“Yes. And you’ve conveniently reworked the sleeping arrangement for your brother and nephew so we can be alone.”
He put one hand over hers and pushed the door closed, palming her hip with his other hand. “Only fair. We watched Lyon while Evan got something going with Gloria.” Both hands on her waist now, he pulled her toward him.
“Did he really?” she breathed, her pulse picking up on contact.
He shrugged. “Just a call.” He considered her. “You look surprised.”
“I’m not.” She wasn’t. Not really. Gloria said she’d wanted Evan, and… “Glo usually gets what she wants.”
“Do you?” He was watching her intently. It was a slow pitch, that comment. Setting her up for a home run. She tilted her chin up. Shallow marks indented the sides of his nose where his glasses had rested all day. His dark eyes roamed her face, the color of them mirroring his charcoal shirt.
She let out a derisive sniff. “Not usually.”
“Well, I always get what I want.” His hands tightened at her waist. “What do I want, Kimber?” His minty toothpaste breath tickled her senses. If there was a protesting brain cell in the bunch, it didn’t speak up.
She gulped when he tugged her nearer. The answer was as obvious as his hard length pressing against her middle. “Me?”
“You,” he confirmed before taking her lips in an insistent, purposeful kiss. His fingers sailed along her waist and back. Hardly any space separated them. He smashed her against his hard male chest, wrapped her in his powerful, solid arms.
Savoring his lips, she ran her hands into his hair and ground against him, the nudge of his manhood growing harder. He let out a sound between a grunt and a growl and slid his tongue into her mouth, stroking her while his fingers played her spine like a harp.
This is happening. Finally. Truly.
If she could time-travel back to her sixteen-year-old self, that shy girl with the braces would laugh and call her a liar. She’d never believed she’d get her hands—or her mouth—on Landon Downey. Back then, she hadn’t had the mental capacity to come up with what this moment might feel like.
Even as an adult, he was blowing away her expectations, and they still had their clothes on.
His fingers brushed her stomach and ribs as he skimmed her shirt up, slowing when he got to her bra. He raised an approving eyebrow before lifting her shirt the rest of the way and tossing it aside.
When his lips landed on her neck, she pulled in a stuttered breath, alternately shivering and overheating as he tongued and kissed her, leaving damp spots on her skin.
He slowed when he reached her bra and tucked his tongue beneath the strap. He glided down to one cup, dipped the tip of his tongue inside, grazed the very edge of a nipple, then drew back. When he pulled away, he took her next breath with him, and she had to remind herself to inhale. He repeated the action—delving into the other cup and teasing her there, while she fought to regulate her breathing.
Her hands had wandered to the open triangle of his chest revealed by the undone buttons. She fisted his shirt, wanting to see him. All of him.
She’d seen him shirtless at the lake all those summers ago, and she’d been enamored by his long, lean torso, firm pecs, and rounded shoulders, the sheer male hardness of him. Longing to see how the body in her memory had changed, she undid one button. Then another.
The years had added width to his tall frame. Shoulders that had been rounded were broad, the chest that had been lean, full. Fumbling with the rest of the buttons, she managed to reveal his abdomen. What used to be an impressive flat, tanned stomach was a toned series of bumps beneath taut skin. She ran her fingers over his abs, stopping at the light brown trail of hair that vanished into his suit pants.
She traced her fingers up his torso as his muscles clenched under her touch. His skin was hot, and her hands shook as she splayed her palms over his pectorals and savored the feel of his skin. Goodness. He was beautiful.
While she explored his body, he explored hers. His fingers teased along her bra; the straps hooked over her shoulders, the tops of the cups, tickling her lightly as he went.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, running the tip of his finger between her breasts.
Emboldened by his appraisal, it was easy to shed her trepidations. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. Prove to him that he didn’t have to handle her as if she were a fragile little thing. Trying on her dominant side, she yanked his shirt off his shoulders and trapped his arms at his sides.
