All the Way

by Ryan, Kendall

  So, I went home alone and spent a miserable night tossing and turning in bed, before finally giving up on sleep at five and going out for a long run. I half expected to find Becca on the same trail, given her love of running, but it was empty. Then later, just as the team skate was ending, she texted me.

  It was one of the worst nights ever, and now? Now Becca is standing across from me, looking up at me with a hurt and confused expression because I told her we should call our deal off, and I feel a hundred times worse.

  “What are you saying?” she asks, her small hand clutching the door frame. “Please talk to me.”

  “Listen, fuck.” I scrub one hand through my hair and over the back of my neck, stalling for time. “I just don’t want to mess this up. And honestly, you don’t need me for this, Becca, you’re . . .”

  “I’m what?” she asks, her tone growing sharp.

  Beautiful. Sexy. Smart. Strong. But none of those words leave my lips. Because the words I’m stuck on are too good for me. Or rather, I’m too jaded for her. It’s the honest truth, but I don’t want to admit that now. Somewhere deep down, maybe I do want this to work.

  I take a deep breath, trying to regain some control here. “Last night was . . . unexpected. Our chemistry was—”

  “I know,” she says, a small smile on her lips. “I was there, remember?”

  The urge to kiss her sweet mouth is a sharp kick of need. Those warm, soft lips moving against mine, the slide of her tongue inside my mouth—my body remembers it all and is eager for a repeat.

  The door to the apartment beside hers opens and an elderly woman in a pink tracksuit saunters out, gazing at us curiously as though she could hear our conversation through the door and wanted a front-row seat to the drama.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rodgers,” Becca says to the woman with a polite smile.

  The woman looks between us, cautiously appraising everything—the distance between our bodies, the way my hands are stuffed into my pockets so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch Becca.

  “Let’s go back inside and talk in private,” I say, even though moments ago I was ready to flee.

  Becca nods, agreeing, and I follow her inside. “Can I get you a coffee? Or a water?” she asks, pausing beside the kitchen. She may not be very happy with me right now, but her good-girl manners win out.

  “Water would be awesome. Thanks.” I take a seat on her floral print couch while Becca grabs me a bottle of water from the fridge and I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to say to her. The last thing I want to do is hurt her or intimidate her, and I’m afraid I could end up doing both if I don’t put a stop to this.

  She hands me a bottle of water and sinks down on the couch beside me.

  “Did you have plans this morning?” I ask, giving her appearance a once-over. She looks almost good enough to eat in a pair of well-worn jeans and a white T-shirt knotted at the waist. Her hair is twisted into a messy ponytail, a few pieces framing her face.

  “Just a coffee date with the girls,” she says. It’s quiet between us for another second, and then Becca turns to face me. “You must think I’m insane.”

  “Of course I don’t. What kind of question is that?” Uncapping the chilled bottle, I take a long drink.

  She shrugs. “You ran out of here last night like your ass was on fire. I thought we were having fun. Did I do something wrong?”

  I swallow again, my mouth suddenly bone dry despite the water. “We were having fun. Maybe a little too much. And you definitely did nothing wrong. You were perfect, Becca. You are perfect.” I grin at her.

  Becca presses her lips together and shakes her head, clearly not amused by me. “You’d better start talking, Owen. Tell me what’s really going on.”

  I lick my lips, leaning forward. “Truthfully? Things started to get heated, and I freaked out.”

  “But why?”

  The cute little crease between her brows is endearing, and I know what she’s really asking. Why in the world would the king of hookups panic over a little no-strings-attached nooky?

  Well, for starters, because there are a whole bunch of strings. Mountains of them.

  First, Becca’s a friend—not only to me, but to my sister. And she has a shaky past that I need to tiptoe around. But last night? Lying in bed with her? All of that flew right out the fucking window.

  Because the moment I got my lips on her, the moment my hands wrapped around those soft curves, none of those messy entanglements mattered to me anymore. All I could think about was more, and fuck yeah, and loads of other inappropriate things that would be much better suited for locker room talk.

