Secrets and Seduction (Dangerous Desires)

by Roberts, Sahara

  He pulled at the camisole, bringing the strap as far forward as it would come. Her nipple was still covered, but just barely. The turgid nub stood at attention, eager to cast off the bit of gauzy cotton stubbornly holding on. He cupped her, pushing her breast over the seam, freeing her sensitive tip to his touch.

  As her hips swayed against him, his hands moved of their own accord, seeking the silky skin he craved. Burying his face in her neck he breathed in her scent, delicate and utterly female.

  It was hard to believe how well she fit against him, how natural and right they were together. Her ass drew his fingers and he willingly indulged, sliding over curves that felt tailor-made for him.

  As his teeth raked lightly along her collarbone, it took everything he had to quell the urge to bite and suck, to leave his mark on her. Fortunately the delicate strap of her camisole offered a place to vent his alpha male urges. He tongued it into his mouth before clamping down and biting hard. A sense of satisfaction surged through him as he felt it snap. Releasing it, he returned to her mouth, swallowing her startled gasp. After kissing her into silence he lifted his head and leaned back.

  Her nipple was still covered, but just barely. Cupping her breast, he tugged the fabric down, then moved his hand back up to squeeze and knead the soft flesh as she squirmed against him, every movement egging him on.

  A jolt shot through her as a soft cry ripped from her, instantly snapping him out of his lust. As his gaze swept over her, it fell on her breast, the skin quivering and reddened where his fingers had been. He’d been careless with her. She wasn’t a horse to be broken to saddle. She was a lady, unused to the work-roughened hands of a cowboy with no future living on the fringes of the cartel. What the hell was he thinking, drawing her into his life?

  He leaned his forehead against hers, holding still while he struggled for composure and the will to do the right thing for once in his life.

  “Tell me to go, Monica.” His breath rushed out as he gripped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “Now.”

  “No.” She leaned back to look at him, confusion written clearly on her face. It took everything he had not to buckle under the weight of those big eyes staring at him.

  Gritting his teeth, he forced his fingers to let go of her. “It’s better for you if I go.” He took a deep breath, stepping back as his hands fell away and he turned to the door.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Every cell in her body screamed. She was drowning in a tidal wave of lust, and he was walking away. Her chest tightened as she pulled up the camisole. She wouldn’t beg. Pride wouldn’t allow it. But she couldn’t let him leave without a parting shot. “You were surprised I sleep naked. Well, I do. When I’m thinking of you.” Jaw clenched, she forced the rest of the words out. “I should have just finish what I started.”

  Picking up the gun, she turned on her heel and left him at the door. Her fingers worked on their own, releasing the magazine and bullet she’d chambered while tears burned the back of her eyes and constricted her throat. She’d never be able to face him again without her cheeks burning with humiliation.

  She set the gun in the backpack. Why hadn’t she listened to her family and stayed the hell out of this backward little town? Life would have been so much easier if she’d never met—

  Strong fingers clamped her arm, dragging her around. Her eyes went wide. Andres faced her, his features intense, his muscles tight, but his touch in firm control. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk away from you?”

  She swallowed hard, tapping down the riot of emotions. “Then why?”

  “Adrenaline’s a bitch,” he bit out. “I can’t be gentle with you right now.”

  She cupped his cheek. “No one’s asking you to.”

  “I…I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Her pulse slammed at her core. “You won’t,” she assured him in a husky voice. “I started without you, remember?”

  “Damn it, Monica,” he croaked.

  Anticipation bubbled within her. She drew closer, curling her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, brushing hidden skin, as she parted her lips ever so slightly. “I liked it.”

  His fingers dug into her hair a second before his lips crushed hers, pushing past to invade the recesses of her mouth. The hard angles of his body surged against her, whipping her senses into a frenzy. She meshed against him and matched every stroke of his tongue.

