“Tell me to stop right now, or you’re about to.” The ragged edge to his voice confirmed he meant it.
He dropped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. His tongue teased and tormented the sensitive bud until her nails dug into his shoulder, her hips thrusting up to meet his.
Jeez, the man really was a cheat.
Panting, Piper slid her fingers into his hair and jerked his head back, her breast slipping from his mouth with a soft pop.
She groaned, wanting nothing more than to let him continue his sweet torture. “West, we haven’t—you know, got anything.”
Starlight or not, his white teeth flashed in an unmistakable grin as his hand fumbled at his hip. His shorts rustled and with a flourish he produced an oblong strip of foil, which gleamed in said starlight.
A belly laugh escaped and she slapped his shoulder—hard. “You’ve got condoms in your pocket? Were you hoping to get lucky?”
“I’m a guy—lucky’s my middle name.” He angled his body so his erection pressed against her core. “I won’t believe it if you say you’re not grateful for my foresight.”
Piper snaked a hand between their damp flesh and tilted her hips, sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts to wrap around him. Rewarded with a startled groan that vibrated through his body into hers, she continued to stroke him. West rose up and supported his weight on his forearms, allowing her hand to trace further down his length and cup his balls, pulled close to his body with arousal. Hard, hot, and satiny smooth—nothing had ever felt so wonderful against her skin.
His brow creased with concentration, his breathing choppy. West’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stilling it.
“Baby, I can’t take much more of that.”
“Sure you can.” Piper fondled the head of his cock, ensuring her thumb rubbed over the ridges slooowly.
He moaned again and jerked his hips so her hand slipped out of his shorts. “No, you witch, I can’t.”
West reared back and stripped off the rest of her swimsuit. He stood, tossing it aside and removing his shorts. What a sight he made in the glimmer of the crescent moon. He stole her breath, captured it in his calloused hands. She wanted to run her lips over every inch of him.
A crinkle as he ripped open the foil square for a condom. She would’ve offered to help, except at some point in the last minute her muscle control deserted her. So hot for his touch it was a minor miracle the sand beneath her hadn’t melted into glass.
He dropped his shorts to the sand and lay on top of them, pulling her astride his hips. Piper pinned his biceps down and bent to lick his nipple, causing him to gasp most satisfactorily.
“Feels good, huh?” Wondered if he remembered saying the same thing to her in the shower—after he’d driven her half out of her mind.
“Feels okay.” His chuckle came out strangled when she rocked her slickness along his hard length and sucked his nipple between her lips.
“Okay, okay—it feels amazing.”
She tortured his other nipple with her tongue, lapping up the taste of him, salty and sweet, as addictive as the decadent combination of peanut butter and dark chocolate. But yummier, much yummier.
His fingers kneaded her bottom, his hips grinding his cock into the moist seam of her until her thighs squeezed together with the unbearable sensations. She forced herself to straighten.
“You’ve no idea how much I want to touch you.” West’s voice was rough, edgy. “But I hadn’t thought through the logistics of this being our first time. Bloody sand.”
Piper huffed out a laugh. Leaning forward again, she angled her body so the tip of his cock nudged at her swollen entrance. Sinking down an inch, the thickness of him inside her was so good she blissed out for a couple of seconds. Piper raised her hips until he started to slip out.
“Shall we stop, then?” she whispered.
And, sincerely, she’d have to kill him if he agreed.
A hand clasped her hip, fingers spread wide, preventing her from moving further. “Only if you want me to flip you over and hammer you until sand ends up where sand shouldn’t go.”
His voice sent another volley of shivers skimming down her vertebrae. Oh, how she wanted this man to hammer her. Hammer her over and over, to the moon and back, until she couldn’t remember her own name.
