Wild

by Foster, Lori

  He caught her hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed so that the notch of her thighs cradled him. He could feel the gentle heat of her mound against his abdomen, even through their clothes. “We’re going to take it slow tonight,” he promised.

  Lazily, she nodded. He had his hands braced on either side of her hips, and her left hand circled his right wrist. “We’re supposed to look at each other naked.”

  Hell yes. “I’ll look, all right.”

  “I mean, according to the book. We’re supposed to get used to each other naked.”

  Heat curled inside him, threatening his control. He didn’t need a damn book to direct him now. “Just trust me, okay?”

  She stared at his mouth. “In this, I do.”

  That wasn’t the answer he would have chosen, but no way would he argue about it now. Her peasant blouse had a drawstring neckline. He pulled the neatly tied bow loose, allowing the neckline to expand. The blouse was tucked into a dark blue skirt of layered gauzy material, and Zane tugged it free from the waistband.

  Without protest, Tamara watched him undressing her. “Are we going to make it to the shower?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Yeah.” He could barely talk. He was twenty-seven years old, and he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this much. Her nipples had drawn into tight, small points he could see through her blouse and bra. He couldn’t wait a second more and bent to put his mouth over her right breast.

  Tamara reacted with a groan, arching her body and clenching her left hand in his hair. “Zane.”

  He sucked on her, her blouse and bra so thin as to be inconsequential.

  “I can’t take it,” she said in a whimper when he switched to the other nipple. Her hips lifted into his and her legs wrapped around his waist.

  Zane slid his hand beneath the small of her back, farther down over her bottom. He lifted her more firmly into him. “You can take this, and a whole lot more.”

  “No.” Her head pressed against the bed, throat exposed, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Yeah.” He rubbed himself over her. “Let’s get to the naked part, okay?”

  She froze for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

  “I’ve been thinking all day about getting your panties off you, feeling you wrap your legs around me.”

  Her lips parted.

  “Raise your arms,” he instructed in guttural tones. She did, slowly.

  Thankful that it was loose-fitting, Zane worked the blouse up, exposing her midriff, her ribs, her lace-covered breasts. She was small and pale and so smooth he couldn’t stop stroking her. She lifted herself a little so he could get the top free and toss it aside.

  Her puckered nipples showed as dark shadows through the lace of her bra. Zane plumped both breasts together and rubbed her with his thumbs. The hiss of her breath pleased him. The sight of her pleased him.

  Getting inside her would please him more, but he was determined to make it last, to devastate her with pleasure.

  The bra had a front closure, and he snapped it open with one hand. The material parted, stopping just shy of completely freeing her breasts. Zane bent, nuzzled it away, and found one taut nipple waiting, ready for his mouth. He didn’t hesitate. He sucked her deep and then held her close as she lifted into him.

  Her fingers in his hair alternately squeezed him closer and struggled to pull him away. She gasped and groaned, telling him one minute that she liked it, and the next that it was too acute, the pleasure too sharp. Relentless, determined, Zane controlled her movements and took his time leisurely tasting her.

  A ragged moan escaped her. “Zane, please!”

  He sat back to survey her. Her painted eyes were heavy, dilated with need. Her breasts rose and fell with shuddering, uneven breaths, her nipples glistening from his mouth.

  A surge of raw, primitive possessiveness locked his muscles tight. Damn, she was his and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He wouldn’t let her get away from him either.

  Tonight, he’d do whatever was necessary to bind her to him.

  It might not be what she expected, but Tamara Tremayne would be satisfied with the results. So satisfied she wouldn’t be able to shut him out anymore.

  He was counting on it.

  Thirteen

  Zane fought to subdue the raw emotions and turned Tamara onto her stomach. In the past few days, he’d thought about little else except this moment, having her naked and accepting, ready and anxious for him. Now the time was finally here, and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop him from taking her.