“You’re moving too slowly.” Her voice came out all Jessica Rabbit–like, which made her want to laugh. She refused. Jessica Rabbit wouldn’t laugh.
Really? That’s who you’re channeling for this scenario?
He dropped his hands from her body, allowing himself to be confined, letting her contain him. That effectively wiped the judgmental voices from her head. She knew she couldn’t restrain all this masculinity if she wanted to. The only power she had over him was the power he granted. And that made her feel undeniably feminine. She wrestled with his shirt again.
“In a hurry?” he asked when her movements became jerky.
She licked her lips, her inner dominant flagging. “Nervous,” she admitted.
“That’s no fun.”
She let out a weak laugh and hoped he wasn’t as disappointed in her as she was in herself. “No kidding.”
In a flash of movement, he shrugged off her closed fists, lost the shirt, and dropped the balled material behind him on the floor. Then he hovered over her until she flattened against the door. The spark in his eyes wasn’t one of concern. That was confidence. The kind a man got when he knew exactly what he was doing. A little thrill swirled low in her stomach. It’d been a long, long time since she’d been with a man who knew what he was doing.
He palmed the door on either side of her head and leaned in, choking the air with that spring-and-sunshine smell of his. “Would you feel better if you knew what was on the list?”
The list. She swallowed hard. Would that make her feel better? “Did you really make a list?” He was still leaning into her, but not crowding her, just… close. Too close for her to think.
“I did.”
She sucked in a breath and he tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue along her top lip before kissing it softly. “Want to know the first thing on my list?” He licked a long, sensual line along her bottom lip and then kissed her damp mouth with his, sliding his tongue inside to tangle with hers in aching slow motion.
When he pulled away, she sighed, her bones the consistency of melted chocolate. “Was that the first thing?”
He licked his bottom lip. “Taste as good as you look,” he said. “But no, we haven’t started the list yet.”
Her spine dissolved into the door, her legs barely holding her up. She managed a satisfied smile, though, both at his compliment and the fact he’d made a list after all. A list of all the things he wanted to do with her. Had he written it down? Would they check it off as they went? Not only had he taken her seriously, but he wanted her. Wanted her in the same way she wanted him.
She said a quick side prayer of thanks for Evan’s showing up tonight, grateful that Landon had rearranged the floor plan. For her?
For them, she decided. That seemed safer somehow.
No tugging heartstrings allowed.
She could appreciate that he’d set his sights on her with laser focus. That he’d approached this task with a single-mindedness she was learning was his usual MO. And she could do it without worrying about the future, about their relationship potential, whether or not her mother would like him.
A fling. Well and truly.
His fingers skated along her bra straps, effectively clearing away all those pesky thoughts. He slid the straps down, his fingertips tickling the sides of her arms, then her wrists, before he swept the bra away completely. He drew circles around her nipples, teasing but not touching them. The experience of being touched so patiently, bei
ng taken to the height of frustration was so erotic, she wanted to cry.
She was wrong a moment ago when she thought she hadn’t been with a man this confident in a long time. She’d never been with a man this confident. Never had a man taken so much time to focus on her. Usually sex was a frantic rush. A race to finish. But Landon had made it clear he wasn’t racing or rushing. His big hands circled her small breasts again, making her feel so feminine it hurt.
She decided then she would give herself over to him and his “list,” regardless of what was on it.
How unexpectedly… thrilling.
His hands continued in an arc, but he didn’t give in and touch her nipples. They peaked painfully and she arched against the door, straining toward him, begging with her body for his touch. His hands warming her body, he kissed his way down her jaw, to her neck, even ran his tongue between her breasts, but refused to touch the aching buds no matter how much she silently insisted.
Raising to his full height, he leaned in, stopping shy of touching his chest to hers. She closed her eyes and waited for the feel of his body on hers, but it didn’t come.
“Just ask,” he whispered.
Her eyes flew open. She panted, swallowed, and recalibrated her scurrying brain.
