High Risk (Point of No Return Book 1)

by Brenna Aubrey

  I cut myself off when he leaped forward, clamping his hand over my wrist.

  “You don’t want to try?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “If you want to do that, I need a distraction.”

  “Okay—you want some music on? Or a podcast? Or what would you like for a distraction?”

  “You,” he fired back immediately, his eyes dropping to the neck of the terry robe where it had fallen open above my cleavage.

  Now I was the one swallowing noisily.

  “What-what do you—”

  “You turn that light off, then I get to touch you. Kiss you. Wherever I want. The entire time it’s off.”

  I recognized this characteristic bargaining maneuver. Like the night in Houston when I’d bartered questions for kisses. But tonight, the hunger in his eyes said he wanted more.

  And I couldn’t help it. I wanted more too.

  So much more.

  My body had been telling me for over a week now that it was time.

  It wasn’t like I’d had many opportunities before, but nevertheless, it felt like the right time to me. So, with my heartbeat owning the pulse at my throat, I nodded wordlessly and turned off the switch.

  He caught his breath so loudly, it was the only thing I heard before he grasped me and pulled me to him, tracing the line of my neck from collarbone to chin with his lips, then he buried his face in my hair.

  “Strawberries.” His voice was a growl, and his body was tight, tense. Was it from arousal or the fear trigger of the darkness? He was talking, at least, so that was a good sign.

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “I don’t need my eyes open for this, Gray.” And the next sensation I felt in the dark was the firm tug on the belt of my robe. Oh, um. Yeah, I hadn’t counted on him getting me naked—at least, not this fast.

  He had it untied in seconds, kissing his way down my neck, to my chest. Firm, insistent hands pushed me back, flat against the mattress. It felt so good, I could barely catch my breath in time for the next one. The only sounds were the sighs coming from my mouth, the occasional answering heavy breathing from him, and that persistent clicking of my heart.

  And tonight, I didn’t mind that it was giving me up like a double agent. His warm hands on my cool flesh felt so good. And his mouth…

  Oh God, his mouth. He had one nipple between his lips, his hand working the other between thumb and forefinger. I jumped at the contact, and he responded with a low groan deep in his chest.

  I called out his name with ragged pleading. That seemed to fire him up because the dirty talk started.

  “I want inside, Gray. I want to know what you feel like under me when I’m inside you. I want to hear you say my name when I’m fucking you. I can hardly think about anything else. All the time. What you’ll sound like when you come.”

  My fingers threaded through his hair as his head moved down, across my belly. Had it been five minutes yet? It had felt like an hour—a year—a month. And mere seconds at the same time. I could turn on the light and stop this. But did I want to?

  “Will you let me?” he asked hoarsely. “I want to make you come.” Yes. Oh yes.

  “Please,” was my breathy reply. And thankfully, he required no other because what he was doing to me—every touch, every kiss, was stealing my words, stealing my thoughts until everything, my being, my existence, centered around him. Him. Him.

  When he parted my legs with his wide shoulders, even that small fraction of rational thought scattered to the wind. Existence became his hot breath bathing my thighs as his head moved slowly, so slowly to close in on its target.

  Being became the feel of his hands on my thighs, my knees, parting them wider. All reality was his soft lips exploring the juncture of my thighs, probing deeper, homing in on the center of sensation, pleasure.

  Thoughts, breath, awareness fell into a series of beats, of pulses, each movement of his mouth on that bundle of sensitive nerves. The touch of his tongue to my clit. How his mouth moved against it, the vibrations as the deepest groans from his wide chest reverberated through his lips, tearing through me.

  Was I remembering to breathe? I had no idea. All I could feel was him. His mouth on me. His lips enclosing me, sucking. My hips moved under him of their own accord, so far out of my control. My hips thrust toward him, wanting more, and yet, feeling pleasure so intense, it almost hurt.

  His mouth. His mouth. That gifted, heavenly mouth. And that tongue.

