Love On My Mind

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Love On My Mind Page 16

by Tracey Livesay


  “Adam? Are you okay? Is something wrong with the car?” She faced him, her brows pulled together and her knees slanted in his direction, providing a moonlit view of her thighs.

  His breathing accelerated and his nerve endings roused back to life. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned, his gaze inevitably drawn to that enticing curl that undulated with her deep breaths. He surrendered to the compulsion and reached for it, watching as it entwined itself around his finger. He rubbed his thumb against the soft texture and imagined her legs similarly wrapped around his body. His cock hardened.

  Her gaze traveled his body and stayed on his lower regions for several moments. She nodded imperceptibly, then turned and flattened her palms on the leather center console, using it to leverage herself closer to him. Her tongue cleaved her lips, leaving a moist shimmer on the bottom one. She searched his eyes and what she discovered caused her to tremble.

  “Adam?” she whispered.

  He cupped the back of her head, looped his fingers in those magnificent curls, and slanted his mouth over hers. Other than his hand in her hair, their lips were their sole point of contact, and he found the restriction erotic. Kissing her was as heady and addictive as he remembered, and he could imagine no scenario where he tired of the feelings coursing through him. She tasted of the coconut and guava of their dessert mixed with the berry fruitiness of her Pinot Noir. It was a potent combination.

  She moaned and tangled her tongue with his while reaching one hand up to grip the front of his shirt. His heart raced in his chest, thrilled with her passionate response. He braced his arm against the steering wheel, seeking a way to surmount the armrest and achieve deeper contact. Only when his knee landed on the console did he realize his intent. He was seconds away from pressing her into the passenger side seat and sinking his body into hers. The all-­consuming desperation shocked him and he wrenched his lips away from hers, falling back in his seat as he sucked in air and attempted to get his bearings. What the fuck was he doing? He’d never lost control kissing a woman before.

  He rolled his head on the headrest and stared at Chelsea, watched the rapid rise and fall of her breasts and the puckered imprint of her nipples against her dress’s fabric. He leaned over and pressed his lips against hers one more time, trailing his finger down her cheek.

  “Without that kiss, I couldn’t have guaranteed we’d make it back up the mountain without incident.”

  Her smile was slow and sensuous. “Thank God for road safety awareness.”

  He smiled and settled back into his seat, shifting the car into gear. Twenty minutes later, he pulled in front of his house and cut the engine. He’d driven past the turnoff to her driveway and had slowed down, waiting for an indication from her of what she wanted.

  “Your place,” she’d said. And so, he’d headed home.

  He knew what he wanted, had known from the moment her eyes had widened when she’d seen the underwater aquarium. What he was feeling toward this woman was different from what he’d felt for anyone else. But she hadn’t said anything, hadn’t moved since their kiss at the bottom of the mountain. He thought she felt the same way, but this was too important to leave to assumption. He needed to be clear before they could go any further.

  Still staring straight ahead he said, “I want to make love to you.”

  “I know.” Her voice floated out of the darkness.

  “Is that want one-­sided?”

  Silence. Disappointment weighed heavily upon his shoulders. He hunched forward and gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale in the moonlight. What irredeemable faux pas had he committed between the turnoff to her house and his? Had she changed her mind? Or had he misread the signs and she’d never been interested? It wouldn’t have been the first time, but the sting of defeat had never been so acute.

  But she surprised him by bringing her hand to rest on his thigh, heating the skin beneath. She squeezed. “Let’s go inside.”

  When they reached the great room, he shed his jacket, put his phone and keys on his desk, and hurried into his room to grab a condom from his nightstand. He wanted to be prepared, no matter where the mood struck. When he returned he found her standing in front of the window. The image recalled their dinner at the museum. She was a celestial fantasy come to life, surrounded by the velvet backdrop of the starry sky. He was consumed by a need to not experience another moment ignorant of the feel of their merged bodies.

  Walking over, he gripped her hips from behind and kissed the vertex created by the angle of her neck and shoulder. He inhaled deeply and his eyes fluttered, her scent making him dizzy. Her nearness threatened to short-­circuit his brain function and accelerate his pulse beyond normal limits. She tilted her head and leaned back into him as he nuzzled her smooth skin. He indulged in the feel of her curvy ass pushing back against his cock. He ground against her, the heat from her body burning through the thin material of his sweater.

  She pulled away and turned in his arms. He smoothed back a curl that had flown forward to touch her cheek.

  “I can’t wait to taste every inch of you.”

  Her mouth fell open. She caressed his cheek, then claimed his lips in a fierce kiss. He moaned and her hands rose to encircle his neck. Her lips were perfect, as if created specifically for his kisses, and he savored her like a rare and expensive delicacy. He intended to spend all night renewing his acquaintance with the angles and contours of her body. He had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.

  She felt so good. He vowed to do everything in his power to ensure he experienced this again. Just the thought of the forthcoming pleasure sent a tide of desire rushing through him. He deepened the kiss and used his body to propel her backward until she collided with the window.

  “Oooh.” She laughed. “That’s cold.”

