by Addison Fox
He gently pulled her hand from the opening of his jeans, the easing of pressure both a blessing and a curse. Diligently ignoring the demands of his own body, he dropped to his knees, his lips finding her through the robe. He suckled a hard point into his mouth, the wet silk stuck to her flesh. Those soft moans grew louder, her restless stance registering in the slight sway of her hips where he held her still. Lifting one hand, he pulled the silk of her robe askew, freeing her other breast to his touch. Just as he did the other, he took the nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over firm flesh this time.
The scent of her soap mixed with something that was purely Daphne, and it took every ounce of focus to ignore the driving needs of his body and concentrate on her. None of it erased the madness that seemed to have taken over since the night before, but she provided a channel for all that manic energy.
And God, how he wanted to give in and lose himself inside of her for a few mindless hours. Things were so good when they were together. Confusing and confused, but good. If only he could take what she offered, the consequences be damned.
But he couldn’t.
He should have stayed away. Normally, he would have. For the same reasons he’d left the night before—he wasn’t some madman, harboring the belief that his needs and his needs only were all that mattered. But, oh, how he wanted her. Wanted the comfort of being with her, even when his life was submerged in wild and crazy confusion.
And she was at the heart of it all.
With that stark reality still a wide open—and terribly empty—chasm between them, he lifted his head from her breast.
“Landon?” His name feathered across his ear, whisper soft.
“I need to go.”
“Stay.”
He suspected far nobler men than him had fallen at such simple logic, but still he hesitated as he climbed to his feet.
“Stay, Landon. Because I want you to.” Desire still laced her words, but was accompanied by the sobering end to their sensual moments. “Because I want to feel what’s between us. What it can be.”
She kept her hands on his shoulders, her body still pressed intimately against him, but it was her words that held the true power. They were words of acceptance and of acquiescence, acknowledgment and agreement.
They were words that welcomed him home.
His fingers fumbled against the silk knot of her robe, gratified when the material slipped free. The skin he’d partially freed was now fully exposed, smooth against his fingertips and warm and supple to the touch. He took a moment to simply savor it. The wait for her—for this moment—seemed far longer than the five days they’d known each other.
He’d waited for her forever.
Daphne.
Her name was music through his mind, a balm that soothed the endless loop of thoughts that refused to fade. Refused to fall away.
How was it possible he’d found her at the same time his carefully built life came crashing around him?
She pressed against him, an impatience to her movements spurring him on. His light exploration of her body grew more deliberate, the pressure of his fingers firmer as he explored her skin until he gave them what they both wanted and cupped her breasts once more.
Everything faded away—all thought, all vision, all the world—except the two of them.
His blood pumped in his veins, in time to the heavy thump of his heart. He backed them toward the couch, narrowly sidestepping the coffee table before she stopped him.
“Bedroom.”
“This is closer.”
“The bed’s bigger.” She pressed a quick kiss to his chin before slipping fully from the robe, using the slippery material to get free. “Come on!”
Her police training clearly served her well, as all he saw in the flash of arms and legs was a well-toned body escaping from the room and down a small hallway. Multitasking as he went, he dragged off his T-shirt and finished the trek, the top button of his jeans still open when he stopped in the doorway.
Like a fantasy come to life, she lay sprawled over the bed, every inch of her flushed and perfect. The firm, supple body he’d glimpsed in the living room was haloed in the morning light that streamed through the windows. Well-muscled with naturally tan skin, she was like a vision. He’d always loved the strong, powerful women of his comic books and movies. Hell, if pressed hard enough he’d still admit to a crush on Black Widow.
But Daphne was perfect, neither ink nor paper. She was tangible. Real. And far better than anything he’d ever cooked up in his imagination.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” His cock strained at the fly of his jeans, but he remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. “Quick. Say something.”
“Why?”
“I love to listen to you. That sexy voice does something to me. It’s like you’ve got my balls in a velvet grip.”
It was frank and raw and yet one more facet of what was between them. And from the sexy look in her eyes, she seemed to enjoy the effect she had on him. “What should I say?”
“Tell me the handcuffs are in the bedside table.”
“You remembered that one, did you?”
“How could I forget?” He wanted to touch her but held back, well aware the moment he laid his hands back on her it would be all over. Any sense of finesse or his ability to stay cool would vanish in a heartbeat.
He wanted her. It was that simple and that complicated all at once.
And then urgent need won out over sexy banter or lingering fantasies. He moved close, his voice raw. “Forget the handcuffs. I’ll settle for ‘the condoms are in the bedside table, Landon.’”
Her face fell. “You didn’t bring any?”
“I forgot. I mean, I left the house and I just—” He sighed. “I forgot.”
“Poor planning here, McGee.”
The poorest.
He made a mental calculation of how fast he could hit the corner drugstore and be back when she shifted, climbing across the bed, her ass arching into the air as she reached for the end-table drawer. “Landon. The condoms are in the bedside table.”
