The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  “This is amazing,” Reilley called back over her shoulder.

  “That’s one word for it,” I said.

  She either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore my grouchy response. I pointed ahead to a roped-off area where Paisley was forcing a reluctant Jared to dance, while Madison, Tate Flynn’s girlfriend, looked on, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. I had no idea where Tate was, but he wouldn’t be far away if Madison was here.

  “There you are,” Paisley hollered, thrusting a drink in Reilley’s hand and shooting a glare in my direction. “You’re late.”

  “My fault,” Reilley said. “I had a conference call with my editor back in the States.”

  “Well, you’re here now,” Paisley pointed her chin at the glass in Reilley’s hand. “Drink up. Then we girls can go dance and leave these party-poopers to their iced water and boring male talk.”

  I took a seat next to Jared as Tate appeared. He sat beside Madison, picked up her hand, and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. When she looked back at him with such love and adoration in her gaze, I averted mine, a dart of jealousy rushing through me. I’d never have a woman look at me like that because I wouldn’t ever allow them to get close enough to fall in love. I owned my self-imposed purgatory, and I deserved it.

  Didn’t mean I had to like it.

  With Paisley leading the way onto the dance floor, I watched as Reilley ran her hands through her hair and tossed her head back, swaying to the beat. Madison leaned over to say something in her ear which made Reilley laugh so freely, I envied Madison. I’d never been able to draw such unrestrained laughter from Reilley. Then again, I hadn’t tried.

  Maybe I should.

  I couldn’t.

  I wanted to.

  “She’s beautiful,” Jared said.

  I frowned. “Paisley?”

  “Her, too, obviously. No, I mean Reilley.”

  I shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve noticed.”

  “Bullshit. You’d have to be blind not to notice. Shit, I’ve noticed, and I’m in a very happy relationship.”

  “She’s okay, I guess.”

  Jared laughed. “Devon, buddy, I’ve known you for two years now. I’m a pretty good reader of people, and while I have no fucking clue what’s stopping you from storming the dance floor and kissing the fuck out of that woman, I do know you want to.” He elbowed me in the ribs. “Don’t try to kid a kidder.”

  I twisted my lips to the side. “It’s complicated.”

  “Fuck, man. Show me a relationship that isn’t. Remember, I had to deal with Jack.” He laughed. “Whatever is holding you back, cut the ties, because, shit, life is too damned short.”

  The girls returning saved me from answering, but Jared’s words pinged around my head like a goddamn pinball machine. I invited over the server and ordered a large whiskey. She reappeared a minute later. I downed the thing in one, the alcohol burning on the way down, stripping the lining from my throat. Christ, I’d needed that.

  Reilley sat beside me, sweat beading her upper lip. I wanted to lick it off.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “They’re not even worth that much,” I said somberly.

  “I couldn’t disagree more,” she said. “Every word you’ve ever spoken to me has value. Getting you to talk isn’t easy, but when you do, it’s usually worth listening to.”

  I ran my gaze over her face, searching for a teasing curve to her lips or a sparkle in her eyes. Instead, I found an earnest expression filled with melancholy. She reached down and linked our fingers together. My pulse jolted at the physical contact, but I didn’t pull away. The sensations pounding through my veins were far too addictive to relinquish. God, it had been so long since I’d allowed myself to feel the tug of attraction for a gorgeous woman.

  “I need to tell you something, Devon,” she said, her top teeth nibbling along her bottom lip. She glanced around and, seemingly satisfied no one was listening in, she leaned closer. “I don’t just want your story. I want you.”

  I opened my eyes wide. “What?”

  She lifted my hand, then pressed it to her cheek, her skin so soft, so womanly. My eyes fell closed of their own accord, then snapped open when I felt her lips touch my palm.

  “Reilley.” Her name came out breathy, my voice hoarse and rasping. But my tone held a warning, too, one she must have heard because she let me go, and my hand fell to my side. I instantly mourned the loss of intimacy. Not for the first time, I cursed the fork in the road my life had taken. I tried not to let bitterness soak into my bones, stripping them away like acid, leaving behind a husk of a man. Feelings like those were destructive, and I couldn’t allow myself to be drawn into such ruinous emotions.