  “Not for long.”

  He braced a hand against the window and trailed his index finger from her clavicle down her sternum to the top of her breasts. Her silken skin gave way easily. Her head tilted back and she arched into his touch.

  “Can I see you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He edged his fingers beneath the straps of her dress and drew them down her shoulders until the garment fell to her feet in a puddle of fabric. He crouched down, going on a visual journey from her flat stomach, the curve of her hip, her delicate pink panties, and her strong and supple thighs. She placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted one stiletto-­clad foot at a time to step out of her discarded dress, which he instantly tossed aside. The pink of her panties against her dark skin was like a prettily wrapped treat and the scent of her arousal called to him. He pressed a kiss to the scrap of material covering her. Then he rose, his hands skimming up the sides of her body until he was once again standing. His blood raced through his body until he swore he could hear it coursing through his veins.

  How did he get so damned lucky?

  Peering closely he could see a clasp between the satiny cups of her bra. He flicked it open, baring her breasts to his gaze and he inhaled with reverence. His palms tingled as the heavy teardrop-­shaped globes filled his hands. Her lashes dropped to half-­mast and her lips parted as she watched him. He drew his thumb over the dark chocolate-­hued tip.

  Her breath hitched and, again, her back arched toward him.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, forcing the words past a throat thickened with hunger.

  “Yes,” she said, her own voice husky.

  He did it again, noting how she leaned into the caress. The nipple was an erogenous zone full of thousands of nerve endings sensitive to stimuli, and Chelsea liked being touched there. Wanting to please her further, he grazed his thumb over her other nipple. She moaned and the sound arrowed straight to his cock.

  An audible response, suggesting a more heightened reaction. He tweaked her right nipple, then her left, flushing with heat when her lashes fanned against her cheekbones and she
moaned again, swiveling her pelvis in a needy motion. While she enjoyed the sensation of both breasts being touched, her left nipple was extremely sensitive.

  Using that information, he rubbed, tweaked, and licked until she moaned, twisted, and quivered in his arms. She was responsive to his every touch, her sounds of pleasure almost his undoing. He loved being the cause of such an intense reaction. He feathered his tongue up her neck and bit down on her earlobe. She gasped and bucked against him and he smiled, soothing the sting with his tongue. The heat of their bodies fogged the glass. She slid her hands around his hips to grasp his ass, gyrating herself against him.

  “Tell me how it feels,” he said, yearning to know everything about her.

  “Hmmm?” she moaned.

  “Tell me how it feels.”

  “It’s . . . oh God . . . slow and heavy . . . and thick . . .” She trailed off on another moan.

  “Is it too much?”

  “It’s perfect,” she whimpered, and his cock swelled.

  He reached down to cup her through the silky material of her panties, then rubbed the heel of his palm against her, knowing the friction would feel good against her clitoris. She moaned and rotated her hips, grinding against his hand.

  Ahhh baby . . .

  He grabbed the waistband of her panties and yanked them down. The clitoris was the most sensitive female erogenous zone, but he didn’t know if she’d enjoy direct stimulation. So he aimed for the area around it, using his middle finger to massage in slow circular motions through her folds. She arced into his touch and her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin with a pleasurable sting. When his finger was slick from her arousal, he dragged his thumb through the wetness and rubbed it back and forth against her clit before pressing it firmly. Her hips jerked and he captured the resulting moan with his tongue. He engaged all of his fingers to stroke her, alternating the pace and the pressure, noting her quickening breath, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

  Having an idea of what she liked based on how she responded, he tweaked her left breast and stroked her clitoris. She undulated against his hand, her torso maneuvering against him. She began to tremble and her head tipped back, her moans issuing in an increasingly frequent staccato. He slipped two fingers inside of her, pressed against her front wall, and bit down on her earlobe. She cried out and came apart in his arms.

  Fuck, he was about to explode. His body couldn’t be equipped to handle this level of arousal. Watching her come was better than solving a thousand equations, better than developing next-­gen software. What he’d done had comprised only one combination of moves to get her off. He wanted to play with her until he’d uncovered every combination to achieve that same result.

  She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and sagged against him. “Good God,” she breathed.

  He unfastened the clip holding her curls and let them tumble down her back. “I refuse to let God take credit for that.”

  She looked at him wide-­eyed, then laughed.

  He smiled and kissed her, and it wasn’t long before the playful embrace turned frenzied. Passion beat through his body, seeking release. She pulled on his belt, her fingers fumbling as she undid the clasp. She unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and reached for him. He surged into the tightness of her hand. He was hard and hot and he covered her hands with his, pressing her grip tighter around him as he stroked in and out of her palms. He closed his eyes and his head lolled to the side. Having her hands on him was amazing, but it was a pale imitation of what he wanted from her.

  “Do you have a condom?” she asked.

  The thought of leaving her and walking the few feet necessary to grab the prophylactic from his desk seemed like torture, but he did it, returning a few seconds later with the packet in his hand. He put it between his teeth and tore it, quickly sheathing himself. She licked her lips.

  “Next time I want to taste you,” she said.

