Wouldn’t have it any other way.
He palmed the back of her skull, scraping his fingernails against her scalp as he tilted her head and used his mouth to open hers. He wanted to delve and dive, swoop and conquer, to plunder every inch of her until she felt him everywhere. Instead, he wrangled what restraint he had and kept his explorations tentative, his mouth a tease, as he backed her through the doorway, leading her from the harsh fluorescence of the bathroom and into the softer, warmer glow of the room beyond. Immediately, options flooded his consciousness, a thousand scenarios flashing by in an instant, an infinite number of fantasies presenting themselves for his attention and inspection.
Too easily he could see Georgia splayed across the bed, naked and trembling. Bent over the table, wanton and waiting. So many options. So many possibilities. Every single one guaranteed to blow his mind. There’d be time, he told himself, scraping his stubble along Georgia’s jaw, tilting her head until he could pull an unadorned earlobe into his mouth. Time to conquer. Time to claim and be claimed. Time enough to savor every gasp and elicit every response.
But not yet. What he wanted now was to seduce. To explore and map, with teeth, with tongue, with nimble fingers, until he rendered Georgia mute with desire, wet with want. Open to him in a way he doubted she shared with many. And then, with her trembling and needy, shameless and impatient, he wanted to devastate her. To snare the control he so admired and wipe it away until nothing stood between them. To take Georgia apart, bit by sexy bit, until all the pieces of her were spread before him. Then, he’d be ready. Then, he would claim.
He backed her against the wall, mindful of her injuries as he slid his fingers from her hair with a groan, then dragged them across the skin of her exposed shoulder. He followed with warm, open-mouthed kisses and backtracked when a spot made her shiver or goose bumps sprang across freshly heated flesh. When he reached the strap of her bra, he paused, let his fingers slide down her arm, then skate, light as air, across the arc of her breast. Palming the weight of her, he nipped at the strap, teeth scraping against flesh and cotton as her heart leaped against his palm.
Slowly, he pulled away enough to watch her face, to brush the hair from her cheek. Her irises, an ultrathin halo of brown, delighted him. The flush crawling across her neck and down her breasts called to him. He trailed a single finger along the soft skin above the cup of her bra, following the curve until his index finger came to rest against the clasp at the front.
“Parker.” Half moan, half ragged gasp. All plea for more, more, more.
Smiling, he slipped his finger beneath the catch and pulled, the tiny pop of sound a brazen statement of things to come.
“I . . .” He pressed his thumb against the plump flesh of her lower lip, surprised and delighted when her tongue came out to meet it, and let his gaze fall. Her breasts, generous handfuls of smooth, pale skin, swayed with every indrawn breath. Slowly, because some moments were meant to be savored, imprinted to memory to last a lifetime, he brought his hand up, trailing the tips of his fingers along the underside of her before letting the fullness of her flesh sink into his palm. She sucked in a sharp breath, capturing her lower lip between her teeth.
He watched as the peak of her nipple, dusky pink and budding with interest, tightened for him. So sensitive, so responsive to even the softest touch. The memory of her shock as he’d blown across her cut seized him. He suspected she knew rough and tumble, fast and thorough. It was a language she spoke fluently and one he knew he wanted to have endless conversations in. But he didn’t think she knew this. He blew across her nipple, reveled in the startled gasp and the suddenly firm peak. No, tenderness—a light, barely there touch, those she didn’t know.
But she would. With him, she would.
“Parker.” Her body went rigid against his, her back arching to his touch. “Parker, please.”
Unable to resist such a pretty demand, he closed his mouth around her, flicking his tongue against the arousal he found and sucked a scream from her throat. Satisfied but not nearly done, he turned his attention to the other one and let his fingers trail down ribs, noting the dips and grooves that made her jump and writhe, cataloging the information away for later, until finally he found the waist of her jeans. With impatient hands, he undid the button and tugged down the zipper. Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding his mouth against her chest. He slid his hands up her back, letting the full weight of his palms pull her away from the wall until he could strip her of her bra. As the material slid off one arm, then the other, he trailed his mouth from peak to valley, taking a moment to breathe in the warm, rich scent of her before he continued lower, sliding his tongue across rigid lines of muscles, then taking a knee and dipping his tongue into the pool of her belly button.