  I rolled my eyes back into my head as my spine curled, chest thrust upward. I called out and had no idea what words I was saying.

  I didn’t want him to stop. I think I was telling him that. Over and over again. But it felt as if the voice was coming from somewhere else, and I was all wrapped up in my own world, light-years away. Don’t stop. Oh God, Ryan. Don’t stop. It. Feels. So. Good.

  Tension built, like engines firing up before a rocket launch—toward my own countdown. My breathing synced with the movements of his mouth. In the darkness, the room spun. Ryan’s hands held me tightly at my hips, but his mouth didn’t stop.

  Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing. He sucked and licked relentlessly until—until that countdown reached zero, maximum tension. My legs, my arms, my teeth, everything clenching, constricting, and then…

  With a convulsive shiver, my body let go in ecstatic, blissful release. My muscles pulsed with heat and pleasure so intense, I could only moan and sigh and gasp.

  Oh Jesus.

  How. What. Where…?

  My body was still convulsing, those pleasure points still throbbing until blessed emptiness. Clouds of pleasure enveloped me. I hardly noticed when Ryan straightened from the bed and dove straight for the light switch.

  My eyes squeezed shut in the sudden light, and I was aware that he was looking at me, lying splayed out on his bed with my robe wide open, my naked body in full view.

  After what had just happened between us, it would be rather silly to cover up now. Nevertheless, as his eyes roamed over my body, I felt my skin warming self-consciously under his scrutiny. When I fully opened my eyes, it was to watch his back as he went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and began to splash water on his face over the sink.

  I blinked, still getting accustomed to the light then sat up slowly. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking a breather and trying to calm the fuck down for a minute. There’s no way I’m keeping my hands off you tonight if I don’t.”

  I smiled. “It’s a little late for keeping your hands off me. But what if— What if I didn’t want to keep my hands off of you?”

  Ryan froze in the act of wiping his face dry. Then slowly, he pulled the towel away to look at me. His expression was completely impassive, but his eyes smoldered. I couldn’t resist slipping my eyes down his body, from his tense shoulders to the thin T-shirt that hugged his solid torso, to his shorts—and the very noticeable bulge of his arousal in them.

  I remembered his hot words from moments before. I want inside, Gray. I want to hear you say my name when I’m fucking you…what you’ll sound like when you come.

  I wanted it too. So much. Even though he’d thoroughly satisfied me, a new fire stoked in my belly. I wanted to know what he felt like.

  I cleared my throat and opened my thighs. “I want you inside me,” I said in a harsh whisper.

  His lids dropped halfway over those beautiful blue eyes, and deep color spread over his skin. A fist clenched at his side, and he stepped toward me, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. I scooted aside so he could sit on the bed beside me.

  After a brief hesitation, he slowly sank, facing me. But his features were still closed, still skeptical. I leaned forward and tilted my face toward his, my mouth landing for a kiss on his mouth. It was slow, careful. And yet, he was holding back, keeping himself reined in so tightly, it felt like he might break.

  Unlike the other times we’d kissed, he didn’t reach forward to hold my head to his. Ins
tead, he received the kiss, opening his mouth to mine but never leaning into it. As if he wanted to be completely certain that I was initiating this. That this was what I wanted.

  And it was. It so was.

  My hand landed on his rough cheek as I pushed farther into that kiss, holding his face still so that I could deepen it. Everything was silent. Everything still.

  Except that ubiquitous clicking from inside my chest.

  Then, so subtly, something changed. He exhaled and, on that breath, uttered against my lips a simple plea. “Gray…” But I couldn’t know if it was an appeal to stop or to continue.

  Something in that calm whisper set my blood flowing, as if it hadn’t been flowing before, as if I hadn’t been awake or even alive before that moment. My body leaned into his, and he felt it too, that moment, because his arm locked around my waist, and he closed the distance between us until our chests were touching.