Piper sucked in a breath, fixed her gaze on West’s face and sank down. Delicious friction dragged a moan from her, a moan lost inside West’s mouth as he kissed her again, the fullness of him inside her body completing the circle. She rotated her hips, her core rubbing over the base of his cock. Not as satisfying as those long, piano-playing fingers of West’s, but still…
She braced herself against West’s chest, his heartbeat a jackhammer under her palms. She rode him, every rolling thrust of her hips taking him in deeper. He filled her, completed her, and owned her in that moment. West loosened his grip on her hips and she linked their fingers together, using his strength to move herself faster, harder, driving them both closer into the flames. She arched her pelvis back, biting her lip as the connection threatened to leave her in a begging puddle of lust.
West thrust his hips again and again, driving her up and over the edge. And then she wasn’t thinking, just surfing the pleasure cascading though her, sensuous ripples becoming rolling breakers as the orgasm slammed ashore. She dug her nails into his shoulders and held on as the spasms contracted so powerfully she expected to be turned inside out. West’s cock throbbed inside her as he climaxed and growled her name.
Collapsing forward onto him, Piper’s breasts mushed against his pecs. West wrapped an arm over her, pinning her to him. After a moment the pressure eased and his hand drifted to her waist, tracing soft circles on her rapidly cooling skin. Cheek pressed to his collarbone, nose against his throat, Piper fought to catch her breath instead of sucking in more of his delectable scent, an impossible task because he surrounded and overwhelmed her. Still as intimately joined together as two human beings could be, every damn inch of him, inside her and beneath her, touched her right down to her soul.
It felt perfect, he felt perfect.
Her brain mocked her with every slow swirl of West’s hand.
Lust? Yeah, right.
West wasn’t a cuddler. And he really didn’t like women invading his space, snoring in his ear when he wanted to sleep.
So why didn’t he peel Piper’s naked limbs off his body and engage in a tuck and roll maneuver to ease her onto the other side of the double bed?
He sprawled on his back, Piper’s cheek pressed to the spot where only minutes ago his heart nearly erupted out of his chest. One long leg draped over his thigh and her arm was a dead weight across his stomach. Slow breaths puffed against his skin and twice she’d given a soft, snorting sigh as she relaxed even further, melting into him like warm syrup.
And speaking of melting—making love with her the second time back in his cabin annihilated any remaining brain cells left from their beach encounter.
His fingers feathered over the sweet curve of her ass and she muttered something, shifting her knee higher—any higher and he’d wake her for round three.
He couldn’t get enough.
After their sandy exuberance on the beach, which had simultaneously whet his appetite and frustrated the bejesus out of him because he couldn’t touch her the way he wanted, they’d swum back to The Mollymawk. West then decided that unless one of the local Great Whites went all Jaws on them and attacked the boat, they were headed straight to the shower and then his bed, so he could bury himself in her over and over.
Mission accomplished.
His normal mode of operation from this point—the afterglow—was to either kiss the woman goodbye and disappear from her hotel room slash rented accommodation, or if she indicated she’d like him to stay, he’d put up with cuddling for a short period until she became sleepy enough for him to ease her over.
But nothing was normal about making love with Piper. Starting with the fact his brain kept
supplying the words “making love” instead of the usual four-letter descriptions. He’d made love to Piper. Not screwed her, or shagged her, or joined her in the act of sexual intercourse. He’d loved her with his hands, with his mouth, with his body—and gave her every part of himself.
Except his heart.
That was off limits.
Piper stirred, tilting her chin up. He couldn’t see her face clearly, but he knew she was awake.
“West?” she said after a moment.
He’d been drawing her in so tight against his body that she’d woken. “Go back to sleep, Pipe.”
He reached over with the arm that wasn’t prickling with pins and needles and ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek.
“It’ll be dawn soon. I should go back to my room.” Piper’s leg brushed across his as she arched her back, preparing to pull away.
His hand that traced down her cheek made a rapid drop south, landing on her knee and pinning her in place. “Stay with me.”
Suddenly it seemed important he didn’t lose the little bubble of warmth surrounding them under the covers. Even the small gap she’d put between them was a chasm filled with dead air. He needed her, needed the skin on skin, her hair tickling his neck, the smell of apples from her shampoo. “Please.”