  “Okay, I gotta ask. Are you gay?”

  A laugh erupted from deep in my chest, chasing away the gloom. “No, I’m not gay.”

  She swiped the back of her hand over her forehead. “Phew. Cause I was worried for a second that my gaydar was way off.”

  “All in full working order,” I said.

  “So you’re not attracted to me then, is that it?”

  How the hell do I respond to that? The answer: tactfully with enough truth to sound plausible.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “Look, Reilley, you’re a very beautiful woman, but I’m not in the market for a girlfriend. My job is crazy busy, and I rarely get any time to myself as it is. I can’t see many girls putting up with how little I’m willing to contribute to a relationship, and I just don’t need the agro or the drama. Let’s just stick to the book, okay?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Who said anything about a relationship?”

  Heat rushed to my face. Shit. What a dick. I’d totally read that wrong.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

  “Chill, Devon. No need for embarrassment. Cards on the table time. I like you, even if extracting conversation is sometimes a challenge.” She grinned. “We’re consenting adults. I just thought, you know, a mutually beneficial tussle between the sheets might be fun. No strings.”

  My cock swelled, the idea of a ‘sort of friends with benefits’ arrangement with Reilley hellishly appealing. I missed sex, the feel of a warm body beside me in bed. It was intimacy and closeness I’d chosen to avoid because those things carried too much risk. But if Reilley was up for something more casual…

  I squinted at her. “In my experience, women don’t do casual very well.”

  She laughed. “Normally, I’d agree with you. The piece of information you’re missing is I escaped from a toxic relationship nine months ago, one that turned pretty nasty, and I’m not in a rush to repeat the experience. Casual works for me. Besides,” she shrugged, “in a few months the book will be out, and you and I will go our separate ways.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘nasty’?”

  She sighed heavily. “Let’s just say when I told Eric, that’s my ex, it was over, I found myself with my very own stalker. The police became involved and, eventually, he backed off. But it put me off getting too close to another man for the foreseeable future.”

  A dart of anger pierced my chest. What a fucker.

  Reilley captured my hand once more, tugging, encouraging me to stand. “Dance with me.”

  “I don’t dance. Correction, I can’t dance.”

  “Then come put your hands on me, and I’ll dance.”

  A rush of pleasure sent at least half my body’s quota of blood right to my groin. I followed Reilley onto the dance floor, weaving between swaying bodies, the strobe lights bouncing off the walls. Reilley didn’t stop until we’d reached the far side of the club, and as I looked back to the VIP area, I realized why. From here, it was difficult to see us. She’d read my reticence perfectly.

  Reilley took my hands in hers then placed them on her hips. My fingers tingled, the heat from her skin warming my palms. Her hands went to my upper arms, then slowly, she inched them higher, her fingertips brushing the sid
e of my neck, her thumb grazing my lower lip.

  My eyes fell shut, the noise from the club evaporating under her touch. She eased my mouth open, slipping her thumb inside. I closed my lips around it and sucked, reveling in the taste of her, the feel of her smooth skin on my tongue, the surge of pleasure coursing through my veins.

  Her mouth went to my ear. “Kiss me, Devon.”

  I cupped her face, tilted her chin up, bent my head gradually, savoring the anticipation. I hadn’t kissed a woman in over four years. Fuck, I hoped I remembered how to do it.

  Clearly I did, because Reilley shifted her hands, burying them in my hair, her nails digging into my scalp. She molded her body to mine, so close there wasn’t a millimeter of space between us. I slipped my tongue into her mouth, tasting mint and a faint trace of alcohol.

  Tasting Reilley.

  Fuck me, she tastes so damn good.

  I groaned into her mouth, my cock so hard I feared a wardrobe malfunction. Obsidian insisted on a dress code, so instead of my favored jeans, I was wearing smart pants.

  Positives: more room for erection growth.

  Negatives: material too thin.

