“No wonder you screamed.” He brushed the hair back from her temples and traced a thumb over her cheek while shaking his head. “Too much of this case on the brain, Georgia. I hate it.”
He hated it? “It isn’t a picnic for me, either, Bird. I’d thought, maybe after the drink, and I was so relaxed.” Being here, with him also helped tremendously, she didn’t admit.
“And it crept in anyway.” His warm, strong fingers moved to her shoulders, gently kneading, ferreting out the knots of tension. “Ah, Georgia, you’re so tense.”
“Mmm...Yes, but that’s heavenly,” she murmured as her lids drooped shut, and her body swayed with the gentle massaging rhythm of his hands. Her mind emptied of everything but the delight his touch brought to her body. The strong yet surprisingly tender grip, so soothing.
All too quickly for Savannah, he stopped and stood.
That’s when she realized he was wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs. The heather gray cotton molded to his gorgeous, muscular body like a glove. Corded thighs, lean hips, she swallowed hard, and a very large bulge. Her pussy contracted as a shot of hot lust gripped her center, making her wet.
He slipped his hands behind her knees, scooping her up into his arms. “Trevor,” she managed to utter while instinctually wrapping her arms around his neck as she looked up at him.
What? She wished she knew.
“I don’t make a habit of forcing myself on a woman, Georgia.” Oh, but a woman could grow to despise an honorable man and his conscience. “You need to rest, and you can’t do that till you relax.”
Carrying her into the bedroom, he set her back on her feet beside the rumpled king-sized bed. “You’ve tried sleeping pills and dulling your senses with alcohol, and that hasn’t worked.”
He plumped the pillows then sat back against the headboard, patting the smooth river of cotton sheet between his thighs. “Humor me.”
She’d like to do more than humor him. Ha!
Feeling awkward and yet insanely aroused from being carried against all that firm, warm, naked flesh, she took her sweet time hiking up her skirt before crawling up on the big bed. She settled herself as best she could between his long legs, between those gloriously muscular thighs, while trying to salvage a thread or two of decorum.
His scent infused the room, rugged and clean and manly.
The sheets held the warmth were he’d lain only moments earlier.
Savannah desperately willed her mind to things other than imagining him naked, aroused. Hers.
* * * *
Humoring himself, Trevor gathered the heavy silken strands of her hair and let them fall over one shoulder, leaving the nape of her neck exposed. He’d rather not have her blouse between them, keeping his hands from her bare skin, but he doubted she would go for that. Firmly, yet gently, he began a renewed attacked on the knots of anxiety in her shoulders, working inward toward the stem of her neck.
Hearing Savannah’s soft sighs, her murmured noises of pleasure that followed the release of stress, and Trevor felt as if he’d had to leash the beast of his lust with a hundred heavy chains. Her head fell forward as he coaxed the last traces of strain from her limbs.
She made no protest when he doused the lamp by the bed, transforming the room into a peaceful haven of shadows and moonlight.
When he shifted, pulling her against him and settling her into the curve of his body so that her head rested over his heart, her hand came to rest close by.
“Sleep, Georgia. I’ll watch over you,” Trevor whispered.
The heart in his chest was no longer racing. His pulse no longer hammered. His system was leveled out and relaxed, perfectly content to have her near. Savannah was in his arms, in his bed, pressed to his body.
A perfect fit.
And the lingering thought that haunted him into the earliest hours before dawn?
This was exactly where she belonged.
Chapter 3
He dozed. That was all. With Savannah so close, the alluringly, soft scent of her perfume, the feel of her womanly curves molded to his, falling into a deeper sleep was monumentally impossible. Trevor was aware of her every sigh, her every move.
How could he not be?
The predicament of the moment, however, was how to go about extracting himself from her silken embrace without disturbing her or, more precisely, without embarrassing himself.
He had another hour before his alarm clock would be going off, but his cock had woken on high alert, hard as a brick and tenting his briefs. Savannah’s delicate hand was splayed perilously low on his abdomen with one creamy thigh hooked seductively over his.
