by Lori Foster
His mouth never left hers for long; he couldn't seem to stop kissing her, touching her. He knew his touted discipline was precarious at best.
He pushed her dress over her shoulders and down her arms, bunching it around her wrists. When Shadow went to pull it free, Brent stopped her, holding her hands and watching the small thrill in her eyes as she realized she was caught, her arms pinned to her sides. He had a feeling she'd never have allowed such a thing if she hadn't been tipsy. But the fact was she had drunk too much, and now she was at his mercy. He had plenty to spare, but he also intended to show her a thing or two.
Brent stared down at her, then carefully guided her to lie flat on the bed. His chest rose and fell with his deep breathing and his hands trembled with need. He visually explored her exposed skin, her throat, the soft swells of her full breasts above the red demi-bra she wore. Lowering himself, he half reclined on her, his hips between her legs, which still dangled over the side of the bed, his upper body supported by his bent arms. He dipped his head, letting her feel first the heat of his breath, then the moist touch of his tongue on her skin. "You're a tease, Brent Bramwell," she whispered breathlessly.
Using his teeth, he lightly nibbled where her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. "I fully intend," he whispered, "to get as much enjoyment out of this as I can under the circumstances. So don't think to rush me."
"What circumstances?" she asked him, but he easily distracted her. Her eyes closed languorously when he moved his attention to her ear. She squirmed a little as he licked, teased, and her breath sighed out brokenly. He cupped her breast and her small nipple grew taut beneath the layer of silky material. Using his thumb, Brent flicked and rubbed, and she arched, trying to align their bodies, but he wouldn't allow it.
Slowly, he dragged the narrow straps of her bra down her upper arms. Damn, he wanted to see her, all of her. He tugged the bra down the rest of the way until it caught beneath her breasts. Her nipples were dark pink, puckered tight. He took only a moment to nuzzle his face into her softness before he closed his mouth over one sensitive peak.
Shadow jerked sharply. "Brent!"
"What?" He licked, tugged carefully with his teeth. "Tell me, sweetheart."
"It's … almost too much," she gasped.
"It's not enough." He switched to her other breast, drawing her deep. He used one hand to soothe the nipple he'd just abandoned, while the other grasped her leg high on her thigh, urging it up and over his hip. The heat was nearly unbearable, pulsing beneath his skin, gathering between his legs. More than anything, he wanted to be inside her.
Shadow redoubled her efforts to get her arms free, but now her bra added to her restraints.
"Shh," he said, leaning back to look at her breasts.
"Brent, don't leave me."
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
She struggled for breath. "My head is whirling, but it's not the wine."
He felt grim, and determined. "Of course not."
"It's not! It's you and what you're doing to me, how you're kissing me."
"This?" he asked, and gave another sweet sucking kiss to her nipple, while flattening his palm on her small belly.
"Yes." Her legs moved restlessly beneath him.
He'd never known a woman to be so wild, so urgent and demanding. He didn't dare undress her; he knew he didn't have that much restraint.
Breathing hard, he shoved down her tights until he had free access to her body. It was nearly his undoing.
Hot. And wet and so damned soft he knew he had to hurry or he'd never make it. Her curls were dark here, too, glossy, and she gasped at his first touch, then went perfectly still.
He tested her with gentle touches that only caused her to demand more. She gave a hoarse groan, lifting her hips when he slid his middle finger deep inside her. She was so tight, so silky wet and ready for him. He could just imagine…
No, he'd better not. He could already feel the clench of her muscles, the tiny spasms. Damn, he'd barely touched her and she was as far gone as he. Her response was surprising, and arousing.
Concentrating on her every reaction, Brent began to caress her, carefully, calculating each move and her reaction to it, discovering what pleased her most. It wasn't long before he had what he wanted.
"Ahh, Brent." Her words were strangled, rasped out through parted lips.
"That's it, honey." He felt on the verge of his own climax, every muscle in his body taut and straining. "Open your eyes, Shadow, and look at me."
