by Lynda Aicher
“Are you running from me, Samantha?” Gone was his drawl and fake charm, yet her name rolled off his tongue on a deep rumble that had waves of heat shimmering over her skin.
“No,” she insisted, but her protest held no strength. Being trapped in a room with a virtual stranger should invoke all kinds of fight-or-flight reactions that were strangely absent. She feared her own actions more than him.
He tipped forward, his breath ghosting over her ear. The light stubble on his cheek abraded her skin to send a rush of tingles down her neck and over her breasts. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to,” she whispered, head tilting. His breath was hot over the exposed area, the urge to tremble at the sensation barely suppressed. She raised her hands, intending to push him away, only to stall when her palms landed on his firm chest.
He shifted back just enough to meet her eyes. At five foot nine she wasn’t short by female standards, but his six-foot-plus frame seemed to dwarf her. He wet his lips, gaze drifting to her mouth, which was parted with the need to supply sorely lacking air to her lungs and brain.
“I’d let you go,” he said, breathy and low. “If I thought it was what you really wanted.”
Indignation sucked the little air from her lungs. She pressed closer. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“What you do want?” The edge of challenge was distinct in his voice and gaze.
This was dangerous and stupid and so not like her. She was smarter than to fall for his moves. To fall for anything he dished out. Her hands were poised on his chest and one solid push would make her point.
Instead she found herself whispering, “You.”
The air crackled around them, heavy with anticipation. His eyes darkened the longer he watched her. She refused to look away. Her head swam with nerves and desire and the final acceptance that this was a done deal.
She’d be out of Minnesota soon and had no illusions that this was anything more than a onetime thing. She wouldn’t get hurt. Not if she controlled the outcome.
Chapter Four
Sam had half a second to suck in a breath before Rylie’s mouth closed over hers. Hard, hot and almost punishing in the press of his lips and thrust of his tongue. She didn’t resist, had no desire to. Instead she opened to him and gave it back.
She gripped the sides of his neck, pulling him closer so she could chase his tongue when it retreated into his mouth. He gasped, and she dove in before he could say a word. He might’ve started it, but she would end it.
And she wasn’t ready for it to end.
He clenched her hips, enabling her scrambled climb and wrap of her legs around his waist. Her shoulder blades ground into the door, hard and distracting before he bit her lip. The sting yanked her focus back to him. Them.
Her whimper was ripped from her chest against her will. She clawed at his back and sought out the tender stretch of skin on his neck. She inhaled through her nose, savored a full flood of his scent as she scored her teeth over his flesh.
“Fuck.” He groaned, hand flexing where it cupped her ass. “God, fuck.”
She sucked on his neck, teeth wheedling a hold that held firm. He tugged on her hair, but she didn’t relent. Not until she’d finished savoring the salty flavor of his skin.
His growl rumbled through his chest to vibrate into her. It set off another round of desire and uninhibited need that had her rocking her hips into him. She gulped in a couple of short breaths and claimed his mouth again before she could let herself think. This was wild, free and burned with the reckless edge that’d driven her all day.
He battled her for dominance, his hand plowing through her hair to cup her head as he tried to direct the kiss. The rough hold sang over her scalp in the form of stinging pulls she absorbed with a moan. Her pulse drummed in her ears, hard, fast and energized.
Her self-preservation instincts had her batting a hand behind her, knuckles clinging against the doorknob before she found the lock and engaged it. The small click rang over their panting breaths like the starting whistle at a face-off.
It was a mad scramble from there of hands seeking skin, lips finding flesh. There were too many clothes in the way, but there was no way she was taking them all off. Not here.
She unhooked her legs and slid down his body until her feet hit the ground, mouths never parting. He pressed in, his erection grinding hard near her hipbone. Hot waves of pure passion flushed her with heat and sucked away any last doubts.
She wanted this—needed it maybe. Something crazy and spontaneous. Unplanned—unlike the rest of her life. She didn’t want a conversation. Feared it more than the intended outcome.