“You are an amazing woman.”
“At the moment I kind of feel like the Martha Stewart of sex.”
The image in his mind didn’t quite match the vision on his bed, but he was willing to let her go with it. “Martha Stewart?”
“Prepared for my guests and rather well-organized for the party. Trust me. It’s a good thing.”
The foil crinkled in her hands as she pulled several condoms out of the drawer then moved back into place, her smile warm, welcoming, and all for him. “Now will you please join me in bed?”
He toed off his sneakers, then dragged off his jeans. Her expression grew unfocused and hazy and it was all he could do not to go off like a rocket at the sheer avarice in her eyes.
“Come here, Landon.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice.
Daphne opened her arms, the tentative teasing at an end. They’d packed an extraordinary amount of emotion into the past five days, but whatever had gotten them to this point was nothing compared to where they were about to go.
The sad, heartbroken man who’d arrived a short while ago had vanished. The physical wasn’t going to change the history he now had to relive, but they would make new memories.
Memories that would bond them closer together.
She believed that, even as a small part of her wondered if it would be enough.
Could she be enough? Could this huge, crazy, powerful, immense thing building between them be enough?
It might be selfish, but she wanted this time together in the event what was building between them wasn’t enough.
She’d already made the decision to sleep with him. Heck, she would have woken up in his arms this morning if things had been different the night before.
But now there was a new urgency.
A new reason to build that bond.
The body she’d admired each time they’d been together did not disappoint. His shoulder
s were broad, setting off an impressive chest. Lightly defined stomach muscles had just enough form to confirm he did more than eat steak and drink beer. But it was the gorgeous jut of his cock that had her seeing stars.
Those lifelong laughs she’d had with girlfriends over the benefits of being with a man with large feet flitted through her mind, but she ignored them in favor of the glorious reality.
And as he came down over her, the strength of that body fitted to hers, all rational thought fled.
Thoughts were replaced with feelings, the sexual need that had hummed between them from the first roaring to life and taking over the moment. She’d wanted and been wanted before. Had considered herself the recipient of some good sex, even.
But nothing compared to the shocking energy that whipped through them both, rattling her down to her very bones.
The foreplay of the living room faded, the urgency of being together, flesh against flesh, taking over. His hands drifted over her body, collarbone to breast, breast to stomach, before settling determinedly between her thighs.
The first touch was electric, and she nearly screamed as he pressed a finger against her folds, then nearly screamed again when that finger pushed inside, joined by a second. Hot pressure built from her very center, pulsing around the glorious intrusion and any attempt to stay aware or stay focused on him vanished.
Instead, all she felt was him. The beckoning pull of his fingers, each firm caress drawing her toward her release. Sensations built, urgent, demanding, and despite her pleas, he refused to cease.
Refused to give up.
Until he gave her all.
The light shattered just as her eyes closed, that wild electricity that arced between them seeming to light her up from the inside out. Her body pulsed with it and he drew her through her orgasm with the finesse of a musician playing an instrument. She lay in that gorgeous light, positive she was glowing.
It was only when she heard the vague noise of the condom packet and felt the hurried movements beside her that she opened her eyes.
The lazy aftermath turned on her, like the passing calm after the eye of a storm. Reaching for him, she ran a firm hand down the length of his body, mimicking his motions earlier. From chest to stomach until her hand gripped the glorious length of him.
Shifting their positions, she straddled his hips. His dark eyes were practically black, the pupils wide even in the bright morning light of the room. She wanted that moment—wanted to capture it with a mental picture she’d never lose—but the sense of urgency soon took over.
So she smiled instead, saving the memory and allowing it to add to the momentum of their lovemaking, the sheer joy of being together brighter and fuller than she could have ever imagined.
And she recognized the man had neared his breaking point.
Anxious to push him straight past it, she took him firmly in hand and guided him home. The immediate press of his cock against her body had another wave assaulting her still-sensitive core. And then she moved, and that sensitivity shattered once more under the pleasure as her body greedily took him in.
She’d thought to set the pace, but he still managed to surprise her. His hands firm on her hips, he pressed into her with long, sure strokes. The power of his body was immense, and she lifted to meet his thrusts, nearly screaming when the new angle brought even greater pleasure to already sensitized flesh.
Leaning forward so her breasts brushed his chest, she was rewarded with yet another wave of sensation at the new position. Landon took full advantage, continuing that driving pace, escalating the pleasure moment by moment. She tried to keep up—fought to keep with the pace he set—even as the same glorious pressure built once again. Hard moans fell from each of their lips as they pushed on—pressed on—to the perfection of release.
That explosion of light gathered strength once more, growing in tempo with the fire that simply consumed her. And then the world exploded, as light and need wrapped around desire and the deepest sense of gratification.
They shared the moment as they shared their release, lost to everything but each other.