  And then there’s the matter of my sexual tastes . . . which I was blindly hoping wouldn’t even come into play. But seeing as how after one look at her tempting body and then one kiss, my brain scrambled faster than a three-egg omelet. I can see now that was a stupid-ass assumption on my part.

  “Just say it, Owen.”

  “I’m trying to give you an out here. The things I like in the bedroom aren’t the things you’re going to need from me.” And I have no idea why I ever thought I could give you what you needed. But I don’t say that last part; I only think it.

  I would never purposely get too rough with her, nothing like that. But last night showed me how quickly our chemistry can go from zero to nuclear. Forgetting my manners, fucking up with her, pushing her too far—none of that is something I’ll let myself do.

  “I think that’s for me to decide, isn’t it? And I came to you because I wanted to be pushed outside my comfort zone, remember?”

  I chug some more water before setting it down on the coffee table. “I just . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea because I can’t hurt you, Becca . . . physically or emotionally. I can’t risk that.”

  “Is that why you left last night?”

  “Yes,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand.

  “What did you mean about your interests being less vanilla?”

  Leave it to Becca to come right out and ask with zero filter. And damn if her lush lower lip isn’t trapped between her teeth as she awaits my answer.

  “I like being in control,” I say. “I like pushing boundaries and testing limits.”

  She shifts beside me, not like she’s uncomfortable, but more like she’s trying that idea on for size, seeing how it fits with the carefree guy she knows. “I like you being in charge. I liked letting you take the lead and not having to think.”

  My heart rate accelerates. “It’s a little more than that. If we keep doing this, I promise to be on my best behavior from here on out. But you need to promise to tell me if it gets to be too much. I still feel like this is a really bad idea.”

  Becca’s lips part in a sweet smile as she meets my eyes. “You’re not going to scare me away, you know. I’ve come this far.”

  “That’s true. You have.”

  I open my hand, and she lays her palm on top of mine. Our fingers interlace on the couch cushion, but otherwise we don’t move. It’s comforting, but at the same time, I can feel the crackle of electricity between us. I hardly so much as breathe. It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the damn room, and my heart thunders inside my chest.

  “Owen?” she asks in a soft voice, meeting my eyes. “Maybe we could just try it.”

  Try it.

  She has no idea what she’s asking me for.

  Swallowing a wave of lust that rolls through me, I’m blown away at how trusting she is. It’s a huge turn-on, but this isn’t about me, or my overactive libido. This is about the gorgeous, albeit timid woman sitting in front of me.

  Inhaling deeply, I release a slow breath. Justin’s words from our conversation at the bar a few nights ago ring through my head.

  Don’t fuck this up, Parrish.

  Moving closer on the couch, Becca nestles her tempting body against my broad one, and places one palm on my chest.

  Then she does something totally unexpected. She kisses my neck.


  I almost growl at how good her warm lips feel pressing against my skin while her fingertips trace up and down my chest.

  “What are you doing? I just told you this was a bad idea.”

  “I heard you,” she says, her fingertips moving teasingly along.

  “Becca?” Her name on my lips comes out low and deep.

  “I don’t care. I trust you,” she says, her fingertips not leaving my skin.

  Her words untangle something inside me, and everything clicks into place at once. Using two fingers beneath her chin, I tilt her mouth up to mine, and I can feel her smiling right before I capture her lips in a tender kiss.

  “You one hundred percent sure about this, angel?”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmurs against my lips. “I’m a thousand million percent sure. I want this, Owen. Please.”

  It’s all the go-ahead I need.

  Cupping the back of her neck, I find an angle that works and deepen our kiss. Her lips part on a shaky sigh, and then her tongue is making warm, greedy passes against mine.

  Damn. The sensation goes straight to my balls with a sudden ache.

  Her hands wander my chest, and if this were any other scenario, my own hands would be exploring every inch of her perfect curves. Instead, I keep one hand on her jaw and the other in my lap.

