Ramping Up

by Zoe Dawson

  “The way you’re looking at me is giving me ideas.” He brushed at the tears I couldn’t stop from falling. “Who the hell am I kidding?” he said, his voice gruff and very low. “I’ve already come up with a library of ideas, a dirty, forbidden library. And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but after my dad’s wonderful visit, it’s a bad idea. Isn’t this about winning, babe?”

  His words had rocked my world, opening my eyes to what could happen when a person was single-minded about winning. He only reinforced that winning was only satisfying when it meant something. Here he was, going against a lifetime of fear and pain to make a better life for himself. There was a definite win in that already. “You can’t let him dictate your life. His threats have no bearing on our plans.”

  Gunner slid his fingers along my neck, his touch making me shiver, then rubbed his thumb against my frantically beating pulse point. “You are badass fearless. Me, not so much. I know what he’s capable of; I won’t stand for you getting hurt in any way.”

  That admission did unbearable things to my heart. I closed my eyes against the sudden ache in my chest.

  Gunner shifted his hold, taking my face in his hands. “Look at me, babe,” he whispered. “I need you to look at me.”

  I opened my eyes. I felt drugged by sensation, but galvanized by his touch. I made a helpless sound as he lowered his head, closing my eyes to feel the exquisite softness of his mouth, savoring the heat of him, the press of his lips.

  My knees gave way, but Gunner supported me, my fingers still wrapped in his T-shirt, aware of the ridge of thick chest muscle against the side of my clasped hand.

  “Let’s take this upstairs,” I said when he gave me room to breathe, his lips hovering.

  Gunner went very still, and then he shuddered and crushed me against him. “Are you sure?”

  I caught the back of his head and tightened my hold, realizing that my eyes were moist again, biting my lip to hold myself together. I would have the world end before I let go of this man tonight.

  He started moving, backing me toward the sliding glass door, his usually warm brown eyes showing me a passion that had been previously banked. The things he wanted to do to me were there, and I shivered at the promise, ached for that kind of passion. Pushing me up against the glass, he pressed his hips against mine, his erection hard and hot through the flimsy Lycra shorts.

  I knew that I was crossing a line, a line that could cause problems with my father and the company. It didn’t matter how careful I’d been in the past to stay away from athletes who would tempt me. There was nothing I could do here, nothing I could change. I wanted Gunner like I had never wanted anyone ever.

  “You have to be sure,” he murmured against my mouth, kissing me again deep and hard. I dropped my hand down to his groin, molding my palm over his erection, enjoying the quick intake of his breath and the thrust of his hips against me as he groaned, “Fuck…Lena.”

  “Very sure,” I whispered and took his hand and drew him through the door and into the house, closing and locking it. He broke away from me and did the same with the front door.

  I waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching him move toward me with confidence. He had such an innate sense of grace and purpose, even when he was simply walking.

  We fumbled and stumbled our way up the stairs, kissing and fondling each other as we fell into his room. Inside, I was surrounded by his scent, and it only turned me on more.

  He gathered me up flush to his body, hiking my short skirt over my hips and butt and delving beneath my lace panties to cup my ass. Working his mouth hungrily against mine, drawing my hips even closer, the bulge in his shorts huge and hard. I couldn’t wait to see all of him. I couldn’t reason, couldn’t think; all I could do was hang on.

  He ran his hands up over my rib cage and pushed my pink jacket off. Then I met hard-packed muscle, my breasts pressed tightly against his chest as his hands played over me, then under my shirt, up my back.

  His touch stole my breath, and I made another helpless sound against his mouth. Gunner tightened his arm around my back and dragged his mouth away, his breathing labored. My heart raced, and my pulse thickened, the warmth of his hands filling me with a heavy weakness.

  “Babe, you feel so good,” he whispered raggedly. “I’ve got you buried so deep inside me, wrapped around my heart. But not as deep as I want to be inside you.” His voice was a low growl in my ear, and his mouth was hot on my skin. Then his hands slid up under my bra, cupping my breasts, and for a second I could hardly breathe.

