by Kaylea Cross
But instead of tugging the bra aside as she’d expected, he trailed his fingers lightly over her chin, down her throat to her collarbones. That tender, tantalizing touch was so unexpected after the rough edge he’d shown her two nights ago.
The pads of his fingers grazed oh-so-softly across her skin, making her nipples pebble and her core throb. His touch drifted down into the valley between her breasts, his expression absorbed as he mapped the curve of her right breast, then the left.
He didn’t undo her bra. Rather, he skimmed his fingers down the midline of her body, over her stomach, coming up onto his knees to dip beneath the waistband of her jeans. “Let me see you,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ve imagined what you look like for way too long.”
His words turned her heart over even as they injected another shot of arousal through her body. The thought of being naked while he was still partially dressed was a little unsettling, but she’d wanted this forever and wouldn’t deny him anything. She undid the button, lifted her hips so he could help her work the denim over and down her legs.
A low, throttled groan rolled out of his throat as he took her in, lying there against the leather in nothing but her matching bra and thong. “Sweetness, you don’t know how beautiful you are to me,” he breathed, and bent forward to press his lips just above her navel.
Sweetness. The word itself, and the low, intimate tone he used hit her like an arrow to the heart.
She clenched her fingers in his short hair, his heavy stubble scraping her tender skin. Then he started kissing his way upward and her eyes drifted closed just as his lips and tongue stroked the curve of her breast. His clever fingers slipped around beneath her to undo the bra. One light tug at the front and she was bared to his gaze.
Beckett made a low, hungry sound, his hands coming up to cradle the soft mounds. She gasped, bit her lip as he ran his thumbs across her hard nipples, sending pleasure zinging through her veins.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, a groan of relief and pleasure coming out of her when he surrounded one tight point with the soft, wet heat of his mouth. Sierra held him to her while the restless ache between her legs turned into a relentless throb.
He seemed in no hurry, totally absorbed as he sucked first one side, then the other, using his fingers to tease the one his mouth had just vacated. All the while he kept her anchored in place with his hips, and the inability to move only heightened everything.
Heat shot through her, the scent of leather and man swirling around her while she drowned in decadent pleasure. One hand blindly sought his hip, curved around the taut muscles of his ass and pulled, needing more pressure. He gave it to her, settling the ridge of his erection tight to her core and moving his hips in slow circles while his mouth continued to drive her insane.
“I need more,” she finally pleaded, voice tight. Her heart thundered out of control, all her senses overloaded.
“I know what you need,” he said, easing his body to the side a little, capturing her lips to smother her cry of protest at the loss of his weight and the pressure where she needed it most.
He leaned over her, looming there while his tongue teased hers. His hand drifted down, his callused palm sliding over her belly, over the top of one thigh before his fingertips brushed up the sensitive inside to cup the center of her thong.
She hitched in a breath, her whole body tightening, raw need pulsing through her. “Beckett…”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his mouth moving to the side of her neck, finding a spot that made her shiver as his fingers stroked the lace over her wet core, making her entire body sizzle. “Lie still for me.”
God, he had her, all right. Maybe more than he realized. She almost felt like she was having an out of body experience, finally getting to live the culmination of all her secret fantasies.
A tiny part of her brain buzzed, warning her that moving this fast wasn’t a good idea, but she was too keyed up now, ready to explode. He couldn’t leave her like this.
Beckett’s teeth closed gently over her skin, his lips sucking, tongue laving as his fingers slipped beneath the lace into her slick folds. A soft cry spilled from her as he teased her with tiny motions, gliding slow and easy up and down, moving a little higher with each stroke until finally he brushed the swollen knot of her clit.
His mouth was there to capture her whimper, his tongue sinking in to twine with hers. Sierra was lost in a haze of sensation, her skin hypersensitive, his touch between her legs too perfect to bear.
“Did you ever think about me when you touched yourself?” he murmured.
Blood rushed to her face but she was comforted that he couldn’t see it because he was too busy teasing her lips. “Yes.”
“How often?”
She groaned and strained to lift her hips, needing more pressure from his fingers. She’d thought he would be rough and demanding. This tenderness was almost torture. “All the time,” she gasped, on some level knowing she should probably be embarrassed by the admission but at this point she didn’t even care.
He rewarded her with a growl of approval and a caress of such pinpoint precision she forgot to breathe. “That’s so hot. I thought of you so many times too,” he said.
Really? “You did?” she managed to gasp out.
“Yeah.” Then he bent and captured her nipple with his mouth.
Ohhh…
Sierra trembled under the dual lash of pleasure and squeezed her eyes shut.
This was a thousand times better than all the times she’d touched herself while thinking of him. And picturing Beckett stroking himself while thinking about her was insanely hot. He was still intense, but far more patient now than she’d expected. In fact, at the moment he seemed determined to make her crazy, each stroke of his fingers and tongue pushing her closer to the edge.
She made a choked sound, burning, and he was the only one who could extinguish the flames. “God, Beckett, I’m…”
“Gonna come for me? Yeah, you are,” he said, his lips brushing her sensitive nipple as he spoke. “When I’ve decided you’re ready.”
