A Taste of Temptation

by Heather McGovern

  Before she had a second to be self-conscious about it, he kissed her. Everywhere.

  Across her collarbone, between her breasts, the top of her tummy. Hot and wild, he closed his lips over her nipple, making her cry out at the relief. He pressed her back into the bed, his hands huge on her rib cage, smoothing down her sides, before cupping her breasts like a feast, moving his mouth back and forth between them, flicking his tongue and nibbling gently with his teeth.

  “Wright.” She gasped. “Wright . . . I . . .”

  He dragged his mouth up to her ear. “I’d love to make you come again. Just like this.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, the rising tide of sensations threatening to drown her. He went back to work until she arched her back, pressing into him.

  She knew what her hips were up to. All but dry-humping him, chasing after the kind of climax that only he’d given her before.

  Her breath came out in quick pants, the release barely out of reach.

  Then Wright let go. His mouth never slowed in his quest, but he held himself up, propped on one hand, the other working the button of her shorts.

  Wright was going to touch her, and the thought alone had her clenching.

  With deft fingers he popped the button, sliding the zipper down, moving lower, before slipping his hand into her panties. The first brush of his finger against the cleft of her sex yanked a sharp inhale from both of them.

  With enormous effort, she resisted clamping her legs shut or doing something completely insane like grabbing his hand and riding it for him.

  He moved his hand lower, exploring, sliding his fingers between her lips until she turned her head to the side, biting back a curse.

  Wright groaned, made her look up.

  As she turned her face, he kissed her. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered against her mouth.

  She couldn’t respond. There were no words.

  Wright shifted lower on the bed, his hands between her legs and his lips on her breasts. He rubbed and teased in tempo with his kisses, slipping one finger inside her as he swirled his tongue around her nipple and nipped sharply.

  Sophie grabbed his hand, a curse escaping, but holy crap, it felt good.

  Wright panted. He moved away and she was about to go clawing after him when he started tugging on her shorts. “I have to see you,” he said as an explanation before stripping her bare.

  She was completely naked, in Wright’s bed, and he still had every single article of his clothes on, except for his shoes.

  Any other time, the vulnerable position would’ve shot her anxiety into overload. But not with him. He covered her mouth with his, and she forgot all about who was dressed and who wasn’t. Again, he kissed his way over her breasts, rubbing and pressing his fingers into her until even she could feel how wet she was.

  He took a nipple into his mouth, gently closing his teeth around it, humming as he pumped his fingers, playing her until she writhed and bucked against him.

  “I’m—Wright. I’m going to—”

  “I know, baby. Let me feel you come.”

  Like an avalanche that struck without warning, her orgasm swallowed her whole. Covering her, dragging her down. Wright’s words penetrated some primal part of her brain that wanted him to feel her. Needed him to. In that moment, she could be honest enough with herself to admit, she’d wanted him to feel her for a long time.

  Biting down hard on her lip, the pinch of pain washed past as she came. And Wright didn’t stop. He kept touching her, a gentle swirl of his fingers against her sensitive clit until she was twitching and flinching against him.

  “S-stop for a second.” She stayed his hand. “I need to catch my breath.”

  “You need mouth-to-mouth?”

  The question was so desert dry and deadpan, she began to giggle.

  “I’m volunteering.” He smirked.

  When she blinked and gathered her wits enough to look, the sight was enough to send her spiraling again.

  Wright loomed above her, one hand on her hip, his gaze devouring her as it swept over her body.

  “I think I’m okay now,” she said. A total lie. She had passed okay about a million miles back.

  “Good.” With another smug smile, Wright shifted down the bed, hooking his hands under her legs, making her bend them at the knees.

  He situated himself between her legs and tugged her down near the foot of the bed.

  “What are you—” She couldn’t get the whole question out before he closed his mouth over her clit.

  “Oh—” She dug her fingers into the bed.

  Wright was half on his stomach, kneeling on the floor, and he worked his tongue against her sensitive flesh, picking up exactly where he left off.

  Her body, still sparking for her last orgasm, required very little for the sensation to build again, her responsiveness shocking. She’d never climaxed twice in a row before, definitely not within a minute.

  He sucked, his teeth brushing against her, and she went from clawing at the bed to reaching for him. His hair, his shoulders, whatever she could get her hands on.

  “Wright.” She panted. “Holy shit.”

  He let out a deep, satisfied noise, the vibration filling her. Her body bowed, her hips thrusting up with the surge of her second climax. She came and came, Wright’s mouth never leaving her as she fell apart.

  At some point, she found earth again. Even as she trembled, a smile made her face hurt.

  Maybe she hadn’t forgotten how to have sex after all.

  She rubbed her eyes, her gaze falling on the man laid out beside her, still fully dressed, currently threading their fingers together. He dropped featherlight kisses up her arm, his shit-eating grin the most blatant she’d ever witnessed.

  “What the hell?” She was too breathless to add any inflection to the question.

  “What?” He moved closer to her side, dancing his fingers up her rib cage, making her flinch and turn into him.

  “Why are you still dressed?” She tugged at his T-shirt.