“You don’t . . . you don’t have to,” she panted as he slid her jeans down her thighs, pulling his stubbled chin across the ultrasensitive skin above her briefs.
“The hell I don’t,” he replied, nipping at the curve of her hip as he tugged off her boots. In the blink of an eye, only a thin slice of cotton concealed her from him. He cupped her in his hand, holding her against his palm as she tried to undulate her hips, to grind the core of her against him, every aborted move imploring him for more. Kissing the inside of her thigh, he pulled the material down and away, exposing the very heart of her.
Trembling, she turned her head to the side, as if unable to watch as he breathed her in. As if ashamed of her own want, her own need.
If it took a lifetime, he’d wipe away those thoughts, replace them with the confidence to demand what any man should be desperate to give. Sliding a hand up the back of her leg, he nipped at the inside of her thigh, following the sting with the scrape of his beard. She trembled, her weight sliding against the wall, her fingers grasping his arms. He gripped the back of her knee and hoisted her leg over his shoulder, exposing her to his every whim.
She froze, then tried to pull away, her breathing coming in sharp, jagged gasps. He ran a thumb up her seam and over the rich, wet curls he found there. He took a second to indulge in what was quickly becoming his favorite game and blew across the nub of her clit, delighting in the shudder that traveled all the way down her leg.
“Oh God.” Her voice was tight and strained, thick with the desire for something he suspected she’d never had or asked for.
Time, then, to change that.
He smiled, letting her feel the curve of his lips against her throbbing flesh. With teeth and tongue, he set himself to exploring every inch—revisiting the spots that made her gasp and moan—then drank in his victory as she shouted and came.
Tears stung Georgia’s eyes, a result of staring too long into the overhead light in the center of the room, she was sure. Panting, she let her head fall, and all at once, as if they’d only been waiting for permission, her muscles loosened and her body slipped precariously down the wall. Even as she thought her feet might go out from under her—and that she might not give a damn if they did—Parker was there, hoisting her until she wrapped both legs around his waist. As he strode toward the bed, she trailed her fingers along the sides of his face, tilting his head until she could press her mouth to his, let her lips convey her praise, her surprise, her gratitude. Never had sex been so revelatory. So powerful. In precious few minutes that had stretched like lifetimes, Parker had taught her what it was to yearn. And what it was to be satisfied.
As he dropped her on the edge of the bed, watching as gravity played with her breasts, she understood he wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
Thank. God.
She slid back across the thin bedspread until she could recline on her elbows and appreciate the view. Too satiated to be self-conscious, she dragged her gaze down Parker’s lean frame. “I’m feeling a bit underdressed here, Parker.”
“I don’t mind.” He quirked his mouth, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he let his gaze roam and linger in equal measure. His scrutiny was as visceral and physical as his hands,
as thorough and talented as his tongue. A part of her wanted to squirm beneath his regard, certain in the knowledge she couldn’t possibly be his type. Too many hard angles, too few womanly curves. She’d long ago given up possessing a body that turned men’s heads and instead focused on possessing a physique that saved men’s lives. Rarely had it bothered her with other partners, and though she wondered what Parker thought, if he found her wanting, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. Something she had him to thank for, no doubt.
“Yes, well, I do.” She waved a hand in his direction. “It seems only fair. I’ve shown you mine . . .” She let the Cheshire-cat grin she’d been holding back curl her lips.
“All right,” Parker said, gripping the hem of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head. When he stood before her, miles and miles of smooth, golden skin stretched upon a swimmer’s frame, Georgia fought the urge to lick her lips.
