When Lightning Strikes (The Storm Inside Book 3)

by Alexis Anne

  He parked in a rather sparse two-car garage and took my hand as he led me inside and up a narrow set of dark stairs.

  At the top, he flicked on lights that seemed to glow from behind the walls and ceiling, just barely illuminating the open living room and kitchen. Massive picture windows covered the far wall, providing a twinkling display of the boats moored outside, and downtown Tampa beyond.

  “That’s a lovely view.”

  “Thank you. It’s why I bought this place.” He moved into the kitchen and emptied his pockets into a glass bowl, then opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. Black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances were just about the only notable thing about his kitchen. It looked unused. There were no appliances tucked into the corners, no pictures or dishes on display.

  “Would you like to sit and talk, or move straight to the fucking?”

  I’d almost forgotten how frank he could be. I cleared my throat. “I’m not really in the mood to talk, are you?”

  Greg paused, almost as if I’d surprised him, and studied me. His steely blue eyes were fixed on mine, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I couldn’t even guess at his mood. He was quiet, but for someone about to get laid, he didn’t seem overly happy. “No,” he finally murmured. “I’m not one much for talking.” He took my hand again and pulled me in the opposite direction from where we’d come in.

  At the end of a darkened hallway was his bedroom. It had the same massive picture windows along one wall, and deep, plush carpet that my feet sank into the moment we crossed the threshold. A large, low platform bed stood along one wall, and a low couch on the other. The coffee table in front of it was covered in papers, and a blazer was flung across one arm. On the wall beside the couch three guitars were mounted on pegs.

  The guitars seemed to be just about the only effort he’d put into decorating, outside of the furniture itself. His apartment was oddly comfortable, despite the lack of personal additions. Somehow it seemed just like him—what I saw was what I got. Simple, warm, confident.

  I don’t know why I’d describe his condo as confident, but it was. I felt like it would be insulted if I made a disparaging comment and kick me out before Greg and I had a chance to kiss.

  Oh God. We hadn’t even kissed and here I was, standing in his bedroom, about to fuck him.

  I’d clearly lost my mind.

  The heat-seeking missile between my legs was in charge.

  He pulled off his blazer and tossed it on top of the one already lying on his couch, and loosened his tie, while I stood somewhat awkwardly near the door.

  I should run.

  This was dumb.

  “Doubts?” he said bluntly. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes sure were. He seemed quite amused by me.

  “How many times have you done this?”

  He yanked the tie free of his collar. “This? Never.”

  Apparently the mom side of me came out with that remark, because before I could stop myself, my eyebrows were raised and my hands were on my hips. “Oh really?”

  He snorted. “I didn’t say I’d never fucked and run. But I’m more of a back seat of the car, bathroom stall, her place, kinda guy.”

  He loved the word “fuck”. He used it so much I was even thinking it in my head. That was very interesting…it was such an easy way to separate the emotion from the action. There were so many delicious layers to this guy. Layers I wasn’t going to examine. “You must not use your car very often for that then. There was barely room for the two of us to sit. I can’t imagine trying to have sex in it.”

  “Yeah, I guess I don’t,” he shrugged.

  Not his car, not his apartment. Very interesting. “So why did you bring me home if this isn’t something you normally do?”

  He frowned and pulled his shirt free of his black suit pants. “You know, I’m not entirely sure.”

  “Not entirely sure, or don’t want to tell me?”

  He kicked off his shoes, pushing them under the coffee table with his toes. “I don’t know.” He looked genuinely confused. “I trust you?”

  “You trust me?” I sputtered. “You don’t even know my last name.” And yet, that statement told me a lot about Greg. He wasn’t someone who trusted easily and preferred to keep sex unemotional. My guess was that he usually chose women he had little interest in outside of sex, just to keep things simpler.

  “I don’t need to know your last name. I got everything I needed to know about you in the first five minutes last night. Names are just details.”

  “And what did you learn about me that made you trust me when you clearly don’t usually trust anyone.”

  He paused with his fingers on the fourth button of his shirt. “It started with your laugh. That was the whole reason I walked over, remember?”

  My laugh. I wish I knew what it was about my laugh that intrigued him when it seemed so off-putting to others. My parents had called it “obnoxious”, Brandon referred to me as the “laughing hyena”. Even Natalie was embarrassed when she was younger. Now she just rolled her eyes.

  “I just know,” he said, walking toward me. “I can tell by the way people hide certain things, what they brag about, where their eyes look. If you watch, you can learn a lot about people by what they say—or don’t say—as the case may be.”

  “And I’m trustworthy?”

  “Very.” He stopped in front of me. “And intelligent. And confident. And sexy.”

  “I take it you find all these things to be good things?”

  My question confused him, and that made me like him even more. “Why wouldn’t they be good things?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Sexy, smart, confident women are the end of the world.”

  He shook his head and looked at me like I was crazy. “You’ve been hanging out with the wrong people. Sexy, smart, confident women are the best women on Earth. And I am not intimidated, threatened, or put off by that in any way. In fact…I find it unbearably attractive.”