  Breathing was overrated.

  My whole body trembled as he dragged his fingers against my hardened nipples, and I pressed my lips to the scratchy skin of his neck, hanging on to him with frenetic strength, the feel of him making me want to touch every inch of him.

  As he lifted me toward the bed, he whispered hotly, “I’m not sure I can go slowly. It might be beyond me, but if you need…”

  I cupped the back of his neck. “I need you, Gunner, fast and rough and just like you said, deep, oh so deep.”

  “You’re so beautiful, babe.”

  “You’re the beautiful one,” I whispered.

  His groan was deep in his chest, rolling around in my hormones, jacking-me-up-to-a-female-high sexy.

  “Lift your arms.” He stripped my top off me, his hands so extremely gentle as he trailed his fingertips over my collarbone, down the slopes of my breasts. “I have to say it again. You are so damned beautiful,” he rasped, his handsome face tight with want. He watched his hand sliding over my skin. I watched him, the lashes thick over his downcast eyes, rapt with exploring me, taking me in like I was a work of art.

  “There is so much here to look at, I’m dizzy,” he said, those lashes lifting slowly and his eyes slamming into mine. He threaded his hands into my hair and roughly pulled my head back, his mouth fastening on my neck. I gasped as his lips, tongue, and teeth trailed fire in their wake, nipping, licking, and sucking. He skimmed his lips across my shoulder, taking my bra strap in his teeth and tugging to slip it off my shoulder.

  “Hot,” he murmured, taking in the midnight blue of my lacy bra. “But not what I expected. Exactly like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “You don’t do the expected.”

  “That would be boring,” I said, running my hand into his dark hair, the scent of him intensifying and spiraling down into my core.

  He gripped the waistband of my skirt, dragged it down over my hips, and stripped it off my legs, his hands running back up, sending spiraling sensations as he slid one of those roaming hands up my inner thigh to my core, my breath coming in gasps. “Matching panties,” he breathed. “Heartbreaking.”

  This was the sexy draw of coordinating lingerie. The reaction of a man when he sees it. “It’s that painful?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “You slay me.” My bra loosened all of a sudden. I gasped as it slid off my arms. “That was a smooth move. Maybe I should call you Houdini instead.”

  He grinned. “Call me whatever you want, babe. I’m not going to magically disappear.”

  “No possibility of that, huh?” I whispered as he breathed a low sound of approval when he encountered nothing but bare skin, and he slid his hand up my torso, cupping my breast, stroking my nipple with his thumb.

  “Nope. I’m just getting started.”

  He must have felt my hesitation, but I pushed all my worries away. I wanted him. “If you change your mind, it’s all good. We’re good. Just tell me and—”

  I covered his mouth, his lips sweet and soft under my fingertips. “Okay,” he whispered against my skin. “It’s on.”

  All my worries went out the window. “It’s so on,” I agreed.

  He lowered his head and took my nipple into his mouth and sucked me hard. My back arched, and I cried out. “Oh, yeah,” he rasped, licking me and pushing me back. But I refused to go. It was my turn.

  When I resisted, he gave me a heated, playful look. I reached for the hem of his T
-shirt with both hands, the warmth of his skin increasing my eagerness for the taste of his skin, the sight of him. I wanted to see all of him.

  I tugged, and he raised his arms, the backs of my fingers sliding against hard, thick, heated ridges of muscle along his abdomen and his chest. I left the shirt partially over his head, distracted by the beauty I’d uncovered. He chuckled beneath the cotton but sucked in a breath as I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the crests and dips of his chiseled stomach. Using my teeth had him ripping the cloth away from his head, his eyes closing and his head dropping. His hands came around me, delving into my hair, tightening.

  I curled my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulled. “Oh my God,” I murmured as I saw what he had on beneath the shorts. “Less is more.” The black jock he was wearing had red stitching along the seams, with straps over the tops of his thighs and a black mesh pocket to hold his cock. I pushed the shorts off him and grabbed his hips as he stepped out of them, turning him, more laughter.

