Into Temptation

by Pam Godwin

  “Doesn’t mean anything. I love your monstrous cock.”

  He throbbed behind his zipper, engorged past the point of pain.

  Tension mounted. He didn’t force his way in. She didn’t push him out. They just stared at each other for an endless, unblinking moment.

  Then they moved. He grabbed her as she climbed his body. Lips colliding and hands grappling, they locked in a battle they would both win.

  The door hadn’t even closed before he had her pinned against the wall. She tore his fly. He wrenched down her pants. In a frenzy of shredded fabric, they managed to rip enough clothing out of the way, and he was in her.

  Christ almighty, he was all the way in, plunging to the root and submerged into soaking wet heat. Her hips rose to meet his, questing, demanding, and he gave it to her. Nailing her against the wall, he fucked her with the unbridled force of his strength.

  It was so incredibly hot, this unhinged frenzy between them, this mutual, maddening urgency to climb closer and closer until they dug out their souls. They couldn’t keep their hands and mouths off each other. Ripping at clothes, kicking away shoes, they were naked and tumbling across the floor in a matter of seconds.

  She thrashed beneath him, her eyes the color of rainclouds. Perky, flushed tits. A complexion so pristine and fair. Sinful pink lips—one set bruising his mouth while the other swallowed the full length of his hunger.

  His hips moved like a piston, chasing his release. The sensations blew his mind, the pleasure out of this world. He was going to come. Really fucking hard and soon.

  He broke the kiss and held her gaze, his balls tightening, the pressure nearing detonation. “Tell me you don’t need me.”

  “I don’t need you.”

  He pulled out, rose up, and finished all over her chest and face, grunting and shaking in a surge of liquid ecstasy. With a firm grip, he continued to stroke from base to tip, milking every drop and spraying jets of come across her shivering flesh.

  When his nuts went empty, he climbed to his feet, his insides jumping with wild anticipation of her reaction.

  She sniffed haughtily, sat up, and reached blindly behind her. Her hand landed in his bag near the door. Without a word, she pulled out his favorite fur-felt cowboy hat and wiped it across her chest, collecting his come on the expensive fabric. She used the underside on her face, cleaning every drop of him from her skin. Then tossed the hat back in his bag.

  He stood there in absolute disbelief, staring at her. His hat would forever be traumatized.

  Opening her legs, she ran two fingers along her slit and slipped them inside, her wicked eyes fixed on his. “I don’t need you.”

  The fuck she didn’t. She needed his cock, his protection, and above all, she needed his love. But rather than forcing any of it on her, he turned on his heel and strode toward the bathroom.

  One round with this woman would never be enough. Already, his dick was swelling with blood, pulsing to get back inside her.

  Halfway to the bathroom, her footsteps hit the floor, sprinting after him. He didn’t have time to turn before she was climbing up his back and biting down on his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Then she slapped him across the head.

  His temper flared, and he spun. She spun with him, sliding to her feet while landing a torrent of punches on his spine and ribs. His seething frustration culminated in World War III when her open palm collided with his ass.

  She fucking spanked him.

  He froze and felt her go deadly still behind him.

  “Rylee.”

  “Tommy.” Her voice shook.

  “You better run.”

  The mad ravings of Rylee’s thoughts withered beneath the impact of Tommy’s searing glare.

  Oh, shit. She’d done it now. He was going to kill her.

  Her heart rate spiked, hammering at her to flee. But with Tommy, she never did the smart thing.

  In a bristling surge of fear, she slapped his face, making his cheeks bloom redder, hotter, madder than ever.

  His hands balled at his sides, his cock outrageously long and swollen between his powerful legs.

  Beautiful.

  Dominant.

  Terrifying man.

  “Go ahead.” She stood taller, despite her knocking knees. “Hurt me just like you promised.”

  His nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes. When they opened again, his anger was leashed, focused.

  “Love hurts,” he said. “It lashes out when tempers erupt. I might say shit I don’t mean, but I will not strike you when I lose control.”

