New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

by Jill Shalvis

  She’d purchased a mountain bike, and it sat in her living room, shiny and inviting.

  Another knock came, far less tentative than the first one.

  With all her frustration, Becca yanked open the door, but everything she’d planned to say to her sister died on her tongue.

  Kent stood there, one arm braced on the jamb, the other low on his hip. He wore all black: black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, black boots. His dark hair was ruffled, as if it had been shoved back from his face by agitated fingers. In the dim light of the early evening, even his blue eyes looked black.

  He was bad attitude personified.

  Automatically, her heart responded, begged her to reach out to him, but her brain intercepted with good sense just in the nick of time.

  Silent, he straightened and held out the hand that had been braced against her door. Wildflowers.

  He’d brought her wildflowers.

  Disarmed by the gesture, Becca took them, automatically lifting them to her nose to inhale their beautiful, exotic scent.

  He hadn’t smiled, not once, but his gaze was soaking in the sight of her in a way that made her anger turn. Instead she became hot and trembly. Confused.

  “Missed you at work,” he said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He waited, but when she just looked at him, he said, “Are you going to invite me in?”

  His expression was nothing short of fierce. His body was so tense she could see each and every muscle delineated beneath his shirt and jeans. Not for the first time she wondered, a bit wildly, how a desk-bound chemist managed to look so mouth-wateringly magnificent.

  “Yes or no, Becca.”

  Never had she sensed such a temper in him, and even though he held it perfectly in check, it gave her pause. He hadn’t made one move toward her, but she backed up a step just the same. “I don’t think coming in would be a good idea-” She began, but squeaked in surprise and nearly swallowed her words when he simply picked her up and set her aside, giving him room to walk past her.

  “Well, gee,” she said dryly, slamming the door. “Come on in-” The sarcastic words backed up in her throat when he put his big, warm hands on her arms and set her against the closed front door.

  “You know you’re driving me crazy, right?” he asked roughly.

  “Kent-”

  That was the last word she managed to get out before his mouth came down on hers.

  10

  T HE KISS WAS as combustive as ever. More so.

  Kent’s mouth moved over Becca’s, relentless, urgent. Anxious. He didn’t realize how tense he was, how desperately he needed a sign from her, until he felt her fingers dig into his shoulders, binding him to her. Murmuring his encouragement, he pushed closer still.

  In answer, she trembled, a shiver he hoped was anticipation because this, this was what he’d needed all day. Hell, it was what he’d needed for the past few weeks. Her in his arms, arching her body to his, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, whimpering her need and desire in arousing little whispers that threatened to undo him right then and there. Needing more, he dragged his mouth over her jaw to gently nip at her ear.

  She moaned his name.

  “Mmm, love that sound.” He nipped at her again just to hear it. “Love my name on your lips, in that voice that says I’m driving you half-wild.”

  “More than half,” she assured him shakily. “Why are you here?”

  “I missed you.”

  “Really?”

  “Very much.” Her body was warm and round beneath his hands. “You’re so lovely, Becca.”

  “It’s the makeover.”

  He opened his mouth to deny that, but she cupped his face, brought his lips back to hers. Incredible need twisted, knotting him up. When she writhed against him, the knots tightened. “Becca…about earlier. About us-”

  “No,” she said quickly, breathlessly. “It’s okay.”

  He slid a finger over her cheek. “But I wanted to explain-”

  “Kiss me.” Her fingers against his mouth stopped anything else he might have said.

  Kissing each finger, he brought his hand up to hold hers. “So you’re not upset anymore.”

  “You talk too much, Kent.”

  He had to smile at her irritation. “But I hurt you. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

  “I know.” She returned the smile, and the mesmerizing heat remained in her eyes, invitingly.

  Go for it, a little voice said. She’s hot, you’re hot, go for it.

  But they had to talk first, before she got the wrong idea. He wouldn’t hurt her again. “Becca-”

  “Later.” She tugged his head down to hers. Her voice was a breathy whisper. “Whatever it is. Much later.” And she took over.