“Now, let’s see,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and smiling down at her. “I believe I said something about an eight-pack.”
Yes. Yes, he had. Something she’d chalked up to sheer bravado at the time. And though he couldn’t claim to have the tight, packed-on muscles of some men, what he lacked in bulk he more than made up for in definition.
He trailed a finger in a serpentine pattern across his torso. “Two, four, six . . .” He paused, a smug grin curling his mouth as he popped the button on his jeans and tugged his waistband lower. “Eight. Who do you appreciate?” His grin transformed from playful boy next door, to sexy, to mischievous imp in the blink of an eye. “Parker.” He canted his hips to the left, knocking his jeans down a notch. “Parker.” Another cant, this time to the right. “Parkkkkeeerrrrrr.” He dragged out the word, shimmying his hips back and forth until his pants fell around his ankles.
Delighted and incredulous that this man not only had the promised eight-pack but a charming, self-assured sense of humor to match, Georgia laughed. “You certainly don’t suffer in the self-confidence department, do you?”
“Nope,” he said, stepping out of his jeans and briefs, then crawling up the bed to meet her. “No self-esteem issues here.” He laid his mouth against the hollow of her throat, licked a strip of skin as if he’d forgotten the taste of her, then blew a raspberry into her neck. When she jerked away on a chuckle that came dangerously close to being a giggle, he pulled her back, kissing her face as he skated deft fingers across all the grooves that made her jump and laugh.
“You know,” she said between heaving breaths, “most men don’t like it when women laugh at them in bed.”
“Laughter should never be scorned or squandered,” he said, settling over her, dragging the hard length of him in slow strokes over her abdomen. “There’s far too little to go around, so you should seize it where you can.”
“Even in bed?” Georgia asked, trailing fingers along the arm he had braced near her head.
“Especially in bed.” He dropped a teasing kiss to the tip of her nose. “Even the best things in life can be made sweeter with a bit of fun. And sex? That’s right up there with fresh coffee, warm doughnuts, and conquering level 127.”
“Wait. Wait.” She pushed him away, fought against the groan of disappointment as the heat of his body left hers. “Just where does sex rank on that list?”
He shrugged. “Somewhere between a third cup of coffee and level 128.”
Oh, she was going to remove something important.
“Of course,” he said on a slow slide that nudged his length against the throbbing, wet heat of her, “sex with you hasn’t been fully assessed and ranked yet.”
A sneaky hand slipped between her thighs, magic fingers parting her folds and sliding home with ease. Unbidden, her eyelids fell, and her hips rolled as a twist of his wrist brought his thumb to her throbbing clit. That fast, he brought her to the edge, his relentless momentum enough to have her wishing for the fast, hard fall, but not enough to send her over. Damn him.
Well, two could certainly play at that game.
Locking a leg behind his knee, she rolled her hips, using her body weight and Parker’s surprise to flip their positions until she straddled him. She ignored the way her side pulled and complained—this was too important, too worth it, too once-in-a-lifetime amazing to let even a gunshot wound steal the smallest bit of the experience. She wanted to torment and tease to her heart’s delight, so she dragged her seam across the length of him as she raked her nails across his chest.
Eyes that had held nothing but smug laughter a moment ago now blew wide with shock and lust.
“Time to level up.” She grinned at the way he groaned beneath her, his fists clenching the sheets.
“I don’t have . . .” He breathed deep and gripped her hip as if he’d come apart if she canted her hips just one more time. “I didn’t think to bring anything.”
Oh. Right. So caught up in the moment, in the push/pull of the game they were playing, condoms hadn’t even occurred to her. It should have been sobering, the realization she was so far gone that her own safety, let alone his, hadn’t even occurred to her. Usually she was hypervigilant, made sure her evenings were always planned for. Yet here she was, sitting astride a man who so thoroughly undid her that protection had never even entered her mind.
