by Jo McNally
He tore his mouth from hers, running kisses down her neck, barely able to keep his lips away long enough to grunt out one word.
“Upstairs?”
Her head hit the wall with a thud, and her back arched to push her breasts into his very willing hands. His mouth moved lower, over the top of her shirt, finding its way to her right breast and nipping through her clothes. They were out of control, but he wasn’t moving until she answered him. She cried out, then gasped a breathy reply.
“Upstairs.”
* * *
WHITNEY HAD NO idea how they got up the steep staircase, seemingly without removing their hands from each other or ending their kiss. She didn’t remember the door opening, but she remembered Luke kicking it shut behind him, his mouth firmly on her breast. Wait. When did she lose her shirt? And her bra?
Her fingers tugged his hair until he released her nipple and lifted his head to meet her eyes. His pupils were so dilated his eyes looked black in the dim light from the single table lamp. Black with desire. With lust. For her.
A shiver of caution traced up her spine. She’d been looking for a distraction tonight. A scratch to an itch. An exploration of the odd little spark between them. A follow-up to that tender wine barn kiss she couldn’t stop replaying in her head. But right now, looking into Luke’s fevered eyes, half-naked and feeling reckless, she wondered if they were going to get far more than either of them anticipated. If they were going to ruin each other for other lovers. Because there was no doubt that Luke Rutledge had the potential to do just that.
Luke’s brow rose as she stared at him. His tight grip relaxed a bit. His voice was gravelly and thick.
“Are you putting on the brakes, babe?” He stroked her skin with his fingers, grinning at the groan she couldn’t hold back. He looked mighty proud of himself for making her sound like that, so uninhibited. Hell, he should feel proud. She’d been with a few men in her time, but she’d never made that sound before. His gaze cooled with concern. “I need to hear your answer, Whit. In words, not moans. You can say no anytime, but if you’re gonna say it, I’d sure as hell rather you do it before we go any further.”
She should stop this, for so many valid reasons. And she might have. If only his thumb wasn’t gently grazing the small of her back, sending goose bumps across her skin. If only it didn’t feel so good to have her bare chest against his. Hey, when did he take his shirt off? If only he hadn’t kissed her literally senseless downstairs. If only she didn’t want this...want him...with a hunger she’d never felt before tonight. Considering all the random thoughts weaving in and out of her head, she was surprised how strong her voice was.
“I’m not going to say no, Luke.”
She gave a quick glance toward the double bed, which was, of course, totally disheveled. His pillows were thin, and folded in half. The faded blue sheets were untucked and twisted, and the light quilt had been kicked to the foot of the bed, where it tumbled like a waterfall to pool on the floor. Shoes and sneakers were tangled together under the bed, along with some random, mismatched socks. A pile of folded T-shirts was stacked on the floor, side by side with a stack of jeans and shorts. Whitney had stayed in plenty of luxury hotels around the world, and she’d never seen a bed look so inviting.
Luke’s lips pressed together and he stared hard at her, as if waiting for her to change her mind. She slowly moved her hands up his chest, letting her thumbs flick across his nipples, causing him to hiss in a sharp breath, his own hands tightening around her waist. He still didn’t move, but she could see flames there in his eyes. Flames that surely mirrored her own. She flicked her thumbnails across his chest again, playfully trying to break him out of the trance he’d fallen into.
She’d never played the role of temptress before. But right now? She was a woman going after what she wanted. Not in the boardroom, which was suddenly inconsequential, but in the bedroom. Or, to be more accurate, a studio apartment that included a bed.
“This was my idea, remember?” Her hands slid down his ribcage, resting just inside his low-riding jeans. “You need to believe me when I tell you I. Am. Not. Saying. No.” She pushed up onto her toes to kiss his cheek, and he closed his eyes. “I’m saying yes, Luke. I’m saying take the rest of my clothes off. The rest of your clothes off. I’m saying take me to that bed of yours and—”
Before she could finish, Luke tugged her hard against him. His mouth landed on hers and all hesitation was gone. Buttons came undone. Zippers were unzipped. She kicked her jeans off in one direction across the floor and he kicked his in the opposite.
He said one word sharply. “Bed!”
Whitney laughed. “I think we’ve already established that.”
His teeth nipped at the base of her neck. “Not talking to you. Molly.”
Who? Oh, the dog. Molly the dog. Whitney rolled her head to give Luke better access and saw the brown dog walking forlornly to the puffy green dog bed by the sofa. Tough luck, Molly. He’s mine tonight.
Something happened to the space-time continuum when she and Luke kissed. Clothing vanished without warning. Locations changed with no sensation of moving. It was the only way to explain how Whitney came to be lying on Luke’s bed. The pillows, top sheet and quilt were nowhere to be seen. It was as if some giant hand had swept the bed clean and placed her there, wearing only her pink lace panties.
Luke stood next to the bed, thumbs hooked into the top of his dark boxer briefs, starting to draw them down, but frozen midway. He looked as surprised to find her there as she was to be there.
Whitney decided to embrace her new brazen side. She nodded at his hands. “What are you waiting for? Keep going.”
