She backed up to the wall. “Not on your life. You can break your neck on those things.”
He bounced higher, his hair floating around his head, then he backflipped—awesomely—three times in succession. He dismounted, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, and walked toward her. “Come on, I’ll spot you.”
“Uh-uh.”
He stopped directly in front of her. His sheer size made her feel petite, which she wasn’t. His sheer power made her feel fragile, which she also wasn’t.
What she was, was turned on like a mare in heat, which he could probably sense, being the stallion he was.
He braced a hand on the wall by her head and locked onto her eyes. His finger trailed fire along her jaw. She shivered.
“Christy, darlin’.” His deep, rumbling drawl. “You came to the gym for a reason. Want to tell me what it is?”
KOTA FELT CHRISTY’S pulse flutter under his fingertip. “I . . . no,” she said.
“No, you don’t want to tell me?”
“That’s right.” Her throat moved as she swallowed.
“Why not?” He traced her collarbone, lingering in the well.
“Because.” Barely more than a whisper.
He tilted his head, leaning in. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.
At the last second, she turned her head. “It’s not fair. You have all this testosterone, and it’s not fair.”
“I hear it transfers through saliva.” He licked her cheek.
“Gross,” she said, unconvincingly. She shoved at his chest.
He lingered a moment to remind her he was bigger and badder, then he pushed off the wall. Turning away, he smiled to himself. Christy might know the power of the tit, but she was about to learn the power of the bicep.
He strolled to the chin-up bar, jumped up and grabbed it, and pumped out a few quick ones. Then, as if it just occurred to him, he dropped down and waved her over. “Climb on,” he said, giving her his back, “for resistance.”
Her indecision hung in the air. Then she grabbed his shoulders and hopped up, piggyback style.
He took a moment to adjust his erection. Chinning with a boner. That was a first.
Then he caught the bar on a hop, and this time he chinned in slow motion so she could appreciate his arms in all their glory.
Sure enough, her breathing quickened. One hand snaked out to cover his bicep.
“Woooow.” She drew it out, awe and lust rolled up in one word. Her fingers flexed into claws, nails raking muscle in a curving path around to the back of his arm, scoring his triceps, tickling his armpit. Over his chest they scraped, then down to his abs, strumming the washboard from his chest all the way down to his shorts.
In his ear, she moaned. It hummed in his veins, a siren song, all the sexier because she gave it up unwillingly.
He released the bar with a moan of his own. Her legs slid down over his hips. But when he turned, she stepped back, palms out. “I’m sorry. Not yet.”
He clenched his fists to keep from taking her against the wall. “When?”
“Let’s take a walk. We can talk—”
He scooped up a towel and buried his face. His dick had a mind of its own just now, and it wasn’t up for conversation. “I’ll meet you outside,” he said into the folds.
When the door closed with a click, he sucked a jagged breath. “Goddamn it.”
“I’M SORRY,” SHE said again when he stepped out on the porch. “I . . . You . . .” She threw up her hands. “Okay, I admit it. You’re irresistible. Are you happy now?”
“Do I look happy?” He bared his teeth in a snarl that looked half serious. “If I’m so irresistible, why aren’t we bouncing on the trampoline right now?”
“We should talk first. Get to know each other.”
“And then we can do it?”
She smiled, noncommittally. If he still wanted to do it after she confessed, she’d strip on the spot.
“Is there a path along the shore?” Best to have this conversation away from sharp objects in the kitchen.
“Yeah.” He stumped toward the beach, and she followed behind him. She couldn’t blame him for not being a good sport. Even she was frustrated by the mixed signals she was sending.
It wasn’t her usual style. She liked to flirt as much as the next girl, but she wasn’t coy, and she wasn’t a tease. When she was interested in a man, she didn’t play games.
But with Kota she’d been hot and cold, her body and brain each wrestling for control. Whenever her body had her brain on the ropes, she let Kota see how she felt. When her brain got the upper hand, she retreated like a silly virgin.
It was as frustrating for her as it was for him. Maybe when the big reveal was behind them, they could start over. Maybe he’d still want her.
Or maybe not.
Kota led the way to a ribbon of trail. They walked it in silence, winding along the varied shoreline, around rocky outcroppings, across a sliver of beach. In places the path curved away from the sea and into the shadowy woods, a whole other world, only to emerge moments later into brilliant sunlight.
Again, Kota proved he couldn’t hold onto a bad mood. Even if he’d tried, the dogs wouldn’t let him. Cy bounded in and out of the water, shaking all over them each time. Tri rode on his shoulder, enjoying a bird’s-eye view.
The ocean breeze washed over all of them. The sun splintered off the sea. And before long he was holding her hand and humming off tune.
“What’s that song?” She couldn’t make it out.
“ ‘Crazy.’ You don’t recognize it?”
“Um, no. It goes more like this.” She sang a verse.
“Okay, I got it.” He tried humming it again.
“Patsy Cline’s rolling over in her grave,” she informed him and sang it all the way through.
Then he mangled “Stormy Weather” until she set him straight. She cut off “Misty” at the first sour note.
By the time she caught on to his game, they’d covered miles at a gentle pace. “You’re a jerk,” she said. “And I’m a dope.”