A sly smile crossed his lips. “There’s something you want. I can see it.” His breath feathered her ear when he spoke next. “I can feel it.”
“Yes,” she breathed. His body heat washed over her, causing her to shudder in anticipation.
He thumbed her lip and watched her, eyebrows raised, that sly—no, more like cocky—smile resting on his face like it had a right to be there. Only it did. Because his pattern of seduction was working on her. All too well.
Okay. He wanted to hear her say what she wanted? She could do that. She raised her chin and met his eyes. “I want you to touch me.”
Without hesitating, he rubbed his chest against each of her aching breasts. She let out a stuttering sigh. Against her ear, he whispered. “You feel incredible.”
Before she could reciprocate, or reset her addled brain, he lowered his head and pulled a nipple onto his tongue, sucking her deep into his mouth. A tight sound left her throat as she dropped her head against the door with a soft thunk. His mouth felt so good tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She squeezed them shut. He’d barely touched her and she was coming undone, her bones rattling hard enough to unhinge from her joints and collapse her to the floor.
And they hadn’t even started yet.
He pulled his tongue from her flesh, and she met his gaze—the hot look in his eyes. “You need this,” he stated.
She did. She hadn’t had a release worthy of mentioning in… a while. “Am I that obvious?”
He thumbed a nipple and watched her expectantly. “Say it.” A command.
Electric shocks radiated between her thighs. He thumbed her other nipple.
She squeezed her legs together and on a surrendering breath, said, “I need this.”
* * *
Some part of Landon warned him to stop. Which was insane. He had Kimber naked, pressed against a door, her pert breasts heaving, her lips damp, her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Stopping now would be crazy.
But there was something in the way she’d said ‘I need this’ that gave him pause. A sense of foreboding clouded over him.
Relax. She said she needs “this,” not “you.”
True. And isn’t that what they’d discussed when they’d agreed to do the list in the first place? To indulge, then walk away unscathed? He felt the need to remind them both of that deal.
“Kimber.”
She opened drowsy eyes and he moved his hands to neutral territory—her arms—so he’d have her full attention. He wanted her alert. It wasn’t like she was the kind of girl who had lists and flings and short-term sexual relationships.
Hell, he wasn’t that kind of guy. But he also wasn’t willing to climb into the commitment boat again. Not after Lissa had thoroughly broken their agreement. Not after he had to start over at age thirty-seven. If he did make another arrangement with a woman, Kimber would not be on his list of options. She was transparent, fragile. Honest and giving. He didn’t want giving. He needed a woman selfish enough to walk away if things didn’t work out. He needed a woman who could compartmentalize their time in the bedroom and treat him like an acquaintance during the daylight.
Kimber was none of those things, he thought with a frown. This is a mistake.
“Don’t say it,” she warned. Vulnerability reflected in her eyes, even as she urged him on, palming the door and arching her back. He couldn’t keep from sending a lingering, heated gaze down her supple body. He grew harder just seeing her there; offering herself up to him like some virgin sacrifice. No. Not a virgin.
Thank Christ. He for sure couldn’t go there.
“You read my mind now?” he asked.
“You’re going to ask me if I’m sure I can do this. If I’m cut out for a fling. If I can keep my heart out of it.”
Good guess. “Can you?”
She grabbed the waistband of his pants, sliding her fingers into his boxer briefs and brushing the head of his penis. He let out a sharp, hot breath and he squeezed her arms, wedging his teeth together. His member throbbed. You’re not the only one who wants closer to her, buddy.
But he had to clear this up, or he would refuse to go any further. Regardless of how badly he wanted her.
“I’ll admit,” she said, her voice holding a surety it hadn’t possessed earlier, “this is not something I’m good at.”
He had to disagree.
She frowned, then clarified, “I don’t mean I’m not good at sex. I mean, I’m not bragging that I’m good, but—” She cut herself off, shook her head.
