“It’s beautiful at night, too,” Abby remarked.
“Yes, it is. I like to relax in here. Thought you might like it too.” He tapped his glass to hers softly. “Cheers.”
They both sipped their wine and settled back into the plush cushions. Her nerves tingled, warmth flooded her, and her heartbeat kept its rapid pace. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding. “This couch is big and luscious,” she said, speaking to break the silence. “It’s kind of sucking me in.”
Pierce chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve fallen asleep on it many times. Great for naps.”
“I’d sit here and read for hours,” she said. “With the water out there, the sky, the quiet, this cushy couch . . . yeah, who am I kidding, I’d probably fall asleep here too.”
His smile was warm. “What do you like to read?”
The question surprised her, having figured that reading likely wasn’t one of his favorite hobbies. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m curious,” he said, as if it was obvious.
She blushed softly. She kept underestimating him. She had to stop doing that. “I like fiction,” she said. “Literary fiction, commercial fiction, historical fiction, and . . . well . . . romances. I like those, too. I admit it.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said with an easy grin. “Do you like the sweet love stories, or the hot, sexy ones?”
“Um . . .” Abby blushed furiously.
“Aha!” he cried. “The hotter, the better, huh? Atta girl. And why not? Sex is great stuff.”
“From what I remember,” she mumbled. With a self-deprecating chuckle, she sipped her wine.
He grinned, studying her for a minute before speaking. “I haven’t been around women like you in a long time,” he said quietly. “Maybe ever. You’re so different from the women I’ve dated. That’s a good thing,” he was quick to add. “You’re very different from me, too, though. In a lot of ways.”
Abby nodded without speaking, waiting to see where his train of thought would lead.
“I’m drawn to you, Abby. I have been from day one. I mean, yeah, you’re really beautiful, but that’s not all it is. It’s that you’re so real.” He set his glass on the end table, then turned back to her and caressed her cheek, his eyes on hers. “You’re warm, you’re grounded, you’re just . . . normal. I like that. I crave that. Do you know that?”
“No, I didn’t know,” she said, almost in a whisper. Her throat felt thicker, and it was hard to get words out with him staring at her like that. So intent, so earnest. His stunning blue eyes absolutely smoldered as they stared into hers. She felt like he was trying to read her, trying to peer into her soul . . . it was unnerving.
His hand cupped her cheek to hold her face, and it made her breath catch. “That’s why I was drawn to you, and kept after you. You’re a bright, edgy woman, wrapped up in girl-next-door sweetness. You kind of fascinate me.” A hopeful smile flickered across his face. He took her hand and held it delicately, caressing her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.
Pierce Harrison is a man who plays, not stays. But he seemed completely sincere.
God, she wanted to trust him, believe him. Her heart was urging her to....
For all the times she wondered why he’d be interested in just a normal, everyday woman from a small town, she got it now—if he was telling the truth. He liked her because she was just a normal, everyday woman. His opposite, and the polar opposite of the women he’d dated. It was so simple, really, and it made sense.
With a shaky hand, she set her glass of wine down on the end table closest to her, turned back to him, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Wow.”
* * *
Pierce watched Abby’s every move, every flicker in her expressive eyes, with careful restraint. Her expression was schooled into neutrality, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that he could see the pink tint that had bloomed on her cheeks and chest. His words had made an impact.
His pulse was doing a bloody conga beat. He didn’t know what had come over him, telling her the things he had so bluntly. He’d surprised himself as much as he obviously had surprised her. But something about her always made him want to talk. Want to curl his body around hers, hold her close, and tell her every damn thing in his head. He trusted her. He didn’t trust many women, but yes, he trusted her. Abby McCord was honest and true, and he felt that deep in his bones.
She was also strikingly beautiful, and she didn’t even know it. His eyes roved along the nape of her smooth, pale neck. Thoughts of tasting the skin there battered him. What he wanted to do to her . . . he wanted to nibble on her, lick, suck, devour . . .