  Oh man, Kent thought weakly, how she took over.

  Sinking her fingers into his hair, she angled his head for her kiss, arching her body into his so that he could feel every inch of her.

  A stab of pure heat tightened his belly, and logic warred with heat-he had to get enough air to his brain, to make sure she understood he wasn’t just using her, that he truly felt something for her, something deep and scary and almost flu-like-but then she nibbled at him. First one corner of his mouth, then the other, and lust began to win.

  With everything he had, Kent willed his hands to remain at her waist, but they weren’t listening. Every part of his body responded to the heavy-lidded sensual gaze in her eyes, some parts more than others.

  He had her sandwiched between his hard body and the even harder wood. But this was Becca! She deserved better, deserved more than what he could give her shoved up against the door. “Becca-”

  She went up on tiptoe to breathe in his ear, and the sensation that caused made him smack his head hard on the wood. “Ouch!” Pain and desire exploded in his head and all thoughts vanished.

  “Stay with me.” She pulled him back to her. “I want to be out of control. I want to be wild. Hot.” She clutched him, rubbing her body to his in an eager hug that nearly undid him. “Please, Kent. I want to let loose, I want my feet to leave the earth. I want to see stars. I want to explode, for once in my life! Is that so much to ask?” She blinked at him, frustration swimming in her gaze.

  “No,” he said softly. “It’s not too much to ask.”

  “Then help me.”

  Oh yeah, he could help her. As if he could refuse her anything, especially this. “Come here then,” he said hoarsely, dragging her close for a slow, wet, deep kiss that left them both breathless, and painfully ready. She gripped him trustingly and a heavy ache settled in his heart. When he scooped her up in his arms, she laid her head against his chest and the ache deepened.

  She gave him a sexy, wicked smile and delicately bit his lower lip. Tempted to devour her right there, he kissed her again. Don’t take her against the door, he reminded himself. Think. As if he could. “Your bed,” he rasped out.

  “Yes.” She ran her fingers over his chest, and he stumbled in his haste, nearly killing both of them.

  Her breathless laughter goaded him, and he licked his suddenly dry lips. Staring at the motion, she slid her fingers into his hair, looked him in the eye and asked with a heart-stopping mix of anticipation and awe, “Are you going to…” She blushed furiously.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to…use your tongue? You know, on my body?” Her teeth dragged over her lower lip. “I’ve always wanted to know what that felt like,” she admitted.

  They were only in the hallway, but he stopped to press her against the wall, his body poised and dying for her. Need pulsed inside him, biting, sharp need. With his arms planted on either side of her head, he cupped her face and tilted it up. Her lips were still wet from his mouth and he traced her lips lightly with his thumb. “I’m most definitely going to use my tongue,” he said. “On every single inch of you.”

  “Oh my.” She sounded a bit pressed for air. “Kent?”

  He was walking again, and staring down at
the drumming pulse at the base of her throat, at her hardened nipples. “Yeah?” he croaked.

  “I want to taste you, too.”

  He swallowed his groan and struggled not to crash into a wall. By the time he dropped her to the mattress, they were grappling to touch everywhere at once, completely beyond finesse.

  She wore some sort of flimsy robe that simply begged to be opened past her long, trim legs. As promised, he kissed every inch of her calves, knees and thighs. By the time he dipped and kissed her inner thigh, she was halfway to that explosion she’d wanted.

  He slid his hands beneath her, to her curved bottom, and he pulled her closer, opening her legs to make room for his shoulders. The robe had parted now, and her sunshine yellow silk panties were hardly more than a wisp of material. They were wet, clinging to her flesh, and he stared down at her, so unbearably aroused he could hardly think.

  Becca couldn’t think, either, she was far beyond that. All she knew was a deep, piercing, relentless ache, centered in the core of her. She managed to gasp his name, though she didn’t know if she was pleading or demanding. Both, she decided, and he reared up above her, looking down at her with so much heat and need she nearly cried.

