by Skye Jordan
He wrapped one arm low on her hips, pushed his other hand into her hair and held her head as he deepened the kiss. Savannah moaned and fisted his hair. The sound pushed Ian to the edge. He kissed her deeply, passionately, aggressively. Licked into her mouth while he rocked his erection into the apex of her thighs.
Instead of putting on the brakes, she met his passion and answered his lust with desire. That had backfired. Big time. Because the way she gave herself over to him short-circuited his brain.
She released his hair to fist the back of his thermal and pulled it over his head. Her hands stroked his back, his sides, his belly, lighting him on fire. Then they slid to the button of his jeans. This situation had just turned into a freight train, careening downhill with no brakes.
Ian broke the kiss. “Savann—”
“I want you,” she murmured as she pushed a hand into his open jeans and stroked his cotton-covered cock. “God, how I want you.”
Searing pleasure stole his words, his thoughts, his resistance. “Jesus Chri—”
She tilted her head and kissed him again, her mouth open and willing, begging him to respond. There was no right answer here. If he gave her what she wanted—what they both wanted—she’d hate him later. If he didn’t, she’d hate him now.
Later. Later was the better option here. Because maybe, just maybe, if Ian could deliver Savannah the kind of freedom she longed for and deserved right along with the hell the Bishops deserved, Ian’s betrayal might sting a little less.
He lifted her from the counter, and she wrapped her thighs around his hips, locked her arms around his neck, and kissed a path toward his ear. Fireworks shot across his skin as he navigated the hallway like a drunk.
In the bedroom, he pressed one knee to the bed and laid her back. He brushed her hair from her face. “I’ve wanted this from the first time your sassy mouth put me in my place.”
She reached for his pants again. “I’ll make sure to sass you more often.”
He caught her hand before she touched him and he lost it again, and pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. It was his turn to drag off some clothes.
Her jacket hit the floor first, then her sweatshirt. He flipped the clasp on her bra and pulled it from her arms, tossing everything aside. And when he refocused on Savannah, her hair was a tangled halo on his white sheets, her face flushed, her eyes heavy lidded and hot. Her breasts were just the right size to fill his hands. Her waist was small, her stomach flat, her skin smooth.
“God, you’re beautiful,” was all he managed before his hands and mouth touched and tasted every part of her—throat, chest, belly, ribs, and finally her breasts. They were supple and full, with perfect pink tips, and he loved the way she shivered and moaned when he licked and sucked at them. He loved the way she combed her hands through his hair, her fingers tightening as her pleasure rose.
His focus had narrowed to include only Savannah. Savannah and her wildflower scent, her petal-soft skin, and the pleasure he could bring her—at least in the moment.
He dragged off her sweatpants, panties, and snow boots. And then he paused and looked at the grand result: Savannah Bishop gloriously naked. Naked and in his bed. Naked, in his bed and reaching for him.
Ian had never experienced a rush like this. So overwhelming. So intense. He had a ravenous need to sink into her and drive them both to ecstasy. With any other woman, he would do just that. He’d also be out the door before his breathing had returned to normal. But this was different. So different. He didn’t know how or why exactly, at least not while the majority of his blood was pooled below his belt.
He forced himself to slow down. To taste every inch of her body.
“Ian,” she complained, fisting his hair to pull his mouth to hers.
Instead, he pushed two fingers into her wet heat. Her back arched, and her hands slipped from his hair. The guttural moan that rolled from her throat set him on fire. And, God, she was perfect. Velvety and slick and tight. Savannah lifted her hips into his touch, and a current of excitement ripped through his body. She was so beautiful. So sexual. So needy, open, and hungry. He wanted to take his sweet time with her. Wanted to learn every curve of her body, taste every inch of her skin, torture her with pleasure until she begged him to take her.