The skirt she wore had bunched in the night, shoved so high that very little of those soft, shapely legs was left to his imagination. When he tried a subtle move, she mewed and snuggled even closer.
Shit.
Out of options, he calculated, deciding to go with a swift retreat. No doubt she’d rouse. Then he could murmur an apology and be off to the shower—ice cold, thank you, please—before she ever opened her eyes.
With the plan in place in his mind, he grabbed the edge of the sheet, aiming to bolt.
“Mmm...” Savannah’s sleep-thickened, feline-like purr stopped him dead in his tracks.
The stroke of her thigh against his had him gritting his teeth and biting off an oath.
Still locked in sleep, her hand roamed low, lower, and she purred again as her palm closed over his cotton-covered erection. A snatch of breath, and his cock jerked in response.
Fuck!
No woman had ever brought him so close to the edge of climax so swiftly and with only a few precious strokes. Damn. They weren’t even flesh-to-flesh, but then, he’d awakened from a world where she’d been naked and riding his very stiff, aching cock. The memory of her seductive sighs during the massage had melded to become the sounds of her pleasure in his dream. He’d been teetering on a dangerous rim of arousal before she’d ever touched him.
Now, Trevor was close to coming in his briefs.
* * * *
Savannah was so utterly relaxed, floating in a sea of warm, melting sensations that felt too wonderful to describe, to believe. Dreaming again—surely that could be the only explanation—and this time, oh dear sweet Lord, this time she was enjoying a most fantastical vision of Trevor Bird. No nightmare here, just the warmth of a hard body, the gentle caress of firm hands. The hot, hard proof of his stiff cock that told her he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“Savannah.”
Yes! She wanted to shout, to weep. He’d whispered her name. Not Georgia or sweetheart or some other endearment. Finally! She’d only imagined that deeply masculine tone calling her name.
No! He was pulling away, leaving her cold. Empty. Aching.
Her voice was like smoke, so thick and clouded with arousal. God, was this really her voice? “Trevor.”
“Savannah,” he said again, a bit more harshly.
She opened her eyes, blinking to clear them, letting the reality of the situation and her surroundings seep in. No, not a dream after all, Savannah realized.
Trevor’s bed.
Trevor’s home.
Trevor’s hard body.
She was in the first two. The last she wanted in her.
She’d been plastered to him, reveling in the sensations, claiming him for her own, when she’d stumbled over the discovery of his erection in her dream-fuzzed brain.
The way he’d changed their positions, she was no longer draped over him. No longer was his very aroused cock within her reach. Now, he was propped up on an elbow and looking down at her.
Frowning.
No, no, no! She really, really hated that. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek and saw the flicker of surprise, the amber flames of arousal that danced in his obsidian eyes.
A woman knew her limits, understood the reality of taking certain, calculated risks. She was no stranger to the concept, having taken the first and most monumental of her life when she’d left Geo
rgia for Michigan. College. Career. Finally sure of herself, and of what she wanted, she’d reached for it.
The reward had been worth every tenuous moment.
What she wanted now, more than anything else ever before, was at her fingertips and looking down at her with such blatant desire it nearly stole her breath. This would be complicated. Another risk.
“Trevor?”
* * * *
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman, in a way he’d never wanted another woman. Needed her. The very next beat of his heart seemed to depend on the outcome of the war that waged behind those emerald green eyes.
Without granting her time to think, or God forbid refuse, he lowered his mouth to hers. Heaven. Oh, but he’d known. There was no struggle, no resistance. Only surrender. Sweet, giving, a gentle brush of lips to lips as she sighed, and her body arched against his.
“Savannah,” he whispered against her lips, feeling oddly unsure of himself as a man in a way he had no capacity to deal with.
Smiling softly, she traced a thumb over the swell of his lower lip. “When you come inside me,” she said boldly, “I want you to say it again.”