He couldn’t help smiling. She was muddled and adorable and so damn different from any woman he’d known. She was… Don’t think it. Kimber couldn’t be some precious, special thing. He could like her. He could make love to her, but he wouldn’t drag her into something long-term. She wasn’t cut out for it, not with a guy like him. No matter how sure she claimed to be.
“I have trouble with the walking away part,” she blurted.
He wanted her to take it back. She was so transparent. Too transparent. Part of him didn’t want to be trusted with any fragile piece of her.
“But I promise you this. I will walk away.” The fierceness in her eyes made him believe her. It also made him question why this woman, who had so much love to give, who was irresistible and adorable, would settle for a short-term, meaningless fling.
“Why are you doing this?” He shouldn’t ask. It shouldn’t matter. But it did.
“Simple. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was sixteen. I want to kiss you again. I don’t want to stop kissing you until sunrise.” Her hand slid lower into his pants, gripping him and breaking the dam of lust now flooding his body. “Why are you doing this?” she countered.
He blinked a few times, trying to pull enough words together to form a coherent sentence. She removed her hand from his pants and rested it against his chest and he regained his grasp of the English language. He’d also regained enough sagacity to know better than to answer her question.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “You keep your promise to walk away when we reach the end of this list…”
She nodded. Cautiously.
“And I promise you can say or do anything in our time together and I won’t take it the wrong way.” He glided his hands down her arms, over her stomach, and to the undersides of her breasts. Her eyes had darkened. She was slipping into the hazy vicinity of lust. Just where he wanted her. But not until they were clear. He moved his hands to her back and pulled her against him, looking down into her depthless green eyes. “I don’t want you worrying over the right way to approach or talk to me. I want you to react naturally.” He leaned in and brushed her lips with his. “I want you to ask for what you want. Command me if you have to.”
&nb
sp; “A safe space,” she concluded after he kissed her lightly.
“The safest. You are not in danger of hooking a husband, here.” Landon forced a smile. He had to make certain this was what she wanted. That there was no doubt in her mind as to his intentions. There was no other way to be sure other than just saying it. He returned his fingers to her breasts. She closed her eyes. “You said you need this,” he murmured, kissing her again. “What, specifically, do you need from me, Kimber?”
* * *
There was no need to weigh her words now. No reason to worry. He’d promised to take what she said at face value. He was a pragmatic thinker. He was reasonable, a man who led with his brain and not his heart. Completely capable of separating love from pleasure. Could she do the same? Well. She was sure going to try.
“I need to be cherished.” She met his gaze firmly. Despite his promise that she could say anything she wanted, she expected him to recoil. He didn’t. Instead, a veil of valiance slid over his face. The kind of determination worn by William Wallace before he charged into battle.
His chin dipped in a slight nod of agreement. “Then that,” he said, “is what you’ll have.”
He kissed his way down her body, pausing at her breasts for a few long, lingering kisses that made her mind melt. He kissed her ribs, her stomach, her belly button, and down to the drawstring on her shorts. His tongue ran along one hip bone, then over to the other before tugging the string on her shorts and releasing the bow. She’d been holding her breath for so long she started seeing spots in her vision.
“Still with me?” he asked when she sucked in a breath. He bunched the edges of her shorts in his fists.
She managed a short puff of air she hoped sounded like “uh huh.”
He must have taken her response for an affirmative because next he yanked the shorts down. Past her thighs, past her knees. His fingers grazed her body, his tongue and mouth following their path. One kiss here, another there.
Soft, barely there kisses meant to cherish.
She stepped out of her discarded shorts, and he caught her foot in his palm and rested it on his leg. Knelt in front of her, he kissed the inside of her knee, drew his tongue along the back of it, and tracked kisses up her inner thigh. All she could do was brace herself against the door and endure the prickling, shivering sensations echoing through her body as he continued his torturous ascension. At the edge of her panties, he abandoned her right leg and switched to the left. And, wow, the man was thorough. By the time his mouth reached her opposite thigh, she was panting, her breaths short and tight.
The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance) Page 12