  I took a slow steadying breath as the throbbing between my legs returned with a vengeance. The moment he got closer it was like my body came to life. I was very attracted to this man and all it took to turn me on was for him to stand near me.

  “What happened to all that gruff swearing?” Somewhere between walking into the bedroom and now, Greg’s speech had changed from gruff to almost poetic.

  He grinned. “Armor.”

  “Armor?”

  He shrugged just before sliding his hands onto my hips and pulling me closer. “It’s not an act. I am a swearing jackass. But there is more to me than that. I just don’t show it to most people.”

  I didn’t know what Greg did for a living, where he was from, or what his hopes and dreams were, but I knew that he had something from his past that made him keep a distance from most people. It made him doubt their authenticity and keep barriers between him and anything that might hurt him.

  And yet, for some reason, he’d let me through all of it.

  All those careful barriers were there for a reason, and I was willing to bet it was because there was actually a quiet, intelligent, sexy guy hidden beneath the armor he wore. The people who needed the most armor were often the most vulnerable. They needed the extra layers of protection to survive a world that was pretty damn hell-bent on crushing anyone who actually cared.

  I knew that because it was how I felt. I wasn’t a swearing, crass asshole, but I had my armor, too. I avoided men and relationships. I kept my circle of friends tight. I buried myself in my work.

  And for some reason, I’d let Greg in.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered.

  His eyes immediately darted to my lips and then back to my eyes. He swallowed and gave me an almost imperceptible nod, before he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips against mine.

  I’d never had a kiss like that. My bones, and everything else inside, turned to liquid. But not just any liquid—burning hot molten lava. The kind that looks black and cool on the surface, but is actually red
hot and destructive underneath.

  His hands tightened on my hips, pressing my body against his, holding me up when all I wanted to do was slip beneath the surface and be consumed by this kiss.

  I opened my lips and pulled his lower lip between mine, sucking and dragging my teeth along the soft flesh. Greg groaned and tilted his head, sliding his tongue inside my mouth. We took our time, learning each other with each stroke and caress.

  We let the kiss naturally progress into more. I finished unbuttoning his shirt, he slid my dress free of my shoulders, all while our lips stayed locked together. By the time his shirt was gone and my dress was on the floor, I felt like I knew exactly how Greg liked to be kissed and touched.

  He tried to pull back, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeper. He chuckled and lifted me off the ground, leaving my dress behind, along with my shoes.

  I liked being in his arms. I liked even more that it felt so natural to be held by him. “At some point,” he murmured against my lips, “you’re gonna have to let me take my pants off.”

  “No,” I murmured back, shaking both our heads in the process. “I lied. I don’t want to have sex with you anymore. I just want to kiss…” He tensed and stopped kissing me. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. “I’m kidding.”

  “Oh.” Then he smiled. “That’s good, because I am much better at fucking than kissing.”

  “I think you do a pretty fantastic job of kissing.”

  “Then I’ll take it slow.” He set me down and finally stepped back. I thought I’d caught a hint of ink on his arm earlier, and now I saw that I was right. He had a tattoo that spanned his entire left shoulder and part of his back, along with another on his opposite side.

  “You have tattoos.”

  He glanced down at himself like he’d forgotten he had them. “Yeah.” And he left it at that. He stripped off his pants and disappeared into the bathroom. I could hear cabinets banging as he moved around the room.

  The tattoo on his shoulder I understood. It was a roaring lion with an immense mane, but the one on his side was a mystery. It seemed to be a symbol with some writing inside, but the language was foreign to me. Like elvish or something like that. I’d never gotten into the Lord of the Rings and other fantasy books; I tended to be more of a mystery and suspense kind of girl. I liked things that happened in the real world, not made up ones.

  “Condom.” He returned holding up the gray square before tearing off the end.

  “Birth control,” I replied pointing at myself.

  He nodded once and dropped his boxer briefs, revealing a rather impressive, fully erect cock.

  My skin tingled with anticipation and I suddenly wished I didn’t have my panties and bra still on. It was keeping me from having him inside me.

  I reached back and released my bra, and then hooked my thumbs in my thong and pushed them to the floor. When Greg looked up from rolling on the condom, I was completely naked.

  That confidence I loved so much about myself—it was wavering big time. I took care of my body, but I was far from perfect. There were a few stretch marks on my hips and under my breasts. My stomach wasn’t completely flat and my thighs weren’t nearly as toned as I wished they’d be. I knew I looked good in clothes, but being naked was something else entirely and now, with my clothes gone and Greg standing in front of me, I suddenly wished I wasn’t so darn confident. I’d flung my clothes away not giving them a second thought, and now I had nothing to hide behind.

  Greg must have seen my panic because he moved quickly in front of me, placing his hands back on my hips. “Are you cold? The thermostat is automatic and I think it has already dropped the temperature for the night.”

  “No, I’m not cold.”

  “You are very beautiful,” he said quickly, and then kissed me before anymore awkward conversation could escape from either of our lips.

