by Amelia Wilde
15
Thea wondered if she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming that Anthony was here, kissing her as fiercely as he’d kissed her that first time. And the second time. His hands skimmed down her back and cupped her ass as his tongue delved into her mouth.
No, this definitely isn’t a dream. It’s all real.
Thea could barely put two coherent thoughts together right then. But one single thought did come to the foray: what was he even doing here at her apartment?
She put her hands on his chest, pushing at him. He finally broke the kiss, although he didn’t step away from her.
Thea swallowed. Her voice none too steady, she said, “Why are you here?”
“Do you really want to talk right now?” He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close again. “Because I don’t want to talk, Thea.”
She was tempted to give in. God, was she tempted. He looked delicious, with his dark eyes looking at her with such heat that she was pretty sure she would go up in flames in the next few seconds. He wore a dark sweater that delineated his muscular body, and Thea wanted to put her hands all over him. She sighed inwardly. She wished he had a huge wart on his nose, or bad breath, or something human that she could use as a reason that she shouldn’t be attracted to him in the first place.
Thea shook her head and took a step back. Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “You can’t just come to my apartment without even telling me, bang on my door, kiss me, and then act like telling me why you’re here is too much to ask.”
Anthony clenched his jaw. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he replied, “I wanted to finish what we started. That’s all.”
“You drove all the way from Seattle—where I’m going to assume there are plenty of women for you to sleep with—just for sex?” Thea rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. And before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to go to sleep. Because that’s what normal people do at eleven at night.”
She waited for him to tell her that he’d missed her, or that he was sorry for what he’d said to her. And then the inevitable guilt nipped at her, because it wasn’t like she was the only injured party here, either.
If you really care about him, you should tell him the truth. Before you go any further with this. It’s wrong not to.
Wrong, yes, but Thea decided that until Anthony explained himself, she wouldn’t say a word to him about her involvement in that pesky social media campaign. If her conscience got upset at her for that decision, she muffled it and did her best to ignore it.
Thea sighed. “Why are you really here, Anthony? Be honest for once. You might enjoy the feeling.”
He looked so irritated with her that she had to stifle laughter. She had a feeling that Anthony Bertram wasn’t the type of man to let himself be vulnerable, which saddened her in a way, too. You couldn’t truly connect with any person if you were unwilling to pull down the wall you erected to keep yourself from getting hurt.
“I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he finally admitted.
Thea raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And? What else is there to explain?”
“I guess it’s a bit of a leap to go from ‘can’t stop thinking about this person’ to ‘driving in the middle of the night to her apartment without telling her.’”
“Like I said—I needed to see you.”
His lips quirked, and Thea couldn’t stop the frisson of heat that bloomed inside her at the sight. God, she’d missed that stupid, arrogant smile of his. She must have some kind of brain damage to miss a guy like him. Maybe she had actually fallen into the creek and was now a vegetable, dreaming of a man who she could never have.
He sighed. “Do you want me to leave or not?”
Thea was tempted to kick him out, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Since you’re here, you might as well come in for a drink. Although I have to warn you, I only buy cheap wine. Nothing fancy around here.”
Anthony glanced around her apartment, a one-bedroom that she’d decorated in bright colors to make it seem more inviting. It was small, of course, probably the size of one of his many closets. He picked up a brochure from the counter from the wildlife rescue she’d taken Sneaky to.
“What happened to the rabbit?” he asked as he followed her into her tiny kitchen.
“A rescue group took him. Last email I got from them, he was close to being healed enough to be released back into the wild.”
Thea poured herself a glass of wine and another for Anthony. He took it without comment, although he grimaced after he took a single sip.
“This stuff is terrible,” he said, coughing a little. “It’s like sour piss water.”
“Like I said: I don’t have rich people tastes. Or rich people money.” She smiled, sipping her own glass of wine. “I can always get you a glass of water, since you’re such a lightweight.”
Her dig prompted him to continue drinking his own glass of wine. Let it never be said that Anthony Bertram would let a dare pass, Thea thought sardonically.
They eventually wandered into the living room. Anthony stood and looked at her artwork on the walls.
“This is your stuff?” he said.
“Yes.” A lot of it was drawings from years ago, some from her brief stint at art school before she’d dropped out. Although Thea hated to show her art to people, having it on her walls didn’t bother her. Perhaps it was because it was from a time long ago, when she’d almost been another person. Or maybe it was because it was rare that she had guests, besides her siblings, who knew well enough not to ask questions about her failed art career.
Anthony, though, wasn’t one of her brothers. He pointed to a painting she’d done right after graduating from high school: it was all swirls of color, a sort of Impressionistic version of a sunset. Thea had always loved that painting.
“I thought you didn’t let anyone else see your art,” Anthony said. “You got pretty heated when I found your drawings in the cabin.”
“That’s because you came into my room without asking.”
“I doubt it was just that.”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. Besides, these are all old pieces. I don’t paint anymore. I prefer my graphic novels.”