“A dope with a gorgeous voice.” He kissed her knuckles resoundingly. “If you don’t want to sell it, how about donating it? The shelter’s having a fund-raiser. They’re bursting at the seams. Too many animals. Too many misfits.”
Cy chose that moment to drop a stick at their feet, his jagged tongue lolling gaily over mangled lips.
“When is it?” she said.
“I’ll tell you the details when we’re back in L.A.”
Which meant he expected to keep seeing her on the mainland. Warmth curled up like a kitten in her chest.
God help her, she’d fallen for a celebrity.
The path took a turn, emerging from the trees to descend toward another crescent of white sand. Kota started down, then slammed on the brakes.
Chris bounced off his back. “What the hell?” she said, but he didn’t reply, transfixed by something on the beach below.
Peering past him, she followed his horrified gaze and gasped.
On a bright red blanket spread out on the sand, Tana banged his new wife like a jackhammer.
KOTA TORE HIS eyes away before they burned out of his head.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” he muttered, praying for a mind wipe. Anything to erase his brother’s humping white ass from his brain.
He tried prodding Christy back up the path, but she dug in her heels.
“What, you want to watch?” he hissed, incredulous.
“Don’t you?” Just as incredulous.
“He’s my brother.”
“So?” Her eyes were glued to the action. “Don’t tell me you haven’t shared women.”
“At the same time? No!” He tried nudging her, but she had hold of a tree.
Cy trotted past, heading down, and Kota panicked. Dum
ping Tri on the ground, he gave chase, afraid to shout even though the newlyweds were so into it they probably wouldn’t notice.
But they’d notice dog slobber, for sure.
Scooping up Cy, all eighty pounds of him, he hotfooted back up the path.
Now to hustle the whole crew out of there, double-time. If Tana caught him, they’d both be scarred for life.
And Sasha . . . Kota broke a cold sweat at the thought.
Prying Christy’s hands off the tree, he tried to turn her around. But she grabbed his arms. “Wait.” She was a step above him on the path, so she could see over his shoulder. She stared unblinking, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed.
Sweet Jesus. The woman really liked to watch.
Then she gave a little gasp, caught her lip in her teeth. And his dick, in hiding since he glimpsed Tana’s ass, stood up straight, ready to party.
It was weird, for sure, but weird never stopped him before. Keeping his back to the beach, he dropped Cy like a sack of potatoes, caught Christy’s hem, and whipped her dress over her head.
Her nipples poked at her bra like nail heads. Popping her out of the silky little scrap, he caught one in his lips and thumbed the other. Her hands pushed into his hair, dragging him closer, smothering him in tits.
“Oh God,” she breathed. “He’s got her on her knees.” She moaned, and it hit him like the tenth shot of Patron.
He lost his mind completely.
Shoving her back against the tree, he drove his hand down her panties, her sopping wet panties, digging for the heat, groaning as she soaked his fingers.
But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. She’d lost her mind too. Out came her nails, raking his back, scoring his shoulders as she squirmed on his hand.
“Please, Kota.” She panted it. “Please please please.”
“Hell yeah.” He tore off her panties. Whipped out a condom and kicked his shorts aside.
“Now now now!” Her arms cinched his neck like she’d drown without him.
Hands shaking, he fumbled the condom like a kid. When he rolled it on, she jumped up, climbing him as he caught her ass, wrapping her legs around him as he drove up inside her.
“Oh God yes.” She clung to him as he pumped, her tits slick with sweat, sliding against his chest. He braced one hand on the tree, held her ass with the other, sweat streaming as he pounded, as she met him stroke for stroke.
Then she snaked one hand down between them. Her head fell back in abandon.
Like a stallion he sank his teeth in her neck, gave a last hard thrust, and exploded.
Chapter Seventeen
CHRIS WIPED HER sweaty hair off her forehead.
Okay, so she’d gotten a little ahead of herself. But holy shit, seeing Tana and Sasha going at it had unhinged her.
Kota lifted his heavy head off her shoulder. Dreamy blue eyes gazed into hers. “Are they still doing it?”
She peeked over his shoulder. “They’re in the water. Naked, but not touching.”
“Disappointed?”
Heat climbed her neck, invading her cheeks. “You’ll never let me forget this, will you?”
“Nope.” He kissed her, a playful smack on the lips. “It’s blackmail bait, babe. I’m your lord and master.”
She shrugged. “In that case, I’ll confess and get it over with. Tana, I’ll say, we only watched for a little while, because we got so horny seeing you bang your wife—”
“Okay, okay. It’s our little secret.”
She took a deep breath. Time to yank off the Band-Aid. “Speaking of secrets—”
“Hold that thought,” he said. “I need to take care of business before things get messy.” He lowered her till her feet touched the ground. “You sure it’s safe to turn around?”
“Totally G-rated.”
Kota stepped back, rousing the now-dozing dogs. Cy jumped up, ready for action. Tri tapped her ankle, looking for a lift.
It took a few minutes to get everyone organized. When they were headed back the way they’d come, Kota took her hand, smiling and relaxed. “So, what were you saying about secrets?”