Savannah sat up and took his face in both hands, pulling his mouth to hers. She was so hungry. And when he lost himself in her kiss, Savannah pushed his jeans lower and took his cock in both hands. Lightning cracked through him. He moaned into her mouth, closed one hand around her wrist, and pulled. But she didn’t let go. Her fingers tightened around his cock, and Ian had to grit his teeth and use every ounce of restraint not to come in her hand.
He tore his mouth from hers. “Savannah…” His impatient tone made her smile. A sexy, seductive smile he felt all the way to his bones. “Baby, slow down.”
She rolled him to his back and straddled his hips. Dipping her head, she kissed him and murmured, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t had an orgasm in half a decade.”
That information hit him sideways. He hadn’t wrapped his brain around it before Savannah pulled his cock from his pants and stroked him.
All thoughts evaporated in the stars shooting off behind his eyes. “Fuck, Savannah—”
Warm, wet heat enveloped his cock, cutting off his words. Ian’s hips bucked, and he opened his eyes to the sight of Savannah pushing his cock deep into her mouth, eyes closed, her face glowing with the kind of pleasure that made Ian teeter on the edge of control.
“God dammit.” He cupped her face in his hands and drew her mouth off his cock. “Baby, do you want me inside you?”
Her eyes fell closed, and her forehead creased on a breathless “Yes.”
“Then you’ve got to stop, or I’m going to finish before I ever get close.”
He gripped her waist and flipped her to her back. Ian didn’t waste any time giving her what she wanted. He slid down the bed, pushed her thighs wide, and covered her sex with his mouth.
Savannah choked a sound of ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth dropped open, and her hips lifted to his touch with a guttural “Yeeeeeeees.”
The woman blew his mind. He wanted to spend all night getting to know her every pleasure point and exploiting them until he’d heard all her sounds of pleasure. Until her body glistened with sweat. Until she begged for relief, then passed out from exhaustion in his arms.
For now, he knelt on the floor, pulled her legs over his shoulders, and her pussy to his mouth. He pushed his fingers deep, teasing her G-spot with his fingertips. With his other hand, he parted her folds, exposing her most vulnerable pleasure point. Ian met her gaze and held it as he laved slow licks across her bared clit. Savannah shivered. Her muscles coiled tighter and tighter.
Ian pressed his hands to her inner thighs and spread her wide, stretching her muscles and holding her open. Just to look. To lick. To tease. To brand her with the kind of pleasure that would burn him into her memory.
“Come for me, baby,” he rasped. “I want to watch you shatter.”
He covered her with his mouth, sucking and licking. Savannah fisted the sheets on a scream, and her body convulsed with pleasure as she spilled on his tongue.
A wave of wicked satisfaction swept through Ian. While her body shivered with aftershocks, he pressed his face to her belly, kissing her and breathing in the scent of her satisfaction. His cock throbbed for the same kind of release.
Ian kissed a trail to her breastbone, resting there a moment while her fingers combed through his hair. Then she shifted her leg, and her thigh rubbed his cock.
Lust surged through him, and he groaned, sliding up until his hips were between her thighs and they were face-to-face. She smiled up at him, and he kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips, chin, and neck. She wrapped her legs around his, caressed her hands up his back. Skin to skin, she pulled his mouth back to hers.
Ian moaned and pulled away. “I need my wallet,” he smiled down at her, “but I do
n’t want to leave you to get it.”
She slid a hand over his cheek. Her heavy-lidded eyes sparkled, her full mouth tilted in a smile. “I promise I won’t go anywhere.”
He flattened his hands on the bed flanking her shoulders, pushed up, and leaned over the side of the bed to dig a condom from his wallet.
Savannah took it from him. “I haven’t used one of these in a long time.”
“This isn’t a good time for trial and error,” he teased, trying to grab it back.
She pulled it out of reach. “I guess you’ll just have to employ amazing willpower, won’t you?”
She ripped the packet, pulled out the condom, and met his gaze deliberately as she reached between them. She stroked him with one hand and the other rolled the condom on, all while her sexy gaze never left his. The excruciating pleasure flashed hot in his lower body, rising through his belly and chest, tingling down his limbs.
