Neve rolled her eyes. “He’d have my ass.” That alone was enough to make her consider it, but in the end, she gave in to temptation. The temptation of riding so close to Ian. “Let’s see if I can manage this first.”
It wasn’t hard, though, she realized.
Managing Ian though? He was hard.
Everywhere.
She swallowed at the feel of his muscled thighs pressed against her nearly naked ones after he helped tuck the skirt down around her. He ended up taking some of the skirt and sitting on it, trapping her behind him. They tucked the rest of the material between their respective legs and he said, “See? Easy.”
Easy…?
She leaned in, pressing her legs to his to help keep the dress down and he started the bike. This was a lot of things but easy wasn’t one of them.
A low moan rose in her throat as he pulled away from the house.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she said, raising her voice.
Nothing … nothing at all. Just me trying to keep from turning into a pitiful mess of hormones.
* * *
“Gideon taught me to fish here.”
“Did he now?” They’d decided against a movie—the closest theater was a thirty-minute drive away, so after dinner, Ian had driven Neve to the river. He’d turned the bike off and put it on its stand, but she made no move to climb off and he was quite fine as he was, the warmth of her snug against his back, her breath teasing his neck. He slid a hand back, rested on her thigh.
Through the silk of her dress, he could feel the warm, elegant length of her thigh.
He wanted to touch.
So fucking bad.
All throughout dinner, throughout the leisurely drive through town.
Now …
She gave a shaky sigh and relaxed against his back, her brow pressing to the back of his neck.
He spread his fingers wide and caught the fussy, flouncy silk of her dress and eased it higher. “I’ve driven myself half mad, thinking about touching you again, Miss Neve. Touching you … tasting you.”
She had one hand on his waist and at his words, she tightened her fingers. “Is that a fact?”
“That’s a fact.” He turned his head, angling his body just slightly.
She met him more than halfway, one palm coming up to cup his cheek.
The soft night air wrapped around them, the breeze coming off the river blowing her hair so that it teased his cheek. He wanted to tangle his hands in it, feel the strands slipping across his chest, his belly.
In the dim light, he could see her eyes, misty and pale, soft and green, as she slid a look down to his mouth.
A groan ripped out of him.
She sighed, the sound low and soft.
Turn around, you fool. Just drive on back to the house with her. Thank her for a lovely time and beg her to go out with you again. Soon.
It wasn’t a bad plan, even the begging. He could see himself on his knees in front of her for a great many things, her attention just one of them. But as he went to turn back around, she increased the pressure on his cheek and then leaned in.
His heart lunged against his rib cage, beating like a caged beast as Neve brushed her lips across his. It was a sweet kiss. Soft, simple, and sweet, and he could have been quite happy with just that—even though his cock pulsed and throbbed, already demanding more.
But Neve licked at the entrance to his mouth and he could practically hear one tiny crack, then another and another—he thought it was the steely wall of his control that he’d wrapped around himself all night. And it was shattering, crumbling to nothing under Neve’s light, almost delicate kiss.
When she slid her hand back to his neck and tightened her fingers, he covered her palm with his, twisting more to meet her kiss. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and he thought maybe he’d just died. Died and gone to heaven.
Or maybe this was hell … and all of this was punishment, a tempting sweet pleasure that would be yanked away—
Neve whimpered and lifted up slightly, straining to get closer.
Fuck this.
Ian pulled away and then half turned, scooping her onto his lap. Her startled gasp was smothered against his mouth as he cupped her chin and once more, had himself a taste of Neve McKay.
Sweet.
That’s what she was.
Sweet and sinful and seductive … and shy. He could feel it, taste it in the hesitant way she slowly relaxed against him. Shy, but not scared. He’d cut off his arm before he let himself scare her and he’d hold himself to that promise, too.
Silk slithered and whispered as she twisted around until she was straddling him, her knees gripping at his hips as she rocked against him. It sent him straight into glory, he knew it did. Ian cupped her bottom and tugged her closer as he moved.
A harsh choked noise left her lips and she tore away, her head falling back. She stared blindly up at the sky as she rocked against him again. He traced his fingers across the slope of her breasts, framed so prettily by the bodice of the dress she wore. “I do love this dress, Neve,” he murmured.
She said nothing.
Pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, he asked softly, “Should I stop?”
“What’s the other option?”
The smile on her face wobbled a little, but the look in her eyes was steady as she slid her hands down his chest.
“Ah, Neve. I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
The other option was … bliss.
Neve clutched at Ian as he skimmed his fingers up her back, the calluses rough along her skin. When he caught the zipper and gave it a light tug, almost as if asking permission, she eased forward against his chest, hoping he’d follow the cue.
She was lousy at this.
Ian certainly wasn’t. His lips brushed over her brow as he tugged the zipper down, only partway and she felt blood rising to stain her cheeks when he eased her back, his gaze slipping from her face to move down.
She’d stood naked in front of more than a few people during her abbreviated modeling career, but there was something entirely different about the way he looked at her.
