by Lori Foster
Coming back up, he shucked his own briefs, then clasped her waist and lifted her right off her feet. She gasped, her hands latching on to his shoulders, and he smiled before bringing one of her breasts to his mouth for the taste he’d been dying to take.
He circled the nipple with his tongue, teasing, stroking, sucking. Erica’s head fell back, dusting his forearms with her hair, and she hitched her legs around his hips.
With a growl, Dean switched his attention to her other breast while inching her toward the bed. His knees hit first and he let her fall, followed by him softly landing on top of her.
Her nails grazed his scalp, her fingers skimmed his short-cropped hair. He took the hint and lifted his head, shifting his kiss to her mouth. Her grip tightened, holding him in place. She devoured him with lips and tongue, and invited him to do the same.
Harsh breathing filled the room, along with the slide of bodies and occasional rustle of the bedclothes beneath them. Erica let the sensations wash over her, still amazed that she was here at all. With Dean, in his apartment. In his bed.
If the experience so far was anything to judge by, the rest promised to be totally mind-blowing. The heat of his skin, the depth of his kiss, the rough stroke of his hands everywhere he touched.
Just seeing him stripped off his jeans and casual shirt was enough to make her drool. Dressed, he was every woman’s dream man. Naked, he far surpassed feminine fantasies that it was swoon-inducing.
He was strong and muscular, his chiseled abdomen alone bringing a tear to her eye. And it was all hers. Every slope and plane, every hard line and crop of crisp dark hair.
She couldn’t seem to stop looking, touching, feeling. She wanted more, even as she didn’t want what he was doing now to end.
Then he cupped her hip, ran his hand over and around her buttock, then back around to graze the curls between her legs. She arched into him, gasping his name.
She was wet and ready for him. More than ready. She felt as though she’d been waiting forever for this very moment...this very man.
She told him as much in tiny broken pants of Yes. Please. Now. And he almost, almost gave her what she needed.
He stroked her, running his fingers through her damp curls until she was writhing beneath him. He hit all the right spots but without sending her over, which was both a blessing and a curse.
Arching toward him again, she raked her nails up and down his back, dug her heels into his butt and the backs of his thighs. Then she decided to repay him torment for torment, sliding a hand around and down to his pulsing erection.
Air hissed through his teeth as she wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing lightly, moving up and down the velvety length. She reared up, nipping his chin with her teeth and making him curse.
A thrill of power roared through her that she could cause such a reaction, but before it could go to her head, he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her higher on the bed, then quickly rolled away. Before she could register the lack of his warmth atop her, he was back, a condom packet in his hand.
He tore the foil open with his teeth and rolled it on, then was back on top of her, covering her, pulling her leg up and over his hip to settle more fully in the cradle of her thighs. She drew him in, tugging him close, silently begging him to fill her and finally end her misery.
Cupping the back of her head, he angled her mouth where he wanted it, kissing her deeply while probing her entrance with the very tip of his erection. She moaned against his lips, shifting to aid him, then sighing in relief when he slipped inside.
One inch and then another. So slowly, she wanted to scream. He stretched her, filling her with heat, and they rocked against each other until he was buried to the hilt.
Dean rested his face in the crook of her neck, and she stroked his nape, kissing his temple, his ear, a rough patch of stubbled cheek. Every cell of her being was supercharged, spinning out of control, but she understood his need for a moment of stillness. Just a second or two to catch his breath and get used to the myriad sensations flooding him. The same sensations were washing over her in gentle uneven waves.
But then he lifted his head and pressed a kiss of his own to her ear. He trailed his lips along her jaw until he reached her mouth, then kissed her deeply. Hard, hot, once again stoking the flames to a fever pitch.
His callused fingers and palms caressed her breasts, while his tongue danced frantic, erotic circles with hers. Lower, he canted his hips, starting a slow, languorous rhythm of parry and retreat, parry and retreat.
She met him thrust for thrust, touching him everywhere she could reach. His back; his shoulders; his sides, where she learned he was slightly ticklish; the small of his back, just in the center of his firm world-class rear end.
Soon, she was clutching at him, her insides winding tighter and tighter as her body clamored for completion. Dean’s own muscles were taut beneath her fingers, flexing in time with the movements of his hips.
Just a little bit more, that’s all she needed. Straining toward him, she rubbed against his pelvic bone, sucking in a breath each time he hit her clitoris.
He pulled back and thrust home.
“Dean,” she panted.
Again.
“Dean.”
Slipping his hand down between their bodies, he placed his thumb over that swollen bundle of nerves that threatened to send her eyeballs rolling like cherries on a penny slot machine. He applied just the right amount of pressure with just the right amount of circular motion to slam the orgasm into her with record force.
“Dean!”
She screamed his name, arching into him, riding wave after wave of pleasure so intense, fireworks went off behind her closed eyelids.