  “Becca.” That was it, just her name. Then he pulled off his shirt and her mouth went dry. Wow, was all she could think. And then he unzipped his pants, revealing white cotton and the bulge of the most impressive erection she’d ever seen. Her mind blanked, her body sizzled.

  His hands came up to the arms of her robe and he slowly pushed the material aside, looked down at her matching silk bra, at the curves spilling out of it and let out a low sigh. “Becca, you’re so beautiful.”

  She reached for him, eyes closed.

  He touched her face and whispered, “Becca, did you hear me?”

  “I… No,” she admitted, unable to hear anything past the roar of blood in her ears.

  His hands settled on her quivering stomach and slowly, so slowly, his fingers slid up until they covered her breasts. “I said you’re beautiful,” he repeated. “You, Becca. Not some glossy image you made up, but the real Becca.”

  She couldn’t stop her surprised, indrawn breath nor the delighted shock that reverberated through her system when his thumbs rasped over her nipples.

  “Did you hear me this time?” His hot, intense gaze held hers. “You’re the most incredible woman I know. Inside and out.” His fingers continued to stroke her. “Tell me you believe that, Becca.”

  “I… Kent,” she breathed, arching into his touch. “More.”

  In the next shattering moment, her bra came unfastened and he ran his warm hands over her taut curves, over the hard, aching points of her breasts, which were thrust out, dying for attention. The sensations were so incredible, so intense, she cried out.

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  She could do nothing but toss her head back and let out a shockingly dark, needy sound.

  “Open your eyes, Becca.”

  At his erotically rough voice, she obeyed, and with his gaze he let her see everything he was feeling. He tugged her robe and bra down to her elbows so that her arms lay trapped at her side. “Do you know you’re my every fantasy lying there like that?” he whispered, bending over her, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his eyes full of heat and desire. “Your bedroom eyes, your creamy skin-” A fingertip skimmed over a nipple and she gripped fistfuls of the bedding beneath her, biting her lips to keep from shamelessly crying out. “You want me, don’t you?” His fingers continued to touch her. “Not just an orgasm, not just fun and adventure, but me?”

  “Yes!” she gasped.

  “Then tell me,” he murmured, dipping his head to drag his tongue over her quivering skin. “Tell me you believe I find every part of you beautiful. Inside and out.”

  She wanted him now, right now. It took little effort for her to wrap her legs around his hips, to rock the neediest part of her over the neediest part of him.

  He went completely still, letting out a low groan at her touch. “Becca.” Now he made the rocking motion, sliding his huge erection over her wet, throbbing flesh. “Dammit, tell me now or this is no good.”

  He meant it, she could see the agony in his eyes, swirling there amid the hunger and passion. His muscles were tense and trembling, he was hot and hard and dying with need, but still, he would leave if she didn’t acknowledge his words.

  He thought she was beautiful.

  She so wanted to believe that, but the small doubt couldn’t be erased. She’d practically forced him into this.

  And yet, for this moment, for right now, she wanted so badly to suspend reality and tell him what he wanted to hear. Struggling free of her shirt, she slid her arms around his neck. “I believe you,” she whispered.

  Above her he was shaking with the effort to hold back, but at her words, he kissed her.

  His fingers slid beneath her panties. He stroked her until she was shuddering before he tugged them down and off. Again he kissed her breasts, each of them, slowly, thoroughly, while his fingers traced their way back up her thighs and between. When he sank a finger inside her, she arched off the bed and whimpered his name before he slid his body down, dragging his mouth over her belly, to her hip. With his fingers playing over her, she could do nothing but toss her head on the pillow as he stroked, pressed and caressed, dragging out her tension until she was poised, trembling, dying… Then he shifted and his mouth was hovering over her, hovering, hovering.

  “Oh, please,” she whispered. “Kent, please.”

