The dimple deepened in his cheek when he smiled. "I mean this is our first dance, too. As a couple. Now, whenever I hear this song, I'll think about you."
"Oh. Wow. Um..." Shannon cleared her throat and looked away, wondered if her smile looked as silly as it felt. "That's, um, that's pretty sappy. And romantic."
Caleb laughed, the rich sound sending heat throughout her entire body. "Yeah, well, it's a wedding. People get all crazy romantic and do stupid shit at weddings."
Chapter Eighteen
Caleb fumbled with the key card, damn near dropped it before he finally managed to insert it into the card reader. He had to do it twice before the green light blinked and he was able to open the door.
Why the fuck was he nervous? There was nothing to be nervous about. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before—lots of times before. Meet a woman, have a few drinks, take her back to his room for a few hours.
Except this wasn't going to be a few hours. And this wasn't just any woman he'd met in a bar. This was Shannon. Gorgeous, funny, quirky Shannon.
Who was just as fucking nervous as he was.
She pushed past him with a quick smile, barely looking at him when he closed the door. Her gaze darted to the bed and he could have sworn her face paled just the smallest bit. Then she turned away, her back to him as she made her way over to the thermostat.
"It's chilly in here, don't you think? I should have turned the heat on before we went downstairs."
She thought it was chilly? Christ, he was burning up, his entire body caught up in the fever that had been plaguing him since he'd picked her up before the wedding. How many hours ago was that? Six? Seven? Too many.
He wasn't sure how much longer he'd last if he didn't have her in his arms. Here, now. Not downstairs, sitting next to her with his arm draped around her shoulders. Not on the dance floor, with that sweet body pressed against his even though he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Hold her hand. Press a soft kiss against her mouth or cheek or just below her ear as they danced.
How many hours? He wasn't sure, only knew that every single minute had been pure torture leading up to when he could finally have her.
Here.
Now.
Except he was afraid to fucking move, afraid she'd suddenly bolt if he so much as looked at her, let alone touched her.
But he couldn't stop staring at her, at the creamy flesh of her back, bared by the emerald green dress she was wearing. The dress had a collar that wrapped around her neck, leaving her back and shoulders bare. The satiny material clung to the curves of her full breasts, nipped at her waist, then flared out past her hips before falling to just below her knees. And those shoes...holy fuck, those shoes. He'd been having fantasies about those shoes ever since he picked her up. Christ, she looked so damn sexy, it had taken all of his willpower not to keep her right here in this very room when they first checked-in. And he'd been thinking of nothing else except getting her back up here during the entire wedding and the reception that followed.
Touching her but not touching, exchanging flirty looks and heated glances, claiming nothing but the briefest of kisses. The past six or seven hours had been nothing but tortuous foreplay, leading to this very minute.
Here. Now.
He was ready to fucking explode...and he couldn't even move because he was worried about her bolting.
He dragged his gaze away from that sexy back, pulled in a deep breath, then reached for his small duffel sitting on the edge of the bed—right next to hers. Maybe if he disappeared into the bathroom, gave her a few minutes to relax, she wouldn't be quite so nervous. Wouldn't be worried that all he wanted to do was jump her.
He did, but that was beside the point.
"I'm just going to go and—"
Shannon whirled around, her eyes flared with surprise. "You're leaving?"
"What? No. Hell no. Why would you think that?"
"You said you were going."
"Yeah. To, um, the bathroom. You know. In case you needed a few minutes...in case you needed some space or something." The relief that flashed in her eyes eased some of the tension in his chest, removed any worry that he sounded like a total fucking ass stumbling over his words.
She offered him a small smile, almost shy as she closed the distance between them. Then she turned around and lifted the fancy coil of thick blonde hair from her neck. "Could you unsnap me please?"
And holy fucking shit.
Caleb muttered under his breath, the words unintelligible, sounding more like a cross between a groan and a growl. He dropped his bag to the floor then reached for the collar of her dress, his fingers shaking as they scraped along her skin. It was just a snap. He could do this. He'd done this dozens of times before, no problem.