  I eased my thigh between her legs, applying pressure to her clit. She must have approved of the move, riding my leg as if her life depended on it.

  After ten seconds of dry humping, she tore her mouth from mine, her chest rising and falling as rapidly as my own.

  “Fuck, Devon, we need to get out of here.”

  My forehead creased. “Why?”

  “I’m not sharing an orgasm I’ve been dreaming about for months with a bunch of clubbers. Now let’s go.”

  She grabbed my hand, towing me through the crowd. I followed with a broad smile, a hard cock, and a light heart.

  We spilled onto the street and right into a waiting cab. I just managed to give the driver the name of our hotel before Reilley straddled me, her mouth crashing down on mine, her tongue dueling, taking, fucking owning.

  Looked as though I did PDA after all.

  Reilley

  I stumbled through the entrance to my hotel room, the zipper on my dress already halfway down my back where Devon had begun undressing me in the elevator. His shirttails hung on the outside of his pants, the two pieces held together by a single button at the top. I finished what I’d started, impatiently tugging his shirt from his shoulders.

  Holy shitballs. I’d guessed Devon Gray was in good shape from the way his clothes graced his tall, lean frame. I hadn’t accurately guessed just how much. Damn, for a non-driver, the guy was chiseled, ripped, perfection.

  I fumbled with his belt. He took pity on me, unfastening it, moving on to the button on his pants, then the zipper. He toed off his shoes, dragged his pants down his legs, kicked them off to the side.

  “Help me with my dress,” I gasped, turning around.

  He did, piling it on top of his clothes. I went to move in to his body. I intended on kissing, licking, and sucking every single inch until he begged me to stop. And if he did? I’d beg him to allow me to continue.

  “Wait.” Devon’s hand came out in front.

  “What the hell for?” I said, frustrated.

  “Let me look at you, Reilley. I don’t want this to be over in five minutes. You’re worth savoring.”

  Well, fuck me to Hell and back. Devon Gray was a demon at seduction. How there wasn’t a line of women queueing up begging to be Mrs. Gray was a total mystery.

  Not that I wanted to be Mrs. Gray. Marriage didn’t interest me in the slightest. The thick erection visible through Devon’s boxers, though? Yep, I was definitely interested in that.

  I bit my lip, wondering how long he expected me to wait, while Devon’s eyes tracked over every single inch, starting at my head, ending at my feet, then back up again. I’d had an appropriate number of sexual partners in my twenty-nine years. Not too many, not too few. Not one had asked me to simply stand there while they ate me with their hungry eyes.

  “Devon—”

  “Shhh.”

  He took two steps forward, placing his forefinger over my lips. Excitement licked at my belly, sparks growing into embers that erupted into flames. I burned for this man, my skin breaking into sweat, my eyes locked on his. Fuck, he owned me. I liked to actively participate in sex. Some partners even accused me of taking control and refusing to cede a single inch. With Devon, I barely moved, watching, waiting, anticipating his next move, desperate for him to touch me but unable to form the words to ask. Well… more like beg.

  His lips curved upward, revealing a mere whisper of a smile. He reached for my hand and lowered his gaze. He traced my lifeline with his fingertip. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Devon, what’s going on? Have you changed your mind? It’s okay if you have.”

  It is not fucking okay if you have because I’m dying over here.

  “I haven’t changed my mind. I want this. I want you. It’s been a while, that’s all. I need a moment.”

  A while? For this… this… sex-on-a-stick-with-peanut-butter-ice-cream-and-a-cherry-on-top hottie? Jesus. Either he was seriously picky, in which case, hello! Top up my ego, please and thank you. Or… or…

  Yeah, I was out. I had nothing.

  “How long is a while?”

  “Over four years.”

  Wow! Devon Gray, the guy who could have his pick of women, yet hadn’t. For someone with an inquisitive mind like mine, that little nugget sent my snooping radar straight to DEFCON five.

  Stand down, Reilley. Now wasn’t the time to root around for answers.