“Are you…purposely torturing me?” he asked from between gritted teeth. “Or do you need some help? Because I can’t take much more of—”
Her fingers pressed the base of his cock. “I love this needy side of you.”
Ian exhaled heavily, rested his sweaty face against her neck, and muttered, “I definitely need you.”
She laughed, a light, breathless, trickling sound that faded as she grew serious. Her eyes softened into the color of stormy seas. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”
His heart thudded hard. He kissed her, met her eyes, and, because she still had her hand wrapped around his cock, rasped, “Lead the way, baby.”
She shifted her hips and rubbed the head of his cock along her slick folds while her tongue slid across her lower lip. The combination forced desire through his veins. When she buried the head of his cock in her warmth, Ian swore they shared a simultaneous shiver. All while their eyes remained locked on each other.
The impulse to rock his hips took over, and he pushed deeper inside her. Savannah took a sharp breath, and Ian eased back, then thrust again. Her body opened for him and immediately reformed a tight seal. The pressure and heat of her body, the hunger and awe in her gaze, urged him deeper. He gripped her waist and held her gaze as he continued to forge his path.
Savannah closed her eyes, dropped back, and arched, pushing him home.
“Oh, God…” Her raspy, reverent whisper touched him.
And when her eyes opened again, new emotions shone there. Emotions he wasn’t ready for—affection and vulnerability. They hit him dead center in the chest and tugged at his heart. A sensation he hadn’t felt in decades spread through him. He couldn’t call it love, because he’d never been in love. He’d been infatuated. He’d been in lust. But this was different. Very different.
And when he moved inside Savannah, all kinds of emotions whipped up, clouding all thought. He focused on her pretty face and the pleasure etching her features. On the way her body rocked his world. On the sexy sounds rolling from her throat.
He wrapped an arm low on her back and slowly pulled her into a sitting position, easing back on his heels so she could straddle his lap. Her weight pushed him deeper, and the velvety squeeze made him moan.
Savannah tossed her hair off her face, stroked her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, then threaded their fingers. Ian used his thighs to lift and his glutes to thrust, and Savannah rode him hard through her next orgasm. When she peaked, Ian released her hands and gripped her hips, holding her there as her body squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.
His own climax was pounding at the base of his spine for release. “One more,” he told her, lifting one hand to her head, holding her blue gaze, and giving his all to his resumed thrusts. “Give me one more, baby. Come with me this time.”
Savannah’s hands clawed at his shoulders for balance, her face pressed against his neck. Her hot breath bathed his skin, and her moans rippled through his chest, a flame to the explosion of his orgasm. He held her hips tight, thrusting deep and fast.
“Ah, God… Ia—” The power of her orgasm cut off her words, and Ian let go.
His release ripped through him, hips to chest. He echoed Savannah’s cry, and relished wave after superheated shock wave of pleasure, until the climax passed, leaving them both sweaty and breathless.
She grew heavy on his lap, and Ian kept a tight grip on her as he waited for their breath to slow, for Savannah to move, or for his own need for space to creep in. But she never moved, and space was the last thing Ian wanted.
Long, silent moments passed. Ian’s lower legs fell asleep. Still, he didn’t want to move. He didn’t know when or if this chance would ever come again, so he rode it out as long as possible.
Savannah took a deep breath and released a long, satisfied sigh. “I don’t want to move.”
Ian laughed. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
He lifted her head to look into her eyes and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she wanted to know.
“You look so…”
“Satisfied?” she said with a wicked little curl to her lips. “Go ahead, Mr. Heller, bask,” she said, leaning her head into his hand. “You deserve it.”
“We deserve it,” he said. “I didn’t do that alone.”
She opened her eyes, lifted her head from his hand, and cupped his face. Her blue eyes slid over his expression. Her fingers traced his features. The gesture was so tender, her expression so loving, Ian’s chest tightened with an unfamiliar sensation. One that scared him a little.
