Body Check

by Lisa B. Kamps

  Exquisite torture. His. Hers. It didn't matter.

  He straightened, smiling at her small groan when he stopped sucking her breast. He eased her back with his free hand, then kissed his way down her body, leaning over so no inch was left untouched.

  He skimmed his mouth across her stomach, down to the sensitive flesh between thigh and hip, his finger still stroking her. Slow, deep. In, out. Her hips lifted against his touch, seeking more.

  He ran his tongue along her inner thigh, gently nipping the skin behind her knee before kissing his way up her other leg. Her breathing was faster now, shallow in the silence around them.

  He watched her, saw the way her head turned side to side, her hair a wild halo around her face. Then he lowered his mouth to her, his tongue teasing her clit. Tasting, licking.

  He slid his finger from her tight warmth, heard her sigh of disappointment, her soft groan as he slid two inside her. Deep, slow, in and out as he teased her with his tongue. Muscles contracted, pulling his fingers in deeper, tight, holding him in place. Her hands flew toward him, seeking, finally resting in his hair as her hips rocked against his mouth. She screamed his name as her climax surged, her hips bucking, her fingers twisting in his hair.

  He was relentless, driving her further over the edge, tasting the spicy warmth of her desire against his tongue. Over and over, licking, kissing, until she weakly pushed against him with a whispered plea. Tremors shook her body and he finally eased away, dropping gentle kisses along her skin as he slowly straightened.

  He didn't wait for her body to settle, didn't wait for her mind to form any coherent thought. Instead, he leaned down and hooked one arm under her legs and pulled her to him, hooked his other arm under her back and lifted her.

  Her eyes opened, glazed with passion as he carried her back to the bedroom. He almost smiled at the dazed look in her eyes when he gently placed her on the bed. She slid to the center, lifting herself on her elbows and watching him as he pulled the wallet from his back pocket. He tossed it on the nightstand then kicked off his shoes and pushed his jeans down his hips, finally freeing his erection.

  Her eyes ran over his body, a slow perusal that scorched his skin wherever her gaze landed. His cock stood at attention, thick, full, hard. His balls tightened painfully when she looked at him, her tongue darting out and running across her lips. He didn't think the action was deliberate. For some reason, that made him even harder, and he groaned.

  He needed her. Now.

  He grabbed a condom from the wallet and sheathed himself with it, then joined her on the bed. He settled himself between her legs, his arms folding around her as he claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he drove into her, burying himself deep inside her tight heat.

  Her hips met his, each thrust harder, demanding. He had thought to torture her, to give her a taste of his own frustration.

  He had thought wrong.

  Each thrust of her hips, each plunge into her welcoming heat, was another kind of torture. Searing, punishing, rewarding. He needed. Wanted.

  He had thought to drag this out, to prolong her pleasure, his pleasure.

  But already she was tightening around him, her back arching, her hips thrusting as her muscles squeezed around him, pulling him deeper, holding him. Her head fell back, his name falling from her parted lips as she climaxed again.

  Randy plunged deeper, held himself still, his jaw clenched and eyes closed as she squeezed him, her tight muscles caressing. God, he didn't want it to end.

  He didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

  Alyssa dug her fingers into his shoulder and arched against him. Breathy pleas echoed in his ear, harsh, demanding.

  "Please. Now."

  And he couldn't hold back. It had been too long, the torture of his obsession too strong. He plunged into her, hard, fast. Again. Deeper.

  His climax exploded with a ferocity that scared him and left him weak at the same time. He fell against Alyssa, his body completely covering hers as tremors wracked him. Harsh breathing echoed around them. His? Hers? He didn't know, didn't care.

  Minutes went by, maybe more, before he had enough strength to move. Just a bit, just enough so Alyssa could breathe. Had she fallen asleep again, like last time?

  No. Her hands roamed along his back, the touch of her fingers gentle, soothing. He tightened his arms around her and turned his head, dropping a kiss against the delicate arch of her collarbone.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, a small smile on his face, then drifted off, her touch against his skin following him into darkness.

  **

  Light from the street came in through the open curtains, casting a glow over the otherwise dark room. Randy had reached over and turned out the light at her request, mumbling something in a sleepy voice before curling up next to her, his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

  His body was big and warm against her, his breathing deep and easy. She blinked against the drowsiness threatening to pull her under and turned her head, just watching him.

  His thick hair was tousled, dark against the pillow, his lashes thick and dark. The scar across his eye was nothing more than a pale slash. Light and shadow played on the sculpted planes of his face, accenting his chiseled cheekbones, his square jaw, his soft lips. Randy was a man of opposites, hard and soft, rough and gentle.

  How could she not have remembered his touch? Even now, her nerves sang and danced, thrilled at just the memory of his touch. She ran her hand lightly along the arm holding her so securely, reveling in the feel of soft hair and hard muscle and warm flesh. His arm tightened then relaxed, as if assuring himself, even in sleep, that she was still there.

  How could she not have remembered?

  She certainly wouldn't forget this time. His every touch, every caress, was forever emblazoned in her memory, against her skin. Alyssa blinked, against sleep, against worry, against emotion.