A chill prickled across his shoulders as he sensed her trying to gauge his expression in the dark. Piper inched back into the crook of his arms and her hand settled on his chest, one finger tracing consecutive circles on his skin. He tucked her even closer to his side and angled his face so he could inhale the scent of her hair again.
One by one her muscles relaxed, until she slumped bonelessly against him once more, her breasts mashed against his ribcage, the brush of her sex rubbing on his thigh when she moved. The pins and needles were totally worth it.
And when she started to make those soft, snorting sighs again he closed his eyes, a smile creasing his lips.
Turns out he was a cuddler after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Piper emerged from the bathroom in a pair of dressy, black pants and a glittery, off-the-shoulder tunic top. She’d snatched the clothes off a rack when her sister and the whole female gang dragged her along on a shopping trip to Invercargill three days ago.
“What happened to that cute cocktail dress we all decided on? You can’t wear that to the ball tonight.” Shaye, with one hand on the hip of her vintage gown, tapped a dangerous tempo on her bedroom floor with a lethal-looking stiletto.
“You all decided on it. I changed my mind and got this instead. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Piper couldn’t keep a note of irritation from her voice.
She didn’t even want to go to the ball—not after her last experience at one—and what was wrong with her outfit? It was eveningwear. The top had sequins, for God’s sake.
“Please tell me you’re not planning to wear your combat boots.”
“Why not? Someone needs to kick the men falling at your feet out of the way, once you and Kez make your grand entrance.”
“Flattery doesn’t change the fact you’re wearing butt-ugly pants and an old-granny top, Piper Marie Harland.”
Piper twisted in front of the full length mirror, checking out her reflection. “Hey, these butt-ugly pants and granny top set me back over a hundred bucks.”
But, yeah, she had to concede Mrs. Taylor would covet her outfit if the top was lavender instead of salmon pink.
Shaye huffed, and jabbed a dangly earring through a lobe. “I don’t know how we can be related. Honestly, do you think West’s jaw is gonna hit the floor when he sees you in that outfit?”
It’d been a week since she and West made love for the first time and she hadn’t slept on the futon since. He wouldn’t allow it—told her that one way or another they’d spend their nights together, either in his big roomy bed, or squished together on the office futon.
“Your choice,” he’d said.
But really, there’d been no choice at all, because the only place she wanted to be was in his bed, wrapped in his arms. And did she think too intently about that admission? Not on your life.
“Well, if he can’t accept me as I—” A sharp rap of knuckles on Shaye’s bedroom door cut Piper off.
The door swung inward and Glenna marched in, her dark-sienna evening dress swirling around her legs. “Hello, darlings. How are we going?”
Arms full of pale sea-green fabric, Glenna beamed at Shaye and said, “Gorgeous as always, baby.”
Her stare switched to Piper, scanning her from head to toe. Her lips formed a pained moue. “No, darling. Just no.”
Glenna spread the yards of fabric draped over her arms onto Shaye’s bed, revealing a chiffon gown with intricate beading on the one shoulder strap that crossed diagonally from the bodice to the low cut back. “You’ll wear this.”
Piper recognized the garment immediately. “Mum—I can’t.”
An old album held a photo of her mother in that dress, worn to the first dance Glenna and Michael attended. Her mother used to whisper to her and Shaye, as they sat on the sofa flipping over the heavy black pages, that the photo was taken the night she fell in love with their father.
“You have my coloring and you’re the same size as I used to be, way back when. You’ll look exquisite.”
“It’s your special dress. I just can’t.”
And she couldn’t open herself up to the hurtful memories of facing West across another dance floor in a pretty dress. Much safer to arrive incognito, and let all the other women dazzle.
Her mother’s gaze went dreamy and Piper could almost see her mind travelling back over the years to the church hall, Michael’s arm tucked around her waist, his smiling face half turned into her hair.
