by Cherrie Lynn
She was a colossal failure at playing the seductress, and the humiliation bit into her hard and deep. If she struck out now, she would never be able to face him again, the only guy she’d ever felt…this…for.
Maybe it was twisted that she was contemplating exploring territory her cousin had treaded well, but that had become nothing more than an unhappy circumstance in her mind. Michelle had only seen him first. Michelle would probably do the same thing, were their positions reversed. Michelle would certainly know what to do in this situation, with a man she desperately wanted standing in her living room in the middle of a lonely night. She’d take him, make him hers, make him crazy with desire for her.
“You’re not?” he asked darkly, and her heart kicked against her rib cage. The look in his eyes then terrified her far more than any movie ever could have, but it was a thrilling, exciting fear. Like the last heart-stopping second before the roller coaster plunged down a straight-down track.
“I…well, y-yes, I am, actually.”
He took a step closer, and another, until he was only inches away. So close she could’ve reached out and slipped her hand under his shirt. Or put her arms around his waist to pull him closer. Or…
She couldn’t look up at him after her confession, focusing instead on the splotchy patterns on his shirt, on trying to keep her breath steady and even. It was a losing battle.
When his hand came up and his fingers brushed her cheek, she couldn’t help closing her eyes at the exquisitely gentle touch and leaning into its warmth.
“Candace,” he said softly. “You’re incredibly beautiful, and I—” He gave up with a sigh. She opened her eyes to see him lean his head back in despair for a moment. “I would be a fool to leave.”
He thinks I’m beautiful. She trembled, searching his face for any emotions that might cross it. All she saw was that his jaw was visibly clenched and his own gaze was now locked on where his hand lay against her cheek. He gave her skin a light stroke with his thumb, sending tingles down her spine. “But this isn’t what I had planned when I came here. I promise you that,” he said.
“That’s okay. I didn’t have it planned, either.”
“But I don’t think you were opposed to the idea, were you?”
“Were you?”
“I’ve told myself it’s not going to happen with you, yes.”
Her heart withered. “Why not?”
“Because you’re you. I can’t explain it any better than that. I think about you all the time, but whenever I do, I feel like a scumbag.”
“What do you think about?”
His sensual lips twisted. “Are you really going to make me answer that?”
“Oh.” She forced her lungs to expand with air. “It’s okay. I…think about you too. A lot. And I always wonder what Michelle would think, which makes me feel guilty, but I can’t stop myself. She’s with someone else now and seems really happy, so I don’t feel so bad anymore.” Another deep breath. “I’ve missed you. I don’t want to go back to missing you so much.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. Then he did what she had been fantasizing about from the moment he’d touched her: he slid his hand farther along her cheek, into her hair. Past her ear. Until his fingers threaded deep and tight into her locks and he palmed the back of her head, bringing her closer until their lips hovered a breath away from each other.
She made a whimpering sound she hated herself for, and his other hand came up to smooth her hair away from her face. Trapped against him like this, she was powerless. Consumed by him. His breath on her lips, his scent filling her nostrils. The warmth of his hands and his lean body against her. But it was the hard column of his erection pressing into her abdomen that left her in ashes.
He wanted her. It was all the evidence she needed, all the encouragement. She transferred all her weight to her tiptoes, the subtle movement all it took to fit her lips against his. Her heart leapt for joy with the simple, soft contact, and she reveled in the silky scratch of his goatee. The brush of his warm, dry lips opening against hers. But it felt too tentative, too cautious. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to-hell-with-the-world passion. She wanted him to feel all the things she was feeling, the delight and the terror. How could she break the dam?
She meant to lift her arms to put them around his neck, but where they went was under his shirt, to the hot, hard flesh beneath. His muscles tensed beneath her touch and, taking that as a good sign, she didn’t retreat but explored further. Tracing the ridges of a six-pack and well-defined pecs. He stiffened and moaned as her fingers passed delicately over the circlets of his nipple rings, and that was all it took.
The hand at the back of her head fisted in her hair and she had the crazy thought that this was a Jekyll and Hyde kiss. Demure and passive one minute. Monstrous the next. His mouth claimed hers in a burning rush, and she bent back beneath the onslaught, buffeted by sensations that had her gasping against him every time she could come up for air. His tongue invaded her mouth and coaxed hers into a sinuous dance behind her teeth.
She pulled her hands away to clutch fistfuls of his T-shirt and wrenched it upward, desperate to finally bare his flesh to her sight. “Take this off,” she pleaded against his mouth. He broke the kiss to peel off his shirt in one fluid motion, tossing it on the couch as she marveled at the TV-lit expanse of skin he revealed. It would take hours to lie down and inspect the detailed markings on his arms. She would love to have that kind of time with him.
Smoothing her hands over his skin, she wondered if he noticed how they trembled. When she dared a glance at his face, his eyes were closed, his head tilted back. The star on his left pectoral was a beacon for her lips, and she leaned forward and brushed it delicately.
His hand clenched again in her hair and the hard line of his jaw rubbed over the top of her head. She flickered her tongue across his skin, savoring his answering groan. The rush of power was heady and intoxicating, and she gasped when he pulled her head back by her hair to brand her lips again with his.