He reached up to slide his arm around her shoulders and move in closer. Her bare skin was satiny smooth under his hand, and his heart gave a little stutter at the feel of her. He ran his fingers up the nape of her neck, under the length of her hair, to the base of her skull. Moving his fingertips through the silky strands, he played with it softly and said, “Hi.”
“Hi yourself.” She shivered and pressed her lips together, the look in her eyes beckoning him. Lust shot through him without mercy.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice seductive.
“No,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. “You kind of . . . tickled me.”
As he smiled, his fingertips roamed gently along her scalp, enjoying the feel of her soft hair through his fingers. He watched the color heighten in her cheeks. His other hand reached up to cup her chin, and her breath caught again. “Abby.” He tipped her face up, his gaze sweeping slowly over her features as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. He watched the emotions swirl in her dark blue eyes. “Don’t be nervous,” he murmured. He expected her to deny it, even though he could feel the tension in her shoulders.
But she licked her lips and whispered, “I don’t know why I am, but I am. I hate that. Sorry.”
Pierce almost reeled from the wave of feeling that crashed over him. Her soft admission had him feeling things he hadn’t felt in ages. Warmth cascaded through his insides, leaving him intoxicated, strangely protective, and wanting. He wanted her more than ever.
Leaning in close, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t be.” He lightly kissed her earlobe, her jaw, her cheek, her forehead, all the while cradling her head in his hands. Her breathing stuttered, he could hear it and feel it. He played with her soft hair with one hand and held her face delicately with the other. In a sultry murmur he told her, “I don’t want to keep my hands off you for another second, so I’m going to start exploring your beautiful body now. . . .” Her breath caught, and he smiled. He kissed her brow, her other cheek, the corner of her mouth. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, heard her breathing speed up. “But if at any time you want to stop, you tell me. And we’ll stop. Okay?”
She nodded and pulled in a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes met and locked with his, giving a silent, unmistakable green light. “Kiss me already.”
He covered her mouth with his, kissing her gently at first, not rushing, savoring the moment. She turned her body to him for better access and reached up to touch his face. Her fingers curled into the waves of his hair as he coaxed her lips apart. His tongue swept into her mouth, meeting hers, tasting wine and sweetness. She always tasted so sweet. He deepened the kiss, she whimpered softly into his mouth, and as always, desire shot through him like lightning.
The kisses heated slowly, simmering and intensifying. He felt her melt against him, her hands tremble slightly as they roamed over his shoulders and into his hair, only spurring on his desire. His hands moved down to stroke the exposed skin of her arms, thanking God she’d chosen the thin-strapped dress so he could really feel her as he held her. Her mouth opened under his, taking the kisses deeper, matching his growing hunger.
He eased her back to lie down on the soft cushions, drowning her in sumptuous kisses as the heat grew and flamed. Their hands and mouths roamed restlessly over each other, learning each other’s bodies and savoring every sensation. Pierce
worked to take it slow and not just whip off the dress and take her right there on the couch. But Christ, how he wanted to.
“Abby, wait . . .” He rolled off her to reach into his pocket, pulled out a condom, and placed it on the floor next to the couch. Then he stared down into her face, brushing her hair back with his hand. “You want to stay here, or take this upstairs?”
“Um . . .” A mischievous grin popped onto her face. “Have you ever had sex in this room before? In this house at all?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Tell the truth.”
“No, ma’am, I have not had sex anywhere in this house.”
Abby’s grin turned seductive. “Then take me wherever you want me.”
His blood heated, raced, and his already-hard cock throbbed. “Which time?”
She snorted out a laugh.
“Maybe I’ll take you in every room in this house,” he said, grinning wickedly.
“You have that kind of stamina, stallion?”
“You’re about to find out.”