Awestruck. He was awestruck. Clearly, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She’d managed to steal his breath, swipe his brain of all thoughts.
Recovering quickly, he demanded, “When you scream, I want my name on your lips.”
“Count on it.”
With that, their mouths fused. Lips, teeth, tongues battled—not for the upper hand, but simply for more. Nips, greedy licks, flesh crushed to flesh, warring strokes that stole the breath and set off raging infernos of heat.
Only in his dreams had he dared to hope there’d be such heat, that she’d respond so openly, so avidly.
Hunger had him all but devouring her dampening flesh. Beginning with the temptingly sweet hollow of her throat, he worked his way up to her chin, skimming his lips along her jaw, nipping with greedy little bites until he tugged at the soft lobe of her ear. He needed to touch her everywhere, to taste her everywhere as if he might imprint himself on every inch of her. Hastily, he shoved her already bunched skirt higher and cupped the satin-covered globes of her ass.
“I have to touch you.”
“Yes. Yes!” Savannah moaned aloud and writhed beneath him, rocked into his palm when he parted her thighs and cupped her molten center.
Shoving aside lace, he dipped his head to her center. “Have to taste you.”
“Yes, Trevor,” Savannah pleaded, the edge of desperation sparking a thrilling fire in his blood. “Hurry.”
Hard, fast flicks of his finger had her clit swelling, hardening in response, and had her panting for breath. Then his mouth was on hers again, feasting as he spread her delicate folds and speared her slicked sheath with two fingers. It was like plunging into the heart of the sun. She was on fire for him. The realization fueled his own recklessly building arousal to new heights.
Her hips bucked, and her head thrashed wildly while he stroked in and out. In. And out. His thumb applied pressure to her clit, and her body responded instantly. She came fast and hard, gripping his wrist just as the inner walls of her pussy contracted around his fingers in frantic waves that sent more of her juices flowing into his hand.
* * * *
“Savannah, baby, you are so wet, so hot.” Trevor’s lips scorched along the line of her throat while he continued to stroke her quivering sheath. His long, thick fingers sliding in and out, picking up the pace instead of showing her mercy when the peak of climax crested. Everything in her center began to coil, to tighten and swirl again with the desire he stirred.
Then his head was between her splayed legs, the thick, dark strands of his hair tickling her thighs, and Savannah nearly melted into the sheets. His hot, velvety tongue flicked her throbbing, sensitive clit, traced the path of her slit. Firm yet tender fingertips spread her folds, held her wide for his probing tongue. With strong, purposeful thrusts he plunged into her aching center. Again. And again. He was fucking her pussy with his clever tongue, the deep, smooth strokes dragging her toward the jagged edge of another release. Closer. Higher.
He slipped his skillful fingers back inside her to scissor and slide, thrusting deep again and again to torture her most sensitive spot. Ever so lightly, he sucked at her clit.
“Trevor. Oh, God! Oh, God!”
“That’s it, baby,” he crooned. “Come for me.”
The spring of need wound tighter, and impossibly tighter still, as her pussy gripped at his fingers with all the inner strength she possessed. She was so, so close. All it took to send her over was a final nip at her throbbing clit.
She screamed, bucking through the orgasm, chanting his name and fisting her fingers in his hair. When she could think again, she felt him laving her quivering mound, lapping up the juices that seemed to pour from her, rubbing her ultra-sensitive clit with his thumb, and bringing her to the perilous edge of another heart-stopping release.
Could she survive it?
“Trevor,” she could only whimper.
“I knew you’d taste as sweet as that honey dripping from your lips.”
Far before the third dangerous fall, he eased back and tugged her panties off her hips, down her weak, shaky legs. “I want to see you in the moonlight, Savannah. All of you.”
Far be it from her to argue. She hadn’t the strength or the wish to deny him anything.