Oh…Jesus. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. There had been the guy who tried to swab her tonsils and the guy who seemed to be trying to draw blood with his teeth and the guy who did it just right, but didn’t make her feel…this. Brian’s taste invaded her mouth, sensuous and dark and everything she had ever imagined. No, it was more. His tongue touched and teased hers until she melted away and leaned her knees into his in an effort to remain standing. The liquid ache between her thighs had drained all strength from the waist down. She needed him to catch her before she fell. She was sliding…
His arms swept down around her waist, strong and solid. “I got you,” he murmured, one hand sweeping down to cup her ass and lift her against him. She took the welcome opportunity to wrap her legs around him, grinding her crotch against his erection. It felt huge. Oh, holy hell.
“Where?” he whispered, still sliding his lips over hers, scrambling her thoughts, and her trembling redoubled.
She managed to nod toward her bedroom door. He carried her through it, and she suddenly, frantically worried that it was a mess in there: bed unmade, clothes flung over chairs, books stacked precariously on her nightstand. At least it was dark, the only light filtering in from the living room. Why in the hell hadn’t she had the foresight to tidy up?
Because she hadn’t expected this. Still, surely it had always been somewhat within the realm of possibility. Here he was now, about to make love to her.
Her heart twisted up as she realized she was romanticizing this. Brian wasn’t a “make love” kind of guy. Brian was going to fuck her, and then he would be gone. It was evident in the way he flung her down, causing her waterbed to slosh, evident in the almost feral glint the distant light cast in his eyes.
She couldn’t keep her breath steady. It was as erratic as her thundering heart rate. Desperate to match him, she swept her shirt off over her head and reached for him, craving the feel of his bare flesh against hers. He dropped to the bed and went into her arms
, pausing only to grab her battered old teddy bear from underneath him and give it a fling across the room. She could imagine him doing the same thing to her heart.
Sliding her arms around his back, she arched against him as his lips trailed down her throat to her breast. She wanted his mouth there, where she felt so hot and heavy, straining against her white cotton bra. Dammit, couldn’t she have at least worn something sexy? Something silky and lacy? She was no freaking good at this. She could’ve taken the damn thing off after her shirt, but she hadn’t had the courage.
Brian hooked one finger under the fabric and tugged it slowly down, her nipple slipping free and immediately into his mouth. A moan ripped itself from her throat at the shocking sensation, warm and wet and drawing contractions from between her legs. His knee slid between hers, and she gripped it tight with her thighs.
“Oh, God,” she whispered shakily as he sucked her, gently tugging her nipple between his teeth. The weight of her breast trapped the fabric of her bra beneath it and he moved his hand, caressing her bare belly with the back of his knuckles. Her muscles pulled so tight they trembled beneath the feather-light brush.
His dark head lifted, and his gaze roamed her face. “Okay?” he asked, and she nodded and tilted her hips toward him, wanting those fingers to go where she needed them, where she’d wanted them ever since she was stretched out on that table under his needle. Down, down…
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, resuming those delectable ministrations at her breast until she was ready to shed bra, jeans, panties, wrap herself around him and not let go. The tips of his fingers slid over the silk of her panties, and her legs fell apart, allowing him, needing him, to go wherever he wanted.
The sound he made then, a slow hiss of air through his teeth, was off-the-freaking-charts erotic. Her cheeks flamed. Along with other, more needy parts of her body. His hand cupped her, his wrist caught between her belly and the denim she wore. His fingers pressed into her cleft, barred from her flesh only by a damp scrap of fabric. She squirmed, needing more, aching for him to slide it aside and plunge into her. “Hold on, baby,” he murmured.
Oh, but she couldn’t. She was in flames, undulating against his hand, frustrated when he eluded her. “Please, Brian. Please.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Damn him for making her beg, for—
All those thoughts fled when he moved aside the thin panel of fabric between her legs and explored her wetness, caressing her sensitive folds with unbearable gentleness.
The sensations he had evoked were too acute; she couldn’t think straight. She was wound too tight, clinging to him and panting into his shoulder while he took his dear, sweet time winding her even tighter.
When he finally pushed deeper, parting her labia and seeking her entrance, she struggled to spread wider for him. His fingertip sought and breached her, and she gasped as it burned through her passage. A whimper escaped her before she could suppress it, and Brian growled low in his throat. “So tight.”
She winced and adjusted as he pushed deeper. She wanted to struggle out of her jeans, but at the same time there was a delicious wantonness in lying here with his hand shoved down her pants and her panties pushed aside while he stroked her depths.
“Up here, baby,” he murmured, and she tilted her face up for his kiss, tasting his heat, his lust, as he teased her lips apart with his and then devastated her with the mastery of his tongue as it plundered deep. He dragged his finger out of her, swirled it over her too-sensitive clitoris in the exact same pattern his tongue danced in her mouth. She tensed and shuddered and tried to wriggle away, but only half-heartedly. Brian smiled wickedly against her lips. “What’s the matter?”
“Feels…oh. It feels too good.”