Anthony continued to gaze at her painting. “I’ve seen enough overpriced artwork to know when someone is actually talented. And you’re one of those people. It’s a waste not to share this with the world.”
“Did you come here to talk about my art? Because you could’ve just called. I’m going to assume you could’ve gotten my number, too.”
He set his wineglass down on the coffee table. He then plucked her glass from her fingers and said, “We both know why I’m here. And if you had really wanted me to leave, you would’ve kicked me out by now.”
She couldn’t disagree with that. When he cupped the back of her neck, she beat him to the punch: she put her hands on his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him herself.
He stilled, surprised, before wrapping his arms around her as he deepened the kiss. He groaned. Thea’s heart almost burst in her chest at that sound. It was a sound of his surrender, one she felt echoed in her own body.
It felt right, being in his arms. But before she could let this go any further, she broke the kiss and said, “I’m still mad at you, you know. For what you said.”
His eyes flashed. “You’re still a huge pain in the ass,” he countered.
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
After that, there wasn’t any more reason to talk.
Thea led him to her bedroom, although both of them were more concerned with stripping out of their clothes with so much haste that the garments flew in every direction. Thea burst out laughing when her shirt hit her bedside lamp, almost toppling it to the floor.
“If you break my stuff, you’re going to have to replace it,” she said.
His dark eyes gleamed. “Anything to get you under me.”
She shivered, and she shiver
ed even more when he kissed her throat. His lips traveled a path to her shoulder, nipping at the tendon there. She ran her fingers through his hair. She couldn’t help being delighted at how soft the strands were. She had a feeling it was the only soft thing about him.
Anthony reached behind her and unclasped her bra without missing a beat. She wanted to joke about his bra-taking-off abilities, but then when he kissed her again, all jokes fled her mind.
He cupped her breasts, the calluses on his fingers providing delicious friction. When he rolled one nipple between thumb and forefinger, she let out a startled moan.
“I didn’t get to see these properly last time,” he said. “It was too dark.”
He moved so that he sat on the bed while she stood in front of him, her breasts now at the level of his mouth—a mouth that he put to extremely good use.
He sucked and licked her breasts until Thea almost melted into a puddle at his feet. When he bit down lightly on one nipple, she gasped, her fingers digging into his scalp.
“Your tits are gorgeous, by the way. And your nipples are as red as berries now.” He licked her sternum before kissing her over her pounding heart.
“I always thought they were too small.”
“No. Never.” His eyes were serious, but playful. “Don’t ever change them.”
She giggled, and then she laughed harder when he pulled her down onto her bed. They tangled together, rolling across the sheets, before Anthony pinned her beneath him. She helped him strip her of the rest of her clothing until she was naked. She pouted up at him when she realized that he still wore his jeans.
“Why am I naked and you’re not?” she whined, pulling at his belt. But he pushed her hands away.
“Because I want to savor you, and if I’m naked, it’ll be three seconds before I’m inside you.”
Well, she wouldn’t complain if that were the case. As Anthony kissed down her torso and swirled his tongue in her belly button, she also had to admit that she liked this whole savoring thing.
She’d had good sex before, and she’d had mediocre sex before. Her last boyfriend had been decent in bed, although he hadn’t been much for kissing and tended to fall asleep right afterward, whereas Thea was always wired and ready to go after sex.
But Anthony treated her like she was something worth taking his time with. She understood now why so many women had thrown themselves at him. The man knew his way around a woman’s body. The thought of other women experiencing his kisses and touch caused a twinge of jealousy that she ruthlessly pushed away. This wasn’t going to be more than a fling—as long as she remembered that, she wouldn’t get her heart broken.
But it was difficult to remember that when Anthony kissed her pelvis, skimming a light touch from her upper thigh to her hipbone. She wiggled.
“Ticklish?” he asked.
“Yes—no, no, stop!”
He tickled her some more until she begged for mercy. Trying to catch her breath, she almost didn’t realize that he’d parted her legs until she felt his mouth, hot and wet, kissing the insides of her thighs. Already pulsing with need, she arched upward, wordlessly telling him what she wanted.
He kissed her mound, but he didn’t kiss her where she wanted him the most. Gripping his hair, she tried to guide him. He just laughed in a low voice.
“Why am I not surprised that you’d be demanding in bed?” said Anthony. His gaze caught hers as he stroked her hip with gentle fingers.
“And I should’ve known that you’d be a jerk here, too.”
That just made him shake his head, and before she could protest, he moved down her legs. He kissed her shins, rubbing at a mole on her left calf. He kissed one ankle and then the next, and Thea almost came out of her skin when he bit the delicate skin there.
Finally, he moved where she ached for him most. He pushed her legs apart until he could feast his eyes upon her glistening sex. His voice was a rumbling purr as he said, “You’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.”
She rolled her eyes at how proud he sounded, but she didn’t care that he was so arrogant when he parted her and licked her in one slow motion. Her toes curled into her comforter as he feasted upon her. She felt her blood pounding in her veins as he licked and kissed her, his tongue dancing around her clit just to drive her even more insane. She was already close to falling over the edge.