  “Me, first,” he said, aware that they were both acknowledging there would be another time.

  He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock was inches away from the hot entrance to her body. He pressed her upper shoulders against the window, kissed the corner of her mouth, and surged inside of her.

  He paused, his body aching as he strained to retain control. He was in serious danger of coming right then, but he willed it back, needing more time within her sweet body. He locked his legs, cupped her hips, and tilted upward, giving him deeper penetration as he stroked in and out. She moaned loudly and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her heat pulsed against his cock, the suction warm and thick and threatening to drive him mad. He squeezed her ass and varied his strokes: shallow and fast, deep and slow. When he bent his knees to change the angle of penetration, she shivered, and her eyes slammed shut. He stared at her, wanting to remember the erotic pleasure etched on her face.

  Far too soon the muscles of her inner walls began to pull at him, suck and massage him from the inside. His body responded with the telltale tightening at the base of his spine and tingling waves that radiated from his scrotum. A second later, she clamped down on his length and called out her release. He roared as his own powerful orgasm ripped through him.

  “Can I give God credit for that?” she asked, panting, a few minutes later.

  “No, but we can thank him,” he said, managing a wheezy laugh.

  After he caught his breath, he slid from her, lamenting the loss of her warmth. He kissed her and she snuggled against him, never opening her eyes. He carried her to his bedroom, laid her on the bed, and hurried into the adjoining bathroom to clean up. When he returned, she was lying on her side, turned away from him. He slipped into bed behind her and curved his arm around her middle, pulling her back to him. He hauled the duvet up to cover them. He thought she’d fallen asleep, so was surprised when she took his hand, kissed it, and placed it over her heart.

  Only then did all the questions come tumbling forth. Had he sated his desire for her, now that he’d determined their chemistry wasn’t created by circumstance?

  Hell, no.

  Tonight had been better than he’d imagined, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He’d need more of her, and not just sexually. But how would that function? Had he managed to convince her that they could work well together, both in and out of bed? Or would the sunrise bring a choice he didn’t want to make?

  He could wait until after the presentation and then pursue her, but his body rejected that notion as soon as his brain thought of it. He didn’t want to go another day without experiencing the pleasure of being inside of her. And then there was the issue of his diagnosis. When should he tell her? Did she deserve to know? And could he take it if she rejected him like Birgitta or his mother?

  He shook his head. Today had been about spending time with Chelsea away from work and it had been one of the best days of his life. Tomorrow he’d figure out if things between them would change. He nuzzled her curls and drifted into a restful slumber.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CHELSEA WOKE TO sunlight streaming across her face. She stretched and the white, high thread count sheets slid over her skin in an echo of Adam’s tenderest caress. She smiled. The man was talented. His touch, his kiss, his lovemaking was beyond anything she’d experienced before.

  He played her body like a maestro discovering a new instrument, learning what movements she responded to and then repeating the series until she’d become a frenzied mass of pleasure. She’d never been on the receiving end of such studied focus. It was an experience she was eager to repeat.

  She reached over and trailed her fingertips over the cool space. Adam must’ve been up for a while. He’d woken her in the early hours, making love to her again with the same quiet intensity she was learning he brought to everything he attempted.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she looked around for something to c
over her naked body. She definitely wasn’t putting on the dress from last night. A gray shirt was neatly folded over the back of a chair in the corner. She stepped into her discarded panties and tiptoed across the room to grab it. She slid the large Henley over her body, the hem settling mid-­thigh.

  Walking into the great room, she found him standing in front of his desk, his chest bare, a pair of running pants slung low on his hips. A partially finished glass of his breakfast smoothie sat near the edge. Her lips parted and a swell of heat roared through her body. Her fingers clutched the wall near her for support and she leaned against it, taking in the arresting picture he made, his hair tousled, his body lean perfection. Navigating the haze created by her gawking, it took several moments before she realized he was talking to someone by speakerphone.

  “We’re stoked about Computronix’s product launch. We’ve heard some amazing things,” an excited voice rushed.

  The product launch? Who was he talking to?

  “The whispers you’ve heard will fail to live up to the reality.” Adam stood in front of the window, his posture strong but relaxed, bouncing a small green-­and-­yellow ball between both hands.

  “We won’t hold you long.” This from a different voice. “Our plan is to do a brief segment we’ll insert into our podcast prior to the launch.”

  She looked around, positive she’d misheard. A podcast?

  “I understand.”

  “Great. And now we’re recording. Welcome to Tech Today, Gone Tomorrow. We’re here with Adam Bennett, CEO of Computronix. How’s it going, man?”

  “Busy. Computronix’s latest product launch is next week. It’s our biggest one in five years.”

  “Can you give us any specifics?”

  “Of course not,” Adam said.

  Absently, she smoothed her hair back and lifted the heavy mass, letting it sift through her fingers as she listened, trying to comprehend what was occurring. Adam was doing a podcast without her knowledge or guidance?

  “You can’t blame us for trying,” Host A said. “If you won’t answer specifics about your new tech, can you talk to us, generally, about the future of Computronix?”

 

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