Jermy, Marie - Body Rocks [The Andersons 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Marie Jermy

  “Gotcha,” Daniel said, rescuing her, and moved onto his side. He propped his head on one hand and with his free hand crooked a finger at her.

  She happily joined him, lying to face him, and once again placed her hands on his chest. His hand rested lightly on her hip. His heart thudded beneath her fingers in a slightly erratic beat. She swirled her fingers around his nipples and then smoothed them down to his waistband, pleased when he shuddered.

  “Beautiful,” she again said.

  Daniel moved his hand from her hip to her shoulder. He lightly tugged on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Can I ask you to take this off? I want to see you. Touch you. Taste you.”

  The amber flecks within his eyes glowed brighter, and Samantha couldn’t resist. She pulled the T-shirt up over her head and draped it over the back of the sofa. Her blood turned into warm honey at the expression of reverence that crossed Daniel’s face as he fixed his attention on the white lacy bra that cupped her breasts.

  “My God, Sammy, you’re the beautiful one. Can I touch you?”

  She nodded and uttered a soft moan when Daniel, without any fussing, went straight to the front clasp and flicked it open. Her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. As with his expression a second earlier, he reverently caressed her breasts and then gently thumbed her already-erect nipples into stiffer peaks, inducing her to mewl in delight. Daniel seemed to know exactly how she liked to be touched without him even asking.

  “Oh, baby…” He groaned. “Can I taste you? Please say I can. I’m dying here.”

  Well, Samantha didn’t believe Daniel was dying dying, but she certainly understood how he felt. If he didn’t put that gorgeous mouth of his on her soon, she would expire with want. “Daniel, yes! Oh, yes, yes.”

  The words had hardly left her mouth when Daniel shifted down the sofa until he was level with her pouting nipples, his breath warm and maybe just a little bit shaky. Her breath was a little shaky, too. Spirals of pleasure unfurled in her belly and zipped down to her womb when he pushed her breasts together and dragged his tongue across one tight bud to the other.

  On a silent plea of surrender, Samantha arched her back, eager for further stimulation. Daniel certainly gave her more and suckled on her breasts until she was breathless, writhing, and mindless with want. Her fingers went to the snap of his jeans, and she popped it free. The soft growling sound the zipper made as she lowered it fueled the wet, hot, intimate spot between her legs where she wanted Daniel the most.

  Slipping beneath the now-loose waistband of his jeans, she found the area below his navel to be warm, supple, and slightly hairy. Her fingers inched downward, seeking. Then something registered. Oh. “Daniel, you’re…You’re…You’re not wearing underwear.”

  He lifted his mouth from her breasts, his eyes holding a wicked glint. His grin was just as wicked. “I like commando. I like feeling free.”

  Then with one easy flip, Samantha found herself beneath Daniel. His body pressing down on hers, he again lavishly and lovingly suckled her breasts, but the knot rapidly forming in her belly became impossible to digest. His breathing was ragged. His erection was massive. And she felt pinned. And oh, God, she couldn’t do this. “Daniel, stop. Please.”

  Daniel’s body stilled, and then a nanosecond later, he rolled off of her and kneeled on the floor. Her heart tugged at the look of guilt on his handsome face. But this wasn’t Daniel’s fault. It was Mark Raven’s fault for soiling every notion she had on love and the pleasures that came from enjoying a healthy sex life with the right man.

  Averting her eyes from a half-naked and beautiful Daniel, she sat up and fastened her bra. She snatched her T-shirt from the back of the sofa and put it on. Hugging her waist, it was only then that she met Daniel’s eyes. The guilt had been replaced with understanding. He patted her knee and rolled to his feet.

  “Your pace, remember?” He fastened his jeans, which must have been a difficult feat for he was still visibly aroused. “Is it okay if I use your shower?”

  Samantha nodded and watched Daniel leave the room, knowing in her heart that he was the right man. And she was very much in love with him.

  Chapter 5

  The water sluicing his body was ice-cold, but Daniel was burning up. Samantha was everywhere. Her soft voice filled his head, her subtle scent invaded his senses, and she’d branded his skin with her touch. Such a tentative touch she had, like she had no idea how to please a man. The minx knew all right, though. His cock was harder than steel, his balls drawn up tight against his body.