Insanity? Or something far more insidious? Something like trust.
Parker ran a trembling hand up her back. “We don’t have to, Georgia.”
Though he didn’t say it, she understood what he was saying. We don’t have to have sex. You don’t have to reciprocate. And he meant it. She knew he did. If she rolled away from him now, which logic and instinct and a whole host of experience told her she should do, he’d say and do nothing to stop her.
Maybe that was why she found it so damn hard to do so.
“I’m covered, and I’ve never messed around without a condom. Ever,” she quietly admitted.
“I’m clean, too.” He caught the tip of her nipple with the pad of his index finger.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers.
She nodded and leaned down to seal her mouth to his. She didn’t know or care why, but she trusted Parker. Trusted he wouldn’t put her at risk. Trusted that he wouldn’t lie. Not about something so important. And dammit, just for once, she wanted to embrace the best of someone else and run with it.
As Parker’s mouth opened beneath hers, his tongue darting out to welcome her, she shifted her hips and slid over him in one smooth motion. Georgia pulled back just enough to watch, rapt with fascination, as her torment played upon Parker’s face.
A slow slide down brought a curse to his lips.
A teasing clench of muscles blew his pupils until only the thinnest band of blue remained.
A playful twist of her hips and she tore through what was left of his control. Without any of his previous caution and mindless of her injury, he reversed their positions, shocking her as he pushed her flat on her back, his thrusts hard and measured and without a doubt designed to drive her mad.
Lifting her legs, she wrapped her ankles around his back and used her heels to urge him on as she rode out wave after scorching wave of bliss. How was it that movement so harsh, so primal, could be so skilled and deliberate? It was as if every single inch of Parker were pressed against her in just the right way. No learning curve. No room for error. Parker loved her as if he’d been doing it his entire life.
Georgia couldn’t fathom how she’d lived before the experience. Parker slid across her body, the heavy length of him filling her, ensuring no part of her, on any level, remained untouched. The scrape of his chest teased across nipples, hard and desperate for more than the tempting touch of his skin. Fingers gripped her hips, pulling her in closer, harder, deeper, until she wasn’t sure how long she could last, how much she could take, only knowing she wanted more, more, more.
Finally, as his mouth captured hers for a too-brief kiss, Georgia felt the ground fall out from beneath her as her orgasm crested the edge of her cont
rol, drowning her to all but the most basic of sensations.
The heartbeat in her ears, her chest, her core.
The scrape and burn of stubble across her cheek and jaw.
The uttered promises, threats, and pleas against her ear.
The final possessive thrusts before heat and Parker and intimate dominion marked her in a way she’d never allowed.
Slowly, Parker withdrew, but he pulled her with him as he rolled to his back, tucking her to his side and notching her head beneath his chin.
Gentle fingers danced along her arm, skating across skin and raising tiny shivers along sensitized nerves.
“Definitely, definitely ranks higher than level 128.”
Georgia smiled against the warm breadth of his chest. She’d need an hour, maybe two, then she’d see what she could do about replacing coffee as the number-one need in Parker’s life.
A repetitive plink, plink, zing woke Georgia from a dreamless sleep. Stretching her legs until her toes curled, she breathed deep, then rolled to her side, bringing the thin motel sheet with her.
“I know you are not playing Jungle Gem after the best sex of your life.”
Parker’s face, backlit in the bluish glow of his smartphone, split into a wide grin.
“Best sex of my life? Pretty confident about that, are you?”
Bracing herself against her elbow, Georgia dropped her chin against her palm and walked her free fingers up Parker’s cotton-clad thigh. It wasn’t lost on her that for a long moment, as her fingers trailed up past the waistband of his underwear, he didn’t breathe. “Oh yeah.”
Parker dropped his phone to the nightstand, then leaned over her, catching a strand of hair with his thumb and forefinger. “You know damn well no one could hold a candle to you.”
Defenseless (Somerton Security #1) Page 9