She did and he felt seared to his bones by the heat in her gaze. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he squeezed another finger inside her, then used his thumb to stroke her where she needed his touch most. It was incredible, watching her as she climaxed. Her body tensed, trembled; her eyes were wild on his face, her hips straining against his fingers. It took all his control to keep from coming himself. He kissed her deeply, taking her cries into his own mouth, holding her close until the very last shudder had ended, until she went limp and drowsy.
His heart still galloped, but hers had settled into a slow, deep rhythm. Brent levered himself upward, taking in her sprawled form with triumph and possession. Shadow didn't move, not even when he sat up fully at her side.
She was sound asleep, partly from the wine, most likely, but he was taking a great deal of the credit after the screaming climax he'd just given her. Brent couldn't ever remember feeling quite so satisfied, especially given the fact that his erection still throbbed and his muscles were bunched and rigid.
He was a little chagrined when Shadow didn't stir even as he pulled her arms free from the confines of her clothing. She looked sexy, but also adorable, her soft, slightly swollen lips still parted, her thick lashes lying heavily against her flushed cheeks.
Both her legs hung limply over the side of the bed, one shoe still dangling from her toes. Brent smiled, a strange tenderness invading his chest, making him shake his head at the irony of the situation. It was the first time he'd ever undressed a woman who was dead to the world and unable to appreciate his efforts.
But seeing her, all of her—that was something. She had pale skin, so smooth, her belly soft, her thighs sleek. For a long time he merely looked at her, and did his best to ignore those emotions he couldn't put a name to.
No doubt about it, he had a long night ahead of him. But he fully intended to be on hand when Shadow awoke in the morning. In fact, he wouldn't miss it for the world.
* * *
Shadow had always been a sound sleeper. When she was a little girl, her father had teased her, saying he could drop her down the steps once she was asleep, and she wouldn't even flicker an eyelid. But she also woke with no remnants of lethargy to cloud her brain. She simply opened her eyes and was completely alert. She did that now, but once awake, she didn't move.
Something wasn't right, and it wasn't just that she was naked, an unusual sleeping state for her. She always bundled up in warm thermal pajamas to stay warm. She was warm now. Toasty even.
But she wasn't alone, a fact verified by the hairy leg thrown so casually over her own and the heavy, muscled arm possessively circling her chest, just beneath her breasts. Even in the very dim morning light, she recognized Brent.
Her stomach flip-flopped and she froze.
In a rush, she remembered quite a bit of last night: the wine, the kissing. The significant other things that had happened. But she didn't remember undressing and going to bed. It wasn't possible that she'd fallen asleep before Brent could satisfy himself, was it? Yet, that must be what had happened, since she had absolutely no recollection of making love.
Shadow was so deep into her thoughts it was a miracle that the tiny motion by the window caught her attention at all. But it did, and when she turned her head, she could have sworn she saw the murky outline of a face. She quite naturally screamed before she could stop herself.
Like an alley cat, Brent leaped from the bed, his hair on end, his eyes wild, his body in a defensive stance.
F
orgetting the possibility of a Peeping Tom for one single moment, Shadow stared at Brent's naked body. Good grief, she'd gone to sleep and missed out on that?
"What?" Brent demanded, his eyes still wide, his head turning this way and that in his effort to locate the cause of her scream. "What the hell's the matter?"
"I'm sorry," Shadow replied, chagrined for a number of reasons while her gaze remained on his hard belly—and below. "I've never actually screamed before." She managed to drag her attention to his face, but it wasn't easy. "I think there was someone peeking in the window."
Brent's brows lowered in a furious frown. He stalked to the window, giving Shadow a back view that made her flush, and peered out. "All I see is an empty side yard and the brick wall of your neighbor's house."
She cleared her throat. He was gloriously naked, so speech wasn't exactly easy. "I'm pretty sure I saw—"
Without letting her finish, he went around the bed in a determined stomp and growled, "Stay here."