  He took advantage of lying this way, smoothing his hand across her hip, around and over her bottom. “Are you saying you want me to get undressed?”

  “Yes. That is what I’m saying.”

  His grin was all too familiar, yet lying naked with him so totally different, her body fluttered and sparked as though made of fireflies.

  Wright pushed off the bed and stood, reaching back to tug his shirt over his head. She rose to her knees, facing him, and helped by pulling at his belt. In a few seconds, he was finally, gloriously naked.

  She’d seen him without his shirt many times, every summer, but this time, everything about him was different.

  The dusting of hair across his chest was sexier than it’d ever been before. His shoulders had never been that strong and defined looking, nor had his arms. And his face. His friendly, wonderful face had never held the kind of carnal expression or rough edge that it did now.

  Mostly, though, she’d never seen Wright McAdams naked from the waist down.

  She’d felt him the other day, yes, and as promising as that sensation was, it was nothing compared to the real thing.

  “Wow.” She mouthed the word.

  “Come here.” He took her elbow, smiling as she moved closer.

  She brushed her fingers over his chest, up to his shoulders as he smoothed his hands around her waist, squeezing her bottom. He kissed her. Not as desperate as before, he took his time, brushing his lips back and forth, before moving to her neck and taking a deep breath in.

  She let her head fall to the side, her gaze settling on the dresser mirror by the bed.

  They were there, in the reflection. She and Wright, completely naked, pressed together, their hands and mouths all over one another. Like a modern-day Adam and Eve tasting the forbidden fruit, yet she felt no guilt.

  Not right now anyway.

  What she saw reflected back at her was amazing. Sensual and wonderful, and okay, maybe a little bit naughty.


  A puff of laughter escaped.

  “What?” Wright nuzzled into her neck.

  “Nothing. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  He rained warm kisses along her cheek. “I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.”

  He had a point. Maybe he’d spent the same amount of time hating her dates and bemoaning her life choices as she had his. Maybe this was all bound to happen, eventually, unless one of them vacated the other’s life—and that was never going to happen.

  Wright wasn’t going to leave Honeywilde any more than she would, and perhaps the two of them being together was only a matter of time.

  She smoothed her hands down his arms, relishing the solid muscle beneath her fingertips. Arms that she’d ogled for years. Down his forearms until she drew her hands together, sweeping them across his stomach, until the muscles of his abdomen tightened.

  There were exactly two guys she’d touched this way before.

  Once, when she lost her virginity, and the whole experience was horrible, and Paul.

  Poor Paul.

  Other than them, she was an amateur. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to act like one.

  As she placed a delicate kiss at the corner of his mouth, she slid her hand lower, down the length of his cock.

  Wright gasped into her mouth, and she took it as a good sign. Down, farther still, she cupped his sac, gentle, curious.

  Touching him felt amazing. His reactions caused a thrill of... power? A sense of control she hadn’t expected.

  She wasn’t going to look smug at his reaction—at the way he tensed as she stroked up and down his length, as his breathing skipped—but she felt it. She hadn’t expected to feel high on the proud satisfaction, but she did.

  Wright took her mouth in a plundering kiss, sucking on her lips in between panting for breath as she stroked him.

  She’d wondered about this part of him for years, and it was better than she’d imagined.

  He twitched in her grip, as if knowing what she was thinking.

  Brushing her thumb over the head, she used his slickness to stroke underneath, making Wright grind out a moan.

  “Do you . . .” She rested her forehead against his jaw, the realness of asking him this hitting her. “Do you have a condom?”

  He nodded, his stubble like soft sandpaper, and dipped his mouth lower. “Hang on.”

  Pulling himself away, he hurried to his bathroom, the view of him from the back almost as good as the front. He was back in an instant, tearing open the foil.

  She took the condom from him and, with some awkward effort, rolled it on. Once she’d scooted over on the bed, she realized he wasn’t following. With a tilt of her head, she considered him. “Everything okay?”

  Chapter 12

  Sophie looked good in his bed. So good.

  He felt like he was going to have a heart attack, but sure. Other than that, everything was great.

  Wright crawled onto the bed next to her, his heart pounding like he’d raced five miles. As spectacular as the sex had been so far, as certain he was of what he wanted and how much they both enjoyed it, this was still a big damn deal.

  This wasn’t any girl he was sleeping with. This was Sophie. And it mattered.

  With a delicate hand on his neck, she tugged him down and kissed him. “Your heart is racing.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “But I’m supposed to be the nervous one. Not you.” Her sweet smile was his undoing.

  He wasn’t nervous out of doubt. His worry came from wanting this to be perfect. Even though it was already as close to perfect as anything had been before, he didn’t want to muck it all up now.

  “Hey.” She stroked his hip, tugging him toward her. “I’m kind of glad I’m not the only one with jitters.”

  Wright never got the jitters, but that was the best way to explain how he felt.

  He eased his way over her, concentrating on the pale beauty of her skin, the swollen softness of her lips, thinking of the delicious noises she made when she came and how desperately he wanted to come with her. Focusing on her, thinking about her, made his nerves fade away.

