His mouth trailed to her jawline to the sensitive spot under her ear. Both his hands spanned her waist, resting lightly, and she let her hands roam across the muscular planes of his back. She needed more of him, more heat, more skin on skin.
His breath ran hot over her ear as he whispered, “God, Mad, I want you more than is decent.”
“Be indecent,” she urged.
He let out a long breath. “Not with you.”
“Yes, I’m used to it.”
He dropped his hands to his sides.
“I can handle it.” She slid a hand to the waistband of his briefs, intent on pushing him, when he caught her wrist.
His hazel eyes met hers, the conflict in them clear to her—heat and restraint. He pulled her close in a tight hug, his words rasping in her ear like he’d run a long distance. “You’ll never look at me the same way again.” He released her. “I need you to step away now, turn, run—”
She grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. She never ran from trouble; she invited it. The kiss turned urgent, openly carnal, igniting her. His fingers speared through her hair in a tight grip; his other hand went to the small of her back, pressing her close against his hard body, his delicious heat. There was a tension in him under all that heat that told her he was holding back, going easy on her. Maybe because he knew it was a onetime thing. Maybe because this was the first time she’d always dreamed of. Their first time.
He shifted to her neck, hot kisses raining down the column of her throat all the way to her collarbone, his tongue tracing the dip between her collarbones. She wanted a lot more.
“Nobody has to know,” she reminded him, squeezing his ass with both hands. “Do what you want.”
He palmed her ass over the long shirt and then his hand slipped under the shirt, meeting bare skin. He pulled back enough to look at her, the intense heat in his eyes promising a lot more if she could only push through his restraint. “You forgot your panties.”
“They didn’t work with the dress.”
“You’re not wearing a dress.”
She stepped back, unbuttoned the last few buttons of her shirt, and let it drop to the ground. Park just stood there, taking her in. She hoped he wasn’t judging her to be too boyish. Everything about her was small and her hips were narrow. Not super curvy the way men seemed to like.
She got huffy when he kept looking and not touching. “I know I’m too small.”
“You’re perfect,” he said, his arms wrapping around her. He kissed her for a long hot moment and then he pulled back, frustrating her to no end, before placing one large hand over her heart. Everything in her stilled.
He met her eyes, full of heat and tenderness. She swallowed hard, unused to so much emotion with sex. He spoke and the words sounded like a solemn oath. “I’ll make it good for you.”
Her heart thumped hard and for once she had no smart remark. She could do nothing but stand there and stare. He cupped her jaw, slowly leaning down to kiss her. She fell into it like a soft sigh, a dizzying tumble into deep kisses that turned her to utter mush. He went slow, savoring her, it seemed. He dropped to his knees and cupped one breast, flicking his tongue across the beaded nipple. She arched, aching for more, and he sucked deep. She moaned, desire spearing through her, making her weak with need.
“Park,” she whispered, her fingers stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
He gave the other breast the same attention, and she desperately wanted more. His mouth trailed down her belly and dropped a kiss over her sex. She hissed out a breath. His hands cupped her ass as he kissed her intimately, his tongue parting her. She nearly lost it right there. It was so…hot. His dark head, his hot mouth, his hands firm on her. Within minutes she was rocking against him, pleasure flooding her, turning her into a mindless throbbing aching bundle of need. She panted, her fingers tangling in his hair, and then she cried out, tumbling over the edge, the release shaking her up. She dropped her head back, her eyes drifting closed.
He stood and lifted her by the waist. “C’mere, sweet thing.”
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and nipped his neck. “I’m not sweet.”
“You taste sweet. Let me get another taste to be sure.” She throbbed at the words.
He set her on the bed, pushed her legs open, and took another long taste. She writhed under him. “Fuck me,” she said on a moan.
He lapped at her again and her hips came off the mattress. “So sweet.”
“Okay, I’m sweet. Now fuck me.”
He chuckled and buried his face between her legs. She cried out, wiggled this way and that, which only brought him in closer, and then he pushed her legs over his shoulders, keeping her open to him. The pleasure was dark, intense, white-hot. The climax hit suddenly, a deep sensation radiating out from her core as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
She threw her arms to her sides in complete abandon, melting into the mattress. She knew he’d be good. He’d always been so good to her. She heard him shifting away and opened her eyes to find him standing naked next to the nightstand, pulling a condom from his wallet. It was the first time she’d seen him completely naked and he was magnificent. Like a sculpture, all hard lines and planes, defined muscles from his wide shoulders to chest and flat stomach. And, best of all, a thick cock.
“Damn, you’re hung,” she said appreciatively.
“Thanks.” He ripped the foil packet open, knocking his wallet off the nightstand in his haste.
“Guess I shoulda brought a box of condoms for the next round.”
“Just once,” he said, joining her on the bed.
She ignored the ache in her heart at her own words coming back to her. It didn’t matter. She’d sooner die than not have him.
He settled between her legs, holding himself up on his forearms and gazing down at her as he slid slowly inside, filling her. Her breath shuddered out. He kissed her and stroked her hair back from her face. “You okay?”
“I told you I won’t break.” She lifted her hips, and he groaned. “Make it good.”