Except he couldn't find the fucking snap or button or hook or whatever the fuck was holding the pearl-studded material together. He stepped closer, frowning, his fingers thick and clumsy as they pawed at the material.
"There are two small elastic loops that fit over the pearls. Do you see them?"
Caleb leaned closer, searching for elastic loops while he inhaled the fresh scent of her perfume. God, she smelled so good, like sunshine and coconut. And fuck, he needed to stop sniffing her before she asked him what the fuck he was doing then hauled off and slapped him.
And finally! He found the stupid elastic loops, struggled with them for a minute before freeing them. Shannon turned, watching him from beneath lowered lashes as she held the green satin in front of her. A small smile teased her mouth.
"Thank you."
He opened his mouth, ready to tell her no problem, when she moved her hand and let the front of the dress fall away. Creamy flesh filled his gaze, from the delicate flare of her collarbone down to the firm mounds of her bare breasts to the flat planes of her stomach. His gaze moved back to her breasts, his mouth completely drying as the rosy nipples tightened into sharp points.
He licked his lips, curled his fingers into his palm to keep from reaching for her. "Fuck. Shannon—"
"Is something wrong?"
He heard the doubt in her voice, saw her hand reach for the front of the dress. He shook his head and clamped his hand around her wrist, stopping her. Then he looked at her, not bothering to hide the need and desire in his eyes. "You're beautiful. So fucking beautiful."
A delicate blush swept across her skin: her face, her neck, even her breasts. And fuck, he couldn't stop himself, didn't want to stop. He reached out, cupped her full breasts in his hands, filling each palm with their weight. Soft, firm, so fucking smooth. He scraped his thumbnail over one nipple, watched it tighten even more. Then he dipped his head and took the hard bud into his mouth. Sucking, pulling. Teasing. He heard Shannon's breathy sigh, felt her hands dig into his shoulders for balance.
And fuck yeah. This. Christ, he'd never imagined she would be so soft, so sweet, so responsive. Her hips rocked against his, her breathy moans driving him to the edge. More. He wanted more. Needed more.
He reached between them and grabbed the satin material of the dress, pushed it past her hips until it fell into a puddle at her feet. Then he stepped back, drank her in with hungry eyes. Tall, lithe, a contradiction of toned muscle and soft curves in all the right places. She tossed her head to the side and the fancy coil of her hair came loose. A cascade of thick waves fell over her shoulder, the ends curling around the tightened peak of one rosy nipple.
Caleb couldn't stop looking at her, couldn't stop watching. Hunger? No, this was more than hunger. This was something earthy. Primitive. Desperate. This need to see her, to touch her. To have her.
He shrugged out of his jacket, let it fall to the floor as he fumbled with the tie and shirt. Shannon's gaze never left him, those beautiful eyes watching every move of his fingers as he reached down to undo his belt and button and zipper. As he kicked off his shoes and pushed trousers and boxer briefs down and off.
He was burning, her gaze licking flames over every inch of skin as she studied him. His neck, his shoul
ders. His chest and abdomen. Lower, following the thin line of dark hair down to the base of his thick erection, jutting proudly.
Proudly hell. His cock was fucking begging.
Just like him.
And damn if she didn't lick her lips as she stared at his straining cock. Like she couldn't wait to touch him. Taste him. Suck him.
Fuck. He'd fucking lose it if she did that right now.
She took a step toward him, hesitated then lifted one foot and leaned down, ready to take off her shoes. He reached for her, steadying her with one hand on her elbow as she straightened. Then he shook his head, just once.
"No."
Her eyes widened, filled with sharp desire. Then she was in his arms, bare flesh to bare flesh, breath mingling, tongues tangling. Caleb ran his hands along her shoulders, her back, down lower to cup the firm curve of her ass. He swallowed back a groan, dipped his hand inside the delicate waistband of the lacy scrap of underwear, and tugged them down her legs so she could step out of them. Soft skin, warm flesh, hard muscle. Christ, he couldn't get enough of her, didn't understand this burning hunger swallowing him whole.