  It had been one thing when she couldn't remember, easy to tell herself it didn't matter. She could live with what happened, tuck it away and move on.

  It wouldn't be so easy now.

  Randy Michaels was a hard man, rough around the edges, not afraid of becoming physical. She would never admit it, not even to Alyssa, but she had watched a few game highlights on her computer, just to see him on the ice. Watched his powerful body in action, saw the ferocity of his hits and his lack of caution in each physical play, whether he was throwing himself against another player, or throwing himself in front of the puck. He fought for what he wanted, not afraid to use his size or his force of will to get it.

  She had witnessed that first-hand a few hours ago, felt that force of will and determination completely focused on her. And God help her, she had enjoyed it, had enjoyed surrendering to him.

  But what would happen now? He'd had her, with no doubt in either of their minds that she would remember. So now what? Alyssa wasn't delusional enough to think he actually liked her, that he had plans for anything beyond tonight. He hardly knew her, she hardly knew him. And she doubted they had much in common.

  Would he make an attempt, act like he cared, ask her out? He had tried last time, calling her, leaving messages. And he had shown up tonight, when there was no reason for him to be here, other than an underlying anger at thinking she had told others he had used her.

  Why did he care? Didn't that fit with his hard, macho image? Maybe not, maybe she was assuming too much. But she couldn't afford not to, not when it came to the man next to her, holding her so close.

  So protectively.

  No, she couldn't afford to assume anything, couldn't afford to let herself think, even for the briefest second, that what happened tonight meant anything. To do so would be foolish.

  Because she knew, without a doubt, that it would be too easy to lose a piece of herself to Randy Michaels—if she hadn't already. And if she did that, she'd never get it back. A piece of herself would be gone forever.

  She knew she should get ou
t of bed, knew that sharing the intimacy of sleeping with him would be dangerous. But drowsiness pulled harder, and the warmth of his strong body next to hers was too strong a temptation. Morning would be soon enough to pull away, to wrap that secret piece of her up. She'd tuck it deep inside, where it couldn't be touched. Couldn't be hurt.

  Alyssa stopped fighting the pull of sleep and let her eyelids drift shut. She turned in Randy's hold and rested her cheek against his shoulder, her palm against his chest. The steady beating of his heart under her hand soothed her, keeping her company as she sank into sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Here, try this."

  Alyssa turned but didn't have a chance to say anything before Randy popped something in her mouth. She took an automatic step back and banged against the counter, her mouth closed around whatever he had put in there. He watched her expectantly, his brows lowered over his curious gaze until she slowly chewed.

  Warm spiciness erupted, exploding in her mouth and coating her tongue with heat and...a touch of sweetness? Alyssa finished chewing then reached for the glass of water, taking a small sip before nodding. "Not bad. What is it?"

  They were in her kitchen, Randy keeping her company as she played around with a few new dishes. Actually, it was the other way around, because Randy took up most of the space, pushing her out of the way as he fixed lunch. She was still trying to figure out how that had happened, how he had suddenly ingrained himself in her everyday life.

  On second thought, maybe it was better if she didn't think about it, because the thought—the entire situation—was just a little disconcerting.

  "Chicken bites."

  "What?"

  "It's a chicken bite. Diced chicken breast dipped in ginger sauce then coated with crushed nacho chips with spices. High protein, kind of maybe low fat." Randy turned back to the stove and divided the bites between two plates, then added steamed broccoli to each. One plate was piled high enough to feed a small army. He placed the smaller plate on the counter in front of Alyssa, then reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a large bottle of Ranch dressing and some salsa.

  Alyssa moved to the other side of the island and lowered herself onto the stool. Amusement filled her as she watched Randy drown the chicken in dressing. So much for kind of low fat, she thought.

  He offered her the bottle of dressing and she shook her head, a small smile playing on her mouth as she watched. The man could eat. A lot. She had made the joking comment to him once before, and he had merely laughed and told her to wait until training camp started, that she'd really see him eat then.

  She lowered her head and concentrated on the plate in front of her. He had made the comment like he expected them to be together, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Alyssa had no idea what to make of it. No idea what to make of them.

  If there even was a 'them'.

  She had fully expected for him to wake up the next morning, maybe kiss her goodbye, maybe tell her he'd call her and that would be that. Only it hadn't happened that way. It had been more than a week since he had shown up at her apartment, a week that felt so much longer. And she had seen him every single day, had fallen asleep in his arms each night and woke in his arms each morning.

  And she was very much afraid that she had already become too accustomed to it. What would she do when he changed his mind? What would happen when he moved on? Because he would. She couldn't let herself believe that he wouldn't, couldn't let herself believe that this was nothing more than a brief distraction for him. Guys like him didn't fall for everyday women like her.

  Did they?

  Alyssa looked over at him, the food on her plate forgotten. Randy leaned against the counter, one jean-clad leg casually crossed in front of the other as he concentrated on eating. Each movement was smooth, graceful. The lines of muscle in his chest and arms pulled and stretched each time he raised his arm and lowered it.

