This was it. The moment she’d craved and fantasized about ever since that first kiss and yet, now that it was here, she wasn’t altogether sure she could handle it. The way he’d touched her, the way he’d kissed her, showed not just confidence, but loads of experience. All she could claim on her résumé was her quick, fumbling loss of virginity with Jimmy and a lackluster tumble with a guy from junior college.
Her door swung open and the cool night air swept across her bared shoulders and legs. Zeke held out his hand.
For the longest time, all she could do was stare at it, paralyzed by the shift placing her hand in his would create.
“Take my hand, gatinha.” So confident. Demanding and yet thick with understanding and support, as if he knew how hard her fears rioted inside her and refused to let them win.
She could do this. If he could fight for her, be patient and sensitive with her anxiety, then she could fight, too. She twisted in her seat and placed her hand in his, pushing upright on wobbly legs.
Their footsteps clipped against the sidewalk, swallowed almost instantly by the night’s weighted, damp air. He slipped the keys from between her fingers, unlocked the door and drew her across the threshold. The dead bolt snicked shut behind her and sent chills scampering down her spine.
Striding past her toward the kitchen, he shrugged his suit jacket off his muscled shoulders and hung it on the back of one of the dinette’s chairs. He crooked his fingers and opened his hand, palm up. “Give me your purse.”
Easy for him to say. Or maybe he knew exactly how taxing such a request would be, given the white-knuckled grip she had on the tiny black clutch. She crept closer, goose bumps rippling along her skin as she held it out. “You’re not mad, are you?”
“No, not mad.” With one hand, he pried the purse free and set it on the tabletop. The other manacled her wrist as he had for most of the drive home and lifted her palm to his mouth. Pressing a kiss to the center, he closed his eyes and inhaled deep.
God, she loved it when he did that. It was such a simple thing, a deep, almost preparatory breath, but every time he did it her body sung with anticipation. “Then why aren’t you talking?”
“Because what you said meant something to me. I’d rather show you my gratitude than speak it.” Lowering her hand, he turned and led her down the dark hallway to her room, the light from her small bedside lamp casting a soft glow through the open doorway. He closed the door behind them and steered her to the foot of the bed. “Sit.”
The command should have rankled. Heck, from anyone else it probably would have, but the power behind it was a thrill in and of itself, the intensity of his emotions vibrating against her skin.
He toed off his shoes, yanked off his socks, then started unbuttoning his cuffs. What other men might have made look awkward, Zeke transformed to seduction. Every second his eyes stayed on hers, purposeful and potent.
And you’re just sitting here like a bump on a log.
Surely she could do the same for him. The least she could do was try. She slid one hand down her thigh, the soft fabric of her dress tickling her palm as she aimed for one of her pumps.
“No.”
She froze at Zeke’s low, but seriously firm order. “But you’re—”
“I’ll tend to you.” He shrugged off his shirt, and her breath caught in her throat. At least once a night over the past week she’d savored his powerful shoulders and muscled torso, exploring every hard ridge and plane with avid, searching fingers, but usually over his shirts or scrubs. She’d definitely not garnered the same full-on view she’d had the day at Trevor’s bunkhouse. Heck, she’d halfway talked herself into believing she’d imagined how good he looked, but nope—it was real.
He prowled to the nightstand, the same dog tags he’d worn on their first date dangling between his pecs. Turning away from her, he pulled something out of his pocket and laid it beside the lamp.
No, not something. Somethings. As in at least three condoms. Maybe more. Her heart kicked into a jog, and she licked her suddenly very dry lips.
Zeke stalked back to the end of the bed and crouched in front of her, his knees splayed on either side of her legs. He smoothed his hands just above her knees and gently squeezed. “Straight talk, Gabrielle. No pressure. No expectations. Do you want this?”
Just the image of his long, tapered fingers against her flesh catapulted her thoughts to the way they’d felt stroking between her legs. How strong and firm they were when they’d pushed inside her. A shudder rattled through her, and she barely bit back a moan. She squeezed her knees together instead and whispered, “Yes.”
His thumbs drew lazy, taunting circles on the inside of her thighs and her legs trembled. “You going to tell me why you’re so nervous?”
Why was he talking? She couldn’t think when he touched her like that. Couldn’t breathe.
“Tell me. Help me make this good for you.”
She covered one of his hands with hers, instinctively seeking the connection, the support she knew she’d find. “I’m afraid.”
“Of?”
“Doing it wrong,” she blurted. “The last few times...” God, he had to think she was an idiot. Yet his expression was steady. No smiles, just his patient, intense gaze locked on hers while his fingertips painted wicked designs along her inner and outer thighs. “The last few times things didn’t go so well. At least not after.”
The soft, gliding touches against her skin morphed to something stronger, a hint of anger to match the fire burning behind his gaze bound behind an iron will. He traced her jawline. “Then I think we need to turn that mind of yours off long enough to re-write that ending.”
God, yes. She’d give anything to erase those horrid memories with this one. Even if nothing happened beyond a kiss, it would be enough.