Shadow watched, incredulous, as Brent left the room. "Ohmigod." She grabbed the comforter around herself and stared after him. "Brent, you're naked!"
He never slowed, just waved her back, and she sank into the bed in disbelief. He was gone only a minute, but it was long enough. The second he strode back into the bedroom, she threw a pillow at him … and missed.
"Are you nuts?" she yelled, swinging another pillow at his head. "You don't try to confront an intruder buck naked! What would you have done if he'd jumped on you?"
Brent dodged the second pillow, then caught it in midair and tossed it back at Shadow before coming onto the bed with her. "There wasn't anyone out there," he informed her, and wrestled her down, ignoring her fit of anger. She fought him only halfheartedly. After all, they were both nude and there was a lot of skin touching. When he finally had her pinned to the mattress, he kissed her.
He smelled wonderful, she thought, musky and male. Early morning beard stubble abraded her skin, but she didn't mind. She was too busy feeling him, all of him. His skin was hot, even after his brief glimpse out the back door, and his arms felt like steel. He was so hard all over.
Brent ended the kiss, but came back for several more, pressing tiny, biting nibbles on her lips, her chin, her jaw. His voice was very deep and rough when he asked, "Are you completely sober this morning?"
Shadow frowned, not understanding, but Brent kept running his palms up and down her body and she couldn't really think straight. "I'm sober."
He kissed her again, his tongue invading leisurely to stroke over her own, then soothe gently over her bottom lip. "And do you still want me?"
"Oh, Brent. I'm so sorry." This, she thought, was the epitome of the awkward "morning after." "I can't imagine how I fell asleep last night. You must think I'm awful."
"Actually," he said, licking her throat and driving her crazy, "you were spectacular."
Shadow frowned again, and this time she didn't let Brent distract her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you're beautiful when you come. Wild and natural. That was all I wanted last night, sweetheart." He smiled at her, his expression … smug. "I could have awaked you if I'd really wanted to. But I was content to wait until this morning."
"You mean to tell me," Shadow inquired with false calm, "that you had no intention of making love to me last night, despite what you did … what I let you do … what happened?"
Grinning at the way she stammered, wrongly assuming she suffered belated shyness from having been so abandoned, Brent felt safe in teasing her. "I'm not a teenager, Shadow. I can control myself, and you, when necessary. But I have to admit, it wasn't easy getting to sleep last night with your warm, sweet body next to me."
He started to lean down to kiss her again, but Shadow stiffened her arms to hold him off. "You undressed me? After I was asleep?"
"All I did was pull off your tights and shove your dress the rest of the way down. You were already nearly there, if you remember."
Her shove sent him sprawling on the bed beside her. In a heartbeat she gained her feet, the comforter wrapped around her. "You big jerk! You … you toyed with me!"
Throwing one arm over his eyes in exasperation. Brent said, "I don't believe this."
"I don't either!" Shadow couldn't remember ever being so embarrassed in her life. "How could you?"
He dropped his arm to glare at her. Lifting himself up on one elbow, he said, "You were drunk, damn it! Should I have taken advantage of you?"
"That's like saying you haven't stolen the apple if you only take one bite of it! Since you did me, you should have done you, too."
"Did you? Did you? What the hell does that mean?"
Through clenched teeth, Shadow said, "You know what it means."
"You were half-drunk and crawling all over me. You'd said earlier that it was too damn soon to make love, so rather than take advantage of your condition, and not being a bastard who'd leave you unsatisfied, I took care of it."
Shadow stared at him. She'd been crawling all over him? It was even worse than she'd thought.
Brent shrugged. "I assumed you'd be grateful."
"Grateful," she all but sputtered.
"I sure as hell didn't think you'd get mad."
She tipped her chin stubbornly. "Why would you start something you had no intention of finishing? That's just not … male." Never in her life had she known a man to give without taking, not where sex was concerned.