  I had my hand twisted in the cloth of his T-shirt a moment after that, insistently tugging to signal that I wanted it off. I wanted it all off. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. I wanted it so badly, and I wanted it now.

  I countered his plea with one of my own. “Ryan.”

  In less than a second, he’d pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Then my hands were on his chest, and he was leaning in for more kisses, which I enthusiastically returned. On his lips, on his face, down the hard column of his neck, across his upper chest. He felt solid, like a rock. Like a wall encased in male flesh.

  Under my fingertips, I perceived every crease of solid muscle, every visible vein under his skin. The hair on his arms, his chest. Every bit of it so masculine, so beautiful. I explored it all with my hands and my mouth, and he savored every moment, his eyes closed, his breath hissing through his teeth, his hands threading gently into my hair.

  I shrugged off my robe then, a mere formality since it was open anyway. But Ryan mostly kept his hands from roaming. They stayed resting on my hips as I explored him, our mouths meeting every so often to reconnect in a hot kiss.

  Neither one of us left each other in any doubt of our intentions or desires. But we didn’t communicate with words. Touches, strokes, sighs, caresses with our lips across sweaty, salty skin.

  He sucked in his breath when my hand landed on the bulge in his shorts. I stroked the length of him with my fingers, watching his face closely as he tensed. “You are driving me insane,” he finally uttered the first words between us in nearly half an hour.

  I smiled, laughed. “We can’t have that. A psychotherapist is supposed to do the opposite, right?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at me, his arms tightening. “You can drive me insane anytime. This way, anyway.” And for the first time in all that time since he’d come back to the bed, he initiated contact by gently pushing me flat on my back. The lamplight glared down on us, but I didn’t mind. And I wasn’t about to insist he turn it off now.

  In truth, I was way too turned on to feel self-conscious about my body under all this light. He was still sitting, looking at me, and he reached out to stroke my arm tenderly. “Are you sure about this, Gray?”

  My mouth quirked. His seeking reassurance of my consent was probably the sexiest thing he had done so far—and that was a difficult list to top.

  And I could see why he’d want to make sure. He’d called me on it before, my tendency to play it safe. And now I was throwing caution to the wind.

  It felt thrilling. And my clicking heartbeat agreed. Smiling, I replied, “I’m really damn sure.”

  He stood up and shed his shorts and underwear in one fell swoop and…

  For the first time, I got to appreciate his beauty in all of its male glory. Wow. He was…stunning. Like he’d been carved right out of marble by Michelangelo himself. Like the statue of David I’d seen in a picture my mom had posted on her wall after going to Italy.

  One difference, though. Actually, a very big difference. Unlike David, Ryan was clearly aroused. And that additional hard-to-miss feature made him even more alarmingly gorgeous.

  My heartbeat notched up to triple time, and every living being in the room was made aware of it. He only took his eyes off me to move to the nightstand and open the top drawer to pull out a foil-wrapped condom, placing it on top of the nightstand.

  Then he came to the bed, waited for me to scoot over to make room for him, and lay down beside me, pulling me to him with a passionate kiss.

  I shuddered against him, pent-up excitement and nervousness mingling into one. He kissed me deeply, plunging his tongue into my mouth as he threaded his fingers through my hair from temple to crown.

  I felt a slight tremble from him too, beneath my own fingertips. And it stunned me. Was he trembling from excitement? Definitely not nervousness. What on earth did he have to be nervous about? He’d done this…

  Well, more times than I wanted to even think about, I was sure.

  For such a seasoned pro, though, he was going slow, taking his time, running his hands all over my body—my belly, my hips, my thighs. Until his hand rested at the juncture of my legs, the very place his mouth had stirred such ecstasy not long before. His fingers slipped down the crease of my sex, gently separating me there, working themselves inside.

  He kissed and kissed me, making me dizzy once again with desire as his fingers slipped against my clit, sometimes rubbing me there, sometimes entering me—but always slowly, methodically.