Eleven
Daphne lay sprawled over Landon, not entirely sure she could feel her legs. She’d fallen on top of him after riding the most outrageous orgasm of her life, and she was absolutely positive she could no longer move.
Oddly, she wasn’t too upset about it.
They’d simply ravished each other. It was an old-fashioned word she’d have reserved for romance novels or inappropriate consumption of a really big cheeseburger, but it was the only thing that fit. Their coming together had been part sexual need, part cyclone.
And she felt way too good to do anything but continue to sprawl over a very nice chest, impressively cut abs, and tight hips that knew exactly how to move.
Oh God, did they know how to move.
The man had driven her out of her mind, drawing out sensations she’d only read about in books or hunted up in articles online about how to get more impact out of one’s battery operated boyfriend.
Sadly, after this extraordinary experience, BOB had to go.
“Hey.”
The normally deep timbre of his voice had dropped a few husky notches, and Daphne tilted her head to kiss his chin in some sort of acknowledgment. She got the edge of his ear, her aim off, but once again couldn’t ratchet up the energy to care.
“Are you okay?”
“Hmmm.” She tried for his chin once more and when she still couldn’t manage it, tried using her arms. Pleased when she had enough strength to push herself down his delicious body, she sort of half-slid to his side. He pulled her close in a side-arm hold, and she snuggled against his long, powerful frame.
“Seriously. Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Something registered underneath his question, and she tried harder this time, lifting to an elbow. “I’m most definitely okay. Why?”
“It was . . .” He stopped, ran his free hand over the stubble on his chin and cheek. “I mean, things were intense.”
“Yes, in a good way.” She played her fingers over his chest, pleased when he flinched as the tip of her nail caught his nipple.
“Great.”
Great?
“Landon, what’s going on?”
His voice was still deep, but those husky notes vanished along with the haze that clouded his gaze. “Nothing.”
She wasn’t a doe-eyed Pollyanna who was convinced the issues that dogged both of them would vanish with some great sex, but she was confused why those very issues were leaping into bed with them while the sheets were still warm. Struggling against the overwhelming desire to simply cuddle back against him and ignore the demon in the room, she sat up. She had many skills, but the ability to avoid conflict wasn’t one of them. “If it was nothing you wouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m sorry I used you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I did. I was mad and I was upset, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I came over here with the express purpose of forgetting all of it with sex.”
“You decided that one all by yourself?”
If she weren’t growing madder by the moment she might have laughed at the sheer confusion that painted his features.
“Well, yeah. I knew what I wanted when I came over.”
“And I didn’t?”
“No. I mean that’s not what I mean. I should have exercised some restraint.”
“Clearly that approach didn’t work.”
“No.”
Misery covered his face, filling those same craggy lines he’d walked in with.
“You know, you could give a girl a complex. Even on the times it hasn’t been that great, I’ve never left a partner looking like they just had a root canal.” She struggled out of bed, not caring she was as naked as the day she was born, and started for the door.
“Daph—”
“Fuck you, McGee. I told you before we started this it wasn’t about helping you get over your fucking mommy issues. You want
to do that, go see a shrink.”
The words were stark and tinged with the perfect amount of nasty, and she was sorry for them the moment they arrowed their way across the room.
“Yep. Got it.”
She was halfway through the apartment before she realized tears spilled down her cheeks. Shoving her hair out of her face where it stuck to those hot, wet drops, she marched on toward the kitchen.
Damn fool man.
And foolish, foolish Daphne.
She’d walked into this with her eyes wide open. Hell, she’d run his fucking background before she even walked into his office in DUMBO. How stupid could she be?
Or worse, how ignorant.
She shoved a pod into her coffee maker, hands trembling as she waited for the blessed relief of hot caffeine. She’d get a cup, take a few sips, and take stock.
But first she had to get him out of her apartment.
It would do no good to have a meltdown while he—
“I’m sorry.”
Large hands covered her shoulders, the heat of his body warming the length of her. She hadn’t even realized she was cold until confronted with that wall of warmth. Now that he was here, all she wanted to do was lean back and revel in the glow.
Sorry?
She turned toward him. “I’m the one who said—”
He cut her off before she could repeat it, instead dragging her close and wrapping his arms tight around her. “I’m sorry.”
The kitchen was suddenly quiet, with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the gurgle of the Keurig. She reveled in the softness of skin against skin and wondered if that was enough to heal them.
Enough to see them through.
They stood like that for long moments, his hands stroking her hair, the aroma of coffee mingling with the heat from their bodies and the distinctive scent of sex that still lingered between them.
It was both erotic and intimate, and Daphne wondered how she could feel such wild swings of emotion.
She wanted him. With an urgency that fired the blood and seemed to light up her soul. It seemed silly to think it, yet she had no other words for the sensation, and even words like fire and light were paltry comparisons for what she felt.