by Kelly Moran
“I’m here with the woman I’m dating. She works at the office.” Drake pointed to Zoe, who had three men surrounding her stool. He ground his teeth. Three minutes since he’d stepped away, and the hounds were circling.
“Is that…?” Pete snapped his fingers as if to conjure memory. “Zoe. That’s her name. We had an English Lit class together freshman year. She got in a heated debate with our professor claiming Shakespeare’s playwriting skills were minimalistic and based on miscommunication.” He laughed. “I’ll never forget it. She said his only redeeming quality was usually killing off a lead. Man, I wanted to ask her out, but never had the balls.”
That sounded like her, all right. And she rarely went anywhere without drawing attention. “Let’s go say hello. I’m sure she’d love to see you.” Drake hoped not, but grinned anyway.
They worked their way through the crowd and Drake made it a point to wrap his arm around her waist. “Honey, look who I ran into. Do you remember Pete?”
“English Literature with Professor Dumbass.” Zoe grinned.
Taking the hint, the other guys stepped away while Pete nodded. “Good memory. You look wonderful.”
Thirty minutes later, Zoe and Pete were still talking about the class and Drake was on his second whiskey. He’d passed his social limit somewhere between Zoe’s “remember that stupid tie he wore” and Pete’s “he smelled like menthol cigarettes.”
Downing the rest of his drink, Drake waited for an opening and pounced. “We have an early morning and you’re probably tired from the drive.”
With a smile for Pete, Zoe sighed. “That’s code for I want to go upstairs. It was great seeing you again.”
“You, too. I’ll look for you both tomorrow.”
Taking her hand, Drake walked her to the elevator and rode up in silence with a couple other passengers, keeping his focus on the numbers. In the tension-crackled silence, she lightly skimmed her fingers over his nape and he inhaled hard through flared nostrils. Her touch was a direct current to his southern hemisphere, and in five seconds, his arousal wouldn’t be something he could hide. Judging by her mischievous little grin, she knew that. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her tracing a path across the bodice of her dress, right over the cleft between her breasts.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed in warning. She chuckled under her breath. At their floor, he all but dragged her to their room and fumbled with the keycard while she laughed.
“Would you like me to do it?”
“No.” He slid the card in, got a green light, and twisted the knob. She stepped in ahead of him, but he caught her around the waist before she went too deep in the room and pressed her back against the wall. “I thought we’d never get out of there.”
He kissed her like he’d been dying to do all night. Pressing his body flush with hers, he got lost in the way their mouths mated, the way she could send him over the edge with one stroke of her tongue. Her slim, petite build against his taller one shouldn’t fit so well together, at least not geometrically speaking, yet they did. Skimming his hands down her waist to her thighs, he traveled back up and under her skirt. He teased the skin of her hips around her panties and she moaned.
A thud hit the floor, and he realized it was her shoe. The second thud relocated his heart as anticipation collided with desire.
“Condoms are in my suitcase.” She grabbed his hair by the fistful and climbed him, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Behind his fly, his erection thrust against her heat as he pinned her to the wall once more. So damn good. With a roar, he buried his face in her hair, his hands on her lace-covered ass and working their way under the flimsy material. Her heels dug into his lower back and more of those groan-inducing mewls filled his ear.
“I’m not taking you for the first time against the wall.” Though he wasn’t sure he could move ten feet to the bed, so his protest might be moot.
She nipped his jaw, sucked on his neck. “I don’t care where you take me, just so long as you do it now.” When her hot tongue traced the shell of his ear, he about collapsed.
Christ Almighty and all the angels…
“Zoe, I want to take my time with…” Uhn. She ground against him, using her hands and legs and mouth and tongue to make his brain flatline. “Never fucking mind.”
Using one hand to push off the wall, he did an about face and carried her to the side of the bed, kicking off his own shoes on the way. One arm firmly around her, he dug blindly in her suitcase for the box of protection while she kissed him like a woman starving. His fingers met smooth cardboard. Grabbing the box, he tossed it on the nightstand, shoved the suitcase off the bed, and laid her out on the mattress.
Following her down, he covered her body with his, leaned on his forearms, and stared at her. Flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, heavy lids, even heavier breathing. Hell, a saint couldn’t resist her.
“I don’t want to rush.” Thing was, even if she didn’t have him at the razor’s edge, it had been quite some time since he’d had sex. Chances were, he wouldn’t last long.
Her gaze locked on to his, determined, aroused, while she slid the first button of his shirt undone. Then another. So slowly, he thought he’d expire. He groaned at her pace.
“That’s what I thought.” With a satisfied smile, she jerked the material apart, sending buttons pinging across the room, and urged it off his shoulders.
“Hated this shirt anyway.” He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her deep while struggling to free himself of the damn garment.
She tossed it across the room and fingered the snap on his pants. Teeth released from the zipper and, bringing her knees up, she toed both his slacks and boxers to his ankles. He kicked them off the rest of the way.
Her gaze swept over him, and he swore she was fantasizing things he couldn’t imagine on a good day. Every time she looked at him, it was like she was seeing him for the first time. There was never any doubt she liked what she saw, that her attraction was genuine. It was enough to make a guy bat his chest or preen.