  Like she just did.

  Her face tingled, chilling at the implication.

  “You want me to hit you out of anger, so you can push me away.” He touched her chin, lifting it. “You want me to cheat on you, so you can blame me when you run.” He lowered his hand. “I won’t do it, Rylee. I’ll grab your throat in the heat of passion because it burns you up. I’ll beat your ass because it makes you wetter than sin. But I will never cheat on you, nor will I ever hurt you out of anger.”

  “You hurt me when you fucked me in the desert.”

  “Weak argument. We were both raging. With hunger.”

  Buzzing ignited in her ears. She shook her head, unable to escape the thrashing of her pulse. “I don’t trust you.”

  “You’re too scared to try.”

  “I’m old enough to be your mother. A hard pass.”

  “That was a lie. A bullshit attempt to chip away your confidence. There’s no excuse for it. I was in the wrong. You know all my secrets, and I felt cornered, embarrassed by my mistakes. You had the advantage. You still do. You have the power to destroy me.”

  “I do not!” She drove her fist against his stone-hard chest. “See? You don’t even move!” Another punch. “You chained me in the desert.” Punch, slap, punch. “You strangled me until I passed out, left me with no water, and starved me for days.” She pounded her knuckles in a fit of fury, her eyes hot with tears. “I can’t forgive you. I won’t. What kind of woman falls in love with a sadistic bastard?”

  He stopped the barrage of her fists with a bear-hug, lifted her off her feet, and brought her down on her back on the bed.

  “A sadistic woman, that’s who.” He lay atop her, trapping her hands and hovering his face an inch from hers. “And this bastard loves you.”

  She felt a cracking, rupturing sensation around her heart, and all at once, something burst, letting in air and warmth and terrible possibilities.

  “No.” She was breaking open, falling apart. “Stop playing with me, Tommy. If you’re going to hurt me, just do it. Get it over with!”

  He kissed her. Open mouth. Sweep of tongue. Gentle strokes, slipping along the inside of her lower lip. It hurt. Not like a fist. It hurt like hunger pangs. It was a helpless, gnawing, painful need way down deep inside.

  Delving deeper, he roamed the caverns of her mouth with a skill that electrified. Her knees turned to water. Her arms went slack between them, and currents of insidious heat flooded her breasts, prickling the peaks.

  He kissed her with tenderness, his hands flowing over her body with devotion, drawing pleasure beneath her skin, making her hungry, needy for more. He tasted of warmth and something rich and masculine and loyal. He tasted like her fantasies.

  Never, never, had she been touched or kissed with such sublime adoration. His tongue moved in her mouth with agonizing respect as his fingers traced her breasts with reverence. His cock lay hard and thick against her belly, leaking from the tip but not stabbing. Not taking.

  She could battle his cruelty with fists. She could fight his ruthlessness with hateful words. She could sink her teeth into his stone-cold rage.

  But she couldn’t attack his affection with violence. She couldn’t hit him when he kissed like this. When he kissed her like he well and truly loved her. She wasn’t that hard-hearted.

  But she wasn’t naive, either.

  He would grow bored. Whatever this infatuation was, it wouldn’t last. He would m
iss the excitement of the chase.

  His mouth trailed down her neck and suckled her breasts. The pressure of his lips, the swirl of his tongue, it was too perfect, too familiar, as though she’d spent her entire life in his arms.

  His hand, strong and long-fingered, slid between her legs, tracing the shape of lower lips and rousing sensitive nerve endings. She throbbed, and his mouth nuzzled her quivering belly. Liquid heat flooded her pussy, and he continued to explore, tease, and slowly dismantle her kiss by kiss.

  She wasn’t stopping this. She couldn’t. He was too talented, and she wanted it too much.

  “This is just sex.” She twisted her fingers in his thick hair.

  “This is our bodies following the demands of our hearts.”

  “I bet that line gets you laid every time.”

  “My heart”—he sank a finger inside her—“never felt a damn thing during sex. Until you.”