  “You’ve never seen a guy in a jock before?” he said.

  I bit my bottom lip and just soaked in all that straptastic gorgeousness. His butt outlined by more straps and that was it. “No, and I’m sorry that I’ve never dated an athlete before. I’ve been missing out.” My voice was breathless.

  He laughed this time, but it wasn’t in any embarrassment. It was sexy and low and made me shiver and get even more hot and bothered.

  “Jocks are great to hold in the boys, especially with all the jerking around that happens on a skateboard.”

  “I bet,” I said, not taking my eyes off him, his words simply noise I could understand. I couldn’t look away. The anticipation was electrifying. He slid his hand beneath the waistband and pulled it down, releasing his cock, stroking along the length. He was fully erect, long and thick…beautiful from the smooth swollen tip to the base.

  “I love the way you’re looking at me,” he said, his voice raw, his face softening in that way men did when they were turned on, way turned on. Getting physical with him was just a small tip of the iceberg, and I knew it. It was daunting, but it felt so good. Just scary good. The way he made me melt was skirting the edge of something I wasn’t sure I could handle.

  I wanted to taste all of him, but he pulled me up and away from his groin. “Oh, fuck no, McHotstuff. Not that, not now. I’ll lose it all and I’m not about to give up being deep inside you.”

  “Oh, shit,” I panted. Everything in me went liquid at those words as he dragged me up and away from him. Setting me on the bed, he reached over and pulled open the bedside table and snagged a packet. Ripping it open, he rolled the condom down over his erection with a hard heat in his face.

  Then he was back and pushing me onto the bed like a wrecking ball of hot male and calm strength, his mouth on mine with effortless ease. I opened my mouth wider, wanting more. How was it possible that he tasted this good, felt this good? He was so strong and sure, molding me to him like he felt the same exact way.

  He responded to my every breath with every touch, opening himself to me, practically begging me to explore, and there was nothing I wanted more than to feel the hard warmth of him, the lean toughness, to sink myself into the exquisite reality of his body.

  A sigh left him, so sweet and turned on I sent my hands down over his back, pleasing myself and him. I could tell by his soft groan and the way his hips moved against mine.

  He was hot, very hot and very hard, and very naked, and very, very much between my legs. My knees were on either side of him, his outer thighs intimately against my inner thighs, and if it weren’t for the annoying midnight-blue lacy panties, he’d have been inside me already.

  “We have a great agreement that this underwear is damned hot, but at this moment, I’m too impatient.”

  I flexed my hips, thrusting up against him, grinding against him. “You make me insanely crazy.” His jaw tight, he raised his head and upper chest, his biceps bunching, and I curled both my hands over the thick, heated muscles, sliding up to his broad shoulders and back down. Trying to breathe around my compressed lungs and the need to take this man in every way.

  He stared down at me, rocking his hips. He was so gorgeous, the planes of his face, his thick lashes over those expressive eyes.

  “Take them off,” I whispered, and he leaned to the side and shimmied them off me. His eyes going hotter, wilder, as I wiggled beneath him.

  “I’m so whacked,” he said. “So ramped up.”

  I reached between our bodies and stroked him, and his mouth went to my neck and then my breast, closing over my nipple. The sensations pulled tighter and tighter in my core, and when his stubble rasped across me, I tightened my legs around him, gasping for breath.

  “Need more,” he growled and nipped at my nipple and then the fullness of my breast, my rib cage, and my stomach. He pressed his hands against my inner thighs, taking control of me with skill, need flashing across his face as his eyes raked over my body.

  “You are so incredibly pretty here,” he said, his face lowering toward me, his eyes capturing mine and holding them with such a strong gaze, I felt touched, moved deep inside at the contact. Then his gaze shifted, and my body coiled at the intent there, shivering and hot at the same time.

  He was so close; I could feel his warm breath, delicious anticipation tensing me up until his mouth closed over me, so hot…too good.

  With an uncontrollable hip thrust, a sound full of pleasure broke from me as he groaned against my aching flesh, his expert tongue taking me places I’d never been before, flicking, stroking, going deep to a place that made me melt and gasp.