Fingers digging into the flesh of her hips, Dean continued to drive into her, harder and faster, with his chest heaving, breaths sawing in her ear as his own climax drew close. And then he went over, biting out her name this time, slamming into her once, twice, again, before finally growing still and collapsing on top of her with a long drawn-out sigh of completion.
Chapter Four
Erica wasn’t sure her heart would ever return to a normal beat. It felt as if a herd of elephants were stampeding through her chest. And the rest of her...the rest of her was sort of numb, but in the very best way. Tingly and weightless, as though all the gravity in the room had been turned off.
She was snuggled against Dean’s side, his arm draped around her shoulders, their bodies plastered together beneath the lightweight comforter he’d tugged loose and tossed over them just before sacking out.
He was still awake, though. She could tell by the way his fingertips drifted lightly over her upper arm, occasionally brushing the curve of her breast. It was hardly a touch to speak of, yet was enough to have her nipples peaking tightly and goose bumps breaking out along her flesh.
This was bad. Good, but bad.
The sex had been fantastic. Granted, her experience was limited, but even she knew that when the top of a woman’s head shot off and she nearly lost consciousness, it was good.
And she liked Dean so much. He was handsome and smart and funny. Patient and kind, more than willing to go above and beyond when the situation called for it—at least if his actions with the kittens were anything to go by.
But what if this was just a quick lay for him? What if she was an interesting diversion; something to do as long as he was stuck inside kitten-sitting, anyway, but not someone he would consider starting a relationship with once life went back to normal?
That’s where the bad came in, because she thought she might be falling a little bit in love with him. How could she go back to seeing him come and go through her window, waving hello as they passed each other on the sidewalk, when she knew now what he was really like? Not just some handsome stranger she could sigh over and think wouldn’t it be nice... She kn
ew how nice it was...and what she would be missing.
Her stomach gave a clutch of anticipatory regret. It was possible she would have to move, and she wondered if Guam would be far enough away. If not, she might have to look into residences on Mars.
She had very nearly talked herself into a deep dark depression even before he bid her adieu when he released a long breath and shifted slightly. He rolled to his side, running his fingers through the hair at her temple while he smiled down at her. She offered him a shaky smile in return.
“I feel like I owe you an apology.”
Her eyes widened a fraction at that. Oh, yeah, he owed her an apology, all right. Thanks to him, she’d be using a handicapped parking sticker the rest of her life.
But she didn’t say that. Instead, she licked her dry lips and asked, “For what?”
One corner of his mouth lifted even higher. “Things moved kind of fast that time. I swear I’m not usually that selfish. I really am capable of going slow, lingering in all the right areas, raising foreplay to an art form.”
That’s what he was worried about? If anything, he’d taught her that fast was just fine...at least the way he did it.
“If you give me a second chance, I promise to do better.”
Better. The word almost didn’t register in her brain. How could there be a “better” when she’d already experienced the best?
Clearly, he wasn’t content with simply crippling her; he wanted to put her into a full-blown coma.
But she didn’t say that, either. She heard herself reply, “Okay.” Which she considered a huge accomplishment.
A glimmer of wickedness sparked in his eyes; then he leaned in for a long, lingering kiss. She folded her arms across his back, one leg over his hip, and gave in to the force of nature that was Dean Maxwell.
His hands were just beginning to wander, raising her temperature and causing her heart to kick into another full-out gallop when they both heard noises on the other side of the bedroom door. Scratching and tiny pathetic mewls; one after another, then all three in chorus.
Dean’s chest rumbled as he chuckled against her lips. “Sounds like somebody needs attention.”
Yes—me! she wanted to scream. How could he get her all revved up, then abandon her for a trio of crying kittens?
As soon as the thought formed, she stopped, letting her head drop back on the pillow. Had that really come from her? The woman who had rescuing in her blood? The woman who volunteered at the local shelter and was willing to stop her life on a semi-regular basis to help an animal in need?
Sex really did change a person.
Before she could beat herself up too badly, Dean pushed up, leaving the comforter to her as he crawled out of bed stark-naked. And, oh, what a droolworthy naked it was.
She rolled to her elbow and watched the play of muscles in his back and rear end as he crossed the carpeted floor to retrieve his jeans. He stepped into them, covering the lower half of all that male perfection, which she thought should be considered one, maybe two, mortal sins.
Buttoning his fly on the way, he opened the bedroom door and all three kittens spilled in, falling over one another to get to him and for a chance to explore another area of the house—especially one that had previously been cut off to them.
Holding the covers to her breasts, Erica sat up. As annoyed as she’d been a second ago, she couldn’t help laughing at their antics. She laughed even harder when the little black-and-white one launched himself at Dean’s shin and started climbing his pant leg like it was the trunk of a tree.
Dean yelped, reaching down to pluck Moe—at least she thought it was Moe—from his jeans. Tucking the kitten into the crook of his arm, he turned back to her.
“Think they might be hungry?” he asked.