His lips sealed to hers, demanding and carnal. Her mouth was so warm, so inviting . . . he wanted to taste her all night. He cradled her head in his hands and ravished her mouth, wild and wanting. He drew her in to his body and pressed his hips against hers, needing the contact. His hips rolled and his pelvis ground against her, drawing out a low groan from his chest. She dragged her foot up the back of his leg, then wrapped her leg around his, giving his hips better access to rock against her.
The hot kisses grew ravenous, and their breath turned into moans and gasps. She took obvious delight in unbuttoning his shirt and spreading it wide open, letting her eyes take him in before running her hands and mouth over the planes of his smooth, muscled chest. With curiosity, her fingers traced over some of the tattoos on his arms, the one down his side, near his ribs. “Why so many?” she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.
“I got addicted,” he said, his hand cupping her breast. “You get one, then you want more. . . .” He fondled her, the soft, firm flesh like heaven to him. She pinched his nipple and gave it a tiny twist, sending a jolt of liquid heat straight to his cock. A lustful groan ripped from his throat. He lunged for her then, holding her face to crush his lips against hers. The momentum of his lunge made them sway dangerously; still locked in their passionate embrace, they rolled right off the couch and toppled to the floor, landing with a clumsy thud.
She moaned. Not in pain at hitting the carpet, not in shock at falling together . . . but in mindless passion. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she kissed him, her need for him building. Stunned, he realized that crashing to the ground made her hot. She was lost in the moment, driven by lust, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
That did it.
With one move, he yanked at her dress, pulling it off over her head. His fingers trailed over the lace of her strapless bra lightly, teasing her already-hard nipples, even as he shifted to lie beside her and ached for more. He decided the bra was even more beautiful as he unhooked it, removed it, and threw it recklessly across the room. She laughed until his mouth closed hungrily over her breast, turning her giggle of delight into a hot-blooded moan of ecstasy.
He couldn’t get enough of her skin. Tongue, lips, teeth, hands—he wanted to cover every inch of her. She clawed at his back as he devoured. Her warm, soft hands slid over his back, down his sides, along his hips . . . then down to his pants, pulling at the button and zipper in a frenzy. Her hands glided over his ass as she worked to get his pants and boxer briefs off at the same time. He pulled away for a second to help her.
He felt the coolness of the air-conditioning hit his naked body as he rolled back to her. “God, I want you, Abby,” he said, his voice rough and husky.
“I want you, too,” she whispered. “All of you.”
Her words made him groan before he suckled at her other breast. She reached down in between them, feeling the ridges of muscle in his abs, the lines of his hips, over his ass, a total exploration with her hands. Which was fair, since he was doing the same to her. His greedy hands canvassed every soft curve and his lips followed. But when she grasped his erection and stroked, he hissed out a breath at the incredible sensation. So much for taking it slow their first time; they were like a speeding train, and on for the wild ride together.
As she continued to touch him, his hands moved up her shapely thighs. After he briefly admired the matching piece of light blue lace there, his fingers deftly removed it, sliding it down her legs. Her breath caught, she stopped stroking him, and their eyes met. He grabbed her hand, pulling it away from him to pin it to the floor over her head, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Oh my God,” she gasped as he moved in to kiss her.
His hand trailed up her thigh with deliberate slowness, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he slid a finger inside her. A ragged cry burst from her into his mouth, vibrating against his lips as her body arched. She was so wet, so ready for him, it actually made him shudder. It was all he could do to pace himself, hold on to whatever fraying control he had left. He wanted to give her pleasure first. It had been so long for her . . . he wanted to watch her fall apart before his eyes. “That’s it, Abby. That’s it.”
“Oh, God . . .” She grasped his shoulder as her head fell back. “Wait . . . I just . . .” A raspy groan floated out of her as he added a second finger, thrusting slowly in and out of her. “Ohhhh my God,” she panted.
“Let me touch you,” he whispered, moving up to nibble on her ear as his fingers moved deeper inside her. The hand he held above her head tightened, squeezing her fingers hard. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”
“God, yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m just getting started.” His tongue flicked at her ear as he bit the lobe and she moaned again. Her skin was so hot, flushed, and dewy as he worked her, his fingers increasing the pace. The sound of her ragged breathing was so erotic to him. He licked her neck, her ear, and whispered seductively, “Let me take you.”