  He said her name once before running his tongue over her hot center. She exploded instantly. Shattered. Shuddered. And slowly came back to herself, and him.

  “You okay?” he asked softly.

  She’d never been so okay in her life. “I think…that’s a fairly safe assessment.”

  He reared up on his knees and smiled wickedly. “Let’s make sure.” He slid off her robe, then watched her with a hot, fierce expression as he retrieved a foil packet from his pocket.

  She gasped at the sight of him, silky smooth and throbbing, and he let out a groaning laugh, his fingers fumbling as he protected them both.

  “Now,” she demanded, pulling him close.

  “Yes, now.” Dragging her hips to meet his, he thrust into her, letting out a hoarse groan. He felt it, too, she realized dimly, this incredible connection. She could see it in the strain of his beautiful face as he concentrated so intently on her.

  Slowly he pulled back, only to thrust again. And again. Then again. She couldn’t keep still, she had to help, had to rock her hips, had to sink her fingers into his sleek back. Things went from wild to off-the-scale urgent then, and she couldn’t stifle her cry as he sent her over the edge once more. Hands in her hair, he bent, tenderness and heat in his gaze as he took her mouth.

  From deep within her, the tremors began yet again, and this time when she convulsed around him, he flung back his head and followed her over the edge, her name on his lips.

  “WOW.”

  Against her neck she felt him smile. “We’re still alive, then?” he asked hoarsely.

  “I’m still breathing.” Barely.

  He stretched, groaned, then lifted his head and gave her a smile so sexy, so satisfied and male, it made her toes curl. He kissed her softly, and then again, not so softly. “In that case, I’ll move when I can feel my legs.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “I’m heavy.”

  He was and she loved it, so much so that when he tried to lift himself off of her, she held him tight. “No.” Her muscles clenched around him.

  Arousing heat sparked in his misty eyes. “If you do that again-” He groaned when she did. “Yeah, that. I won’t be going anywhere.”

  “Aren’t you…tired?” she asked politely, her hands sliding through his silky hair.

  He shifted between her thighs, proving just how “tired” he wasn’t. “You feel so good,” he murmured.

  Her heart caught, quickened, then soared
as he moved inside her, in slow, long strokes. “Again?” he whispered, dipping his mouth to hers.

  “Please.”

  And it was even better than before.

  BECCA FELT TINGLY, relaxed and so full of joy she couldn’t stand it. She could hear Kent in the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water. Nearly dancing, she bent for his shirt, which lay crumpled on the floor. It smelled heavenly, and she inhaled deeply because she couldn’t get enough of him.

  She felt absurdly happy, and silly too, standing completely naked with his shirt pressed to her nose. She slipped it on over her head. Because she was still hopelessly giddy, she grinned at herself in the mirror over her dresser.

  Then frowned.

  She was a sight, and not a good one. Her makeup was all over her face, her hair such a wild mess it should be considered a national disaster. Embarrassed, yet unable to tear her gaze away, she went completely still.

  She looked like the wicked witch of the east.

  No, like Bozo the Clown.

  She had lipstick smeared across one cheek, eye shadow on her forehead. She had black rims of mascara under her eyes.

  And yet Kent had looked into these eyes and called her beautiful. But that had been before he’d finished. Now that he was done, he was in the kitchen.

  Come to think of it, he hadn’t been able to escape fast enough.

  He was already sorry, she figured, already wondering how to leave. In fact, he was probably staring at the front door in panic. Well, what had she expected? She had no one to blame for this heart-ache but herself.

  Feeling numb, she went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet to wash her face. Not waiting for the water to warm, she started scrubbing. As she did, only one thought raced through her mind, and she couldn’t get away from it.

  They’d just made love; bone-dissolving, earth-shattering love. They’d moved as one, their hearts and souls had beat in rhythm.

  Somewhere along the way, no doubt far before today, she had tumbled hopelessly in love with him. And it was a permanent kind of love.

  Unfortunately, she’d let herself forget, Kent didn’t do “permanent.”