, but as he was about to enter the building, a motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to get a better look and found a lanky man leaning against a limo parked near the wrought iron gates. A fedora masked the upper part of his face, but Gavin took in the spindly build and lightning-shaped mutton chops. A mug shot flashed through his mind, and he examined the Roman nose. There was no mistaking the pockmarked face of Sal “Lightning” Lighterton.
The gangster stared back at him and made the slightest motion for him to approach, not raising his hand above his waist.
Gavin strolled over, hand on the butt of his pistol, senses alert, saying as loudly as possible, “Let me guess, Jimmy Too Short? Joey Baggamuffins? Johnny on the Spot?” If he was going to get information, he’d have to play dumb. And if he wasn’t going to get information, then he was going to need backup. Keeping him talking might be the only way to get the private parking lot feeling more public. Until then, playing dumb was his only option.
The thug laughed a wheezing, labored chuckle, then plucked the toothpick from between his ashy lips and pointed it at Gavin. “You’re real funny, huh? It’d be a shame if somebody slit that hysterical windpipe on you, so I’ma do you a favor. Listen closely—all’s we want is all the footage from The Healing Place so it can be destroyed. There are things my employer doesn’t want…seen.” His voice sounded as though there was a wasp perpetually lodged in the back of his throat.
“What would make him think I know anything about that?” Gavin said. His mind whirred. What possible motive could a gangster have for wanting tapes, other than continuing the string of blackmail Nico had started? Unless… His chain of thought was broken by Sal’s reply.