Then her mouth was back on his and hunger had a new name. Lifting his head, he gulped air and shifted to his knees, taking her with him. Gaze on hers, he dipped under her dress and grabbed her hips. “Stand up.” Him guiding her, she stood on the mattress in front of him.
Gaze locked on hers, he slid her panties—green, like the stems on the cherries of her dress—down her legs and helped her step out of them. Then he searched her back for the zipper and released it. The dress pooled at her feet and he tossed it aside.
Hands on her thighs, he looked his fill. Narrow waist. Hourglass hips. Tiny, perky breasts. Long-as-hell legs. Smooth, satin skin. He could do nothing more than stare at her all night and be a happy man. He kissed her belly, her thighs, and then in between. Finding her already wet, he groaned his approval. Always when they’d played, she’d been slick with arousal. For him.
With a deep inhale, she wove her fingers through his hair, encouraging him.
Trying to resist rubbing his throbbing erection, he licked her hard nub and her knees locked. One hand on her hip to steady her, he glided his fingers through her slick folds and sank two fingers inside her. She seemed tight to him, and concern he’d hurt her banded his chest. She was petite in stature, waifish almost, and he didn’t know how leashed his control would be after so long.
With a cry, she bucked. Yes and please and Drake fell from her lips as she thrust against his mouth. Her walls clamped around his fingers and her muscles clenched beneath his hand.
Christ, she could kill him alone with her responsiveness. It not only made it easy to know what she liked, that she enjoyed what he was doing, but he found her verbal foreplay sexier than sin. Lifting his head to watch her, he grazed his thumb over her clit instead, and she came undone. Head thrown back, lips parted, she shuddered.
When her legs gave out, he was expecting it. Gr
abbing her behind the knees, he spread them so she’d land on his thighs, straddling him. Before she got her breath back, he drove his hands in her hair, releasing the ponytail, and kissed her. Hard, desperate, their mouths mated.
Fire ravaged every inch of his skin where they met and he couldn’t find enough places to touch. The slope of her ass, the curve of her spine, the giving flesh of her small breasts. Aftershocks still claimed her, and he was so damn turned on he thought he’d implode.
After a moment, she looked at him, her cheeks flushed. So hard, he fought the need to lay her out and plunge. She deserved better than that, but the longer her gaze perused him, the more difficult it became. Reverence and need and appreciation lit her hazel eyes.
Biting her lip, she settled her hands on his shoulders. Gaze dipping, it followed the path of her fingers as they trailed lower. She threaded them through the thin hair on his chest to his abs. His stomach concaved at her exploration and he tipped his face toward the ceiling, about to snap.
She leaned back and grabbed a condom from the box. With her teeth, she ripped it open, tossed the wrapper, and rolled the latex down his shaft. His hands fisted behind her back as air trapped painfully in his lungs. When her gaze landed on his once more and she rose over him, he realized her intent and grabbed her hips to stop her.
A subtle shift, and she laid out on the sheets. Her hair spilled over the pillow. Like he belonged there, she cradled him between her thighs and emotion rose in his throat. Taking her hands in his, he laced their fingers, pressing them into the mattress by her shoulders, and aligned himself. Utter shock that he was here with her battled with the feral need to claim her, to prove to them both this was not only inevitable, but right.
He nudged his hips forward and was surrounded by giving, soft heat. The breath expelled from his lungs in a whoosh and he dropped his forehead to hers. She kept her eyes on him, green and brown and blue swirling together in a haze of lust.
Halfway, he met resistance and gave her a moment before continuing. Unable to stand the exquisite torture, he pinched his eyes closed, lips parting over hers, and sank the rest of the way. Pausing, he panted against her mouth and realized her breathing was just as uneven.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, nearly unable to withstand the painful pleasure of her subtle walls. Or the fact she was under him. Around him. Inside him…as much or possibly more than he could be inside her.
“Yes.” Her rich voice and lavender scent filled his head. She kissed his closed lids. “Are you?”
“No.” He would forever and never be okay again. That was the kind of ludicrous contradictions she evoked. Safety and danger. Lust and love. Strength and tenderness. Shaking with restraint, his lungs uncooperative, he forced his eyes open. “I’m better than okay.”
Her brows pinched in worry, her gaze seeking. “Drake.” Her throat worked a swallow. “Please, I…”
And he knew. She sought assurance. Because she cared that much and put everyone—him most of all—before herself. Even now, while he was buried inside her and ready to snap, she thought only of his needs.
“Zoe, honey.” He kissed her gently and repeatedly said her name so she’d have no doubt whatsoever he knew who he was with. The only woman he wanted. “I’m going to make love to you now.”
Chapter 23
Eyes burning at his tender words, at the way he’d said her name with reverence, Zoe traced the hard planes of his body. The muscles in his back shifted as she worked her way down to his taut ass, over his hips, and around to where they were joined.
God, how she loved his body.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled. Tension and restraint coiled him, radiated off him in waves. His fingers of one hand clenched hers and released, only to cup her jaw while he slid his other arm between her hips and the mattress. The shift drew them closer, nudged him deeper, and she bit her lip.