“You have me.” Passion made her voice raspy, made her dark blue eyes cloudy as they slipped closed and she threw her head back. She was so gorgeous, so responsive . . . his teeth scraped along her neck and she writhed beneath him, desperately wanting . . . hot desire seared through him, making him ache. “Pierce . . . that feels so good.”
“Good. Let yourself go.” His fingers moved inside her, increasing the pace, while his thumb massaged her clit. Her hips bucked as she cried out, her back arching. “God yeah, baby. That’s it. I want to watch you let go. I’m going to watch you, and it’s going to be amazing.”
Her hips rocked and she moaned louder, from deep in her throat. The sound reverberated through him, sending trails of fire through every nerve in his body. Her fingernails dug into his skin. “Ohhh God, I’m too close . . .”
“Go with it,” he murmured. He kissed the soft spot on her neck, bit her gently as his fingers thrust deeper, harder. Her back arched off the floor this time as she cried out. She clutched at him, and her eyes slipped closed again. Her hips moved in the primal rhythm he’d set for her. Watching her get lost in her desire had his whole body throbbing, but he held himself back. All that mattered at that moment was her. Her passion, her need. He wanted to give her that release. Sweet, screaming, mindless release, watching her break apart, all by his doing.
She buried her face in his neck, gasping and whimpering as his fingers moved relentlessly inside her. He covered her mouth with his and she kissed him back hungrily, her fingers raking through his hair, gripping hard. With another throaty moan, she panted, “Pierce, I’m—ohhh, God . . .”
“Come for me, Abby,” he coaxed in a sultry murmur against her ear. His fingers were merciless, driving faster. He looked into her eyes and rumbled in a husky voice, “Come on, baby. Come for me.”
She exploded beneath him with a lusty shout, writhing helplessly as the orgasm overtook her. Her loud cries sent triumphant electricity shooting through his veins. He felt her body shudder and buck benea
th him, felt her nails dig into his shoulder while her other hand, still over her head and entwined with his, squeezed his fingers hard. He watched her face, mesmerized, and worked her body as the climax consumed her. Then, just as the waves began to subside, he kneeled up to reach for the condom. He quickly got it on and moved to lie on top of her. As he settled between her legs, she hadn’t even caught her breath. She lay panting and flushed as she stared back at him.
“Christ, that was beautiful,” he said, kissing her lips. “You’re so beautiful, Abby.” Then his hips shifted and he thrust into her smoothly; her body welcomed him, still slick and warm. He moaned with pleasure at the feel of being inside her. Time seemed to stop for a wavy minute. He held himself still and ran his hands over her hair, brushing it back from her face with tender strokes. He looked into her eyes until she gazed back just as deeply. He wanted that connection with her. Then he started to move, had to move, unable to hold back any longer.
Her legs wrapped around his waist to draw him in deeper and she rocked with him, matching his quick, powerful thrusts beat for beat. Her hands moved over his shoulders, down his back, down to his ass, up his back again. The feel of her fingers exploring his skin, her lips against his neck as he pushed harder into her, drove his desire into overdrive. In the quiet darkness, only the sounds of their heavy breathing and soft groans filled the space as they moved together. She clutched his broad shoulders and held on as he thrust again, and again, and again. Faster, harder, deeper inside her . . . nothing but sensation, nothing but her.
When she hoarsely whispered his name against his lips, it pushed him over the edge. He growled into her neck as he reached his powerful release, clinging to her as he came. She arched to him and cried out; still shuddering, he ground his hips against hers, bringing her to climax again. Their bodies rocked together, holding on, drawing out the shattering moment to last as long as possible, until the rough moans turned to jagged panting, until the fiery, hungry kisses turned slow and soft and tender.
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