  His head dipped then to fasten around my nipple, and in conjunction with the movements of his hands, he was stirring me to greater heights like before. “You like that, baby girl.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. He said it as if he was very proud of himself for making me feel so good. I caught my breath as his fingers slipped deeper, and he lifted his mouth to turn attention to the other nipple. “Don’t hold back. Let me know everything you’re feeling. What you like. What you don’t.”

  My voice was so breathy, I doubted I made myself understood very well, but I tried. “I like everything you’re doing right now.”

  “Mmm. Good. Because I love the way you taste. The way you feel. You are one damn sexy woman, Gray, and don’t you ever fucking tell me otherwise again.” Then his mouth resumed its soft sucking, and I wasn’t thinking words again for the next few minutes.

  I was only thinking in sensation as my spine curled in on itself again, and I was calling his name as I hit that second orgasm.

  Holy macaroni.

  “God, I love it when you say my name. Especially when you say it like that, all breathy and satisfied.”

  “Mmm,” I grunted as I rolled my head to press against his rippling shoulder to plant a kiss there. “You’re spoiling me.”

  He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Oh, I enjoy spoiling you. A lot.”

  I smiled and put my hand on his cheek, turning to meet his burning gaze. “But I want to use that condom.”

  He smiled. “So do I.” And without another word, he turned to the nightstand and scooped up the foil package, tore it open, and slipped it on, all while I stroked his back and neck with the back of my hand. Once it was on, he straightened, tossing the foil wrapper onto the floor next to his shorts, then he rolled close to me, so that part of his body was overlapping mine.

  His mouth sought out my neck, and I closed my eyes. How could I feel even more hunger after he’d made me come—twice?

  But I did. And he was. And when his mouth found mine again, our tongues tangling, he moved on top of me, gently settling himself between my open legs.

  His rock-hard erection pressed against my sex, and he seemed to hesitate before I lifted my hips toward him, clamping my hands around his huge shoulders. “I want to feel you inside me, Ryan.”

  With a wordless growl, he pressed forward—perhaps more forcibly than he was planning because he drew back slightly the moment I flinched. I had been willing myself not to flinch. As this was my first time, I knew it would likely hurt. I’d been preparing myself for it.

  But, disappointingly, I st
ill flinched. I lifted my hips to him again and said, “Go ahead. I’m fine.”

  He pushed deeper and my breath hitched, but other than that, I didn’t move. It was strange—how it hurt and felt good at once. Alien and natural at once. Everything and nothing that I’d imagined it to be at once.

  Ryan continued after another minute’s pause. With another smooth ease of his hips, I realized there was still more of him.

  When he stopped moving, he let out a shaky breath and met my gaze. I smiled, and with only the briefest of hesitations, he smiled back, then leaned in for a kiss.

  He moved again and everything changed.

  Chapter 19

  Ryan

  This whole night had a surreal quality—in the best of ways. Never in a thousand years would I have thought it would end up like this, with this beautiful, amazing woman’s body pressed to mine, open to me.

  I closed my eyes, relishing every moment of this, pressed my mouth to hers though I was reluctant to stifle those melodious sighs, each one striking a new chord of desire deep inside of me. My hands ran along the length of her body, that soft, creamy skin.

  Moving my hips again, one step closer to my own climax, I was mindful in every moment that I had to go slow, be gentle, give her time. Part of me didn’t want to.

  And part of me was consumed by this alien feeling that I shouldn’t be here. That I didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve her. That I was an unworthy traveler on pristine, hallowed territory.

  It was true. I did not deserve this. I knew it as I met that jewel-like green gaze, as wide open to me as her body was and as unguarded as her heart. Gray Barrett, what are you doing to me? And how are you doing it so quickly?

  Once more I sank into her heat, reminded of her inexperience by the daunting tightness of her body. My mouth landed on her temple. Her hands clung to my shoulders, her eyes now closed, and we moved against each other, consumed in each other, feeling only the connection of our bodies, each other’s breath on our faces, the places where our hands held us fused together.