Oh, God. She wanted to look at him but didn’t have the strength to peel her eyes open. Her body throbbed all over, frantic for release. “Just don’t stop,” she blurted, desperate.
“Hmm,” he mused, never stopping. “Don’t like being teased?”
“Not today,” she gasped out, tugging harder on his hair. Do something.
He growled. “I’m gonna make it so good, sweetness,” he said in a low, possessive tone that sent a delicious shiver through her. She loved that he called her that. “I’m gonna make you crave me.”
The dark promise almost pushed her over the edge. I already do.
His fingers slid down, adding pressure at her entrance, then eased inside her and stroked, his thumb settling directly over her clit. Unable to speak, she held on for dear life.
The pleasure intensified with each skillful caress of his fingers and tongue, until her incoherent moans filled the air. “Please, I can’t—”
“Lie still.” This time there was steel beneath the velvet command.
She quivered, fighting to obey when all she wanted to do was writhe. He didn’t stop. Didn’t tease now, just maintained that exact pressure and rhythm to push her over the edge.
Sierra’s whole body contracted in the instant before the orgasm hit. She cried out in ecstasy, her hips rocking against his hand, fingers locked on the back of his head while the pleasure crashed through her. On and on it went, while he drew every last moment of it out.
When it finally ebbed she went limp against the couch, panting, and eased her grip. Beckett lifted his head and braced himself on his forearm to look down at her, a tender possessiveness in his gaze that turned her heart over. He slipped his hand from her panties and curved it around her hip, squeezing with firm pressure.
Mine.
The gesture said it as clearly as if he’d spoken it, and it thrilled her to her toes.
Something fanned over h
er hair. Startled, she whipped her head to the side to see Walter’s face inches from hers, his nose quivering as he sniffed at her, eyes alert, his sausage-shaped body rocking slightly with each wag of his tail. “Oh, God, he’s a canine voyeur.”
“Walter, get outta here,” Beckett said with a rough laugh, shooing the dog away with an authoritative wave of his arm. “Perv,” he added as Walter retreated to the edge of the rug and laid down with a bored sigh, staring at them.
Laughing softly, Sierra looked back up at Beckett. He came up on his knees, his heavy thighs straddling hers, and the bulge of his erection was impossible to miss. She leaned up to reach for it but he caught her wrist with a negative sound. Startled, she met his eyes.
“Got a meeting I have to be at in twenty minutes, and then I’m gonna take my dad out for his surprise. He’s having a good day. So as much as I hate the idea of getting dressed and leaving things between us like this right now, I have to go.” He leaned over to grab his shirt from the floor, and tugged it back on.
“Oh. But what about…” She eyed the front of his jeans, then looked up at him.
“Later,” he said, his eyes holding such sensual promise that her belly fluttered. Raising her hand to his mouth, he kissed the palm, then gently nipped the heel. His gaze raked over her, pausing on her bare breasts as a low groan came out of him. “And you know what?”
She barely remembered her own name at the moment. “What?”
The sexy smile he gave her curled her toes. “It’s definitely going to be worth the wait.”
Chapter Fifteen
Oh, for crying out…
At the resistance on the other end of the leash, Beckett paused in the middle of the hospital hallway and masked his impatience as he stopped to look behind him. “Come on, Walter, we’re on a tight timeline here.”
The doggy voyeur continued plodding along behind him, taking his sweet-ass time.
Sierra thought he’d make a great therapy dog? He’d just see about that. But damn, Beckett was in a great mood. Best he’d been in in months. Maybe years.
All because of Sierra.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the sweet, uninhibited way she’d come undone for him on the couch a few hours ago, and couldn’t wait to see her again as soon as he got back from the hospital later this afternoon. His life was far from settled or ironed out, his dad’s declining health and the stress of the business weighed on him, but the thought of finally sliding deep inside Sierra filled him with anticipation.
Even if a large part of him was still terrified that he would fuck this up.
It seemed like half an hour had passed before Walter managed to shuffle his way down the rest of the hall. Beckett poked his head into his dad’s room and knocked on the open door. “Hey. Brought a special visitor to see you.”
His dad perked up and pushed himself upright against the pillows stacked behind him. “Oh?”
Walter waddled into the room and stood there looking like the saddest animal on earth.
His dad cracked a laugh. “Well, Walter. Your pictures didn’t do you justice.”
“What, he’s even uglier in person?”
“Way uglier. Lord, that tongue…”
Walter shifted his gaze from Beckett to his father and back, the end of his tail wagging feebly. “You wanna pet him?” Beckett asked.
“Love to. Come on up here, handsome fella.” He patted the covers.
Beckett stooped, bit back a grunt as his back twinged while lifting Walter up onto the foot of the bed. The mutt stood there for a moment looking confused, then extended his head to sniff the hand Beckett’s dad held out. Walter’s tail wagged a little, then he all but collapsed with a deep groan and rolled to his side for a belly rub.
“And that’s Walter,” Beckett said, shaking his head. For some reason the dog seemed to get a smile out of pretty much everyone they met.
Walter was a secret charmer. While walking him in town and on the beach this morning before heading to the sheriff’s office, Beckett had received more female attention than he had in the past two years, all because of the dog.
