by Jill Shalvis
real choice. He was flipping through one hundred and fifty channels on the TV when there was a quiet knock at his door. He opened it to Lilah.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.”
Putting her hands on his stomach to push him out of the way, she walked in.
Okaaaay. He leaned back against the door to study her. It was that or grab her and toss her to the bed. Since his fingers were itching to do just that, he jammed them into his pockets.
“Hi,” she said.
He smiled. “You already said that.”
She nodded. “Right. Listen, I forgot to mention one more thing that I’m afraid of besides flying.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m afraid to sleep alone in a hotel room. Suite. Mausoleum. Whatever.” She looked around the big fancy room. “Although yours doesn’t look as scary as mine.”
He arched a brow. They had the exact same rooms.
She returned his look with a guileless little smile. “So I was hoping you wouldn’t mind letting me in,” she said.
He was beginning to think he would let her in anywhere, at any time, and in any place she wanted. His chopper, his hotel room, his life.
His fucking heart . . .
Thirteen
Lilah would have laid money down on Brady having her naked by now, but he was still standing all the way across the room, leaning back against the hotel room door just looking at her.
Silent.
He could be endlessly silent, she’d discovered. Miserly with words until she wanted to tear her hair out. Luckily she’d also learned that he was the opposite with his actions, instead being generous and infinitely giving, and it was those things she was interested in at the moment.
She wanted his hands on her. His mouth.
Everything.
“Is there a problem?” she finally asked him, unable to hold the silence.
“I don’t know yet.”
That had her raising a brow.
“You came here to jump my bones,” he said.
That startled a laugh out of her. “Yes. Yes, I believe I did.” He still didn’t move, and she cocked her head. “And look at you standing over there like a virgin on her wedding night.”
He didn’t react. He was good at that, too, at making her come right out and say exactly what was on her mind. No games, not for Brady. “We had dinner first,” she said, teasing. “Do you need more romancing?”
“Shit, Lilah.” He shoved his fingers through his short hair, making it stand straight up in spikes. He should have looked ridiculous, but he didn’t.
He looked hot and frustrated.
And hot.
He was staring her down, his dark blue eyes unreadable in the ambient hotel room lighting. She held his gaze, trying to outlast him, trying to convince him that she was totally cool and one hundred percent in charge of this situation, which of course she wasn’t.
Not even close.
“We need to talk,” he finally said.
Oh crap. The most dreaded three words in the English language. “Don’t tell me. You’re married.”
“What? No.”
“Engaged?”
“Jesus. No.”
Hmm. She was starting to feel a little better about this talking thing. “Are you in a relationship?”
He shot her a look of pure alpha male annoyance, and she felt her nipples go hard. Goodness, he was a force.
“You know I’m not,” he said. “Nor do I want to be.”
“Great.” She shrugged out of her top, leaving her in a tiger-striped demi-bra. She’d ordered it online from Victoria’s Secret with a coupon, and it made her boobs look perky.
He took one look at her and groaned. “You’re not listening to me.”
“Oh, I’m listening.” She unzipped her skirt. “You don’t want to be in a relationship. Which is perfect because what I want doesn’t involve much other than a condom, and I’m packing this time.”
He was staring at the condom she’d pulled out of her pocket. “You just happened to have a condom in your pocket?”
“Three. You are welcome.”
“You going to come any closer? Because I have to tell you, that whole smoldering, brooding thing you have going on is actually doing it for me.” She grinned. “You could just watch if you’d rather.”
He choked out a laugh.
“Or sit on your hands if you’re absolutely determined not to be a part of this.”
That did it. He shoved away from the door and slowly stalked her with the confidence of a big wildcat at the top of his food chain, crowding into her space, pushing her back until her legs hit the big, fluffy, elegant, fancy bed behind her.
“Sit on my hands?” he repeated in a voice so gruff she felt herself go damp. Suddenly the room was feeling waaay too small and she wondered if maybe she’d poked the tiger a little too hard. “If you must,” she whispered.
“Do your panties match your bra?” he asked, dipping his head to breathe the words in her ear, his hands going to her hips as if he intended to look for himself.