  He looked down. If he didn’t relieve the pressure, then walking around with a permanent hard-on would surely be the death of him. He’d already nearly had a cardiac arrest at the sight of those perfect and beautiful tits of Samantha’s. He’d practically panted like a dog at the creamy-white, soft flesh and the coral-hued tips. If his cock had been a tail, it would have wagged in jubilation. Not that Daniel thought a quick whack job would lessen his desire for Samantha, though. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening. He wanted to make love to her every second of every fucking day.

  He fisted his cock and began to slowly stroke the hard shaft. Thoughts of Samantha’s wide-eyed kisses quickened his hand. Suddenly, and without even thinking about her tits, he was there. Groaning under his breath, his cum shot out the end of his cock and splattered all over the tiles, where it was quickly washed down the drain by the running water.

  Daniel breathed heavily for a minute as he let the water rinse the remnants of his whack job from his hand and softening cock. Not as good as the real thing, but already he felt better. There was a bar of soap on the shelf, so he used it to freshen up. While he washed his now fully flaccid cock, he grinned as he remembered earlier when he’d asked Samantha to straddle him on the sofa downstairs. Her face had turned bright red as she’d flustered over a word for his cock. Her blushes were a trait he found endearing.

  His skin began to goose bump from the cold water. He flicked the faucets off and stepped from the enclosure. He dried himself and dressed. His shirt smelt sweaty, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about that. Unless…Daniel went to the top of the stairs and called down. “Sammy? Has Matt got a shirt I can borrow? Mine’s all sweaty.”

  Samantha appeared at the bottom, having seemingly read his mind because she held a T-shirt in her hand. She tossed it up, but since he was already halfway down the stairs, the material hit him full in the face. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling it over his head. She waited until he was down before going up the stairs herself.

  She shook her hair free from its topknot. “I’ll just go for a shower myself. Then maybe we can unpack my books.”

  “You take as long as you want, baby. I’ll make a start without you.”

  She sent him a sexy-as-sin smile and then disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the click of the lock and blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. After what Samantha had been through, he couldn’t blame her for still having trust issues. If she wanted to lock him out, then so be it. It was her house, her rules. He wasn’t going to complain or get pissed over it and do something really idiotic, like smash the door down. Not that he would do that anyway. Besides, they were taking their relationship at her pace. Samantha would invite him to scrub her back when she felt the time was right.

  Tucking the T-shirt into his waistband, Daniel entered the living room. He guessed the room’s décor was more Samantha than Ramona or Matt. No, it definitely wasn’t Matt. He couldn’t exactly envisage Matt choosing the flower-patterned sofas or the leaf-printed, pale-green curtains. Even the gilt-framed mirror above the stone fireplace was pretty. The TV, on the other hand, he could tell was Matt’s choice. Located in one corner of the room by a set of French doors, the TV was state-of-the-art and large, though not quite big enough to claim dominance. That belonged to the alcoves on either side of the fireplace and no doubt the home of Samantha’s books.

  He bent down beside the boxes on the floor and smiled as he opened the fir
st one. This would take until Christmas. Not that he minded. With a real Christmas tree adorned with twinkling lights and baubles providing festive cheer, it would be nice to cozy up to Samantha on the Chinese-style rug in front of the fire, its flames warming their faces and naked bodies. He felt his cock stir. He grimaced. Now why did he have to go and fantasize about Samantha’s body? The bodice-ripper cover of the romance novel he held in his hand didn’t help matters either.

  At that precise moment, his stomach growled. Daniel put the book on the shelf and decided to make lunch for him and Samantha. Handling sharp implements should surely curb his fantasies. He went into the kitchen, where he instantly scratched making lunch. On one of the counters was a large bowl of fresh salad and a plate of sliced and buttered baguette. All he had to do was lay the table, which took him less than a minute.

  “One book? Yes, I can definitely see you’ve made a start, Daniel.”