“Damn, you’re sweet. You taste like lemons here, too,” he said roughly.
“Aren’t lemons sour?” Her mind was hazy and slow.
He pushed a finger inside her, making her moan. “You taste like sweet lemons,” he amended, his eyes gleaming.
Then he fastened his lips on her clit, and soon her entire world fell away. All she could think and feel and smell and see was Anthony. The combined movement of his finger inside her sheath and his mouth on her clit sent her straight into her release. She cried out, bowing upward, and Anthony had to push on her hips to keep her on the bed.
She panted for a while, trying to order her thoughts. When he shot her a lazy, arrogant smile, she knew she wanted to make him as crazed for her as she was for him.
Pushing him down onto the bed, she got on top of him. His eyes darkened.
“Fair is fair,” she said as she touched his chest. She hadn’t seen as much of him as she’d liked, and her mouth watered as she took in his muscles, the dark hair scattered across his chest, and the way his breath made his trim stomach concave upon inhalation. She touched his sides, which made him jump. She laughed.
“So you’re ticklish, too? Good to know.” She danced her fingers along his right side until he was grabbing at her errant hands and holding her still.
“Didn’t I tell you that you’re playing with fire, Thea?” he growled.
“I like fire.” She shot him an impish grin as she unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans down his legs. Her mouth watered, seeing how aroused he was already. Her heart pounded as she unveiled his cock. It was a glorious sight: long and thick and veined, and when she leaned down to lick the tip, she tasted salt.
Anthony swore under his breath, but he didn’t try to take over. He put his hands on her neck as she licked and sucked. She loved the way he grew harder with each swipe of her tongue. She fondled his balls. He groaned, and then just a moment later, he flipped her over until she was under him again.
“Enough.” He kissed her like a wild man. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. His cock pressed against her dripping sex, but before Anthony could slide home, he growled, “Condom?”
Condom. Yes, condoms. Thea’s dazed mind barely registered the request as she reached inside her bedside drawer and pulled out a silver packet. She hadn’t used one in ages, but thank God she never cleaned out her drawers. She probably had lip balms and hair ties in there from ten years ago. At least she knew these condoms weren’t that old. Anthony took the packet from her with a seductive smile.
“I’m surprised you don’t carry one in your wallet,” she said.
He snorted. “I’m not a teenage boy hoping to score.”
As he rolled the condom down his cock, she thought, No, you’re not, thank God.
He kissed her again, the kiss demanding something of her that she didn’t know if she was ready to give. Then Anthony was pushing inside her, slowly, taking his time, letting her get used to him. Her heart contracted as he filled her, and by the time he was seated fully inside her, she felt like her entire soul was full of him.
Thea touched his cheeks and his jaw, and when he turned his head to kiss her palm, she wanted to cry. It was just a fling—right?
He hadn’t moved yet, simply letting Thea touch him for a while. “Good?” he asked, his voice guttural.
She arched upward, and they both groaned. Like fire sparking along her veins, she suddenly needed all that he could give her. She dragged her foot along his leg and said, “I need you. So much.”
Anthony pulled out before thrusting into her, slowly but deftly, her nerve endings singing with each movement he made. Thea
closed her eyes, pleasure searing her veins with each stroke of his cock. He muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like so good, so good. Thea smiled.
She moved with him, straining and grasping. He quickened his pace. He began to pound into her, so hard that the headboard bounced against the wall behind them. Reaching up, she pulled his head down so she could kiss him. It was messy and hot and wild, and she loved it.
He took her body like he’d taken everything else in his life. As Thea’s orgasm built, she wrapped herself more tightly around him, like she needed him to keep her anchored or she would fly away into a thousand pieces.
Her release slammed into her. She let out a scream, her voice hoarse, her body slick with sweat. Anthony thrust one last time and stilled, and she felt his cock twitch inside of her. She smoothed his hair from his forehead as he came, tenderness flooding her.
How would she ever be able to let him go now?
16
Anthony awoke to the sound of singing. He thought, briefly, that maybe he’d finally died and gone to heaven, but why would he of all people have been allowed into heaven? Opening his eyes, he looked around the room, registered the clutter, and remembered that he was in Thea’s bed.
And the person singing was none other than Thea herself.
He rolled onto his side, watching her at her desk in the corner. She was wrapped in a blanket as her pencil or pen or whatever it was she was using skipped across the page. She was drawing at—he glanced at his watch—five thirty in the morning. Yawning, he considered going back to sleep, but then the blanket slipped down to reveal Thea’s shoulder. A lovely sight for so early in the morning.
He’d never acted this rashly in his life, driving for hours to see a woman. He hadn’t even been this crazed with Elise. Yet when he’d realized that he couldn’t let Thea go, he’d known he had to act. Anthony never sat on the sidelines: he was always in the middle of the fray, and he wasn’t about to let something or someone go if he wanted it.
And he wanted Thea. It didn’t make sense, and he might be losing his mind. But Anthony never said no to something that he wanted.