  Startled, Tamara pushed up onto her elbows to stare at him over her shoulder. “Zane, what—”

  With one hand at the small of her back, he held her still. The skirt had an elastic waist, without an opening. Zane gave up, too impatient to work it down and off her hips, and instead flipped it up and over her bottom, exposing her.

  “Zane!” She attempted to push the skirt down, but got it only as far as the small of her back. Zane bunched it in his fist and moved it completely out of his way.

  “Let me look at you,” he said in smoky tones, words nearly impossible.

  Her panties were stretchy lace, like her bra. He could see the soft globes of her rounded bottom through the material. His lungs compressed, and he rasped, “You have a great ass, Tamara.”

  Her hands curled into the covers, but she held still.

  Zane teased himself, cuddling each cheek in his large hands, squeezing, caressing. She was soft but firm, curvy without being voluptuous. He spread his hands wide, measuring her, letting his thumbs meet at the base of her spine. She wiggled at his touch, prompting him to slowly trace her spine, down, down, over the panties and lower, until he pushed his fingers between her legs and found the damp material there. Satisfaction filled him; she responded so quickly to his touch, even while showing her shyness.

  Everything about her fascinated him, inflamed him.

  The lace panties were like fancy icing on a delicious cake. But now they were too much distraction. He wanted her naked flesh under his hands, his mouth.

  Hooking his fingers in the waistband, Zane stripped them down her thighs to her knees.

  With a yelp, Tamara dropped her head forward and hid her face in the bedcovers. He heard her give a soft sigh of embarrassment and soothed her with murmured words, gentle strokes and squeezes.

  “Damn.” Even with the skirt tucked up around her waist, she was sexy as sin. His erection thrust against his slacks, bringing him to the point of near pain. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so taut with need. His skin burned, his muscles ached, his stomach clenched.

  Zane sat back on his heels and began unbuttoning his cuffs. “Do you have any idea,” he growled, “what I want to do to you?”

  She panted, nervous and excited and embarrassed. She didn’t speak, but her head moved back and forth on the mattress.

  Zane smiled hotly. “Everything. I want to do everything to you.” Seeing her stretched out, her white backside his for the taking, was a powerful aphrodisiac. He wanted to slide into her from behind, to feel that soft bottom against his abdomen as he took her. He concentrated hard, knowing what he did and how he did it was important if he wanted her to give over to him completely. And he did.

  He wanted Tamara to come to him, to need him for everything, not just sex. In the past, if a woman had asked for more than temporary companionship and mutual physical pleasure, he’d have broken things off to keep from building her expectations, knowing he was a bachelor and damn well intended to stay one.

  With Tamara ... all he knew for certain was that he wanted and needed more. Whether or not it’d last, he had no idea, but for now she was his, and he wanted her to admit it.

  “We’ll play by your rules, sweetheart, and get used to being naked together first.”

  That had her peeking, her head swiveling around to watch as he undid the last button on his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. He tossed it toward the floor while keeping his gaze glued to her face.
/>   Heat suffused her delicate skin, and she licked her lips. “Go ... go on,” she urged.

  Knowing he had her undivided attention, Zane unhooked his belt and slipped it free from the loops. He opened the button at the top of his slacks and carefully eased the zipper down past his throbbing hard-on. And even that touch, with his own hand, was almost too much.

  “No,” he said abruptly, not about to give up control so soon. “I have to leave my pants on for now, or we’re done for.”

  “But....”

  “Shh. Trust me, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good.”

  Her slender, pale shoulders trembled as he touched her, as he dragged his fingers over the inward dip of her waistline, over to her graceful spine, and down to the twin dimples in her bottom. He leaned forward and lightly bit the plumpest curve of her right cheek.

  Tamara wiggled and squirmed. Her thighs were clamped tight together.

  “Open your legs, sweetheart.”

  Two heartbeats went by before she slowly edged her thighs just the tiniest bit wider. Again, Zane smiled. She amused him almost as much as she turned him on.