“Probably.”
“Are you hungry? I can finish that lunch I promised you. Maybe serve you in bed, eat a bit of pasta off your naked breasts.”
He waggled his brows at the last, and though she blushed from head to toe, his words thrilled her, too. Thrilled her and sent tingles spiraling through her bloodstream.
As lovely as that sounded... “I should probably run over and let Lola and Murphy out again,” she said reluctantly. “And feed them. I’m sure they’re getting hungry by now.”
Dean cocked his head, absently scratching Moe behind the ears. “Tell you what. How about you stay here while I take care of everything?”
“Everything?” she asked, raising a brow.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Sure. I’ll feed these little monsters, then get our stuff started again, and while it’s cooking, I’ll run over and take care of your dogs real quick.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not if you don’t mind lending me your key.”
“And what will I be doing while you’re running around doing all of that?”
His expression went from sweet to downright lascivious. “Resting up. Saving your strength. Getting ready for round two.”
She cocked her head, trying to play coy even though inside she was biting back a grin. “You sound awfully sure of yourself.”
“Of course I am,” he said with a wink. “You can’t leave me alone with these guys. They’ll tear me to shreds. And you’re already in my bed. I just have to keep you there.”
“I suppose keeping me naked and offering to feed me is a pretty good start.”
“See there,” he said, flashing straight white teeth as he smiled. “Never let it be said I’m not a romantic at heart.”
She chuckled.
“All right, you stay here while I play Dr. Dolittle. If you get bored, you can dig around in the nightstand, and see how many condoms are left. I don’t want to run out before we get to all the good stuff.”
“All the good stuff?” she repeated, eyes wide. “You mean there’s more?”
He shot her a devilish grin. “Hell, yeah.”
Then he turned, leaving the bedroom and strolling down the hall. “Come on, Larry. Come on, Curly. Time to eat.”
And darned if those two little kittens didn’t spin around and gambol after him like he was the Pied Piper.
* * *
Dean was as good as his word. He fed the kittens, afterward ran to her place to feed the dogs and let them out again, then came back and finished making his chicken and pasta dish.
Even recooked and reheated, it was delicious. Especially since he fed it to her bite by tantalizing bite and kissed away any sauce that dribbled on her chest or the corner of her mouth.
With occasional breaks to run to the bathroom and play with the kittens, they spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, where Dean showed her that he did, indeed, have more tricks up his sleeve than he’d put to use the first time they’d made love. And lucky her—she got to be his eager assistant while he played out each and every one. He even talked her into staying the night, though she knew she would pay for it later with a bunch of jumpy dogs and cats of her own. They weren’t used to being left alone for so long, and were bound to begin displaying abandonment issues soon.
As reluctant as she was to stick a pin in the lovely bubble that had surrounded their weekend, Erica still had to be at work early Monday morning. So while she ran back to her condo to get ready, Dean stayed behind with the kittens. He said he was going to call one of his other mechanics to cover for him at the garage, and she promised to call her veterinarian for him to see how soon they could get the kittens in for a checkup.
They were doing remarkably well, but still had signs of upper respiratory issues that wouldn’t clear up on their own and needed to be taken care of as soon as possible. She was just glad Dean was willing to blow off work not only to stay with them, but to take them in for medical treatment, as well. It was another point chalked up in his favor in the Hero Material department.
She tried not to let it mean anything, tried not to spend the entire day obsessing over it or him or how perfect he seemed to be. It was hard for her to believe this was even happening, that she was falling and falling fast for a guy who was almost too good to be true.
What if he was too good to be true? Hadn’t she reached a point in her life where she’d begun to think there might not be a man out there willing to accept her and her menagerie of pets? Not to mention her rescuing streak, which meant she could unexpectedly come home with another at any moment.
So what were the chances that a man who would be interested in her and would accept those things about her lived only a few doors away? It could be fate, destiny, meant to be...or a one-way ticket to heartbreak, misery and a lot of lonely nights sobbing into a pint of Häagen-Dazs.
As soon as she had talked to the receptionist at the vet’s office, she called Dean.
“They can take you at two o’clock,” she told him, then gave him directions to the clinic.
“We’ll be there, thanks. What time do you get off work?”
The change of subject caught her off guard. “Um...four-thirty. Why?”
“I thought I’d invite you for dinner. It will be my way of thanking you for all your help, and I can fill you in on whatever the vet says. And if you’re in the mood, maybe you can stay the night again.”
She could almost see the wicked glint in his eyes straight through the phone line, and swallowed hard. So many doubts, even as every fiber of her being clamored to leap into his arms.
“All right,” she replied. Then quickly clarified, “To dinner. We’ll play the rest by ear.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Fair enough. Come over when you get home, after you’ve had a chance to change clothes and take care of the kiddos.”
She smiled at his mention of her cats and dogs, and the fact that he’d given their care more than just a passing consideration.