“He’s scrawny.” His dad stroked a hand down Walter’s back. “I can feel all his ribs.”
“We’re working on that. Trying to work on his personality, too.”
“I dunno, he kinda reminds me of you.”
Beckett shot his dad a mock scowl. “Thanks a lot. You know I look like you, right?”
“Yeah, but old Walter’s got that whole grouchy, standoffish vibe going for him.” His dad eyed him. “See the resemblance now?”
He chuckled under his breath.
His dad’s eyes widened. “Was that almost a laugh?” He looked at Walter in feigned astonishment. “Who is this guy you brought in to see me? Can’t be my son.”
“Your son is right here, and his hearing still works just fine.”
“That’s a damn miracle.” He continued petting Walter, whose eyes were closed, well on his way back to dreamland.
Beckett glanced at the food tray beside the bed. Half the lunch was gone, and that was better than any other day this week. “How you feeling right now?”
“Not too bad. Got a decent sleep last night.”
Perfect. “So I talked to your medical team.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “You up for an adventure right now?”
His father’s dark eyes shot to his, curiosity and excitement burning in them. “What kind of an adventure?”
“An out of the hospital, father-son adventure.”
“Shit, yes. Get me outta here.”
Beckett grinned. “Okay then. You stay and pet Walter while I get everything organized.”
It took some doing but the staff was fantastic, loading his dad up with enough pain meds to keep him comfortable for the next few hours. Then they unhooked his IV, dressed him warmly and put him in a wheelchair.
His dad was grinning from ear to ear as Beckett pushed him down the hall, Walter perched morosely in his lap, long ears and tongue dangling. “Yeeehaw,” his dad crowed, chortling as Beckett picked up speed and headed for the elevator. “I feel like we’re making a prison break.”
“We pretty much are.”
In the lobby his dad cackled with glee as they headed for the main doors. “Woohoo, freedom!” he yelled, drawing everyone’s attention. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back when they got outside. “Oh, yeah. Smell that salty air.”
This was supposed to be a fun day, something to make his dad smile and make him forget for a few hours that he was dying, but for some reason those words put a lump in Beckett’s throat.
He helped his dad into the front passenger seat of his truck, and Walter seemed happy enough to sit in his dad’s lap so Beckett left the dog there. “Where are we going?” his dad asked, eager as a puppy as he put on his seatbelt and waited for Beckett to start the engine.
“It’s a surprise.” One he hoped his dad would love. He’d called a buddy that morning to lock down the favor. Walter seemed to like going for rides in the truck, so…hopefully he’d like this too.
Beckett drove them half an hour south down the coast and took the turnoff toward the water. His dad was still perky, looking around at everything. “Are we here? There’s nothing out here.”
“You’ll see.” A few minutes down the road he reached their destination.
His father turned his head to gape at him. “Dune buggying?”
“Yep.” He couldn’t help but grin. “Haven’t done it in ages. At least not outside of A-stan or Syria. Remember the last time we went out?”
“You were about eighteen and full of yourself. As I recall you thought you were such hot shit that you did something stupid and got your buggy stuck at the bottom of the dune. Had to get the owner to come tow you out and he was not happy.”
“Nope. But I’ve learned a trick or two since then. You’ll see.”
His dad’s smile of anticipation was a balm for the soul. “What about the dog?”
“He’s
coming too. Got it all worked out. Come on, Walter, down you get.” He lifted the dog out of the truck, and this time his back didn’t twinge.
Walter plopped his butt on the sand and sat there looking sorry for himself, staring up at Beckett with droopy, red-rimmed eyes.
“Come on, you’ll like this,” Beckett coaxed, tugging on the leash.
Walter sighed, got up and reluctantly followed, resigned to his fate.
Beckett’s old high school buddy who ran the place had their dune buggy ready for them. “Thought Walter would appreciate these,” he said to Beckett, who grinned.
“Goggles?”
“Doggles.”
Ha! “Awesome.” Beckett put Walter in the back of the buggy, strapped the seatbelt through his harness and tugged the doggles in place, easing his ears out so they weren’t pinched by the elastic straps. Walter stared back at him glumly through the plastic lenses, a canine Eeyore.
He was so damn cute that Beckett pulled out his phone to take some pictures, and texted one to Sierra. Furry copilot, he typed. She was running errands right now but would get a kick out of it when she was done.
Beckett helped his dad strap in next, tucked a blanket around him to ward off the chill of the ocean breeze, and handed him a helmet and goggles. “You ready to do this?”
“You bet.”
“You gotta tell me if you start to hurt, though.”
His dad made a face. “Just drive, junior.”
Excitement hummed through Beckett as he buckled in behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He drove them down the path that led to the dunes, and started up the first incline. “How you doing?” he asked his dad, concerned about his pain level. They’d drugged him up pretty good at the hospital, but bouncing around in a dune buggy while full of tumors might be too much even for the meds.
“Great. Don’t feel a thing.”
Chance he was lying? Ninety-nine percent. But Beckett would have to trust him to speak up if it became too much. “Tell me if you start to hurt anywhere.”