  He wedged his fingers between her legs, enthralled with the darkness of his large, rough hand against the paleness of her tender inner thighs. Her body tensed as he moved her legs wide open, letting him see her, every inch of her.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, desire twisting his guts and adding to his ache. He sat there like that, holding her steady, open, and looked his fill.

  “Zane?”

  Her voice was muffled, her face still hidden. Rather than reply, he spread his hands over her upper thighs, parting her more, and touched her glistening pink flesh with his thumbs. Her body shuddered, her legs shifted, and she gave a soft cry.

  “So wet for me.” He slicked his thumbs back and forth, spreading her moisture, readying her, feeling her.

  “Oh God. ” Her bottom lifted into his hands, begging for more. Her hands tightened in the sheets, her arms tensed with the strain. But he continued, slowly sliding over her lips, opening her, petting her, wanting her as turned on as he’d been ever since her proposition.

  And he looked at her, the ultrasoft pink flesh, swelling with excitement. His heartbeat increased with each small gasp she made, until he knew he wouldn’t be able to take much more.

  “Do you want to come for me, Tamara?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered brokenly, the words low and rough.

  “Well, I do know.” Zane stretched out next to her and turned her into his arms. She watched him with dark green, dazed eyes, her mouth open, her nostrils flaring with each deep breath. Fingers damp, he touched her mouth, then licked her.

  Tamara moaned and launched herself against him. She was wild, and he loved it, holding her closer as she bit at his mouth, sucked at his tongue.

  “Zane, oh God, I didn’t expect this.”

  “I know.” Everything with Tamara was harder, hotter, more intense. Hell, he felt ready to come himself, and she hadn’t even touched him yet. But touching her was exciting enough to send him over the edge.

  He tangled his hand in her hair and tipped her head back, making her back arch so he could reach her breasts. He drew on her nipples, sucking and tonguing and teasing. He pushed her to her back and kissed his way to her soft belly while his fingers combed through her tight damp curls. The hair on her sex was darker than that on her head, a rich, glossy, dark blonde.

  Again, he parted her, and this time he pushed his finger deep. To his immense surprise, she cried out in mingled excitement and discomfort. Panting, Zane came up over her to stare at her face. He held still while her inner muscles clamped down on his intruding finger.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lashes spiked, leaving long shadows on her cheeks.

  “Tamara?”

  Her hips lifted, adjusted. Her only answer was a shuddering moan. She gripped his wrist with one hand, holding him, while she dug her nails into his shoulder with the other.

  Zane could barely breathe. “Another first, baby?”

  “Please don’t stop.”

  Slowly, entranced, Zane leaned down and kissed each puckered nipple. He rested his head on her rib cage and inhaled her scent. It took his mind a little time to catch up with his emotions. His pulse rioted and now, above the lust, was a tenderness so deep, so overwhelming he felt on the point of no return.

  Very, very carefully, he pulled his finger almost out. Just as carefully, he pushed it into her again, measuring her, testing her readiness. Her nails on his shoulder bit deep, bringing a stinging pain that he relished.

  Chiding her, giving his mind time to clear, he said, “You should have told me, sweetheart.”

  Her hips rose with his next gentle thrust, a rosy blush expanding over her breasts.

  “You never wanted me,” she gasped, and Zane wondered if she even knew what she was saying. Her eyes were squeezed shut, every inch of her body trembling. He could feel the pulse beat of her heart against his jaw, and around his finger.

  Already she was close. Very close.

  “I want you more right now than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life.”

  The words hung in the air like a thick storm cloud, and then Tamara sniffed. Big tears seeped from her eyes, ripping out his heart. “You mean that?”

  “I mean it.”

  He kissed her ribs, her cleavage, each breast, and finally her mouth. Smiling down into her beautiful, tear-filled green eyes, he told her, “You are one special lady.”