  No. Guys like him did not fall for everyday women like her. They just didn't. She had to convince herself of that before she became too attached, too involved. Alyssa lowered her gaze and mentally shook her head. Before she became too attached? She was afraid it was already too late for that.

  "Don't you like it?"

  Alyssa looked up to see Randy watching her, his dark brows lowered over his eyes. She grabbed her fork and quickly took another bite, hoping the move would give her time to hide her thoughts.

  "No, I like it. I was just thinking of how we could work this onto the menu."

  "Really? Wow. I didn't think you'd like it that much."

  She had made the comment merely to say something, to hide her thoughts in case Randy saw too much on her face. It wasn't until after she said it, though, that she realized they could use it on the menu. Dress it up a little and use it as an appetizer, dressing and all. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.

  "I told you it was good. I'm thinking maybe for the Fall menu."

  "The Fall menu?"

  "Yeah. We decided before we opened that we'd change the menu a little with each season. The main dishes would stay the same, but we'd have something a little different, just to keep it fresh. This would work."

  "Hunh. Imagine that." Randy finished the last of his food then moved to the sink to rinse the plate. "That would give me two items on the menu. I may have to start charging a consulting fee."

  He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. That quick, awareness shot through her, causing her insides to melt. His hazel eyes darkened and the air turned thick, heavy with anticipation. Alyssa swallowed and looked down at her plate, searching for a distraction. How could he have this effect on her, with just one tiny look? She had never before been as aware of anyone as she was of Randy, and the realization scared her.

  Because she knew, in that instant, that it was already too late. She was falling for him. Hard. He was big and rough and had all the finesse of a steam locomotive. And somehow he had run right over every barrier she had, leaving her open, vulnerable.

  She was in trouble.

  Randy moved around the island, his steps slow and measured until he came to a stop next to her. He turned her on the stool until she was facing him, then stepped between her legs and lowered his head, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss.

  He pulled away with a small groan, his eyes glazed, hot, as he looked at her. "I love the way you taste. Warm, spicy. You make me hungry."

  Alyssa's heart slammed against her chest and she frantically searched her mind for something to say, a funny comeback or light-hearted quip. But his mouth was on hers again before she could think, and then all she could do was react. Her body melted against his, her hand sliding up and resting against the hard heat of his chest as his tongue delved into her mouth, tasting, teasing, sucking. Warmth spread through her, pushing away all thought, all worry, until the only thing left was burning need.

  Cool air whispered against her back, replaced by the heat of his hands as he slipped her shirt up. She wasn't wearing a bra, and his hands quickly moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples into tight peaks. He stepped even closer, pressing the hard ridge of his erection against her, teasing, promising. Alyssa groaned, the sound swallowed by his mouth. Her hips tilted toward him, her body seeking even as her mind whispered a warning.

  She tried to pull away, but he cupped one hand around her ass and held her still. His mouth trailed hot kisses along her neck, licking and nipping as he rocked against her, teasing. Promising.

  Alyssa's head fell back, her breaths becoming shorter with each touch, each kiss, each caress. Randy's hand slipped into the waistband of her sleep shorts, tugging at the material. She lifted herself from the stool, just enough so he could ease them off and down her legs. The bare wood of the stool was cool against her bottom, the denim of his jeans rough against her skin.

  He reached between them and undid the zipper of his pants, tugging them down just enough to free his erection. Alyssa tilted her hips, searching, feeling his hard length
slide along her wetness, teasing.

  This was crazy. Pure insanity. She needed to get to work, to put distance between them, to remind herself she couldn't fall for him...

  But he had already pulled a condom from his wallet and sheathed himself with it, his hand wrapped around his hard shaft as he teased her with the head of his cock. His mouth closed on hers, stopping her before she could say anything.

  And then he pushed into her, and all thought left her mind. There was nothing but sensation, hot, frantic, as he drove into her, over and over. Each thrust pushed her closer to the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself even more. His hips pumped, going deeper with each drive, giving, promising.

  Muscles tightened, her nerve endings singing as he moved in, out. Harder. Faster. Deeper.

  Her climax swept over her with unexpected force, fast and hard, each crashing wave more powerful than the last. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to ground herself, seeking something solid to hold onto as she fell apart.

  Randy pulled his mouth from hers, his head falling back, his jaw clenched. His hips pumped faster, once, twice. A moan ripped from him, guttural and primal, as he climaxed.

  Alyssa's head fell against his shoulder, her breathing ragged as they held each other. Long minutes went by, neither one of them moving, the only sounds that of their mingled breathing and the steady tick-tick of the kitchen clock.

  Alyssa moved her head, her eyes opening slowly and coming to rest on the clock. She blinked, trying to focus through the warm haze filling her. She blinked again, then tried to pull away from the strong arms wrapped around her.

  "Shh. Not yet."

  "Randy, I have to go—"

  "Not yet." His husky whisper was warm in her ear, the words threatening to lull her back into the haze of comfort wrapped around them. She couldn't let it, couldn't give into it.

  She swallowed her groan of disappointment and pushed against him once more, then slid off the stool. He reached for her but she stepped away before his arms could close around her once more.