  Having just taken the homemade lemonade from the refrigerator, Daniel was about to refill their glasses when Samantha’s voice sounded behind him, startling him. Lemonade sloshed onto the table. “Ah, shi—sugar,” he said, quickly stopping the curse before it developed fully. He swiped a cloth from the drainer and mopped the spilled liquid up. “That was a quick shower, baby.”

  She smiled at the sound of his growling stomach. “You’re not the only one who’s hungry.”

  He laughed and ran his eyes over her. Roughly towel-dried, her hair hung in damp waves around her face. She wore the same jeans, but had changed her snug-fitting pink T-shirt to a longer and looser black one. He wondered if she’d done it to hide her gorgeous body from him. He inwardly snorted. Samantha could have draped herself in a damned parachute and she’d still look gorgeous. He thought about snatching a kiss and then shelved it. Kissing Samantha probably wasn’t a good idea.

  Samantha had other ideas, though, and taking his face in her hands, reached up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. She murmured something about him being a fantastic kisser, and that was it, Daniel claimed her mouth as his.

  * * * *

  Daniel had once told her that she rocked his body, or something similar. Well, at that precise moment in time, Samantha knew it was her body that was being rocked. Daniel’s burning yet tender kiss went way beyond fantastic. He was in complete control, too. He must have been, because after devouring her mouth, he broke off the kiss and gently set her at arm’s length.

  “Let’s not get carried away. We have all the time in the world.”

  “Wasn’t that the title of a James Bond song?”

  He screwed his face up in thought. After a moment or two, he said, “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Sammy, are you a secret James Bond fan?”

  “Daniel Craig, yes. Heroic, tough, and simply gorgeous.”

  “Bit like me, then. And see, I even look like him.”

  Samantha laughed when Daniel fashioned his fore and middle fingers and thumb into the shape of a gun and blew on his fingertips as if it were the barrel. “Idiot.”

  She was both relieved and pleased that Daniel wasn’t disappointed about what happened earlier on the sofa, that they hadn’t made love. She was pleased and relieved about that, too. Well, perhaps pleased wasn’t the right word, but with Daniel keeping his promise of going at her pace, she certainly was relieved. It felt good to be in control, for her to call the shots as such. It relaxed her, which in itself was beneficial because Daniel’s erection had been massive. Had they made love, she honestly doubted he would have fitted inside her.

  While she twisted her damp hair up and fastened it into a topknot, Samantha felt her cheeks heat at the memory of the size of Daniel’s penis. Heavens, he’d been huge and so hard. She snuck a quick glance at his crotch. Though a bulge was evident to the front of his jeans, it wasn’t as noticeable as when he’d gone upstairs to shower. She’d masturbated in her shower to relieve some of the tension that had coiled within her womb. Had he done the same?

  The rapping on glass then drew her attention to the kitchen window. Rex Latimer waved at her. She waved back and then went to the door, letting him in. “Rex! Come in. What are you doing here?”

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he replied in that Southern drawl of his. “But I was wondering if I can use the shortcut.”

  She laughed. “Bud Watson is okay.”

  “Yes, he is. In very small doses.”

  Rex’s attention then zeroed in on the frowning Daniel, and Samantha said, “Heavens, where are my manners? Rex, this is Daniel Ferris. Daniel, Rex Latimer. Mona’s coworker.”

  Rex switched the black medical bag he carried from his right hand to his left and shook hands with Daniel. “Ramona’s told me a lot about you,” he said.

  “I thought I could feel my ears burning,” Daniel returned.

  Samantha stared at the two men, who seemed to be sizing each other up. She shook her head. Her brother, Matt, was bad enough, but this bordered on ridiculous. For a brief moment a flash of uncharacteristic sarcasm took over. In the red corner we have Rex Latimer, vet and pacifist. And in the blue corner, Daniel Ferris, geologist and mouthwateringly gorgeous. Who will win this battle for the title of ‘The Bodyguard?’ “Rex, won’t you stay for a bite to eat?”

  “I’d love to, but no. Thank you for asking. Rain check? Perhaps the four of us can get together sometime one evening?”

  She nodded. “Dinner at Rendezvous would be great.”

