His eyes were dark and heated and on her. Unwavering. Fierce. Protective.
He was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. “It’s been a long time for me,” she admitted. “But I’m pretty sure I remember what comes next.” She played with the top button on his Levi’s, the backs of her fingers brushing against the smooth, taut skin of his abs, which were washboard ridged and hard.
“Lilah.” His fingers speared into her hair, holding her head in his big palms as he searched her gaze for God knew what. “How long is a long time?”
“Long. But I hear it’s just like getting on a bike.”
“Yeah,” he said, his words hot along her skin as his lips grazed her earlobe. “It’s just like getting on a bike.” He untied her sweat bottoms, causing a rush of heat to slide south.
As did her sweats.
They slid south right off her h*ps and onto the floor.
He took in the white boy-cut panties that indeed matched the cami and palmed her ass, which increased her heart rate and made her already hardened ni**les tighten even further. “What comes next, Lilah?”
That slowed her down a second. “You mean . . . you don’t know?”
His soft chuckle raised goose bumps on her skin. “This is your show. You call the shots.”
The thought of doing just that, in effect bossing this big, tough edgy man around in bed gave her a rush only a millimeter below an orgasm. She pulled back enough to look into his eyes to make sure he wasn’t just teasing. “Really? I’m in charge?”
His smile was slow and sure, and so hot she’d have sworn it singed the hair right off her skin. Yeah. She was in charge if that’s what she wanted. “You shouldn’t give someone that much power,” she whispered. “What if I take advantage?”
He slid a muscled thigh between hers. “You going to take advantage of me, Lilah?”
His tone suggested that would be okay with him, very okay. His hands were on the wall on either side of her head, his body pressed tight to hers.
And he was hard. Everywhere. “Yes,” she decided. “I’m going to take advantage of you.”
“Just remember,” he said hotly against her ear. “It’s my turn next, and turnabout is fair play.”
Oh boy. “M—maybe we should start easy.”
He laughed softly and kissed her with such gentleness that her heart quivered. “Easy works. Tell me what you want.”
“I’d rather show than tell.” She let her cami slip to her hips.
“Mmm.” Dipping his head, he ran his tongue across her nipple. “Show is nice. But I really like tell. Tell me what’s next, Lilah.”
“Fewer clothes—God,” she burst out when he sucked her into his mouth, “don’t stop.”
His hand pushed her cami down, and her panties with it, then slid between her legs. “Don’t stop what?”
She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
“Where? Where do you want me to kiss you, Lilah?”
She shivered at the thought of where she wanted his mouth, but he pulled free to look at her, waiting for her answer. “Everywhere,” she managed.
“Should I use my tongue?”
“Yes.” Her eyes closed as his fingers stroked her wet flesh. Tipping her head back, she cried out and arched into him when he slid a finger into her. It was all she could do to remain standing. “I’m—”
“Hot,” he said, his thumb softly outlining her wet folds. “Hot, and very, very wet.” His lips were moving against her breast, and when he sucked on her nipple, holding it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, her h*ps ground helplessly against him.
“Easy,” he reminded her, pulling back to blow on her nipple.
A shiver wracked her. And she couldn’t catch her breath. It felt like her blood had turned to liquid fire in her veins, and all she could think about was touching him, wrapping her fingers around him and making him as crazy as he was making her. She reached for the remaining buttons on his Levi’s, feeling his abs clench as she ripped open the jeans.
He was commando, and . . . big.
Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes, which were dilated and darkened, burning with desire.
“Are we stopping?” he asked.
“No.” She bit her lower lip. “But it’s not exactly like getting back on a bike.”
“It’s better.”
She let out a breath. “I was really hoping you’d say that.” She shoved the jeans down his legs.
Hauling her back upright, he kissed her hard and deep. They kicked their fallen clothes away while his mouth continued to claim her, rough and wild and erotic.
“Inside me,” she whispered. “Oh please. Please, get inside me.” She backed him to the bed and shoved him onto it. He arched his brow, but stretched out on his back.
Gloriously na**d.
Gloriously aroused.
“Come here,” he said, and gave her a finger crook.
Forgetting that she was supposed to be the one with the orders, she crawled up the bed and straddled him, moaning in delight at the feel of him beneath her, at the way his hands slid over her hips, cupping her ass, grinding her against him.
“Do I need a condom?” he asked, and she went still, her mouth falling open.
How could she have so thoughtfully lost herself as to forget birth control?
A wry smile touched his mouth. “You don’t have one?”
“No! Don’t you?”
“No.”
With a half laugh, half sob, she collapsed over him and dropped her head to his shoulder. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know where there are some stashed, does that count?”
She lifted her head. “What?”
“In the nightstand drawer,” he said with a jerk of his head, not taking his hands off her.
Leaning over him, she opened the drawer and found a stack of condoms. Probably Adam’s. “That was mean,” she told him, sucking in a breath when, hands tightening on her hips, he surged up and ran his tongue over a nipple. When he sucked her into his hot mouth with a strong pull, she decided to forgive him.
He reached for the condom in her fingers and tore it open. She took it back and rolled it slowly down his length, so slowly that he went from cocky and teasing, to swearing roughly, to begging for her to get to it.
She was still smiling smugly about that when she lifted up and slowly let just the tip of him inside her.
But it all backfired on her when the feel of him stretching her was enough to render her a panting idiot. She arched in an attempt to draw him in deeper but he held her firmly in place, his fingers digging into her hips.
“More,” she demanded.
“Thought you’d never ask.” He rolled her beneath him and pinned her to the mattress beneath his welcome weight, sliding all the way home.