His hands came next to the side zipper of her skirt, fumbling for just a second before he parted the teeth and drew it down and away. It helped, Savannah thought with some satisfaction, to realize that his hands were also a bit unsteady. Lazily, he skimmed one tanned hand along her thigh. Up and down, up and down, brushing his knuckles over the pale curls nestled above her mound. He had such beautiful, powerful hands.
Gently, he pushed her thighs further apart and began to tease the inner flesh with feathery touches that came oh-so-close to her glistening folds before retreating. Time and again, he inched closer only to pull away. She couldn’t help but shudder under the tantalizing assault.
Finally, he parted her nether lips and took his sweet time admiring her with a gaze that was pure approval. Pure desire. Seeing it had her skin growing tight and her nipples straining to be free, aching to be pinched and sucked. He’d given her three amazing orgasms, but they’d only shaved the tip off the iceberg. Simmering below the surface was a longing that threatened to devastate.
“So beautiful, Savannah,” he said with such reverence that she felt humbled. No one had ever looked at her that way. No one had ever made her feel the things Trevor was making her feel.
It was exhilarating.
It was terrifying.
Somehow, deep down, she knew this would be like jumping out of a twenty-story window without a safety net. And still she was drawn to toss her face to the sky, spread her arms and soar.
* * * *
Trevor found himself hopelessly enthralled by the obvious expression of pleasure playing out over her beautiful features as he used her slick juices to rub gentle circles over the hard nub of her clit.
Her breathless gasps and murmured sighs told him more than coherent words. The writhing of her hips screamed of delight without her ever uttering a sound. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, he craved the words from her as desperately as he craved her surrender.
“You like that, baby?”
“Yes. Oh, yes. Trevor. Please.” She bit the corner of her lip and closed her eyes, threw her chin up. Arching her back, she cupped her breasts through her shirt as if in offering.
“Let me.” He left her writhing hips to work the buttons on her blouse, parting the peach silk to reveal those firm, lush breasts he’d only glimpsed.
Better than any glimpse, she was also far more exquisitely formed than his imagination. The bra was the same color as her blouse and tantalizingly feminine and lacy. Deftly, he flicked the center fastening and fully exposed her beauty—creamy, firm breasts with pale pink nipples that were beaded
and begging for his attention.
It surprised him that the urgency he’d first felt was suddenly assuaged by a greater need to savor. The hunger was held in check, the fires banked to embers, as he took his fill of the sight of her. This revelation was no less staggering for Trevor than all the other swift, unfamiliar reactions he experienced where Savannah was concerned.
Only Savannah.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think her a witch. Had this sexy, seductive magnolia cast some secret, Southern spell on him?
The hell if he cared.
“Savannah, baby, you are so beautiful.” His thumb circled a nipple, rubbed the taut peak. “Perfect. Ripe as a peach.”
He grinned, pinching the pebble lightly, then plucking, watching the lush, creamy mound bounce as she arched and moaned. The smell of arousal scented the air. The taste of her was on his lips, still on his tongue, and he savored it just as he savored the feel and the sight of her. Potent and intoxicating, she was like a drug in his system. The more he had of her the more he had to have.
Giving into his urges, he drew one tight pink bud into his mouth and sucked. Hard. Savannah cried out and clutched at his hair, held him more tightly to her breast. Pressing greedy little kisses over her satiny smooth skin, he treated the other in kind. Her fingers glided over his chest, flicking the flat coins of his nipples until they peaked. Then she brushed them with softer sweeps, tweaked them lightly. Trailing lower, she smoothed those delicate hands over his abs, setting off tiny sparks wherever she dared to roam.
She tugged at the band of his brief, and he shifted to help her free his straining, throbbing cock. Reaching for him, she wrapped his hard length in the silky bonds of her slender fingers. Stroking, teasing, she took up an unhurried rhythm, leisurely pumping his cock.
The breath backed up in his lungs, and his grunt came from the deepest recesses of his body as he shuddered her name.
* * * *
Trevor’s primal, male reaction sent shivers of anticipation shimmering over her skin. Oh, to be so desired.
Saving Savannah (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4