He dragged his hand up her leg, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Higher, until his hand skimmed the soft barely-there curls covering hot flesh. Hot. Wet. He slid a finger along her clit, felt her shudder beneath his touch.
He dragged his mouth from hers, down along her neck, nipping and tasting. Then he lifted her, groaned when she wrapped those long fucking legs around his waist. It would be easy, so fucking easy, to drive his cock into her wet heat. Her pussy was right there, rubbing against him. All he had to do—
Not yet. There were other things he wanted to do, needed to do.
He turned around, gently lowered her to the bed and eased her legs from his waist. She sighed, her lids fluttering as she pushed up on one elbow and looked at him.
The need in her eyes sucker-punched him, leaving him breathless. Had anyone ever looked at him like that before? Like they wanted him, needed him. Not who he was or what he could give them or what he could do for them...just him.
He swallowed back another groan then dipped his head and caught one tight nipple in his mouth. Sucked, pulled. Teased the hard point with the tip of his tongue. Shannon reached for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as her back arched. He sucked even deeper, pulling the tight peak against the roof of his mouth before gently nipping it. The breath left her in a rush, the sound a sharp hiss of need. He released her nipple with a small groan, taking in the sight of her damp flesh reflected in the light from the single lamp on the nightstand. Then he dipped his head and kissed his way down her stomach, peppering her flesh with gentle kisses. Lower, his shoulder nudging her legs apart as he reached her pussy. He spread her damp flesh, slid a finger across her clit and watched as her hips rose toward him.
"Caleb. Please." Her voice was hoarse, throaty, the words filled with need. He dipped his head, ran his tongue across her damp flesh, bit back a groan when her fingers dug into the hard muscle of his arm.
He sat back, blindly reaching for his duffle bag somewhere on the floor. Where the fuck was it? It was right here, somewhere—there. His fingers curled over the handle and he hauled it onto the bed, quickly unzipping it just enough to dip his hand inside. He searched by feel, his eyes never leaving Shannon's flushed body. There!
His hands closed over the foil pockets stuck near the bottom, pulled them out and tossed them on the bed next to Shannon. Then he pushed the bag off the bed and stretched out between her spread legs, dipped his head and pressed his mouth against her swollen flesh.
And fuck, she tasted so sweet. So fucking hot. Like warm honey on a cold day. He drank from her, each little rock of her hips, each little breathy moan, sending him closer to the edge. He reached down, closed one hand over his cock, and stroked. Long. Hard. Fuck, he needed her. Needed to feel hot flesh wrapped around him, needed to feel her muscles squeezing him as she came.
And fuck, if he didn't stop, he'd come before he even had the chance to drive into her.
He moved his hand, focused on the sweet taste of her against his mouth. Fingers suddenly tangled with his tongue and he looked up. His heart slammed into his ribs and his cock jumped at the look in her eyes. She pushed up on one elbow as her free hand dipped lower. One long finger, the nail painted a pale pink, slid along her clit. Lower, dipping inside, pressing, moving back out to slide the wet tip against her clit again.
His hungry gaze snapped to hers, his lungs freezing at the need in her eyes. "Don't stop. Let me watch you."
Holy shit. Holy fuck. Did she mean—? Her gaze dropped to the hard length of his cock, jutting up in proud desperation. Then she looked back at him, her meaning clear in her eyes. "Don't stop."
He slid closer, sat back on his heels and draped her legs over his thighs. Watching as she touched herself, pleasured herself. Then he reached between them and folded his hand around his cock, stroking. Long. Slow. Hard. Watching as Shannon fingered her clit, always watching. Knowing she was watching him.
"Fuck. Shannon. That is so fucking hot." His words were barely more than a growl, lost in each harsh breath as he tried to fill his lungs with air. And fuck, if he wasn't careful, he'd come right now.
He closed his eyes, tossed his head back and clenched his jaw against an image of him leaning over Shannon as he came. On her stomach, her chest, her hot pussy. And fuck, he needed to stop. Now. He was so fucking close, his balls pulling tight, his cock throbbing with each hard stroke.