Then she kissed him, a gentle press of lips, over and over—his mouth, chin, cheek, forehead, and the tip of his nose before she brought her mouth back to his for a deep, slow kiss that warmed him from the inside out.
Finally, she lifted her body from his, then collapsed against the bed with comical relief. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay here for a week. I don’t think I’ll be able to move again until then.”
Ian rolled to his side, draped an arm over her waist, and pulled her close. She slid an arm around his neck and her fingers into his hair.
“God, I wish I could memorize this moment,” he murmured. That foreign, powerful sensation tightened his chest again. “You’re so beautiful.”
Savannah grinned and stroked his cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” She closed her eyes, sighed heavily, and breathed, “Wow.”
Yeah. That about said it all, didn’t it?
Too bad that wasn’t the only thing they needed to talk about tonight—and he knew without a doubt, their next conversation would change the entire mood.
10
The smell of something delicious finally pulled Savannah from Ian’s bed.
They’d made love twice more before their growling stomachs sent Ian over to Savannah’s side of the duplex to raid her fridge. Now, at midnight, he was in the kitchen cooking something to eat.
Savannah stood, picked up one of Ian’s T-shirts from a folded pile of laundry and slipped it over her head. She wandered through the living room, noting the blankets and pillows on his couch, and smiled. Neither one of them would be using those tonight, but she appreciated his offer to sleep on the couch early on.
Now, he stood at the stove in his thermal shirt and jeans. His shoulders were wide, their corded muscle stretching the fabric. A sigh slipped out of her as she thought back over the last few hours, a wild whirlwind of lust, sweetness, passion, intensity, and release. More than she’d ever imagined and something she was fully aware might never happen again. Even if she hated the thought of this being a one-time event, she had to admit it made a lot of sense in her situation.
She might as well get as much of him as he’d give while she was here.
Savannah came up behind him and slid her arms around his waist, flattening her hands on his taut abs.
“Hey there.” He slid a hand over her forearm and smiled over his shoulder. “I thought I was going to have to wake you up to eat.”
“It smells heavenly. What are you making?”
“Fre
nch toast.”
“Mmmm, one of Jamison’s favorites.”
“I hope it’s one of yours too.”
She released his waist and stepped up beside him at the stove. “It is.”
He set down the spatula and turned, pulling her toward him by the waist. His smile still made tingles of excitement skitter over her skin. “With butter and syrup, I hope. I stole those too.”
She laughed. “Did you leave me anything?”
He lowered his head and skimmed the tip of his nose down the length of hers, murmuring, “Maybe,” before he kissed her. A slow, sweet press of his lips that lingered until Savannah thought they might be putting food on hold again.
But the sizzle of the pan broke the trance, and Ian quickly saved the French toast. “Whoa, that was close.”
He pulled a plate warming in the oven and added the toast to a ridiculous pile of eight slices.
“Who in the heck are you cooking for?”
“Me, mostly,” he admitted with a grin. “I figured you for about two pieces.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “You helped me work up an appetite.”
When he said things like that, she got all giddy inside. Being with him created a constant inner battle between hope and reality.
After buttering the toast, he picked up the plate and the syrup and set them on the table in the kitchen. He’d already moved the file folder to the windowsill and put out forks, knives, and—
“Is that my orange juice?” she asked.
He gave her an um-yeah look. “I promise to make a store run tomorrow and replace everything.”
She laughed and waved his offer away. “Don’t worry about it.” She moved toward a chair with “It’s the least I could contribute to the best night of my life.”
She’d meant the comment to come out flippant and sarcastic, but as she approached the table, Ian grabbed her arm and yanked. Savannah fell off-balance with a squeak and dropped into his lap sideways.
“Really?” he murmured. Something soft flashed in his eyes. “I keep wondering if my head’s in the clouds, thinking it’s been a-freaking-mazing.”