At the quick subject change, she blinked. “Yes.”
“Are they wet?”
Before she could answer, he pushed her skirt down. As she’d already learned, once he was in control, he showed no mercy, and now was no different. He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding down the backs of her thighs to open them wider. “Yeah,” he said when he had her legs the way he wanted them, his voice holding more than a hint of naughty accusation. “Wet.”
“I . . . ”
His hands skimmed up her inner thighs, meeting in the middle, where his thumbs brushed over her center, making her gasp.
At the sound, he surged to his feet, sliding his big hands up her now quivering body. She rocked into his touch as his mouth trailed along her jawline, nuzzling into her ear. “Look at me.”
With effort, she lifted her head.
“I love your eyes,” he said. “They glow when you’re turned on. They’re glowing like emeralds now.”
No man had ever said anything like that to her before, ever. And that was the thing with Brady. He was cool and distant. Tough and edgy. Smart as hell and braver than any man she’d ever known. Testosterone and danger oozed from his every pore.
Even in bed, as she had good reason to know.
But he didn’t hold back. Not in life, and certainly not in bed, where if he felt like it, he could linger until she lost her mind as he touched and kissed and nibbled and licked . . .
And sometimes, when it counted, he had words, too.
She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled until his mouth was on hers. He immediately opened for her, the kiss hard and fierce, and when they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“More,” he demanded, and then stroked a hand across the curve of her belly. His fingers were roughened from hard physical labor, bringing delicious shivers to her body as he tugged the straps of her bra off her shoulders. He kissed the plump of each breast before unhooking the bra and tossing it over his shoulder. Leaning in, he flicked his tongue over a nipple and slid a hand into her panties, unerringly finding her happy spot.
When she cried out, he dragged the silk down her legs, leaving her exposed to his hot gaze. It was dark outside, but he had the lamps on and she knew he could see everything he wanted.
“You’re overdressed,” she whispered.
Muscles flexed as he reached behind him and tore his shirt off over his head. It went flying in the same direction as her bra and panties had, and she moaned at the mouth-watering view of him, all those perfect sinewy lines . . .
The metallic slide of his zipper sounded shockingly loud in the room and then his pants were gone, but before she could get a good look he’d dropped to his knees again, his hands back on her inner thighs. She felt his breath stir against her.
“I’ve been hungry for this all week, Lilah,” he said, and separated her folds with his thumbs to put his mouth on her.
&
nbsp; A sound escaped her, a wordless cry that she couldn’t have held in to save her life as he worked her over with a delicate precision that spoke of how much her pleasure meant to him. Her hands were still in his hair—she couldn’t help but hold on when he found her rhythm as if he knew her body better than she did.
She’d wanted the heat, she’d needed the escape, but she found more, so much more, and her orgasm hit hard and unexpected. When her legs gave out he wrapped his arms around her, effortlessly holding her up. Even after she stopped shuddering, he lingered, bringing her down gently before he rose to his feet. He tugged the bedspread off the bed, then tossed her on the mattress, crawling up her body, eyes glittering, muscles tense, his skin gleaming. He threaded his hands into her hair and tipped up her face, staring into her eyes as if he was trying to memorize her. She did the same, loving the way his gaze lit when he looked at her, the way his mouth twitched when she was amusing him in some way, how his voice sounded when he murmured her name. And then there was how his body felt against her own, how he made her feel.
Wanted.
Craved.
Safe.
She’d never experienced anything like how she felt surrounded by his arms. And still she needed more. She pushed, and he let her roll him beneath her, where she took her mouth on a tour over his pecs, across his abs, heading downward—
He reversed their positions again.
“Hey,” she said.
He showed her the condom in his fingers, the one he’d snagged from her.
“Oh,” she breathed. “I like how you think.”
“Yeah?” He kneeled between her legs and rolled on the condom. “Then you’re going to really like what comes next.” He kissed her mouth, gliding up to graze his teeth along her jaw, then the sweet spot beneath her ear, the swirl of his tongue making her squirm with the memory of where else he was good with that tongue. As if he’d followed the train of her thoughts, he laughed softly and threaded his fingers in her hair, tilting her head so that he could hold her gaze as he slid inside her.