  “That’s a lie. Everyone’s heart pounds when they fuck.”

  “My heart pounds when you walk into the room.”

  “You’re deranged.”

  “No, merely in love. With you.” He nipped her inner thigh. “Hurry up and love me back so we can do this without fighting.”

  “You can’t love me, Tommy. I’m too broken.”

  “If you’re broken, I’m broken. Christ, you look good enough to eat.”

  With his shoulders wedged between her legs, he stared at her cunt. Then he caressed her, stroking wickedly and stealing back, gentle around her opening and firm thrusts straight through the center.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, her entire body shaking with the need to come.

  “You’re not thinking through this.” She gasped, clenching around his curling fingers. “You love women.”

  “I love you.”

  “You love pussy.”

  “Yours, no question.”

  “Do you love my pussy enough for it to be the only one you touch for the rest of your life?”

  “Yes.” He met her eyes. “I’m one-hundred-percent devoted to the stunning artwork between your legs and the beautiful stubbornness between your ears. So much so that I will answer these infuriating questions honestly every time they arise for the rest of our lives.”

  He buried his face in her cunt, scattering her thoughts on the tide of her gasps. The heat of his breaths was heaven, his lips firm, the voracious strokes of his tongue exceeding her desires and filling her with more.

  Blazing light spread beneath her skin, stirring and shimmering and lifting her higher, higher, higher. Just as she reached the brink of climax, he pulled back. His heat, his kiss, all touch was gone.

  “Tell me you need me.” He stared at her, his mouth glistening, waiting.

  Stunned, she stared back. Confusion crashed into realization and simmered into outrage.

  He was trying to control her through orgasm denial? Kissing her with an agenda? Toying with her to get what he wanted?

  Fuck him. She refused to surrender like a doormat. She also knew she would never win this fight. He had the stamina and willpower of a superhuman machine.

  No more games. She was done.

  Done with the manipulation and the cheating and the emotional pain.

  “I don’t need you.” She reached between her legs to get herself off.

  He watched her hand but didn’t smack it away. His body tensed, but he didn’t overpower her with his strength. Didn’t try to dominate her in his Draconian way. Something flashed across his expression. Disappointment? Frustration? But he didn’t leave.

  Instead, he lowered his head and placed his mouth against her hand. His tongue joined her fingers. His fists gripped her thighs, holding her open, and before she could process the unexpected turn of events, he pushed her, hard and fast, through an unstoppable climax.

  Rippling waves of pleasure poured through her, trembling her limbs, her moan of completion one of barely contained victory.

  But she didn’t feel victorious.

  She felt like shit. Made worse when he pressed a loving kiss between her legs.

  His eyes lifted to hers, blinking, raw, stark with vulnerability. “You’re not the only one who’s afraid of getting hurt again.” He pushed off the bed and stood before her naked, open, his hands hanging at his sides. “It scares me how much I need you.”

  I need you.

  Three words, so simple and ambiguous, reached into her chest and shook her. They sneaked under her guard and gathered up the most broken parts of her.

  I need you.

  “Ten years ago,” she said, voice cracking, “you wrote those words to your girl.”

  “And my girl heard them. She listened to me. She was there for me. I need my girl to keep doing that. I need you, Rylee.”

  “I’m not…” She pressed her fingers to her brow and released an anguished breath. “You were livid because I invaded your privacy.”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  For a man who’d spent most of last week glaring instead of talking, she couldn’t fathom what the fuck had changed.

  Except she knew.

  He was telling her, showing her, and she just couldn’t accept it.

  “Someone else could’ve bought Caroline’s jacket and logged into her account,” she said. “I could’ve been anyone. You can’t hinge this on the emails. Why do you need me?”