He thrust again, a slow deep glide. “Haven’t I made it good for you so far?”
“It was okay,” she said, goading him on. “But I know you’re going easy on me—” she flashed a smile “—and I want you to go hard.”
His eyes glittered, meeting hers for one electrifying moment. He lowered his head, brushing his lips over hers. “You have a sassy mouth,” he said and then sank his teeth into her bottom lip.
She scratched her nails down his back and was rewarded with a hard thrust. She wrapped her legs higher around him, taking him deeper. His fingers tangled in her hair as he sucked on the side of her neck and continued a slow in and out.
“Harder, faster,” she urged.
“Slower, deeper,” he said in a strained voice, doing exactly that. He slid a hand under her ass and held her in place for his insanely slow grind of pleasure.
He gazed into her eyes, and she was caught, drowning in all she felt for him. She was open, too open, and she couldn’t survive the inevitable cold shoulder. The brusque goodbye.
She grabbed his ass and pulled him hard against her.
And then she clung to him as his control finally snapped and he pounded into her, taking, taking, taking, his breath harsh and hot near her ear. She tried to memorize everything about this moment, the deep pressure in her core, the heat and strength of him, his scent, and then she lost it, tumbling into the deepest of pleasures, the release shuddering through her, cries of ecstasy wrenched from her throat. His own throaty moan sent him into her with one last deep thrust. Another spark of pleasure shot through her, taking her breath. And then he stilled, their bodies slick with sweat.
He collapsed on top of her. She couldn’t have moved anyway. She was so deeply satisfied, limp and boneless.
A long moment later, he rolled off her and padded to the bathroom, probably to get rid of the condom. By the time he returned, she summoned her last reserve of energy and sa
t up. She had to go before he asked her to leave. She scooted to the edge of the bed and stopped, staring in shock where his wallet had fallen open on the floor. There was a plastic holder for pictures. And the picture right on top was of her.
It was the night of his going-away party. She recognized the ripped concert shirt and his flannel shirt, her long hair in a high ponytail, but what she saw most of all was the love shining in her eyes. He must’ve known all this time how she worshipped him. She went to pick it up with shaking hands when Park grabbed her and pulled her back against him.
“Stay the night,” he said, stroking her hair back. He tucked her more firmly against him, spooning her from behind. “You cold? You’re trembling.”
She couldn’t help it, she was so shocked that he’d carried her picture around all these years.
He settled the covers over her, his arm banding around her waist, his legs tucking against hers. Her throat was clogged with emotion. She debated mentioning the picture. What did it mean? She wanted to look through his wallet, see if there were other pictures. Maybe he had tons of pictures tucked in there. Maybe it was just a coincidence that she was the first picture.
She waited for long moments, until his hold on her loosened, before slowly shifting toward the edge of the bed, intent on snagging the wallet.
Park pulled her back, tucking her against him, his large hand on her head pinning her in place. “Go to sleep, little bit.”
“Don’t call me that anymore,” she said sleepily, the firm hold and the heat of his body relaxing her. Little bit was a kid nickname and that wasn’t where they were at.
He brushed her hair back and kissed her temple. “Go to sleep, sassy mouth.”
She bristled, but then he stroked her hair, lulling her. His arm wrapped around her waist again, heavy and secure. She felt so good she finally gave up the fight, closed her eyes, and dropped into a deep sleep.
~ ~ ~
Park woke from a deeply satisfying sleep a little disoriented. He opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings. Hotel. Wedding. He bolted upright. Mad.
She sat on the edge of the bed, going through his wallet.
“What’re you doing?” he barked.
She jumped, her cheeks flushing pink. “I was looking at your pictures.”
“Who said you could go through my wallet?”
“It was on the floor,” she said. “I picked it up. Park, what does this mean?” She held it open, showing him the picture he’d tucked in there. It was from the night he’d left. He’d taken it on his cell phone and, the first chance he got, he had it printed into a picture. That picture had seen him through many a lonely night overseas.
He snagged the wallet and closed it. “Nothing.” He leaned over and set it on the nightstand. Next thing he knew Mad was in his lap. Her petite body naked and hot against him. He went instantly hard. Fuck. He didn’t have any more condoms and this was supposed to be a onetime thing anyway. He tried to peel her off, but she clung tighter. She was strong too, her cheek pressed against his chest. He was sure she could hear the thundering of his heart.
She looked up at him, her doe-brown eyes searching his. He had her delicate features memorized—the curve of her cheek, her small upturned nose, her pointy chin. “Why do you have my picture in your wallet?”
He blinked, not wanting to hurt her, but at the same time needing her to understand there were boundaries between them, set for her own good.
Her hands roamed on his back, her hot mouth pressed against the side of his neck. He grabbed her by the hair and kissed her hard, unable to resist. She returned the kiss, pressing close, pelvis to pelvis. His instinct to lift her, to sink into oblivion was overwhelming. His fingers tightened in her hair, his other hand on her hip, gripping tight as he fought instinct. But then she grabbed his shoulders, lifting herself, and he had to hold her by the hips with both hands to stop her from sinking down onto him.