There was no space between them, nothing but pleasure. His hands slid down her back and over the cheeks of her ass, lifting her, changing the angle, making her moan helplessly at the sensation of him filling her so completely with nothing more than one sure push of his hips. She gasped and cried out at the same time, arching against him, rocking up as he started to move inside her.
“Lilah.”
His eyes were fixed and unwavering on her. She lost her breath just looking at him, and she ground her hips to his, unable to control herself.
For once his own control seemed completely absent. Breathing heavy, face tight, he brought his mouth back to hers as he thrust deep, nipping her lip, sucking it into his mouth. “God, you feel good wrapped around me. So fucking good, Lilah.”
Melting, she wrapped her arms closer around his broad shoulders and stroked down his back, her hips rising to pull his body even tighter to hers.
The motion wrenched a very sexy, very male sound from him.
“You like?” she whispered.
“Love. I love.”
She tried not to focus on his words, spoken in passion, about his physical pleasure. She tried not to hope that he was letting her in, letting himself fall.
But it didn’t matter, her heart had its own agenda and his words made it ache. So she ground her hips into him once again, wrenching another groan from him. She throbbed in response, and the wave began to build within her as he kept moving, stroking hard, harder still, until she came with shuddering impact, crying out his name, arching up into him. He pressed himself even deeper, then stilled as he came with her, holding tight, keeping them connected.
They stayed that way, locked together, for a long time, each of them gasping for air, unable to say a word or move a muscle, shaking with the exertion and the aftershocks. Finally Brady rolled them to their sides. He had his arms around her, apparently just as content as she to prolong their connection. And as she drifted off, she realized that had been the most intimate experience she’d ever shared with a man.
Lilah came awake in slow degrees, aware only of being deliciously warm. Opening her eyes, she realized she was face-first in Brady’s throat.
Mmm. A damn fine place to be.
She was also practically on top of him, a leg and an arm thrown over his body like he was her very own personal pillow.
And that wasn’t all.
He had a grip on her, too, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other firmly on her ass.
His breathing was slow and deep and steady.
Unable to help herself, she pressed her lips to his throat and gently rubbed back and forth, knowing exactly when he came awake because his breathing changed. “Hey,” she whispered. “Don’t look now, but we’re cuddling.”
The hand on her ass tightened possessively, making her smile. “So whatcha doing?”
“Sleeping.” His voice was morning rough and gravelly and sexy as hell. “But that’s going to change quickly.”
“I was hoping you’d feel that way.” She gently bit the tendon where his neck met his shoulder, and in one smooth motion he rolled her beneath him.
“Let me guess.” He lifted his head, his eyes and mouth soft in a way she hadn’t seen from him before. “You don’t want to waste our last condom.”
“Well, that’d be a crime, right?” she whispered.
“Wrap your legs around me.” Another command, uttered in that quiet but utterly authoritative voice of his, but since following his directives always brought her mind-blowing pleasure, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hummed her gratification. It was all she could manage because he was hard, deliciously hard and teasing them both. “Are we going to—”
“Oh yeah.”
“And then again?” she murmured hopefully, sucking in a breath because his mouth was at her jaw working its way to that sweet spot beneath her ear, the one that, when he kissed it, made her want to offer him anything, anything he wanted . . .
“Greedy little thing,” he accused.
He was right. When it came to him, to this, she was greedy. She was greedy as hell.
“Only one condom,” he reminded her. “We used the other a few hours ago. We’ll have to get creative.”
Thank God. He was good at creative. Really, really good. They kissed and rocked up against each other for a few moments, the room quiet around them with the exception of her own heavy breathing and low moans, until she couldn’t take the teasing any longer. “Brady.”
He lifted his head and looked at her with lidded eyes. “Tell me.”
“More,” she said, making her own demands now. His big hands gripped her hips and tilted her in a way that pleased him, tugging a groan from deep in his throat. “Yes,” she said. “More of that.”
“Anything you want.”
Fourteen