  This time, when he kissed her, he put the wealth of everything he felt into it. Even with all that they’d done so far, he’d never had sex with Sophie. He wanted it to be amazing. Special. Perfect.

  With the tips of his fingers, he touched her again, slipping his hand between her legs to find her still wet, waiting for him.

  Sophie hadn’t been with many guys. Not that it’d matter to him if she’d been with dozens, but they were close enough he had a fair idea of her experience. The last thing he wanted was to go too fast.

  “If you need anything from me, all you have to do is tell me, okay?”

  He waited until her gaze met his and she nodded. Then he took himself in hand and pushed into her, slow. Painfully slow. The urge to take was strong; to be one with her, those delicious legs wrapped around him again. But he held back.

  She relaxed more as he nuzzled her ear, kissing her neck, and he kept touching her until finally, he was deep inside her.

  Without moving his body, he caught her gaze. “You okay?”

  Sophie caught her lips between her teeth, and nodded. “Yeah. Give me a second?”

  She could have forever. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  A moment later, she shifted beneath him. Pleasure licked up his spine. He closed his eyes and moaned.

  “Are you okay?”

  As an answer, he kissed her, plundering her mouth the way he wanted to plunder her. Somewhere between the kissing, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and her legs finally encircling him again, they began to move.

  Not just him as he rocked into her, but Sophie too. She pushed up, counterpoint to his thrust, the contact bringing bursts of ecstasy.

  He grabbed her hips, encouraging her movement, helping her along. Beneath him, with her fair skin and pattern of freckles, pert breasts bouncing as they moved, Sophie glowed. She was radiance come to life. Her hazel eyes dark, lips kiss-stained and swollen, nipples darker after his attention.

  He would never get enough of this. Could never satisfy the need that gnawed at him, not if he was buried deep inside her now and still wanted more.

  He couldn’t say it to her, couldn’t confess what she did to him, for fear of scaring her away, but Sophie meant everything to him. She was vital. Like air and water. He’d always had her in his life and couldn’t imagine his world without her in it.

  And now, to be sharing this. To have this with her too.

  Did she have any idea what it meant? How many times he’d fought his desire for exactly this.

  “Oh god . . . Soph.” He bent over her, digging his hands into the bed on either side of her head.

  Her hands were soft, fluttering across his skin until she found his face.

  She cupped his jaw and urged him down for a kiss. “I know,” she said, as he thrust into her, over and over, his orgasm building at blinding speed, already threatening to push him over the edge.

  No, she didn’t know. Because if she knew, she’d run scared.

  But she could know how wonderful this was, that compatibility and potency like this didn’t happen very often, if at all. And he could show her, by carrying her with him as he went over the edge.

  Wright held himself up with one hand, using his free hand to reach between them.

  As he ground against her, he tweaked one nipple before going lower, to find her clit. He pressed and rubbed against her until her little gasps and moans told him he’d found the right spot.

  Never slowing or hesitating, he worked her clit until Sophie thrashed beneath him, her hair wild against his pillow, panting with “yes” and “there.”

  “Wright . . . Wright.”

  “I know. Me too. I want to feel you come for me. One more time. Come on, baby.”

  Sophie cried out, head tossed back and nails biting into his arms as she tightened around him.

  Wright came, pulsing
and throbbing inside her, feeling like he might leave his body if it weren’t for her legs anchored around him.

  “Soph.” He thrust into her and panted. His body shook as he buried his face into her neck.

  He didn’t want her to let go, ever.

  Chapter 13

  At 6:00 a.m., Sophie rolled over, slapping at her phone to make the alarm shut up.

  A little sore and a lot tired, she had no interest in getting up. The only bad thing about staying in bed was it was hers, and not Wright’s, and she was in it alone.

  She’d finally made it home last night, well after three in the morning. He kept urging her to stay. Spend the night. But they both knew she couldn’t roll into Honeywilde when her family might be awake, looking like she’d been doing exactly what she’d been doing.

  She’d crowbarred herself out of his bed last night and snuck home to collapse in her room.

  Two hours was plenty of sleep to be a functional human, right?

  The alarm beeped again and she blindly reached toward her bedside table to make it stop.

  She bumped the picture of her and her parents—her birth parents—and turned off the alarm before righting the frame.

  A picture of her and her parents, taken on the Fourth of July, the day of their accident.

  Why she’d kept that picture close, of the hundreds locked away in storage, she couldn’t explain.

  Heck, she didn’t even understand why.

  A silly little moment, frozen in time. They looked so happy.

  She sat up and brought the picture to her lap.

  Framed by lush green trees, a fiery-haired child held hands with a pretty, petite redhead. They smiled and stared back at Sophie. Next to her mother, only slightly taller, a boyishly handsome man grinned, looking proud as punch.

  Her parents made an adorable couple. Through childhood, Sophie had been told how much everyone loved her folks. They were friendly and kind, the only couple who truly socialized with Robert and Sue Bradley.

  The truth was, her parents could’ve named one of half a dozen couples in Windamere as her guardians, if the worst were to ever happen. Everyone swore they loved her birth parents.