Ghosting his palms down the backs of her calves, he pulled off her pumps, keeping his gaze on hers like he had since they walked through the front door. As if, in doing so, he left himself open and vulnerable. Giving her not just his touch, but everything he felt inside, as well.
His thumbs worked in soft circles along her arches, up to her ankles, then up the inside of her legs. He’d barely skimmed beneath the hem of her dress when he slowly stood and pulled her to her feet. He turned her to face the bed, moved her hair to one side, and tugged her zipper down. Instead of sliding the dress off her shoulders, he trailed his fingers down her spine. “Trade me places, sweetheart.”
Before her mind could translate the directive, he’d pivoted them both so he sat on the bed, her standing between his thighs with her back to the dresser and mirror behind her. He slid his hands up her arms and goose bumps lifted in their wake. His eyes locked with hers. “I’ve wanted to peel this dress off you since I walked in tonight.”
He released her straps and let them fall over her shoulders. Bit by bit, the fabric rasped against her heightened skin, cool air dancing across each exposed inch until the fabric pooled at her feet. Only then did he lower his gaze, leisurely mapping the flesh he’d uncovered while his palms scorched a claiming brand at her hips. His lips parted on a slow, sexy sigh. “Perfeição.” He smoothed his rough fingertips toward her abdomen and lifted his gaze to hers. “Pure, sweet perfection.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted it more than anything. Had even felt girly in her dress and heels, but underneath it all she was just Gabe. A mechanic with a closet full of jeans and T-shirts. “I’ll never be like those other women tonight. Not really.”
“I don’t want those women.” His gaze flicked to something behind her and he stood, turning her and holding her in place with hands at both shoulders. “I want this one.”
Her heart jolted at the reflection in the mirror. Her pale torso on the backdrop of his muscled and tanned one. The strength behind his hand splayed across her soft belly. Her wide and unknowing eyes contrasted with the burni
ng predator’s gaze behind her. An artist’s dream, the lighting in the room making the image that much more intense by the nearly black-and-white coloring.
“Look. See what I see.” He skimmed the thin black lace along the bottom line of her bra. “You buy these while you were out today?”
She nodded. Or at least she thought she did. Every shred of her attention, thoughts and sensory, were lasered on his touch. Every nerve ending perfectly poised and waiting for where he led her next.
“Very sexy.” He swept her hair off her neck, skimmed his lips up the exposed column to the back of her ear, and growled, “But you make me hard with just the simple white ones.”
A delicious quiver fired at her core even as she bit back a moan. “I was kind of hoping you hadn’t noticed those.”
“I haven’t missed anything where you’re concerned. Especially when my hands were on you and your back was arched and begging for more.” He fingered the latch between her breasts. “I like this. Easy access. Convenient for me. And you.” He eased his hands away and rested them on her shoulders, holding her stare. “Take it off for me.”
Holy shit, she was in trouble. So far over her head, she couldn’t swim to the surface in time to survive even if she wanted to. The slow, smoldering embers he’d nursed whipped to a flash fire and her lungs gasped for air. Her shoulders pressed backward, breasts aching for release and more of his touch.
“Come on, gatinha. Peel the bra away and show me.”
Her heart kicked an unrelenting beat and her blood practically hummed from its high-speed chase through her veins. Pink fanned across her cheeks and collarbone, and her palms grew damp. He’d already seen her once. Technically, it wasn’t a big thing. Shouldn’t be anyway. Just a repeat performance. Totally normal.
She fingered the front latch, her breasts tightening to the point they ached. The snick of its release ricocheted loud as a bullet in her head and she flinched.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his wolfish gaze trained on their reflection while he nipped and kissed a devious path around the shell of her ear.
She peeled the lace free, the delicate fabric slicking across her taut nipples and drawing a broken moan up her throat.
Zeke growled and caught one strap at her elbow. He flicked the garment to the ground and cupped each of her breasts as though he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Sweet, pretty nipples.” He toyed with the tips, and her whole body reverberated in response. “Did you like my mouth on them?”
Oh, yes. And now she had a rock-solid visual to go with the sensation. Her own personal erotic image seared into her brain.
He pinched and rolled the tight peaks between his fingers and thumbs. “Did you replay the way I sucked on them after I was gone? At night when you were alone?”
A tiny whimper slipped out and her eyelids grew so heavy she could barely keep them open. She covered his hands, urging him for more and grinding her ass against his hard shaft.
“I thought about it,” he said. “The way your nipples felt in my mouth. The way you fisted my hair and rode my fingers.” He trailed one hand straight down her belly and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties. “Gonna get my mouth somewhere else tonight, Gabrielle.”
Oh. My. God.
Her brain offered up a graphic to go with his dirty promise and her sex clenched, her eyes relenting to the sexual weight as her hips flexed on instinct. Lace rasped past her hips and thighs then whispered to her ankles. His hands skimmed butterfly soft along the curve of her hips then slid inward, gently pressing the insides of her thighs. “Feet apart. Give your man room to work.”
Her eyes snapped open, her feet eagerly obeying without even the slightest input from her conscience.
He trailed his fingertips through the neatly trimmed curls atop her mound and licked his lower lip. “You see?”