  My sudden lack of confidence was forgotten almost as fast as it appeared because once our naked bodies collided there was very little thinking that took place inside my head. Instead, I acted on pure heat-seeking missile instinct. I followed the needs of my body, and Greg responded to each one with a great deal of enthusiasm. I quickly learned that his dirty mouth was a very fun addition to sex.

  Greg, the man of few words in public, had an awful lot to say in private.

  “Oh my God, my dick is so happy right now. Fuck me, you are so hot and wet.”

  I laughed and I sighed at the running stream of consciousness. His words had an amazing effect on me. They made me feel beautiful and brazen. I basked in each and every one of his curse-laden tirades, holding on to them like badges of honor. I bucked and moved, coaxing his cock into the places I liked it best. Slow wasn’t even remotely an option. By the time he was buried inside me, I was wild for more friction.

  “Yeah, baby. You hold on to my ass and show me where you want me.”

  And so I did. I dug my nails in as I tried unsuccessfully to catch my breath, telling him when to move faster and deeper, or when to slow to down.

  “In, out. In, out. This feels so good. Damn good. I like the way your breasts hit my chest. You have a really nice rack, by the way.” He just kept talking. Narrating every action and thought that came into his head. “Oh, I like those sounds you’re making,” he growled as he nuzzled my neck and I realized that the sounds he was referring to were me moaning with each delicious thrust of his cock.

  Was I always this loud and vocal? I certainly wasn’t when I was home alone taking care of myself, I knew that much. But while having sex? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think that I was. Something about Greg’s narration of sex was making me want to match him in some way. His words were a turn on to me, and I wanted my sounds to be a turn on to him.

  And apparently, they were.

  I hoped he had thick walls. I was getting louder, not quieter. At some point our conversation devolved into grunts and moans. He no longer seemed to be able to form words as our orgasms built. I, on the other hand, suddenly became the talker, moving from sounds to commands. “There! There…Do. Not. Move.” My leg was over his left shoulder, he was buried inside me, we were both covered in sweat—and I felt like a million bucks.

  Greg’s mouth hung open as he fought for control over his body, doing precisely as I asked, holding himself still. I bit my lip and ground my hips against his firm body. My nails dug into the skin of his ass. He was my personal play thing and, I was quite sure, thoroughly pleased about it.

  His eyes were locked onto mine, waiting for the next command. Pleading for my orgasm. I was right on the edge, desperate to feel it, too. I hadn’t had one during sex in so long, and I knew it was going to feel so good.

  I flexed my fingers and Greg responded immediately, shifting upward and pressing against me. That was it. I arched up, throwing my head back as my orgasm tore threw me. Every muscle in my body flexed, my eyes closed, and I yelled out. I heard Greg groan.

  As the waves inside my body began to subside, I started to rock against him again, coaxing him to finish, too. He leaned down and kissed a lazy trail of kisses up my shoulder, slowly moving in and out of me until I relaxed completely.

  Then he took things up a notch. Thrusting into me hard, several times, before his jaw flexed, his shoulders bunched, and he buried himself inside me as he came.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Thank fuck. I thought she’d left last night. In fact, I remembered her leaving pretty damn clearly. But she was here—so soft. I pulled her closer and pushed my nose into her hair. Marie smelled good. It was weird how I’d never really noticed how women smelled before (unless it was some seriously obnoxious perfume), but with Marie it was like a blaring red sign. It was as much a part of her as the way she laughed and moaned.

  And damn…those moans were gold.

  My dick twitched to life and my hips automatically flexed towards her warmth—except there was nothing. No warmth, no body to press against. My eyes flew open and I stared at the grey pillow I was hugging li
ke my life depended on it.

  I’d dreamt my fucking pillow was Marie. Yeah…that could not be good. She’d definitely left an impression on me. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Her scent was everywhere. It was on me, on the pillows and sheets…I was going to have to call Sally and have the apartment cleaned earlier than usual.

  This was exactly why I never brought women home. It wasn’t nearly as clean a break as when we parted ways somewhere much more anonymous. Now I was going to smell her until Monday.

  And remember the way she bit her lip in my doorway, looking strangely vulnerable despite being fairly kickass every other moment I’d known her. I’d remember the way she looked writhing on my sheets while I—

  Okay. Maybe I needed to buy new sheets.

  Yeah. I was going to go buy new sheets today. That would take care of most of my problem.

  I decided it was smarter to shower and then run, so by the time I actually got out on the road it was warmer than usual. I texted Eve to ask where I should buy these new sheets I suddenly needed, and somehow that turned into a ten-minute phone call.

  “Why do you sound out of breath?”

  “Because I’m running.”

  “Why are you talking on the phone while you’re running? Shouldn’t you be running?”

  “Thank you Captain Obvious. That was why I texted you in the first place.”

  She sighed, grumbling something about how a full-grown man should know where to buy sheets. “I just assumed if I was getting a text on a Saturday morning, requesting advice on fucking sheet shopping, that there had to be a story to go along with it.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “So there is a story…” she drawled.

  I still didn’t answer. I knew it wasn’t going to get me anywhere, but I still held out a little hope Eve would let it drop.