  Let her make the first move.

  I kiss her in a way that’s meant to be slow and exploratory, and then her fingers twist into my shirt. When she makes a noise in the back of her throat, all my resolve to go slow vanishes.

  Her mouth is so soft, and she tastes so sweet, and Christ, why is she making those needy, whimpering sighs?

  “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” I murmur into our kiss. “Say the word and we stop. You’re in control.”

  Without answering, Becca suddenly stands, grabs my hands, and tugs me up with her. Then she pulls me along behind her toward her bedroom. We collapse together into the center of her bed, which is dressed in white fluffy linens that smell like lavender, laundry soap, and Becca.

  With trembling fingers, she removes her T-shirt, and damn, the sight of her in a lacy, nude-colored bra and jeans is so sexy.

  Her figure is perfect, curvy enough that I’d never have to be afraid of hurting her. I could spank and nibble and suck to my heart’s content.

  My blood starts to heat—slowly at first, like one of those microwave burritos, before turning scalding hot all at once. I can’t deny it anymore. Becca does it for me. Big freaking time. That lush pink mouth, all that smooth creamy skin, a tangle of long hair, a rosy blush on her cheeks . . . she’s aroused. And it’s all for me.

  “That’s not very polite, you know?” she says, interrupting my indecent thoughts.

  “What isn’t?”

  “Staring at me the way you are.”

  A lazy smile uncurls on my lips. “It’s hard not to. You look so damn good.”

  When I span my hands along her rib cage, she arches into my touch, and I unhook her bra before tossing it over the side of the bed. “If I do anything you don’t like . . .”

  She nods. “I’ll tell you to stop.”

  As I kiss and suck each tight nipple into my mouth, Becca’s movements grow increasingly aroused. She grinds her pelvis against my thigh, and her hands squeeze my ass. Our tongues touch, and she trembles in my arms.

  Working open the button on her jeans, I draw them and her tiny panties down her smooth legs, depositing them on the floor beside the bed.

  “So pretty,” I whisper, leaning over her to place soft kisses against her stomach, her breastbone, her neck, her lips.

  Becca relaxes into the pillows, letting me kiss and caress her. As we lie next to each other with our legs tangled, she parts her knees, letting her thighs drop open, and my hand skims down her belly.

  She’s bare, and so soft and wet. Fuck. A hot shudder pulses through me as I touch her petal-soft core, running my thumb along her clit.

  “Ahh . . .” She moans a breathy little sound—more like she’s gasping for breath than actually moaning.

  “That’s it. Let me make you feel good,” I murmur, kissing and biting her neck.

  “You do. You are,” she says softly, her hips twitching.

  With deep, sweet kisses to her lips and her breasts, I massage her pussy, slowly, methodically working her toward her release while Becca moans and writhes and clutches me like her life depends on it. It’s the sexiest thing ever.

  I could stay here pleasuring her all day, but after a little while, Becca pulls back and lets out a long, shaky exhale, her posture tensing.

  “You okay?”

  Her eyes are blazing with determination, but her mouth is pressed into a tight line. “It’s not working. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s—”

  “Hey. Shhh.” I quiet her with a kiss. “Do I look bored? Or upset?”

  She swallows and shakes her head as a look of defeat crosses over her features. “You’ve been great. I think I’m just too in my own head or something.”

  “We can take a break. We can keep going. This is whatever you want it to be.”

  Becca nods in understanding. She doesn’t ask me to hold her, but sensing it’s what she needs, I gather her up close, tugging her against my chest. Ignoring the heavy evidence of my arousal, I shift her so she’s not lying directly on top of my dick.

  “There’s no pressure to do anything. You’re not a circus animal; I don’t expect a performance. I just want to make you feel good.”

  “You do,” she says, her voice soft, like she’s shy about the fact that she couldn’t finish.

  But I don’t want her to be. This is a multistep process, and step one is just getting her comfortable.