Oh, she saw all right, and could barely breathe around all the sensory input. Cosmo must really know their stuff when it came to feminine landscaping because she’d never seen a man so focused. So fixated and hungry. As lost in the moment as her.
His fingers dipped lower, slicking through her folds. He rolled his hips against hers and groaned, pressing the heel of his hand against her clit. “Fuck, so wet and ready for me.”
Unlike the first time, he built a fast and furious pace, demanding her response with each back-and-forth glide, yet never pressing inside. His lips, teeth and tongue laid siege to her shoulders, neck and the sweet spot behind her ear. His breath fanned hot against her skin while his wicked fingers took her higher and higher.
God, she wanted more. Needed it. The fullness of him inside her. The weight of his body and the flex of his muscles. She gripped his forearms, digging her nails into the powerful sinew even as her hips followed the rhythm he demanded. “Zeke.”
“Yeah, baby?”
Holy smokes, his voice. Gritty and so powerful it ricochet through every nerve ending. “I need more.”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes opened and a low grumble vibrated against her back. “You definitely need more.”
A second later, his lips were on hers, the mix of his heated torso and cold metal dog tags pressed against her. It was wild. Furious and unscripted. A duel of impatient, demanding caresses and ravenous kisses. He cupped her ass and lifted, urging her legs around his waist as he laid them both on the bed.
His lips blazed a path between her breasts, hands plumping her aching breasts and fingers relentlessly working her tight nipples. When he didn’t sidetrack and take one of the aching tips in his mouth, her mind clued into his intended destination and squeezed his shoulder.
“Zeke.”
He kept going, licking and sucking her sensitized skin and sliding his hands under her ass. “Yeah?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. She wasn’t ready for this. Yes, she wanted it, but God what if she did something wrong? Or didn’t do something she should?
Just say something.
“I’m scared.”
He stopped and lifted his head. His lips were as kiss-swollen as hers felt and his breath fanned fast and warm against her stomach. “Scared of what?”
Honesty. He said that was what he wanted. To know what she needed. She swallowed and squeezed his shoulders. “I’ve never... What you were going to do... I haven’t done that.”
His lips curved in a wicked, stomach-flipping grin, and he pressed a sweet kiss just below her belly button. “Well, that’s a delightful development.” He licked his lower lip and scooted farther down on the bed. “There’s really nothing to it.” Wedging his shoulders between her thighs, he pressed upward so her legs draped over his shoulders and pressed a soft, lingering kiss atop her mound. “You just lay back, turn that busy mind of yours off and let me work your pussy ’til you come.”
His tongue connected with her clit and her hips flexed on reflex.
Zeke splayed his hand over her womb and held her steady. “See?” He did it again and a high-octane jolt fired out in all directions. “Just like that. Only better and for a whole lot longer.”
Better. Definitely better. And it wasn’t just his tongue, it was his mouth, too. God, the slick heat of his lips and the way he devoured her. Why the hell had she never expected this from a man? Demanded it? For crying out loud, she was twenty-four years old and had missed this? It was pure sin. Decadent and delicious.
She found his rhythm, holding him to her with fists in his hair and surrendering to the dark sensation. A slow stretch filled her entrance, two fingers pressing deep. Her thighs tensed, release so close she wanted to scream, but didn’t dare for fear of ruining the moment. His lips wrapped around her clit, he sucked and—
Boom.
Her core clenched his fingers, the pure intensity of the orgasm reverberating all the way to her toes. Over and over again, her sex pulsed around his fingers while he feasted. Talk
about intimate. It was like they didn’t have any walls left between them. Like he’d torn them down and left her bare in the most delectable way possible.
He nipped and teased the inside of each thigh, the scruff on his jawline tickling as he did so. The Portuguese he murmured against her skin she couldn’t ever hope to understand, but the tenderness behind the words rocked her to the core. So sexy, and yet sweet.
She combed her fingers through his hair, watching him leisurely work his way up her body. “You wanted me to tell you what I like?”
He gently scraped his teeth along the underside of one breast. “Always.”
“I liked that a lot.”
Propping himself up on one forearm, he grinned down at her and slicked his fingers through her swollen folds. “That’s good, gatinha. ’Cause I liked it too and you’re gonna get it a lot.” He deepened his stroke and circled her clit with his thumb.
She gasped and her hips jerked on reflex. “What are you doing?”
Leaning down, he ghosted a kiss across her mouth. The remnants of her release lingered on his lips and daaamn if that didn’t feel naughty. “Takin’ you back up.”
“You’re what?” She gripped the back of his head, trying to pull him closer for more of his addictive kiss.
He fought the tug, smiled against her lips, and deepened his strokes. “Next time you come, I’m going to be inside you.”
“But I already—”
“Yeah, and you’re gonna do it again.” He eased back enough to study his fingers working between her legs, groaned and released her, scrambling off the bed. He undid the fastenings on his pants in quick, jerking motions and shoved them and his briefs straight to the floor.
Whoa.
Zeke Dugan was not limited to just an upper-body awesomeness. He was a full-body work of wonder. Muscles everywhere, not bulky and not lean, but somewhere in between and so perfectly defined she couldn’t wait to explore.
Wild & Sweet (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 19