  I curved my hands around his face and pulled him in for a kiss. I kept it brief, warm, affectionate. “It’s like riding a bike, gorgeous. You never forget.” I threaded our fingers together and led him over to the bed. I turned around, the backs of my knees touching the mattress, and tilted my head, meeting his gaze.

  Maybe I should take control after all.

  The second I had that thought, Devon’s hands gripped my waist. He lifted me and tossed me on the bed, crawling on after me. His mouth cut off my giggle before it had time to spill, his tongue surging inside, dominating, possessing, commanding.

  Oh yeah. He’s at the wheel now.

  He settled between my legs, his dick grazing my clit, enough for an involuntary gasp to erupt from my throat, but not nearly as much as I wanted, needed. I lifted my pelvis. Devon withdrew, denying me the contact I craved.

  Sliding my thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, I impatiently tugged. I got them halfway over his ass when strong fingers gripped my wrists, stopping any further progress. Devon rocked back on his heels.

  “Not yet.”

  He pushed my arms overhead and wrapped one large hand around both my wrists. Settling over me once more, he used his free hand to ease down the cup of my bra—thank Christ I’d gone for matching underwear—then bent his head, sucking my erect nipple into his warm, wet mouth.

  Oh, fuck me sideways, frontways, backways, any which way.

  My body spontaneously jerked. I wrestled to free my hands. Devon held me tighter, sucked on me harder, nestled closer.

  “Dear God,” I muttered when his teeth more than grazed the tip, a jolt of agony and ecstasy sending a rush of wetness straight to my core.

  “He won’t help you,” Devon murmured against my burning skin. “You’re mine now.”

  I almost screamed “Yes”, but refrained from making a total fool of myself by the smallest of margins. We hadn’t even fucked, and yet that’s exactly what I was: fucked. Instead, I emitted a strangled groan as Devon freed my left boob and gave my other nipple the attention it demanded.

  “Keep your hands there, Reilley,” Devon growled, releasing his grip on my wrists. “No moving, no touching. Not until I say so.”

  If he’d made such an order outside the bedroom, I’d have told him where to stick it. But something about Devon made me want to let him have his way, to see where his dominance led us, to let him dictate the pace, the speed, the position. To take control
of every aspect of our first encounter.

  And so I nodded.

  His eyes softened, and he pecked my lips. “Good girl.”

  My eyes fell closed, and all my other senses heightened. The feel of his velvety lips as he pressed tender kisses to my breasts, my abdomen, the inside of my thighs. The subtle scent of his bodywash and cologne tingling my nostrils. The soft, appreciative sounds he made as he devoured me.

  Devon slipped his fingers into the waistband of my panties. He removed them, satin brushing my thighs, knees, and calves. I opened my eyes in time to watch his dark head dip between my thighs. And then his tongue was there, right fucking there, tasting me.

  My head rolled back, my legs writhing, my pelvis tilting. That tongue.

  “Don’t stop. God, yeah, that’s it.”

  If I hadn’t been so lost in the moment, I’d have laughed. I sounded like a porn star. Any second I’d be shouting “Yeah, baby, give it to me hard. Just like that big boy. Ohhhhh yeahhhhh.”

  He brushed his hands up my sides, over my ribcage. He cupped my breasts then pinched both my nipples, hard, rough.

  I came. Loudly. My legs twitched as if I’d shoved my toe into the electric socket as wave after wave of pleasure coiled and twisted and spiraled within me, culminating in a climax worthy of having love songs written about it, such was the wondrous feeling rioting throughout my entire body.

  Jesus, Riles, you’ve gone from porn star to poet in five seconds flat.

  “Reilley.”

  Devon’s voice broke through the fog of gratification. My eyelids flickered, and I smiled up at him. “You’re a dark horse, Devon Gray.”

  He chuckled, planted his hands either side of my head, and kissed me, his lips tasting sweet, tasting of me.

  I wanted my lips to taste of him.

  “I take it I can move my arms now,” I said with a teasing grin. I didn’t wait for his permission, wrapping them around the back of his neck, and playing with strands of damp hair resting against his nape.