He dipped his head and she shivered as he trailed his lips down her throat. “I want to see you naked in my bed, Neve,” he murmured. “I want that very much.”
The words, whispered against her skin, sent a shiver racing through her. She curled her hands around the back of his head, holding him tight when he caught a patch of skin between his teeth and sucked.
She sat astride him on the bike and almost every time she breathed, she felt the pulse of his cock against her. He braced an arm behind her and arched her back, his mouth still brushing over her skin. “I…” she swallowed. “I don’t think I want to wait that long.”
Ian stilled.
He lifted his head and stared at her, his pale eyes glinting, shadows thrown across his face. They were in the darkest part of the small, pitted excuse of a parking lot. It wasn’t even a lot, just a square of gravel. This spot by the river wasn’t unknown, but people didn’t often head out this way, miles past town and too out of the way for much of anything other than fishing.
Only the faint silvery light from the moon filtering through the trees provided any light and she could see the way his lips parted, his teeth white against the darkness of his beard. “Wait how long?”
“To get to your bed.” She’d been caught in a fog of need ever since he’d looked up at her, a slightly stunned look on his face. Although if she was honest, she’d admit to herself that she’d felt caught by him pretty much since that first night.
When she was with Ian, fear didn’t guide her actions and she loved it.
When she was with Ian, she felt like … herself. She felt like herself in a way that she hadn’t in far too long, maybe forever.
Sliding her hand up, she pressed it against his cheek, feeling the soft, neat growth of his beard against her palm and the warmth of his skin higher up where her fingers brush
ed his temple. “I’ve never had sex on a motorcycle, but I’ve heard it’s possible.”
A wicked grin curled his lips and he straightened, tugging her up close against him. Her dress drooped, the straps slipping down her shoulders and now she was keenly aware of the hardness of his chest. “Aye, it’s possible.” Then he gave her an innocent smile. “Not that I know from experience.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Have you had sex on this bike?”
“Nooo.” He drew it out, then leaned in and nipped her lip. “But I’d be happy to remedy that, if you like.”
Throat tight, she turned her face to his. She hoped he recognized her kiss for what it was because she’d gotten really, really bad at asking for anything.
His mouth opened under hers and she sensed the difference. He’d held himself back before and now … she trembled under the intensity of the kiss, a kiss that stole her breath away and made her wonder if she knew anything at all about kissing.
No man had ever kissed her like this.
His hands cradled her face, held like she was something treasured and adored, while his tongue rubbed against hers in a taunting, sinuous play. His touch was careful—his kiss was carnal—and the contrast between the two had her mind spinning and whirling.
When he skipped his fingers down to toy with the straps, she tore her mouth away, sucking in desperate breaths of air.
“Should I stop?”
“Hell, no.”
He chuckled and eased the straps the rest of the way down, even as he cast a look around. “I’ve never been here. How likely is it that somebody will pass by, Neve?”
“Not.” She struggled to think as his hands closed over her rib cage, his thumbs stroking the undersides of her breasts. “Never was a busy place. Well…” She swallowed. “Then.”
He cupped her chin and tilted her head back. The smile on his face was pure, unadulterated heat and she could feel an answer licking up her core. “And you don’t want me to stop?”
“I don’t think so.”
He didn’t question that and she was glad.
She was even gladder when his mouth came to hers and he started to kiss her, more of those deep, drugging kisses that stole the strength of her limbs and turned everything inside her to molten lava. One hand moved at her back but she didn’t realize what he’d been doing until she felt his hands on her naked breasts. Instinctively, she tensed.
“You’re lovely, sweet Neve,” he murmured, his mouth easing away from hers. “I want to look at you. D’you mind?”
She nervously shook her head and held herself rigid as he eased her back.
“Now that’s pretty,” he muttered, his gaze rapt on her.
Instinctively, she glanced down. Dazed, mystifying heat swamped her as she saw his hands, so dark compared to her skin, plump up her breasts. Still rigid with tension, she tried to relax. She’d never much liked it when William had touched her breasts, even before he’d shown his true colors—then fumbling tugs had gone to hard tweaks and cruel pulls.
Ian circled her right nipple with his thumb.
She shivered.
He echoed the action on the other side and then eased her back, still watching her as he slid one arm behind her, arching her back. Her breasts lifted to him and she froze as his dark head bent over her. Then she cried out. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue teasing the peak until it throbbed in time with her heart. There was a tickling sensation from his beard that added to the tangle of pleasure.
He shifted his attention to her other breast and she clutched at him, instinctively started to rock against him—or tried to. She had no leverage and frustrated, she wiggled, straining to get closer.
“What is it?” Ian muttered, lifting his head and staring at her. His mouth was wet.
“I want…” She groaned and sat up straighter, gripping his shoulders as she tightened her hips. “Please. I don’t…”
She looked so frustrated and flushed—so fucking fantastic he thought he’d never again be able to ride his bike without getting a bloody hard-on. As she fumbled with the words, he caught one thigh and then guided her leg farther around him. “Put your foot down. There’s a peg.”