  This is what she’d been missing. The feel of a rugged male, hungry for her. She slid her palms across his chest, enjoying the freedom to explore every ridge.

  Fingers spread wide slid down the sheer material at her back, stopping at the curve of her ass. A moment later, he balanced her on the edge of the couch, supported by a hand at the base of her spine. She hooked a leg around his jean-clad thigh as he palmed her breast, brushing across her nipple, then under, to start again.

  Desire pounded through her. She whimpered, arching into his touch. He pulled back, letting her catch her breath while his gaze trailed over her face. “Those sexy little sounds have been stuck in my head all day.” Two fingers slipped the cami off her shoulder, unveiling her body then tracing the curve of her breast. “And I’ve been dying to taste the rest of you.” His lips trailed after his hand to capture her nipple.

  Wet heat surrounded the sensitive nub, demanding all her attention. With the first urgent tug, she was grasping at his shoulders. “Dios mio.” She was trembling, lost in the way he nipped and suckled then swirled his tongue around the aching tip. Her eyelids drifted closed as her head dropped back. Sound vibrated along her throat, but she wasn’t conscious of anything aside from a purr.

  Why had she waited so long, denying them both? “I should have brought you upstairs—”

  He cut her off with a quick kiss then shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Yet.”

  He nodded, then went back to nibble on her bottom lip. She slid her hand up to deal with his shirt buttons, eager for the hard planes they covered. But she hadn’t counted on lust affecting her motor skills as her fingers fumbled with the small buttons. With little success on the one-handed endeavor, she moved down his chest to his belt.

  He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down to where her hips met the couch. Tingles of excitement danced along her spine as she wiggled off her perch to stand beside him.

  He pulled her against him as he reached for her panties, inadvertently stopping her progress on his zipper. They pulled apart in wordless agreement and switched in order to rid themselves of everything in the way. In the split second she took to pull the cami over her head, he’d opened his shirt—then stopped. His hands were on the belt, but his attention was on her body, sliding down to where he’d managed to get her underwear. “You’re so fucking perfect.” One quick jiggle of her knee and the scrap of satin lay at her feet. She stepped out of them, conscious of dampness covering her inner thighs.

  The rasp of his zipper had her dragging in a deep breath. She pushed the dark shirt off his shoulders then looked down to where his jeans parted. His cock stood proud. Wide. Full. Ready. Her body responded with a flow of desire, anticipating the way he’d fill her. “Definitely should have brought you upstairs.” Her fingers traced his length.

  He chuckled deep in his chest. “We’ll make sure you don’t miss out this time.” He pushed in to her hand. “As much as you can take.” A needy little sound slipped from her, muffled against his shoulder.

  His boots mocked her. They wouldn’t come off without some work. We’ll never make it to the bedroom. She’d barely managed the half dozen shaky steps as it was.

  The couch sat within a few yards. What had he said when he was carrying her back to the office? As much as I’d like to have your cute little ass in the air…

  She pulled away, taking dainty steps, letting him watch her. Hoping he’d be tempted to follow. She turned, tossing her hair off her shoulder, then sank slowly to her knees, bracing the front of her body against the cou
ch, giving him his wish and hoping for hers.

  “Monica…” Her name had never sounded so enticing. His steps echoed in the silence, drawing her nipples tight. A second later he dropped down behind her, his thumb doing a little circular motion as he made his way along her inner lips.

  Her back arched, pushing out her hips, encouraging the intimate caress. Pleasure ramped up, turning into aching need. “Please.” The word rode out on a shaky breath.

  The belt buckle jingled behind her amid his mumbled, “Condom.”

  She shook her head, the tests at the clinic were thorough, he was healthy and safe. “Not necessary, and I’m on the pill.”

  He was still behind her for a moment, then fabric brushed against skin. Callused hands wrapped around her hips while the thick, hard tip pushed past her swollen lips, stretching her wide, filling her at long last. He kept going as her neck muscles forced her head back and her toes left the wooden floor. Denim finally pressed against her thighs. His hips were flush with hers. She’d never been so deliciously full.