  “You challenge me at every goddamn turn. You keep me in check, never backing down. You don’t cower in the face of fear, not even when you’re trapped under a bed and hunted by a hitman. You’re crazy as hell, but you have a levelheaded grip on your moral compass. You think your heart is subtle? That you don’t show it or share it with anyone? That’s not true, Rylee. I watched you cry for your neighbor. You cried for that motel clerk. And you cried for me when I burnt Caroline’s house.” He dragged a hand down his brow, his nose, his mouth. “As if all that wasn’t enough to send me off the rails…” He looked up, his gaze touching, stroking, heating her body. “You’re so wildly, immeasurably, astonishingly beautiful it physically hurts.”

  Heart thundering, she lowered her eyes to the engorged erection hanging between his legs.

  A swallow stuck in her throat.

  There was no gain without pain. No reward without risk. She would never know how good it could be unless she got out of her own way.

  The truth was she did need him. She needed his intensity, his honesty, his possessiveness, his passion.

  She desperately needed him to need her.

  But she was scared. Yes, she was thinking about Mason and the ten years of pain he’d caused her. How could she open herself up and expose her heart to another decade of agony?

  And there would be agony. Over the last nine days, Tommy had proved just how vicious he could be.

  He steadily watched her, his demeanor cooling by the second, along with his arousal. She held his gaze, locked in a standstill that made no progress.

  With a deep breath, he shot her a shivering look and turned toward the bathroom.

  She summoned her pride and remained silent as he walked away, leaving her on the bed with her disparaging thoughts. The door shut behind him, and a moment later, the shower turned on.

  Tears threatened as her stomach twisted, but through the churning and lurching, she felt something stronger, more profound. Longing.

  There was no one more capable of love than Tomas Dine. He’d been devoted to Caroline Milton at a level that had made Rylee envious. At the peak of his sexual prime, years after Caroline’s death, he’d remained faithful to her. His emails spoke of nothing but love for the girl.

  He’d never blamed her for his pain. Never let her loss define him. He grieved without allowing it to control his life.

  If he’d married Caroline, he would’ve never cheated on her because betraying someone he loved wasn’t part of his chemical makeup.

  Nine days ago, Rylee drove to Tommy’s house with a plan. She wanted to help him move on from his ghosts. But he wasn’t the one who needed help.
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  Her chest constricted, and she rubbed her breastbone.

  The truth was there, waiting.

  I need help.

  I need him.

  Deep down, she still dreamed of finding a life partner, someone who loved her enough to be loyal. Faithful.

  I found him.

  Her winding, battling thoughts went on through his absence and carried through her own shower. He let her have the space, and like a coward, she lingered in the bathroom long after she finished. If she avoided him long enough, he would realize she wasn’t worth the effort and seek out someone younger and easier to manage.

  A voice in the back of her mind hissed, You stupid cow. He loves you.

  She hid in the bathroom until her hair was air-dried. Until she was confident he was asleep. He’d been running for days without slowing down. He needed the rest.

  Nothing would be decided now.

  Wrapped in a towel, she opened the door and froze.

  He sat on the floor just outside, his back to the wall and head hanging between his bent knees. Waiting for her.

  Her lungs caved in as his golden eyes lifted, searching hers for a specific answer to a specific question.

  She clutched her throat. “I hold onto grudges forever.”

  He rose to his full height, wearing briefs and nothing else.

  “Then I’ll wait.” He held out a hand.

  “Forever?”

  “For as long as it takes.”

  Her heart keeled and bucked and pounded, the painful beats speaking to her, telling her something important was within reach, and she should grab it before someone stole it away.

  Her damn heart bayed for his.

  Fingers trembling, she grasped his hand. He led her to the bed, undressed, and wordlessly slid beneath the covers. She dropped the towel and followed him in.

  Their bodies came together on instinct, chest to chest, hips to hips, legs entwined. He held her with arms of corded brawn, his muscular torso and soft, thick cock pressed tight to her body.

  She had a full belly, a warm bed, and a beautiful man with his hands wrapped around a part of her she’d never imagined a man would touch again.

  Her heart.

  “Tommy.” She touched his strong, whiskered jaw and sank into the golden rays of his eyes. “I’m your girl.”