  She looked at his mouth. “You know you’re killing me?”

  His smile nearly became a grin as he maintained the slow, rhythmic in-and-out motion of his finger. “You don’t like it?”

  “I like it too much.” She drew a halting breath, a wave of pleasure nearly taking her, before she continued. “I didn’t realize it’d be like this.”

  He was careful not to touch her clitoris, swollen and taut. “Let’s try something else, okay?”

  Her answer was a moan of acceptance.

  “Easy now.” Zane worked another finger inside her. “You are so tight.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never done this.”

  “I know.” He’d thought he understood about her responsibilities, but for a woman as sensual and naturally giving as Tamara to remain a virgin so long, she must have been more restricted than he’d figured.

  Another small piece of his heart crumbled, and he decided she was ready now, she had to be ready now. This was something she would take from him, and he intended to give it all to her.

  “You’ll like this,” he predicted, and shifting his hand just a little, he found her with his thumb.

  Her body stiffened and she turned her face into his shoulder.

  “Kiss me, Tamara.”

  She tried, but she was panting as the pleasure quickly escalated beyond her control.

  “Zane!” She reached for him, pulling him to her, kissing his jaw, his neck, biting, squeezing him. Her hands clutched at his back and she moved against him, against his stroking fingers. She cried out, her moans raw and real.

  He encouraged her with whispered words and careful touches until finally, all she could do was writhe and gasp.

  When her body finally went limp, Zane held her to him, smoothing her soft hair from her face, caressing her bare back, her plump bottom. With her face tucked into his neck, he heard her sniffles. He smiled.

  “Hey? You okay?”

  She bumped his chin when she bobbed her head.

  Feeling emotionally complete, and sexually explosive, Zane managed to say calmly, “You ready for that shower now?”

  Again, she merely nodded, but her arms tightened around him.

  “Is that a yes or a no, sweetheart?”

  It took her a moment, and then she sighed. “Yes, I’m willing, but I don’t think I can move.”

  “Easily remedied.” Zane stood, kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and then scooped her into his arms and against his bare chest. The skirt, wh
ich had been tangled around her waist, fell into place and something solid bumped his knee.

  Tamara, preoccupied with running her hand over his chest, gave an apologetic shrug. “The phone you told me to carry. It’s in my pocket.”

  Her makeup was smudged again, this time by her tears, but it didn’t detract from her smoldering sensuality. Her eyes were filled with lazy repletion after her climax, and curiosity at what she knew was yet to come. She was the most endearing, surprising, sensual woman he knew. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Zane carried her into the tiny bathroom and stood her on her feet. He slipped his hand into her hair again, unable to stop touching her. “Towels?”

  She looked shy and sweet, standing there on wobbly legs, wearing only a Gypsy skirt and a warm blush. Her breasts were lovely, small but perfectly shaped, her nipples flushed dark. He had no idea how much longer he could last.

  She bent and pulled two towels from the cabinet beneath the sink. When she straightened, Zane dropped his slacks and stepped out of them.

  The towels fell from her hands. Staring so hard he felt her gaze like a touch, Tamara said, “Oh my.”

  It hurt to smile. Hell, it hurt to breathe.

  It seemed the Winston curse had a stranglehold on him, and he wasn’t sure if he should fight it or embrace it. Tamara threatened him in every way he’d sworn a woman never would. Before she’d entered his store and whispered that she wanted him, he’d been doing an admirable job of staying on his given course. Most of his attention had been on growing his computer business. He’d balanced that with his responsibilities to his family. Family, in his book, always came first.

  Between his business and his family he’d managed to fit in the occasional woman—like twice weekly—to keep his body sated. He was a very sexual man, and since there had always been willing women, he’d seen no reason to deprive himself.

  But now other women didn’t interest him at all, and more often than not, Tamara shattered his concentration on business and family. She lurked in his mind, crawled under his skin and into his dreams, and she was easily pushing her way into his heart.