  “I’ll book us a table.” Rex nodded at Daniel. “It was nice to meet you, Daniel. Samantha? Take care. I’ll see you later.”

  “He seems okay,” Daniel commented, as Rex went through to the living room where he exited the French doors into the rear garden for the shortcut to Bud Watson’s ranch.

  “Yes, he is,” Samantha agreed. “He’s been a great source of comfort to Mona. And to me. After Mark, he was the only man—well, apart from Dad, Ross, and Matt—that I wasn’t afraid of. I was quite comfortable in his company by myself.” She smiled. “Mona found her romantic side when she met Rex. Not that she’d ever admit to it.”

  A loud growling sound punctured the air. “Sorry,” Daniel said, rubbing his stomach. “Can we eat now?” She laughed at his earnest and angelic expression. He pulled the chair out for her before sitting down himself. “These veggies look delicious. You grow them?”

  She dished a helping of salad onto her plate. “No. They’re all from Dad’s garden.” She passed him the bowl so he could load his plate, and load up he did. Amused, she shook her head. “Baguette slice?” This time, she rolled her eyes heavenward as Daniel took at least half of the buttered bread.

  “Hollow legs, remember?” he said with a teasing twinkle to his already glowing eyes.

  Those amber flecks were mesmerizing and so familiar, but Samantha couldn’t think where she had seen them before. A little frown furrowed her brow as she tried to bring a memory forward. Then realization struck, and she mentally slapped her forehead. Of course, you dummy! “You’ve got your father’s eyes. His are blue with amber flecks in.” Daniel suddenly stopped chewing, and a dark shadow passed over his face. Her stomach knotted with unease. “Daniel? Have I said something wrong?”

  Almost immediately, the shadow vanished and, after swallowing, his “cat that got the cream” grin stretched his mouth. “I also have his nose and chin, but the rest of it is all me.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Though her stomach settled, a small niggle of unease remained. Another memory hung on the fringes of her mind, but the more she tried to bring it forward, the further it receded. She really should try not thinking about it. It might pop forward then. “Do you want to play footsie?” she then asked on a whim.

  If it was possible, Daniel’s grin grew wider. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I so wanted to play footsie with you at your parents’ house that first evening. But I was afraid that if did I would have gotten the wrong leg and touched Matt up instead. He already had the knives out.” He shrugged and shifted in his chair. “Not that I can blame him. As I sa
id, if it were Jessica, I’d also do the protective brother bit.”

  “Yes, but there’s protective and then there’s intrusive. I trust you, Daniel. Matt knows he can trust you, tooooo!” She squealed at the foot running up and down the inside of her lower left leg.

  Daniel grinned the devil’s grin, and Samantha just had to get him back. She waited until he popped a radish into his mouth and then slipped her foot up to his inner thigh. If she wasn’t mistaken, her socked toe nudged the end of an erection. If she felt a little shocked, then it was nothing compared to Daniel. His eyes bulged, and he choked on the food. Oh, dear, had she gone too far?

  “Baby, if you’re gonna touch me there,” he said once the hacking had stopped, “might I suggest you wait until after I’ve finished eating.”

  “I’m sorry.” She tried to tamp down her smile but failed.

  “Minx.”

  “You think?”

  “Mmm. And beautiful with it.”

  Samantha blushed, something she always did whenever people called her beautiful, but with Daniel saying it, it felt that little bit more special. They continued with their meal and wisely decided not to play footsie.

  After they’d finished, they loaded up the dishwasher and then went through to the living room. Daniel immediately sat on the floor beside the boxes of books. He opened the closest one to him and handed the first book to her.

  “That’s your idea of helping?” she said with a little pout.

  “Hey, baby, don’t fret.” He first jerked his thumb at the left alcove and then the right one. “I bet if I put these books on the shelves in any old order, you’ll just tut and then rearrange them. By handing you the books, you can put them how you want them.”

  “True. I know I can be a bit anal when it comes to how I display my books. I like them in alphabetical order by the author’s name, regardless of their genre or subject.”

  “See? And I’ll bet that book I put there earlier is on the wrong shelf. It should be on the one below. Or in the other alcove.”