“Then you’d better stay right here,” he murmured, lips skimming over hers. Two blunt fingertips trailed down and pressed into her opening. Her mouth fell open against his, but when he tried to penetrate, she couldn’t control her reaction. She gasped and dug her heels into the bed to fight against the shocking pressure, but her jeans kept his hand trapped there.
“Shh, shh,” he said, immediately withdrawing once he realized she had gone from agonized pleasure into real distress. “Jesus, Candace. Please tell me you’ve done this before.”
Tears pricked behind her eyes as he looked down at her. The words gathered behind her mouth, she just couldn’t force them out.
Her silence must have been answer enough. Brian smoothed the hair away from her forehead, brushing her brow with his lips. “Oh, baby. Never?”
“I think I’d remember.” Her voice sounded tiny even to her own ears.
“I know that, but…” He exhaled shakily. “Damn.”
“Does it really matter that much?”
“Hell yes, it matters. Obviously. Were you not going to tell me? I could’ve really hurt you.”
She swallowed thickly. “Are you mad at me?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head, his face close enough to hers that the tip of his nose almost brushed her own. Then he laughed, a little self-deprecatingly. “I just don’t know what to do with you now.”
“What do you mean? Do what you would ordinarily do.”
His thumb continued stroking her hairline. “I can’t be the one you want to give it up to your first time.”
What the hell? “I’m only lying here with my legs open for you.” There. That was better, that icy, steely tinge in her voice. His questioning her judgment this way was not cool in the least. “What you did…I wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like, but I don’t want you to stop now.”
He shook his head again. She wished he would quit doing that. “Honey, it’s not that I don’t want you, because I’m about to explode here. I want to bury myself so deep inside you, you’ll think you won’t ever get me out.”
Ohhh.
“But I can’t let myself do that to you. I can’t.”
Given the determination he managed to inject into those last two words, she knew no amount of arguing would change his mind. But she’d come this far and she couldn’t let go of him without some answers.
“Not tonight, or not ever?”
His voice was tight. “Candace.”
“You said you want me. I want you too. Is that not enough?”
“You make me feel too…” He trailed off, staring at her. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek.
“Feel too what?”
“I don’t deserve this.”
Her heart broke. She’d never taken Brian for a guy who suffered from lack of confidence. He’d always been so vibrant and sure of himself. Why would he begin to have doubts about his self-worth here in her arms? Surely nothing she’d ever said or done led him to believe she didn’t think he was good enough for her.
“It’s not about deserving,” she said softly.
“You’re probably right, but it’s the easiest way I can sum up the situation. I can’t be who you need me to be.”
“I only need you to be you.”
“No. You need more, you need better than me. You’re everything that’s beautiful and innocent, and just looking at you this way makes me feel like a filthy, debauching bastard.” She opened her mouth to protest there was no reason he should feel that way, but he laid a silencing finger on her lips. “At the same time, it makes me want you more than anything else in my life.”
She kissed his fingertip, opened her mouth to let it slip between her lips, her teeth. He shuddered against her, groaning when she sucked gently on it, drawing it deeper. His erection ground against her thigh, sending a thrill through her stomach. Until he abruptly pulled away from her. “Christ, Candace.”
Damn him. What did she have to do? Who did she have to be?
“You know,” she said, “I’ll never be able to get filthy and debauched with you until you let me get a little bit dirty.” She hated herself for the way her voice broke at the end, and for the tear that slipped from the
corner of her eye. Maybe he couldn’t see it.
No such luck. He wiped it away, staring down at her with an appraisal that made her feel stripped way more naked than she was.
“We could take it slow,” she said, thinking it incredible and maybe slightly pathetic that she was having to talk him into this. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? “I liked it when you touched me. A lot. I wanted more. I think I just needed you to take more time.”
“The things I’d like to do to you,” he murmured darkly, lowering his lips to the hollow of her throat.
“Do some of them,” she whispered, shivering. “Or just one. Do one thing. Please?”
When he lifted his head, she could hardly see his expression in the near darkness, but she had the sense he was debating whether staying was a good idea. She was debating it herself. If he didn’t want her, why torture herself by making these memories? At least before, he’d only been a fantasy. Now she knew what he tasted like. What he felt like. She knew the scent and warmth of his skin and the feel of him touching her more intimately than she’d ever allowed anyone else. But the words were out there, and she wouldn’t take them back. She couldn’t have let go of him if the building caught on fire.
“Take this off,” he murmured, urging her up and reaching behind her. A brush of his fingers against her back, a momentary tightening of her bra, and then it loosened, undone. She bit her lip as the straps fell down her arms, and then the cups when he tugged them away. He’d just seen her moments ago. Still, she wanted to cover herself, afraid he would find some flaw that would turn him off. She forced herself to lie back and not give in to such a virginal impulse. He was being skittish enough about this and she was actually afraid of scaring him away.
His gaze moved over her as gently as the fingertip that stroked the side swell of her breast. Her nipples tightened agonizingly for that touch, so close and yet too far away. She closed her eyes when he moved his hand away, traveling down, farther and farther, until he grasped the gaping waistband of her jeans.