“Mad, this was a mistake.” How was he going to face his family? How could he face her and see the disappointment in her eyes that he could never be the kind of man she needed?
“Fuck you, this was a mistake,” she snapped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Dark desire thrummed through him. Rough and raw. Not what she deserved.
He closed his eyes. “It was.”
She moved quickly, her teeth sinking into his earlobe, giving a sharp tug. He felt himself grow harder, thicker, the need pushing the limits of his control. Her words skimmed hot near his ear. “Open your eyes and see who you’re about to fuck.”
He opened his eyes to find her glaring at him, the expression on her face defiant, challenging, and strong all at the same time.
He couldn’t help himself. He stroked his thumb across her full lower lip and, when her lips parted, pushed inside. Her tongue swirled around his thumb, and he watched as she sucked. He trailed his fingers lower, over her sharp chin, which she lifted, exposing her throat to his rough stroke.
He felt her swallow under his fingers, and he dropped his hand.
They stared at each other for a long moment, his body urging him to take what she offered, his brain slamming on the brakes. The musky scent of arousal made him grip her hips tightly, unsure if he was about to impale her or set her safely away.
Her soft voice reached through the haze of his mind. “I want to know why you have one picture in your wallet and that one picture is of me.”
He loosened his grip on her hips, struggling for the words that would be close to the truth without revealing too much. Finally, he said, “Looking at your picture reminded me I had people back home who loved me.”
“This wasn’t people,” she said, rising to her knees and gazing deep into his eyes, mesmerizing him. “This was just—” she suddenly shifted down, taking him fully inside her. He sucked in a harsh breath at the rush of pleasure “—me.”
“Mad,” he said on a moan. He held her by the hips, knowing he should set her away from him, yet knowing it was way too late for that.
She lifted herself and dropped down on him, taking him deep. His eyes rolled back in his head. She kept going, talking to him as she lifted and dropped over and over, making him crazed, barely hanging onto control.
“Why?” she said on a breathy pant. Another deep slide home. She kept going, kept talking, and he just hung on.
“Why me?” Tight velvet.
“My picture.” Perfect.
“Just me.”
Always you. The voice from deep inside his consciousness made everything in him still.
She moved faster, his mind clouding, sensation and the tight bond he’d always felt with her overwhelming him. He took control, slowing her down before he went off inside her.
“You on the pill?” he asked.
She grinned, like she’d won. “Yes. I want to feel you come inside me. I want all of you.”
The words triggered something deep inside, a primal need for possession, and he went for it. Heart-racing exhilaration pumped through his veins as he thrust and she matched him. Everything narrowed down to her, the feel of her petite body clenching around him, her breathy pants, her nails digging into his shoulders. He gripped her sweet ass, and then he went off, holding her tight against him as he emptied himself inside her like he’d never done with another woman before. His woman.
They stayed like that for a long moment, her small frame plastered against him.
She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and spoke in his ear. “I know why you had my picture in your wallet.”
He pulled back to look at her, all sexily rumpled. And happy. He loved seeing her happy. “Yeah? Why?” This should be good.
“Because you knew I worshipped you.”
He couldn’t deny he loved the way she looked at him. “Maybe,” he allowed.
“Well, guess what?” She lifted off him and slipped out of bed. The loss of her heat, her closeness, made him suddenly bereft.
“What?”
She turned and smiled i
mpishly over her shoulder. “Now it’s your turn to worship me.”
And with that she went into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. An invitation.
The shower turned on.
He rolled out of bed. It was his turn.
Chapter Eleven
The Christmas festivities didn’t start until nearly noon. Everyone was sleeping off the long night they’d had of partying at Claire and Jake’s wedding reception. Mad showed up at Claire’s cabin with Hailey mid-morning, both of them bright-eyed and cheerful. Mad because she’d finally gotten laid by the man of her dreams and Hailey because she was always perky in the morning. Park had left her this morning after their shower, saying he promised to meet up with Ty and Alex to wrap some Santa presents for Viv while she was on a sleigh ride with her grandfather and Claire’s parents. Viv was nearly two and understood more this year about Santa.
As was tradition, they had a Secret Santa where they’d all picked a name from the Campbell family, blood brothers included, twenty-dollar max. There were just too many of them for it to be affordable to get everyone a cool gift. She’d drawn Josh this year, which was easy. She’d gotten him an immersion hand mixer for stuff that was too small for the big mixer. It was more than twenty bucks, but, hell, she owed him for everything he’d sacrificed for her. She’d just say she got it on a Black Friday sale.
Claire’s cook was preparing a full brunch with waffles, eggs, sausage, bacon, mimosas, fruit salad, and a bagel spread. Mad was on her second cup of coffee in the great room, the cabin filling up with family, while she waited anxiously for Park to arrive. Would he acknowledge her in front of the family? They’d crossed the threshold of just a onetime thing as far as she was concerned. Three times—twice in bed, once in the shower—told her she’d pushed past any resistance he’d had to the two of them. Just a look across the room would satisfy her. Or would he pretend she was nothing more than that mouthy twerp she’d always been to him?
Inviting Trouble (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 2) Page 11