“Please, don’t argue. Wear it for me. Don’t hide under those dowdy clothes thinking they’ll protect you from a broken heart. He sees you, darling, West sees you anyway. Give him something more than those awful black pants and this—” her mother scowled as she pinched the loose sleeve of the tunic top between her fingers “—as a memory. You’ll knock him straight out of his socks, mark my words.”
Beaten by a pro at emotional warfare, Piper knew when to give in. Sighing, she reached down to finger the slippery-soft fabric of the dress. “All right. I’ll try it on. No promises.”
“Brilliant.” Glenna clapped her hands and swung around to Shaye, sidling out of the room. “Shaye? Have you still got those silver-sling backs? They’ll go divinely with the dress.”
Shaye blinked, her glossy lips forming an “o.”
“But Piper was going to wear those, Mum.” She pointed to the corner of the room, her mouth morphing into an impish smile after Glenna whirled in a flurry of skirts.
“Her purple boots? Over my dead body.”
“Shaye thought it’d be a fashion statement. Kinda goth and thumbing-my-nose-at- convention, all rolled into one.” Piper grinned back at her sister, warmth spreading through her when Shaye poked out her tongue.
Glenna tutted and then laughed. “You girls. The pair of you will drive some poor men batty one day.”
“Piper’s already driven West batty.” Shaye snickered, and then squealed when a small cushion from her bed sailed across the room and smacked the doorframe beside her. She ducked outside the room, poking her head around the frame long enough to make kissy noises. “Piper lurvs him—he’s ever so dreamy.”
“Shove off, twerp.” Piper fired another cushion and it bounced off the door on the opposite side of the hallway.
Her aim was way off, thanks to the shakiness in her upper arms. Shaye laughed again, her heels clicking along the floor.
Love? In lurv? Nuh-uh. Not possible, no way, no how.
She barely liked West most of the time, because he was just another irritating pain-in-her-ass male. Sure, the fantastic sex each night somewhat made up for it—the man was an orgasm-giving machine. But, if she added to the “love scale” the fact that beneath his slick exterior beat the soft heart of a man who’d
rearrange his life to help a friend...if she added the way he helped out in menial kitchen prep so that his father rested enough...well, the scale tipped dangerously into the little-red-hearts zone.
But he still pissed her off and he never, ever remembered to leave the toilet seat down in his en suite bathroom.
That alone took lurv out of the realm of possibility.
The door opposite opened and Zoe’s head popped out. “Mum!” she hollered. “Someone’s throwing pillows! How come I can’t throw pillows?”
“Piper, stop throwing things and get ready! Thirty minutes and counting, woman!” Kezia’s muffled voice came through the wall next door.
Trust Shaye to choose a bossy housemate with x-ray vision.
Piper turned back to her mother’s Cheshire cat smile. “I’m not in love with him, so do not get that look on your face.”
She gathered up the dress and stormed out of Shaye’s room, stomping down the hallway into the bathroom. Leaning against the back of the bathroom door she smoothed the dress’s soft skirt against her face.
Lying to her mother. Tsk, tsk.
“Not lying.” She dragged the granny top off, squinting at her reflection with a twist of her lips.
“I am not in love with that insufferable man.” Her mirror imaged stared back with flushed cheeks and a telltale sparkle in her eyes.
No, she wasn’t in love with Ryan Westlake.
But she sure as hell was sliding down the slippery slope toward it.
At the entrance to Oban’s community hall Ben waited, and itched. From the open doors behind him laughter and conversation drifted out, along with the smell of crispy sausage rolls, and the odd sound-system feedback as technicians made last minute adjustments. Mrs. Taylor had informed him his first job of the evening was to greet people at the door. If that wasn’t bad enough, he had to wear a suit.
A suit, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t even own a suit.
Last week he made a simpleton’s mistake of mentioning this to Mrs. Taylor and she offered him one of her dead husband’s God-awful checkered things. When he turned her down she smirked and suggested he take a trip to Invercargill to hire one.
Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book Page 23