  Her fingers move to the waistband of my pants, and my abs tighten. As much as I’d love her hands on me, that isn’t going to happen right now.

  I take her hand in mine and give it a firm squeeze, drawing it away from my very eager erection. “No way, that’s not part of the deal. If you don’t come, neither do I.”

  She groans in frustration. “Now I feel even worse.”

  “Don’t. We’ll figure this out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.” I press a soft kiss to her forehead, and she leans into my side. I tilt her chin up toward mine so she’ll meet my eyes. “Have you eaten?”

  I can tell my stomach is about five minutes away from giving off a monstrous growl, and about ten minutes away from eating itself. I came here directly after practice, and I’m starving. Plus, we need a time-out to refocus and clear our heads.

  She shakes her head. “No. You?”

  “Nope. Let’s order lunch.”

  She smiles. “Sounds great.”

  While Becca gets dressed, I lounge on her bed, scrolling through the delivery options in my phone and reading each one to her. “Sushi. Thai. Burgers.”

  She shakes her head at each one I throw out. “That new power bowls place is good,” she says after thinking it over.

  It’s how I end up eating something called a grain bowl on her couch twenty minutes later. Quinoa and pumpkin seeds and something called flax is in it. It doesn’t taste half bad, but I can already tell I’ll be hungry again in half an hour. Becca nibbles on sesame-glazed tofu from the spot next to me.

  “It’s too healthy for you, isn’t it?” She smirks as she watches me eat out of the corner of her eye.

  After shoving the final forkful into my mouth, I chuckle. “It was good. Different, but good.”

  She carries our empty plastic containers into the kitchen while I clean up the coffee table, ridding it of napkins and straw wrappers.

  “Be right back,” Becca says. She heads into the bathroom, and I hear the water running briefly.

  I’m pretty sure I should get going soon, but part of me is in no hurry to go home to an empty apartment. The sports highlights are still playing muted on the TV, and I lean back, bringing one arm over the back of the sofa.

  When Becca returns, sh
e stops in front of me, her knees touching mine. I have no idea how she manages to make such an innocent touch so hot, but my libido fires back up.

  “Hey,” I murmur. “You okay?”

  She smiles shyly. “I feel so stupid now.” She bumps her knee to mine.

  I curl my hands around her legs and shake my head. “You’re not stupid. Not at all. It’s okay to feel frustrated, but you have to promise me one thing.”

  She stares down at me with her big blue eyes flashing with insecurity. “What’s that?”

  “That you understand there’s not a damn thing wrong with you. This is a big step, and today was great progress. You have moved forward, and as long as you keep moving forward, that’s progress, so don’t be so hard on yourself. We go at whatever pace you want. Whatever you need.”

  Wearing a fond expression, she reaches out and touches my jaw, her earlier nervousness and insecurities disappearing. “How did I get so lucky?”

  The better question is how did she get so sexy without me noticing it all these years, but I’m a smart enough man to keep my trap shut. “I’d say I’m the lucky one.”

  I grip her hips and tug her forward until she falls on my lap. It’s a move that’s meant to be playful and spontaneous, but the second she’s straddling my lap, everything turns combustible.

  Her hands push into my hair and she brings her mouth to mine. I kiss her, my body eagerly remembering all that heat and chemistry we shared not even thirty minutes ago. She parts her plump lips, and as our tongues touch, I go rock hard in an instant.

  It’s obvious she wants this, but part of me is torn. Should I back off and go home? Or should I see the job through?

  “I want to come, Owen,” she half whispers, half whines.

  The desperation in her voice makes the decision for me, and I’m all in.

  “I’ve got you, angel.”

  I push her top up and out of the way, taking her unsnapped bra with it. My tongue finds her nipple, and I give it a firm suck.

  “Oh yes. Shit,” she says, thrusting her fingers deep into my hair.

  I worship her beautiful tits with my lips, teeth, and tongue while my fingers slide into the warm heat of her panties. Becca rocks her hips in my lap.