She raked her nails down the flesh of his back when she reached it, his skin catching on her descent. He arched into her path, cursing against her lips but not stopping her.
“Samantha,” he rasped. She cut him off before he could say more. As long as she controlled this, she’d be all right. She held that belief tight and squeezed her eyes closed when the lie mocked her.
She forced her tongue into his mouth, sought out the depths then teased at the front to dance around the tip of his tongue. The lingering hint of beer was replaced by an addictive yet undefined flavor that had her searching for it again and again.
He rubbed his erection into her, long and hard. She pushed back, seeking to ease the need that pulsed between her legs. Somehow he must’ve understood her silent request because he bent his knees and ran his hard ridge over her pubic bone. A move that yanked a whimper for more from her. Even through their jeans, she could sense his size and ached to feel it in her. Filling her.
Scrambling at the fastening of his pants, she didn’t care if her nails scratched over his stomach. Her only thought was to free his dick. To hold the weight in her hand. Stroke the velvety skin.
He ripped his mouth from hers, chest working fast to get air. “Shit.” He shook his head, bangs sticking to his damp forehead. “What are you—”
She caught his mouth with hers to stop his question. His zipper gave way with a low rasp, an invitation she accepted with the plunge of her hand beneath his cotton shorts to fist his hot, thick erection. That’s what I’m doing.
He pitched back, his moan a tortured cry that tumbled out of his throat on a deep chord of angst-ridden want. God, how she loved the pure passion on his scrunched-up face. It was real, not faked or forced. Not for her. This was all real.
Heat seared her palm as his silky smoothness glided over her skin when she stroked it. Her sex clenched and she nipped at the exposed expanse of his throat, the bump of his Adam’s apple a tempting ridge that rode under her tongue and teeth.
With his cock in her hand and his jugular under her teeth, the power infused her. The high was blinding. Thrilling. She flicked a nail over the head of his dick, a devious growl rumbling out.
“Hell.” His gulp undulated under her lips as he clenched her hair yet again. She didn’t take his curse as a protest. The fluid wetting the rounded head of his dick was a sure indication of his willingness.
She gave his erection another pump, her gaze locking with his. The hunger in his eyes had darkened them to heated copper lined with green that seemed to suck her in once again. Hold her.
She forced herself to ease back, chest heaving with each breath she tried to catch, and looked him over. His cock jutted out heavy and straight from between the part in his jeans, his sweatshirt caught in the juncture behind it. Thick beneath the flared head. A single vein bulged down the side before it disappeared beneath his clothing.
And she wanted to see more. All if it. Feel it pounding into her until she cried out in release.
She ran a finger around the edge of the head, her heart pounding behind nipples that begged to be touched. Pulled. His hands tightened where they cupped her neck. She swallowed. Wet her lips. Closed her eyes. Took a second to savor the intensity of being so close to him. It hummed over her skin, shot through her blood to leave her wanting more. Of him, this.
What could
never be.
She glanced up. Found a sultry look under hooded lids that spoke of slow rides and heated nights. Just like his every movement and action off the ice communicated. But she couldn’t have that and still be safe.
She fused her mouth to his in a hard clash of lips, teeth and longing. She tunneled her fingers into his hair and held his head exactly where she wanted it.
He dug at her jeans, and she sucked in her abdomen. The button gave way an instant before he had the zipper down. God, she was so ready. Her legs spread on reflex seconds before he dove his hand beneath her panties and found her heat.
She cried out into his mouth, clenching her fists when he swiped one then two fingers through her damp sex to find her sensitive nub. She yanked her mouth away to gasp for breath. The pleasure burst through her, rushing from her core to burn her from within. Her legs shook and she locked her knees to hold them steady.