  A drawn-out groan filled the room. No description could have possibly done this moment justice. Even at the height of her lust-filled fantasies, she’d never come close to imagining something this good. “Andres. I need…” She was too wet to feel the sting of being stretched beyond what she’d ever experienced. Her body hummed with anticipation and need. Move! The word ricocheted in her brain, but she couldn’t get the single syllable past her lips. She wiggled against him, hugging him inside her, spurring him on.

  “Hold on, sweetheart.” His first hard stroke drew her breasts across the couch’s rough surface. A wave of pleasure raged through her body. It built up, pushed her closer to the edge as he continued to move. No, not yet. After spending so many nights dreaming of this moment, having it end so soon would be truly cruel. Control had never been an issue, but tonight she was struggling for breath, eager for the satisfying thrust of his hard cock.

  “Is this what you need?”

  She could barely manage a nod. But his fingers tightening on her hips warned that it wasn’t enough.

  “Tell me.” His hips slowed, nearly bringing her to tears.

  “Yes,” she clamored. “I need you moving inside me.” He rewarded her with added force. She reached out, dragging the cashmere throw to bunch at her cleavage. The two textures, harsh and buttery soft, fought for her attention each time she lunged forward. Stiff nipples reaped delight from the strange sensations, shooting sparks down to her clitoris. Broken sounds of pleasure accompanied every brush of denim against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

  Her muscles tightened, sending a long-awaited orgasm crashing through her body with unexpected ferocity. She thrashed against him with an exquisite cry of release while Andres continued his hard ride. Her inner walls rippled, trying to hold on to him, precipitating the end. Finally he drove deep, and she was able to squeeze down as he emptied himself inside her.

  Replete, she wilted on top of the cashmere throw, with Andres’s arm coming down at her side. His heartbeat reverberated along her torso.

  “You’re okay?” His labored breathing echoed her own.

  “Yes.” Way more than okay.

  He sat back on his heels, bringing her with him. The cushion dragged under her breasts, the lower curve making it past the edge until only the tips remained on the harsh material. She folded her arms, laying her forehead down.

  They sat like that for endless minutes. Him covering her, except that part where her body surrounded him. Skin to skin. “I thought you were allergic to latex.” A silly observation, but she was reasonably sure her brain had turned to mush.

  His breath billowed on the center of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Mmmm.

  “No.”

  Her brow furrowed. “But when you came into the clinic…you said ‘no latex.’”

  “I wanted your hands on me again.” He nuzzled her shoulder.

  She gave a satisfied smile, understanding his motive. Touching Andres had been her undoing. Speaking of hands… She took his left wrist, intent on enjoying his hand on her breast.

  “Monica, stop.” His palm squeezed shut, and he pulled back, releasing her.

  She pushed up on her forearm. What happened? He’d gone from sated to tense.

  “My hands are rough. I should have—”

  Sitting back, she cupped his hand between hers, unfurling the long, tapered fingers. Her lips pressed against his palm, then she ran her cheek along the work-roughened skin.

  “Don’t do that.”

  She ignored the harsh whisper, loving the contrast in texture.

  “I should’ve taken you up on your offer to give me something to help with the calluses.”

  The apology in his words tore at something inside her. He had scars, and they weren’t all on his hands. Anger roiled in her chest. Someone had convinced him a woman wouldn’t enjoy his touch. She’d happily throttle the idiot right now.

  She rubbed her jaw along his thumb. “Your hands are honest; they reflect who you are.” The changes in him suddenly made sense. How many times had she seen him withdraw when he was around others? She’d always thought it was just him and propriety, but this was much deeper. He perceived himself as a lower class than her—than most people. The question was why?