His smile started in his eyes, and he complied with her demand. The result was...well...the result was a fully naked Luke Rutledge, and she finally got to see what that delicious happy trail of dark hair led to. Oh, my. If she’d had any doubt he wanted this to happen, those doubts were long gone now. He was rock hard and ready. She reached for her panties, but Luke stopped her.
“Uh-uh-uh. Those are mine.” He kneeled on the edge of the bed, stalking toward her. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t form words. His calloused hands caught the edge of the lace and he slowly—oh, so slowly—pulled the pink panties down her legs. As he slid them past her feet, he lifted one foot and kissed her toes, one by one. Could she die from this? From a man kissing her toes? She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, but he was having none of that.
“Eyes on me, Whitney. Eyes on me.”
She watched as he kissed his way up her leg, caressing and kneading with his fingers as he went. He kissed the top of her knee, then lifted her leg and licked the tender skin behind it. She cried out so loudly she clamped her hand over her mouth in horror. She wasn’t a screamer. She usually had to concentrate to have an orgasm the regular way, so why did she feel like she almost had one just now, as Luke’s tongue slid across her skin? Behind her knee?
Strong fingers wrapped around her hand and pulled it away from her mouth. She got lost in his eyes, feeling another wave of ecstasy threatening to drown her.
“The sun won’t be up for hours, Whit.” He smiled, his voice calm and sure. “We have all the time in the world. Don’t hold back. For one night, this night, neither one of us needs to hold anything back.”
“But I don’t want it to be over too soon...” She winced, knowing she was whining. Luke kissed her shoulder, laughing against her skin.
“Well, if that happens, we’ll just have to do it again.” He ran his nose up her neck, nibbling her earlobe and making her tremble. “And again.” His lips brushed the side of her face, kissing her temple. “And again.” He kissed her mouth, pulling away before she could return it. “We’ll do it as many times as we have to. Or until one of us passes out from the effort. But right now I feel like I could be here with you for hours on end without running out of steam.” Another kiss. “How about you?”
His nose was touching hers, his chocolate eyes looking down, filled with desire and promising a night filled with passion and abandon.
“I don’t know how to do this...”
Luke frowned, raising his head. “You don’t know how...? Whitney, are you...”
“Oh, my god, Luke!” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No, I’m not a thirty-one-year-old virgin. I know how to have sex. I’ve done it more than once. A lot more.”
His face twisted. “Yeah—don’t need details. Thanks. What don’t you know how to do?”
How could she possibly explain this? Obviously, he’d had plenty of nights where he did things over and over. Goodie for him. And for the lucky women he’d been with. She’d clearly been sleeping with the wrong guys. Or maybe it was her. Maybe she was the defective one. Scientifically speaking, if her experiences with men were always something less than randy all-nighters, then the likeliest cause was the common denominator—her. It was only fair to come clean. To lower Luke’s expectations.
“My body isn’t...wired right, I guess. I’m not an over-and-over-again kind of girl. Just ask any of the men—”
“Again, don’t need those details. Not now. Probably not ever.” He studied her intently. “You’re afraid.”
“I am not afraid.” She gestured around the apartment. “Again, my idea, remember? But I don’t want you to be expecting more than I can—”
His kiss silenced her. Hard and insistent. Firm, yet full of tender promise. How did he do that? His hand moved up her side, leaving a ripple of chills on her skin that made her breath catch and her abdomen clench. How did he do that? He raised his head and she was horrified to hear a whimper escape her lips. There was a quick spark of humor in his eyes.
“Whitney, if this little meltdown of yours is because you’re feeling more turned on than you’ve ever felt with another man...well, feel free to say that.” He kissed her softly, speaking against her lips. “Tell me as often as you like.” Another kiss. His hand slid up her neck to cup her face. He stared into her eyes. “But believe me when I tell you I know exactly what you’re feeling. I’m a long way from being a virgin myself, and no woman has ever made me feel anticipation like this.” He dropped his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. His words, rasping and deep, burned into her soul. “I want to taste every inch of you, and I want to take my time doing it. Then I want to taste you all over again, to make sure I didn’t miss a spot.” His fingers trembled against her skin. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But if tonight is it for us...if we’re both feeling the same weird kind of magic...then let’s just...roll with it.” His eyes opened again, dark and hooded. “Unless you don’t want—”
She put her finger on his lips. “I want. I really, really want.”
His mouth curved into a wide smile beneath her finger, and he kissed it.
“Good, ’cause I’m so hard it hurts.”
The graphic confession surprised a laugh out of her, and it was exactly what she needed. She relaxed in his arms. She’d deal with tomorrow when tomorrow got here. But right now she was naked in bed with a man who wanted to taste every inch of her. Yeah. She was definitely going to roll with that. She removed her finger from his mouth and kissed him.
Kissing Luke Rutledge was her new favorite thing to do. But she had a feeling having sex with him was about to make a strong fight for first place.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LUKE TRIED TO wrap his head around the fact that Whitney Foster was naked. In his bed. Under his pulsing body. She wanted him. And she was laughing as she kissed him. And it was the sexiest damn laugh he’d ever heard.