He mumbled something against her neck, his tongue leaving a wet trail that cooled the second he moved away. His fingers continued to rub over her in persistently hard circles that rushed her to the crest of her orgasm. Desperation had her patting his hips down until she found his wallet stuffed in a back pocket. She ripped it out and had it flipped open before he froze. Her moan of protest shot out fast and harsh as she dug through the wallet.
“What are you doing?”
Being impulsive. Living in the moment. Letting go. Not thinking.
She whipped out a condom and held the square blue packet between their heaving chests. “Looking for this.”
Tension sizzled between them. His gaze dropped to the packet then flicked back up. “You’re sure?” He cupped her neck and swiped a thumb down her jaw, light yet firm. Tenderness that dropped straight to that sore spot she avoided in her chest.
“Yes,” she insisted, too hard for his softer tone. Damn. She pinched her lips tight, breathed deep, her hand lowering. “One night. One time. Nothing more.” His brows dipped a fraction and something dropped over his face that was too close to disappointment. “I’m gone in May,” she added, rushing in to justify herself. “You have hockey.”
He had hockey. She didn’t.
His lips compressed, relaxed. Her pulse drummed even louder in her ears and her head spun in a dizzy circle of doubts festered with questions.
“Okay,” he finally said, his thumb tracking down her jaw one more time. He opened his mouth, and she cut off whatever he was about to say with a kiss that pulsed against her bruised lips. They had an agreement. More words weren’t needed.
His fingers plunged into her, firm and commanding exactly like she wanted. She ground down on his hand to deepen the penetration, drive it harder. Sweat clung to her skin, her sweatshirt almost suffocating, but it also heightened the intensity. She gripped his cock, stroked it, rubbed the head and worked her own pants down with her other hand. The condom wrapper crinkled in her fist as he helped shove her jeans and panties down to her knees.
She released his erection long enough to rip the condom packet open and rolled the protection down his length. The kisses had become frantic, erratic. She could barely think when he stroked his thumb over her clit.
“Shit. I can’t wait,” he mumbled into her temple.
“Good.” Her voice was a gritty rasp. She squeezed his dick one more time then knocked his hand away from where it still worked her. His growl was punctuated by a sharp spin of her body that ended with her hands braced against the edge of the desk, her ass offered to him.
He flexed his hips, the hard ridge of his cock riding the line of her sex in a taunting tease that left her breathless. She looked over her shoulder, heart racing so fast she was positive it couldn’t go any faster.
His heavy-lidded eyes were cast down, red lips parted, cheeks flushed a rich pink. She smacked his hip to get his attention. His gaze jerked to hers, thoughts masked behind the coppery depth of desire in his eyes. She pushed back and wiggled around in an attempt to get his dick exactly where she wanted it.
A sexy smirk spread over his lips as he ran a finger through her wetness, prolonging the wait and tormenting her further. She choked on a gasp and clenched around his finger when he slid it in her. The world narrowed down to his touch. The slow in, out and circle that was driving her crazy. Blood pulsed through her sex, timed with her heart in a rhythm that demanded more. Craved.
If just for the moment.
She reached back, burrowed her hand beneath the top of his jeans and dug her nails into the thick muscles of his ass cheek. His mouth opened in a soundless gasp. Fierce in a primal way that called to her.
“Come on, Dylan.” She licked her lips then added in a throaty whisper, “Please.” The last dug into the old hurt and promises she’d made to herself. The ones that held no ground right then.
His curse was silent, but she understood it anyway. She increased her grip on his ass and held her breath when he plunged into her in a jarring thrust.
She gulped for air, eyes squeezed closed with the rush of sensation that shot through her core. Yes. She encouraged every driving thrust, pushed back and met him. His fingers dug into her hips where he held her, his grunts matching hers each time he bottomed out.
She tried to spread her legs further apart and was halted by her clothing wrapped around her knees. Son of a… His jeans rubbed on the back of her thighs. The edge of the desk cut into her palm where she held on. Her back and bicep ached, adding to the overwhelming rush of the hard coupling.
This was all she wanted. What she could give.