His familiar scent of warm male wove around her, the fine hairs on his chest teasing her nipples. Every nerve became hypersensitive as he slowly withdrew. The thickness of his shaft glided along her walls and she felt every inch of him retreat. Oh, and he had a lot of inches. Not so huge he hurt her, but yeah...deliciously filling. When nothing but his tip remained inside her, she made a sound of protest at the loss.
He dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “Shh,” he whispered coarsely against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
Grabbing the back of her knee, he raised her leg and cinched it higher up his back, holding her thigh to keep it there. He thrust inside her, filling her again, and the new angle stole her breath. Every fluid stroke ground his pelvis against her clit, his shaft rubbing a tender spot inside her. Still sensitive from her previous release, she could barely withstand the satisfaction building, the graceful way he moved.
He opened his mouth over the tendon on her neck and increased the pace. She loved the quiet sounds of arousal he made, the way he sometimes held his breath as if unable to take the pleasure. His body grew more rigid and she assumed he was close. She wrapped her arms around him, holding her to him. But he wouldn’t let go, was waiting for…her, she discovered.
Close, she was so close. Warning tingles shot up her spine and she arched, taking him deeper. She hadn’t expected much endurance on his part or to come again. Not after how long it had been for both of them. Time and frequency would take care of the rest later, but she should’ve known. He didn’t just have a strong body, but mind as well, and he would not take from her without giving first.
The arm beneath her moved and he wrapped his fingers around her other knee, spreading her wider and…
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Yes, there.”
She bowed, tensing for the onslaught while chanting his name. Harder, faster, he drove, all while keeping a rhythm meant to decimate. Fluent, graceful, his beautiful athletic body moved over hers. Tension knotted her belly and she gasped, straining on the cusp.
“You feel so damn good.” He nipped her earlobe, and as if understanding what his low, hoarse tone did to her, he spoke against the shell of her ear again. “The things you do to me, Zoe. Come, honey.” He let go of her legs and one hand fisted the pillow, the other tilted her chin to give him better access to her neck.
Tremors tore through her with each stroke of his tongue, mimicking what he was doing inside her. And she exploded. She cried unintelligible words and promises as the release went on and on and—Oh my God—on. Straining, she banded her limbs around him, clutching him to her, and riding out the current.
He barked a sharp cry against her skin and caged her head between two straining biceps. Rigid, he froze above her, then pumped with vigor before gently slowing.
Slumping, he kept his face buried in her hair, breaths soughing while she dare not move lest she shatter the moment. That was…that was…damn. Her brain was mush, her circuits fried.
He unfurled his fingers from the pillow, only to white-knuckle it again. “Sweet Christ.” He groaned and turned his head to kiss her cheek, leaving his lips to linger. “Sweet fucking Christ.”
A laugh built in her throat. Delirious, it escaped, shaking her chest. “My sentiments precisely.”
Carefully, he pulled out, removed the condom, tossed it in the bedside trash, and looked down at her. She was still wrapped around him like a bandage and his weight was deliciously welcome. Satisfaction and traces of awed humor looked back at her. His dark eyes scanned her face while he stroked her jaw.
His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head once and kissed her instead. Framing his face with her hands, she deepened the kiss. Sentiment and emotion poured through him as if he were claiming her, making a point. Days, years passed as it went on until she couldn’t ever remember a time they weren’t exactly as they were, together.
With a sigh, he pressed his lips to her collarbone and rested his head between her breasts. His fingers idly stroked her ribs while she played with
the thick softness of his hair. Stretching her legs out, she settled in, content and warm and safe.
“Am I too heavy?”
Smiling, she hummed. “No. Stay where you are.”
He went quiet for a beat. “There’s so much I want to say to you right now.”
“Is one of them good night? Because that orgasm did me in until sunrise.”
Her chest rumbled with his rough laugh, then he sighed.
Sensing he was at unrest, she rubbed his neck, his back. “What is it? You’re thinking too hard.”
He briefly smiled against her skin. “That’s the thing, Zoe. I can think of little else but you.” Lifting his head, he set his chin down and leveled his wary gaze on hers. “I have this awful feeling you don’t understand there’s no going back for me.”
Air hissed between her teeth and she rubbed her eyes. “I do know.” Or she’d suspected. No matter how they played out, there would never be anyone else for her either. Except he’d had his one true love already, but he’d always be hers. So many what-ifs hovered in the distance. “Hand to God, Drake. I’m doing everything in my power not to hurt you.”
“And there’s my other point. You’d never hurt me.” He nodded when she looked at him. “You don’t have it in you to cause anyone pain, especially me. Talk to me. Tell me why you’re so intent on hurting yourself for the sake of supposedly protecting me.”
They’d discussed this to death, and he knew her reasons. But she’d skirted around the underlying factors he was probably ignoring. “You want a family, and the potential for that was taken from you with Heather’s death. There’s still time, but not if we stay together.”
With a frown, he rose onto his forearms. “What are you talking about?”
“DNA, Drake. If I carry that mutation dementia gene, I run the risk of passing it to my offspring.”
He studied her a long beat, gaze penetrating. “Adoption, then.”