His sexy times with women generally involved a quick release. A one-night stand with some tourist in town long enough to be someone’s bridesmaid or see her kid sister graduate college. No expectations. No complications. No feelings.
It was a good plan. And lying naked with Whitney was not. There were complications he couldn’t even imagine. And expectations? Hell, his expectations were all over the map. He expected this to be the best sex of his life. He expected this to be a disaster once the sun rose. He glanced at the bedside clock. Dawn was still six hours away. They could have a hell of a lot of fun in six hours.
He traced his kisses along her chin and behind her ear. Her body arched against his and he could swear she was purring. No matter what he did or where he touched her, it was the right place. The right touch. He wasn’t doing anything special. It just...worked...with her. Everything just...worked. He kissed the base of her neck and grinned when she whispered his name.
Luke hadn’t lied when he’d told her he wanted to taste her everywhere. But they had all night for that. Right now, he needed to be inside of her. He needed it like he’d never needed anything else. He grabbed at the jeans hanging off the headboard. Whitney made that needy, whimpering sound again, amping his heart rate into the stratosphere. He was pretty sure he had a condom in his wallet...his fingers closed around a thin square of foil. Thank you, God.
He tore the packet open with his teeth and slid the condom on. Bracing his forearms on either side of her head, he kissed Whitney hard and fast. Damn, this woman was more intoxicating than whiskey neat.
“Baby...” He breathed the word more than spoke it as he slid into her. Whitney rose to meet him and he had all he could do not to come right then, the minute he entered her. He tasted blood from where he’d bit the side of his own mouth to control himself. Neither one of them moved, and he knew she was fighting to make this last, too. Fighting just as hard as he was.
He didn’t know which one of them finally started to move, but it was pure bliss when it happened. They were in perfect rhythm. Her arms wrapped up around his ribs, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. His hands cradled her face, and he couldn’t look away. Couldn’t even blink. They moved together. They breathed together. They sighed each other’s names together. They picked up the pace together. And he saw the moment her pupils dilated before she closed her eyes and fell apart around him at the same exact moment his whole world vanished in a flash of white.
“Luke? Luke?”
The word was familiar. A name. His name. Someone was saying his name. He let out a low groan.
“Oh, thank god. I thought I’d lost you for a minute there. I need you to move...”
He shifted, and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He’d just had earth-shattering sex with Whitney Foster. Hot damn.
“You okay?” He shifted again, putting his weight on his arms.
“You and I need to stop asking each other that.”
He looked down at her. Hair splayed out like shadowy flames on his sheets, skin flushed and pink, lips soft and kiss-swollen, eyes a little unfocused but shining with contentment.
Damn straight.
He’d put that look there. A twitch from between his hips told him that his body, although still recovering from the first time, was ready and willing to do it again. He dropped his head to her shoulder.
“I think you almost killed me.”
* * *
WHITNEY KNEW EXACTLY what Luke meant. If their kisses altered space and time, their sex had managed to bend all laws of science. No one’s heart should feel like it was about to burst like that—it couldn’t be healthy. Even now, it hammered against the inside of her rib cage. Her skin was chilled and on fire at the same time, twitching randomly with little aftershocks. It was more than a little scary. But boy, had that been fun.
It had been fast. They’d both been holding back, trying to slow down, but it was impossible. Their bodies took control of the situation. No thinking required, thank you very much. Just moving together and letting the flame race down the fuse, leading to an explosion that left her—left them both—senseless for a moment.
Luke groaned, sliding off her to remove the condom. She hadn’t even thought to ask about protection in the heat of t
he moment earlier. She was on the pill, but still...she was always so careful. Instead, it was Mr. Unorganized who not only had protection, but knew where it was and used it. Before she could analyze that thought any further, a jolt of electricity went through her. His mouth was on her breast. His fingers were sliding between her thighs, and she remembered his promise.
I want to taste every inch of you...
Yes, please.
Everything was slower this time. He lingered over her breasts until she came, just from that. Well, that and what his fingers were up to. He traced kisses down her stomach to join his magic fingers, and she didn’t even try to stifle her cries when he took her over the edge again. And again. How did he do that, damn it? What was his secret, that he could make her entire body burn with desire? Pulse with need. Shudder with release. How many times could she do that before her heart quit?
“Luke...?” Worry tainted her voice. Worry that it was too much. That he was too much. And then he was over her again, his voice soft and sure.
“Easy, baby. It’s okay. I know what you want.”
And hey, he did know. He filled her, absorbing her moans with a kiss that lasted forever. They moved slowly, completely aware of each other as their hands explored and their mouths never parted. How was she breathing? Who cared? The heat built more slowly this time, but once it flamed, they were both done for. She went first. Luke kissed her tears away, then breathed her name across her skin before joining her.
She woke in a tangle of arms and legs—a pretzel of sated bliss. Luke was asleep, his chest to her back, face nestled into her neck, arms wrapped around her. Their legs were entwined. She was too warm, but she didn’t move. Didn’t even think about it.