Hard, fast, mindless.
He hunched forward, arm wrapping around her waist, breath rushing over the back of her neck with each frantic exhalation. “Christ, you’re so hot,” he grated out, slowing down. Each word peppered by a long, measured thrust into her.
She groaned, in protest at the change of pace or in concurrence she didn’t know. The sudden difference from frantic to deliberate broke her haze, let her savor the glide of him in and out of her. The heated press of his lips on her neck. His low murmurs of pleasure that trembled against her skin. It felt so personal and screamed of danger. Of pain if she trusted it.
She tilted her head, dragged her nails down the flesh of his ass before gripping him tighter to pull him into her. “Faster,” she urged. “Harder.” She took back control the only way she could. It was her safety net and she desperately needed it.
His groan was muffled into her neck and sent a rush of goose bumps down her back. He met her demand and powered into her in repeated drives that shoved the breath from her in soft whimpers. She clenched her teeth, held in the cry that wanted to escape and reached for her orgasm, which was rising in a tingling crush of promised ecstasy.
He dove his palm down her front and found her clit. She cried out that time, unable to keep the fierce bolt of bliss contained. It was strangled and heavy with everything she kept back.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Come with me.” He sank his teeth into the juncture of her neck, increased the pressure on her clit and rammed into her oversensitive channel.
Her muscles contracted, tensed, then she shattered. She gasped for air around each convulsive explosion that blasted through her in wave after wave to leave her shaking and numb.
He grunted and powered into her a few more times before letting go of a choked growl, arm contracting to crush her to him. His forehead dug into her shoulder as he shuddered through his release. She tilted her head to rub it against his. Taking that bit of comfort and connection while he was distracted.
Their harsh breaths cut through the air in a mingled finale to the wild ride. The aftermath of what they’d—she’d—done slowly edged in to quickly chill the flames that burned in her blood.
Part of her savored the dying rasp of his breath and the musky scent of their coupling, while the other part of her choked back the urge to immediately flee. She lingered longer than she should when he straightened, pulling her up to hold her against his chest. There was no way she’d let him see any of the second thou
ghts swirling in her stomach and mind.
He wrapped his arms around her in an embrace that was both constricting and comforting. Her throat was dry with unwanted doubts and misgivings over the quick, hard hookup. One she’d wanted and had no illusions about, yet now wished for something more.
“That was—”
She broke out of his hold before he could finish his sentence. That was her cue to leave. Her hands shook and her stomach clamped around the ball of regret that dropped heavy from her chest as she tugged up her clothing without glancing back at him.
“Thanks,” she said as she buttoned her jeans and straightened her sweatshirt. It was a weak attempt at a bravado strung together by will and determination. “I needed that.” Her smile was firmly in place when she turned to face him. It might’ve been brittle and forced, but she made sure it held.
He disposed of the condom and jerked his clothes into place. The glower he leveled at her matched the hard clench of his hands on his hips. “Right.” The clipped word held no drawl, nor did the next. “Me too.”
Somehow, she withheld her wince despite the sharp stab that nicked that soft spot. One night. One time. That was what they’d agreed to, what she’d laid down and had to adhere to. She swallowed and ran her hand through her hair, fingers hitching on some unexpected knots. She yanked on them then gave up and left the snarls to deal with later. Her shoulder throbbed where he’d bitten her and her gaze jumped to the red mark that bloomed bright and distinct on the side of his neck. Another regret. She shouldn’t have done that either.
An awkward silence rippled between them. She scrambled for some casual, aftersex pleasantries, drawing a blank. “Good luck tomorrow,” she finally said as she freed the door lock. Control. She was leaving first. Owning her actions and ending the night before he could.
Her stomach vaulted then dropped and she took one last deep breath before she swung the door open and headed for the exit without a backward glance. She kept her chin up, eyes straight ahead. She navigated the tables and mastered the walk of shame feeling that threatened to take hold.