  There was one sure way to make sure he knew it didn’t matter to her. She managed a smile then took his free hand and ran it across her shoulder and neck with a light touch. Goose bumps erupted along her arms and torso. Could he feel her body’s reaction? Would he know what he did to her? How she’d melted against him when he’d caressed her lower back the other night?

  He cupped her right elbow, following the bumpy trail, discovering her body’s response. She threaded her fingers through his then moved to her breasts, settling his palms against her hardening nipples. Seconds ticked by with both of them motionless. Her pulse jumped ahead. Too much? Too far? Too soon?

  He pulled her flush against the heat of his chest, caressing her breasts, holding their weight. Her lids eased down. How long had she thought about this moment? “I’ve wanted you touching me, too,” she confessed.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” He moved across her chest, pressing his forearm against one breast while cupping the other. “There’s still a lot of you I’d like to touch.” His free hand explored the curves of her body, over her hip, down her leg, before strumming up her inner thigh. Her insides fluttered with the riot of sensation.

  His lips nibbled the back of her neck, dropping kisses along her jawline while his fingers discovered her hidden folds. Her body bucked with every pass. Awareness tingled across her chest, thighs, back, and up her neck to lash against the top of her head. “Ah.”

  In an instant, he obliterated the memory of every man who’d ever touched her. Damn, she was in trouble.

  His cock pushed against her. “How about we move into your bedroom?”

  Riding through hell had been worth it.

  They lay in bed, barely a shared breath between them. Her full lips parted, letting him explore the sweet recesses of her mouth. A soft, firm breast filled his hand, the hard tip learning every hard ridge on his palm. He’d thought she’d at least complain. But the way she’d held him, run his hands over her body, she’d nearly undone him.

  Delicate fingers stroked his cock, starting under his balls and ending with her thumb at the base of the head. She caressed him in the same rhythm her tongue played against his, seducing him from his exploration.

  How much longer would he be able to keep this up? Every other heartbeat, her thighs tightened around the leg he’d insinuated between them. He wanted to touch and taste, to hear her enjoy the things he was doing. The urge to have her wrapped around his cock again was slowly taking over. He regretted his momentary hesitation when she’d told him he didn’t need a condom. Monica would never lie to him, and thank mercy for that. He couldn’t imagine not being skin to hot, luscious skin with this beautiful woman.

  After a leisurely sweep u
nder his swollen crown, her fingers curled around his, guiding his hand down to her ass. Her lips left him to trek across his shoulder and chest. This was a whole other layer of Dr. Monica Vasquez. He liked that she wasn’t afraid or embarrassed about what she wanted.

  His fingers came around her thigh, bringing her wet pussy to press against his leg. She gasped, nipping at his jaw. He chuckled. How had a woman so sensitive gone without sex for months? She was too damn tight to have been using a toy. “Show me what you were doing when I got here.” He kissed her cheek, teasing at the corner of her mouth, squeezing the full curve of her ass.

  “What?” Her breathless response was much like her deadly look. Slightly appalled, cushioned by a rich layer of interest. Enough to tighten his balls to a nearly unbearable level.

  “I spent so many nights picturing you here.” He teased her lips, leading her on a chase, evading her until he was ready. “The sheet thrown aside. Hands on your breasts. Kneading. Sliding down your belly.” He ran two fingers between her thighs, letting the pads stroke across her entrance, one at a time, before exploring further. “Your knees parting and your fingers buried here. Stroking. Spreading cream up to your clit.”

  Her hand slipped off his shoulder.

  “Doing all the things I wanted to do.” He licked her full lower lip. “Hearing you scream my name when you come.”

  She was breathless, rolling her hips to keep pressure against her most sensitive spots.

  “While I was lying in bed at home, with my cock in my hand.”

  Clearly, the thought hadn’t occurred to her. But the way her eyes fluttered and her lips parted with her ragged breathing…she was thinking about it now. He pulled away from her swollen folds, despite her whimper of protest, and brought her palm to her breast.

  “Show me,” he murmured again, laying her back against the sheets.