She did so, first the right then the left and he had to wonder what the hell he had been thinking. She moved against him. Through his trousers and whatever skimpy thing she wore under the so-sexy dress, he could feel her and she was wet and he wanted to feel more of her.
Swearing, he caught the material of her dress and shoved it up. Ruffled flounces and silk bunched around his wrists as he closed his hands around her rump. Soft, sleek curves and warm skin, covered by a bit of something lacy. That was all that separated them.
It was too much. “I need you naked and these are in the way, love.”
She groaned and then went to push away before stopping. “I don’t want to stop touching you long enough to take the damn panties off.”
“Well, then.” He caught the material at the sides, fisted both hands in the silk, and ripped.
Her startled gasp sounded terribly loud and he held still. “Should I not have done that?”
Neve responded by wiggling her hips and moving closer. “Please tell me you have condoms.”
He let his mouth fall open. “But I thought…”
She stared at him. Her lashes fluttered and then she sucked in a breath. “But…”
He bit her lower lip playfully. “I’ve condoms, alright. Brought them with me on a hope and a prayer, but I have them. I was just teasing you, love.”
“I’ll hurt you.” She jabbed him in the ribs. “You do that to me again and I’ll hurt … oh.”
He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, her skin so smooth and soft and warm. “I’m sorry … should I beg forgiveness?” He didn’t want for her to answer as he tugged the material of her panties away with one hand. With the other, he found paradise.
She was slick and wet and hot.
“I can go down on my knees,” he whispered against her lips. Then, as her head fell back on a moan, he pushed two fingers inside her. “And beg you. Shall I do that, Neve?”
He pumped his fingers in, once, twice, drawing the slickness of her hunger out. He rubbed his thumb around the swollen bud of her clitoris. “You’re not answering me.”
“I want you inside me,” she said, the words tight, almost choked. “Not on your knees.”
“But if I’m on my knees…” He twisted his wrist.
“Ian!”
She bucked against him and he braced his legs as she pumped against his hand, her climax breaking over her. His hunger snarled, raged. “Perhaps I’ll beg ya later.”
Neve blinked at him sleepily and he was about ready to beg himself—for mercy, for control. Instead, he fumbled a rubber out of his pocket and fought with the packet, with the flounces of her skirt, and the trembling of his own fingers as he sheathed himself.
“You’re certain of this?” he whispered against her mouth.
She bit his lower lip.
When he pressed against her, Neve tensed.
She couldn’t stop it.
It had been too long since she’d had sex and that hadn’t been pleasant.
“Easy, love,” Ian said, his voice a steadying presence as his hands gripped her hips.
She rolled against him and gasped as the action worked him deeper inside.
“Ian…”
He groaned and she felt the heavy ridge of his cock jerk inside her. Instinctively, she tightened around him. The fingers on her hips gripped her harder and he swore. “Don’t…” A long shudder wracked his body and he stopped for a few seconds.
She could hear him sucking in air and then he spoke again, his breath coming in hard, ragged pants. “Don’t do that. You’re killin’ me…”
His brogue thickened and she barely understood him. Barely understood anything save for the need to have more. Curling an arm around his neck, she moved closer, her dress smashed between them.
Ian’s body tensed and she cried as he drove
up into her, hard and fast.
Immediately, he froze. “Did I hurt ya?”
“No. Please…” She moved against him, but it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough—
He drove into her again and she cried out. “Please!”
“Please what?” He fisted a hand in her hair, forcing her to meet his eyes in the dark night.
“More.” She gulped in air, all thoughts of shyness gone. “I want more.”
“Fuck me.”
The hard, driving rhythm stole the air out of her lungs, stole the scream from her lips and left her clutching at him, breathless. One big hand caught her hip and drew her closer and the angle had her crying out. “Please, please, please…”
She didn’t even know she was talking.
She sank her nails into his arms without realizing she’d broken the skin.
And all the while, Ian drove up into her.
When the orgasm rushed up on her, she thought it just might swallow her whole. She tried to say his name, and couldn’t. But she heard him say hers, a low, ragged groan against her ear.
It was a pleasure so complete, it left her completely shattered.
* * *
The throbbing in his left hand pulled him back to earth.
Slowly, William lowered his head to stare down and he realized he’d wrapped the silk scarf so tightly around his hand, he’d cut off the blood supply.
Ian.
Rage tore vicious bites out of him as he tried to pierce the darkness to see the man’s face.
It wasn’t necessary, though.
He already knew who it was out there. Fucking his woman. “Mine,” he whispered, the word all but soundless in the night, lost in the sounds caused by the night creatures—and the fucking whore William had chased halfway across the world.
That was Ian Campbell, a man who’d humiliated him. And Ian had his hands all over Neve.
William clutched the scarf tighter, imagined wrapping it around her lily white throat … and pulling.
* * *
Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) Page 23