“I thought I was in charge,” she managed to say, her hands gliding up the hard muscles of his biceps.
“My turn.”
The timbre of his voice when he was aroused was like a caress as he began to move in exactly the right rhythm to drive her out of her mind. Combined with his talented mouth on hers, and a clever calloused thumb oh so unerringly stroking her at ground zero, she was a goner, and she burst into orgasm with a startled cry.
“Again,” he demanded while she was still trying to put herself back together.
“I know it’s your turn and all,” she panted. “But you should know . . . I don’t take direction as well as you do.” He thrust deeper now, harder, pulling back each time until he was just barely inside of her, making her clutch at him. It was torment, it was ecstasy, the feel of his hard body taking her on a ride like she’d never experienced before. “Brady . . . ”
“I know.” Pushing up to his knees, he dragged her up with him so that she was straddling his lap. The new angle had him touching a spot that she hadn’t even known she had, and she arched back, crying out, lost in the sensations, lost in him.
Sliding his hand into her hair, he lifted her to him, staring deeply into her eyes. His mouth came down on hers, hot and demanding, pretty much just like the man himself. His hands were still holding her, completely controlling their movements, which should have been annoying. Instead, it turned her on, big-time. Her br**sts were crushed to his chest, her ni**les hard and aching, sending bolts of pleasure to her core every time he moved against her. His breath was hot on her neck, his teeth scraping along her throat, his muscles flexing as his h*ps rolled into hers.
“Open your eyes.” His voice caressed her as surely as his work-roughened hands did. “Open your eyes and come with me.”
And as he moved within her, she did just that. She opened her eyes, locked them on his, and her world exploded. Gripping her hips, he thrust hard inside her, finding his own long, silent release.
They kissed through the aftermath, rough and deep as they both came down from the high. Then he gentled the connection, softly touching his mouth to hers, moving it along her jaw to her forehead, where he lingered.
They collapsed together into the mattress, Lilah’s bones were . . . gone. Just gone. “Okay, that was so much better than getting on a bike,” she told him, still trembling.
He pulled her in tighter, holding her close, sharing his body heat, which he had plenty of. His mouth curved into a faint smile as he reached for the quilt as well, pulling it over them.
“I mean holy smokes . . .” she began, her breathing still irregular.
“I wasn’t going for holy smokes, I was going for what felt good.”
“Well, you nailed both. Can you imagine if there hadn’t been a condom?”
“You’d have seen a grown man cry.”
She laughed and he kissed her again, then rolled off the bed and vanished into the bathroom.
“So,” she said when he came back out, watching his very fine ass as he strode to the pile of their discarded clothing “you weren’t kidding about the cuddle thing.”
He pulled on his jeans even though he was still semi-hard. He managed two buttons and gave up, leaving the pants riding indecently low on his hips. It gave him a dangerous, edgy look to go with the fact that he was clearly ready for another round.
So was she.
She patted the mattress.
His gaze slid slowly over her, and her body reacted like his hands touched her everywhere his eyes traveled.
He walked back to the bed until his knees bumped the mattress. “Again?” he asked, voice thrillingly rough.
“Yes, please.” She cupped him gently through the jeans. “Who gets to be in charge this time?”
With a slight smile curving his lips, he shucked the pants and got in bed, his body relaxing into hers. Sprawling over the top of her, he entwined their fingers and lifted their joined hands to either side of her face, kissing her softly. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You’ve asked that question before.”
“Still don’t have the answer.”
“Neither do I, but I have several ideas.”
His soft laugh disturbed the hair at her temple as he pressed his lips there. “I was thinking you might.”
Ten
He woke up alone. Lilah had rocked his world once, twice . . . he leaned over the bed to count empty condom wrappers . . . three times, and then she’d . . .
Walked off before dawn.That was usually his role. “My own fault,” he told the mutt, who was sitting on his chest. “I was easy.”
“Arf,” the dog said in complete agreement, and licked Brady’s chin.
“You’re one to judge,” Brady said in disgust. “If someone even thinks about petting you, you drop and expose your kibble and bits. No soldier worth his salt does that. You’re like a damn dog.”
“Arf.”
“Okay, good point,” he said, shaking his head. “You are a dog. And so, apparently, am I.” He lay there staring at the ceiling for a moment more, replaying the night before. He’d loved watching Lilah’s animated face. As someone who’d forced himself to keep every emotion in check for the better part of his entire life, he found it endlessly fascinating.
He found her endlessly fascinating. He’d not been able to get enough of her, not of her body writhing beneath his, not of her soft sighs, her scent, her taste . . . And then there’d been the way she’d begged him for release when he’d had his mouth between her thighs—
Great. And now he was hard.
Again.
Still.
It was becoming a perpetual problem.
“Arf.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Brady rolled out of bed, showered, pulled on some clothes, and prowled around in the kitchen. He’d bought the bare minimum from the grocery store, which included the required frozen breakfast wraps. He tossed three on a plate and nuked them.
He’d have made a few for Lilah, too, except, oh yeah, she’d left.
Christ and she’d been right to do so. One night, that’s all she’d wanted. Hell, one night was all he wanted as well.
So why wasn’t he still grinning like a guy who’d gotten his rocks off three times?
Because he was brooding about her doing to him what he’d done to women his whole life. Which settled it. He really needed to have his head examined. A beautiful, passionate woman had had her merry way with him—and vice versa—and she’d left before dawn rather than face the awkward morning after, and he was bitching about it. “I need mental help.”
“Arf.”
“No comments from the peanut gallery.”