Chris reconsidered the Band-Aid. Not that she had cold feet. It was just simple logic. Any reasonable person would agree that this kind of news would go down better with wine.
She gave him a smile. “Ignore anything I say within ten minutes after an orgasm. Especially an orgasm like that.”
His eyes gleamed. The king of the jungle, full of himself and high on endorphins.
By the time they got back to the house, he was ready for more.
“Whoa, wait.” She grabbed hold of the door frame as he propelled her through the kitchen. “I need water.”
“There’s a fridge in my bedroom.” He detached her from the door frame and kept her moving down the hall, pushing open a door to a gigantic room with a stupendous view and a mammoth bed.
“Sorry about the mess.” Rumpled sheets, yesterday’s socks, another pile of scripts. Everything hit the floor with one sweep of his arm.
“But I need—”
“A shower? Me too.” He peeled her dress over her head, unhooked her bra—her panties had gone missing on the trail—and stepped back to look at her.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “I could eat you alive.”
And didn’t that conjure an image?
Then he dropped his shorts, and she got an eyeful of what she’d barely glimpsed before.
Gulp.
His shower was oversized too, big enough for a cheerleading squad.
She didn’t ask.
“Let’s get you wet.” He nudged her under a giant showerhead that soaked her like a cloudburst. She closed her eyes and slicked back her hair. The water cooled her steaming skin.
Then Kota’s big, soapy hands slid over her breasts, heating it up all over again.
Opening her eyes, she drank him in, his shoulders twice as wide as hers, his chest hard and muscled and within her grasp. She stole some soap from her breasts and used it on him, her palms sliding up to meet behind his neck, then down, over his stomach, around his hips.
His cock bobbed against her belly, and she went back for more soap, taking him in her fists. She’d dreamed of this, handling him, fucking him. For three days it seemed impossible. Now it was real, and oh, so hot.
“Nice hands,” he murmured. His own slid down and around behind her. “Nice ass.” His big palms made it seem small.
She lifted her face, greedy for his lips, sucking his tongue as his long fingers curled around and under, opening her, reaching for the heat.
Sliding her hands up his chest, she cupped his cheeks, plastering herself to him, massaging his cock with her belly until he tore his lips away, his voice a rasp. “Unless you want it standing up again, we gotta get out of here.”
They didn’t bother with towels. He tossed her on the giant bed and caged her under him.
“Condom?” her last, faraway brain cell asked.
“We’re not there yet.” He slid down the length of her, lips curved in a wicked smile. “Spread ’em, babe.”
She spread ’em. Then he elbowed ’em wider to fit his shoulders. Slipping his arms under her thighs, he jacked her up, taking her with his tongue, no preamble, just a shock of pleasure right where it counted.
Gasping, she arched, heels gouging the mattress, hands fisting the sheets. He brought his fingers into play, toying with her, finding her sweet spots like he’d been there before.
It was torture sublime, by a man who knew how. Again, and again, he brought her to the brink, always holding her climax just out of her reach, working her, working her, for hours, for days, with lips and tongue and the pad of his thumb.
Her mind tilted toward madness. The universe contracted to one thought; her brain could process just one word.
“Please.” A moan. �
�Please. Please please please.”
At last he lifted his head. “Please what, darlin’?”
She wracked her fevered mind for the answer. “Please . . . Master?”
KOTA LAUGHED. “OKAY, that works for me.” And burying his face between her thighs, he shot beautiful, sexy, incredible Christy straight up to the surface of the moon.
Waiting for her to come down to earth, he sat back on his heels and enjoyed the view—wet hair plastered to her cheeks, skin sheened with shower water and sweat, arms splayed at her sides with a few strands of his hair wrapped around limp fingers.
Yep, God built her just for him.
He jiggled her leg. “Wake up, sweetheart. Master wants to get off.”
One eye opened, a baleful stare. “That was a joke.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll discuss the terms later.” He reached for the nightstand, fished a condom from the drawer, and tore the foil with his teeth.
“For now,” he said, “let’s get you up on your knees.”
TO KOTA’S MIND, women were their most beautiful in the languid moments after sex. Unconcerned about makeup, or hair, or what tomorrow would bring, they simply glowed. An inner beauty that enhanced their natural gifts.
Propping his head on his hand, he gazed down at Christy, the most gorgeous creature in the universe. With the tip of his finger, he wrote her name on her stomach, swirling the tail of the Y around her belly button.
A slow smile curved her lips. “That tickles.”
“That tickles, Master.”
She opened her eyes. Rolled them.
“That was your call,” he reminded her, “and lucky for you, I’m up for just about anything. Blindfolds, handcuffs.” He caught the flicker in her eye.
So she liked to play, did she?
He pulled her closer, caging her with his leg, nuzzling her ear. “I can raid wardrobe for anything you want. We can play bad girl and perverted cop. Coed and horny professor.” He nipped her lobe, and her breath caught.
Still, she tried to save face. “What makes you think I’d be into that?”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, honey. I’ll tie you up, tie you down.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Just don’t ask me to spank you, because, sweetheart, I couldn’t lift a hand to you to save my own life.”
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