  I had never watched a guy go down on me before, and the pleasure on his face, the way he peeked up at me to get my reaction each time he did something oh so fucking amazing to my insides.

  When he closed over me with the kind of suction that made my head spin, I climaxed so hard, my head and hips rose and suspended. “Gunner,” I moaned out loud as aftershocks rippled through me.

  He surged up my body, fitting himself between my thighs, and I couldn’t breathe as he teased me with the tip of his cock. “Say my name again,” he demanded.

  “Gunner, Gunner…Gunner,” I sighed, and he kissed me, punctuating each whisper of his name. “That was so good,” I murmured, and he kissed me again. “Now let me make you feel good,” I said, urging him forward.

  “Yes, oh, fuck, yes.” The words spoken against my lips. My hands roved over him from back to front to feel the hard layers of muscles underneath his satiny skin. “You turn me inside out.” He panted and pushed and it was all over.

  His head went back, his neck stretched and corded. I could feel the echo of his heartbeat pulsing deep inside me, and it had a profound effect on my own heart. Losing it. That’s what it felt like…just losing it.

  When I opened my eyes, his were open, too, and he was watching me, possessing more than just my body. I sank into his gaze as his body met mine, our hips working in unison, the thrusts slow and slick and deep. His silky dark hair was so mussed, his eyes so dark and lost.

  He was fire.

  My salvation.

  I felt powerful and desired, wanting him as he moved with me, taking me someplace I’d never imagined, to a completion I felt building to a peak under the knowing touch of his hands, the utter seduction of his mouth, and the naked, untempered physicality of him sliding in and out of me, deepening our connection with every pump of his hips, every kiss.

  Chapter 11

  Gunner

  First class was comfy from thirty thousand feet, but I wanted to find a private, cozy place because I couldn’t keep my dirty thoughts about Lena from running through my head and giving me a thirty-thousand-feet, hard-as-nails dick.

  “Yes, I know we’re on a tight schedule, and we’ll be back in time for Gunner to appear. No, I promise that. It’s four days with the flights to DC, and he’ll compete and we’ll get back to San Diego just in time. Does that work?” She listened for a few minutes. Then her ey
es widened, and she snapped her head to me. “Tux? Oh, holy hell, Max. I totally forgot about that.” She covered the receiver and looked at me. “Do you—”

  I was already shaking my head. My tux was back at my old house, and there wouldn’t be time to drive all the way to San Clemente to get it.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, don’t panic. We’ll figure it out. I’ve got it covered.” She giggled and said, “Yes, I do. Don’t worry¸ Max.”

  I wasn’t concentrating all that hard on what she was saying. I knew that she was talking to Max about the fundraiser tomorrow. The LSJ competition and a commitment from my endorsement contract were butting up against each other.

  Two weeks had passed since my mind-blowing sex with Lena. We had tried not to let it interfere with our daily activities, but getting back inside her was constantly on my mind. I loved the feel of her soft body against mine, the noises she made when she came. I wanted to spend a good portion of my day generating them, but we were both so busy. She and I had strategized about what tricks I would perform…well, she had…I had pretty much nixed that and told her I would handle it.

  We had also argued about the unconstructed way I liked to ride. She was worried about me blanking or having to bail on tricks I hadn’t run into the ground. But I was all about muscle memory.

  My mind should have been on the LSJ competition, but Lena was always distracting. I couldn’t get her off my mind. There would be times when I couldn’t eat¸ sleep, or even think about anything else. Sitting next to her on the plane was torture.

  She crossed her legs and continued to work out things with Max. Now they were talking about the photo shoot that was coming up as well.

  She had on another pair of shoes with spiked heels, and my eyes traveled up her long legs to the short, really pretty, filmy green skirt she was wearing. Then I got caught on her midriff above the hip-hugging waistband, completely covered by her pretty lace top. Peeking out of the shoulder band of the white lace was the most distracting thing yet, a sunny-yellow bra strap.