Brent lost his temper. Rising from the bed in a quiet rage, he stalked toward her. His words were low and mean, his brows drawn into a fierce scowl. "I did finish it, or are you going to tell me you faked it?"
His insulting suggestion nearly made her hair stand on end. "As if I would."
Her quick agreement earned her a dubious double take. His mouth opened, closed. Finally, he said, "Exactly. So tell me, lady. What the hell are you complaining about?"
Men could be so dense. "You got nothing out of it."
Eyes blazing, he tweaked her chin and said, "I watched you come. I heard you yell and felt you tighten on my fingers. That's a lot. A hell of a lot, actually. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if you weren't being so damn unreasonable. So don't tell me what I did or didn't get out of our little interlude, because I have a feeling you don't know jack about men, and worse, you're judging me by some jerks from long ago. I don't like it."
Shadow watched him, openmouthed and for once speechless, as he turned and stalked away. Well, hell.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Having helped himself to coffee, Brent was at the kitchen table when Shadow entered. Sunlight now poured through the windows, making the kitchen appear warm and cozy. She was fresh from her shower, properly dressed and still chagrined.
Brent glanced up. "Feeling better?"
Knowing there was no hope for it, she blurted, "I'm sorry."
One tawny brow arched up a good inch. "Oh? What for, exactly?" Brent waved her into a chair and stood to pour her a cup of coffee. His cordial good spirits put her further on edge. She had a very hard time figuring him out.
Swallowing a good dose of caffeine before answering, she admitted, "You were right. I really had no reason to complain. I'm just not used to waking up with naked men in my bed."
He grinned at that.
"And," she added, liking his grin even less than his good humor, "it's especially strange for a naked man to be in my bed and not want to … well, have sex."
Brent studied her over the rim of his coffee mug as he took his own cautious sip. "I already accepted that last night wasn't something you do on a regular basis. But let's get clear on this. I did want you very much. I still do, for that matter."
He sat at the table, at his leisure, a man without a care. Her disgruntlement amplified. "You show remarkable restraint."
"Should I throw you over my shoulder, Shadow? Drag you off to bed and do the caveman routine?"
Shadow stared into her coffee cup. He'd actually hurt her feelings, she
admitted to herself. They'd slept together in celibate bliss and it made her feel less than appealing. "Of course not. But don't you think I'd know the difference between real desire and wine-induced lust?"
He didn't answer. In for a penny, she thought. She curled her fingers around the warm coffee mug and forged onward. "Had I been with anyone other than you, Brent, it wouldn't have happened. But I was with you, and I wanted you. You're … special. What you make me feel is special." She let out her breath and added, "That's why I'm upset."
Her admission both pleased and perplexed Brent. He'd had time to think while she dressed in fresh jeans and a pastel pink sweatshirt. It said H.S.A. State. Brent had no idea what that meant, and at the moment, he didn't care.
Waking to a scream had thrown him all off balance. He'd assumed Shadow had a bit of a hangover, which had caused her to mistake a shadow for a man, but he didn't say as much. He wasn't a complete idiot. And besides, she didn't act hung-over. Other than that startling scream and her grumbling because they hadn't made love, she was the same as ever. Which meant she was as difficult as ever to understand.
He, however, felt forever changed. He wasn't used to such an amalgam of feelings where women were concerned, but Shadow affected him, no way around it. He had only to look at her with her fresh scrubbed face, her hair damp from her shower, and he wanted her, fiercely. Control? Ha. His control was so thin it was laughable. His body had been semihard all morning and he didn't think the condition would go away anytime soon.
But it was, strangely enough, more than just lust, though the lust was strong enough to bring him low. He also wanted to talk to her, to hold her. Feeling her next to him throughout the night had been torturous, and oddly satisfying.
"The problem," Shadow said, interrupting his thoughts, "is that for the first time, despite the wine, I lost my senses. I've never done that. It's a bit disappointing that you … didn't, too. I'll admit I don't like it." She made a face. "It sort of leaves things unbalanced."