He stilled his hand, opened his eyes and looked down at Shannon. At the shimmering hair tangled around her face. At the sharp points of her nipples, rising and falling with each harsh breath. At the creamy flesh of her thighs draped over his own darker ones.
At the long finger sliding along her clit, each movement faster.
Her hips surged forward, her back arching as her head tossed from side-to-side. She nibbled on her lower lip, her free hand lifting, blindly reaching.
He grabbed her hand, felt her fingers tighten around his as her hips rocked once, twice. A low cry escaped her mouth then she called his name.
Begging for him. Now.
He grabbed a foil packet, ripped it open and quickly sheathed himself. Then he was there, driving into her, hot flesh clamping around his cock as her climax washed over her. Strong, powerful.
And fuck. Fuck. He was so close, it would be so easy—
No, not yet. Not now.
He held himself still, fought for control, struggled for the last scrap of his willpower until her clenching muscles eased. Then he moved forward, rocking into her. Deep. Hard. Slow, not stopping until her nails dug into the flesh of his arms, not until she screamed his name one more time.
Harder. Deeper. Fast now. Faster. Deeper still, until he couldn't tell where his body ended and hers began. It didn't matter, they were one. Her. Him. Them. Together.
Harder. Faster. Faster, until the world exploded around them, sending them both over the edge. Soaring. Flying.
Together.
Chapter Nineteen
Something wasn't right.
In that hazy mist between sleep and awake, something niggled at her. Annoying little pokes in her subconscious, telling her something wasn't right.
Something was different.
She frowned and tried to brush the pokes away, rolled over and buried her head under the pillow. The room was too cold, she never kept it this cold. She didn't have to look to know her flesh was pebbled from the chill—she could feel her skin prickling as a draft moved over her body.
She mumbled under her breath and reached for the covers. Just a few more minutes of sleep, that's all she wanted. A few more blissful minutes cloaked in the darkness of sleep, where she didn't have to worry about anything.
And where the hell was the comforter?
Her hand swept along the bed beside her, finally closing over the thick comforter. It felt different but it didn't matter, not when she pulled it over her bare
skin and burrowed deeper, searching for warmth, for sleep.
And dammit, something poked her again. Harder this time, in the shoulder. She tried to brush it away, waving her hand through the chilly air. "G'way."
A quiet chuckle sounded somewhere just beyond her reach. No, that wasn't right, she must be dreaming. Except she could still hear the laughter, deep and rich, oddly familiar.
She swore under her breath, telling the laughter where to go. Why wouldn't it shut up? All she wanted was sleep, just a few more minutes—
"G'way."
"Rise and shine, sleepy head."
The voice wasn't in her head, in her dreams. She knew that voice—
Shannon bolted upright, swearing when her hand hit the edge of the nightstand. She blinked against the bright light coming in through the curtains then slowly turned her head—
And nearly screamed. Would have screamed if she was fully awake.
Caleb was stretched across the bed, leaning on one elbow, watching her. She blinked, forced her bleary eyes to focus on him for a long minute. Tousled hair, eyes glittering with silent laughter, that damn dimple deepening in his cheek as his mouth spread into a wide smile. No shirt—she blinked again, taking an extra few seconds to appreciate the expanse of skin pulled tight over his broad chest and ridged abdomen. Her gaze followed the thin trail of dark hair that disappeared into the open waistband of his dress pants. She blinked one more time, sending him a sleepy scowl.
"Go. Away."
She fell back onto the bed and pulled the covers over her head, only to have them yanked off her a second later. Shannon grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, then swore under her breath when he caught it and leaned over her.
Too awake. Too aware.
And too damn sexy for this early in the morning. Too damn sexy, period.
"Someone here isn't a morning person."
"You think?" She tried to push him away but it was like moving a concrete wall, solid and immovable. He leaned closer, his mouth only inches from hers. She quickly turned her head to the side and his kiss landed on her cheek. Oh God, how could even stand being this close to her? She probably had morning breath. And bed head. And smeared make-up.
Playing Hard_A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance Page 14