She gave Sawyer another irritated look. “What about him?”
Sawyer leaned close to be heard over that god-awful squawking on the stage. “Look how straight he’s sitting. He’s having the time of his life. Here.”
“So what? You’re sprawled in that seat like you’re riding the subway at midnight. He’s got class.”
“The implication being that I don’t?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just—”
“Bachelor number two,” Sawyer interrupted, not interested in hearing more. “Funeral Director Guy still has no expression. He’s not frowning. He’s not happy. He’s just sitting there, droll as fuck.”
“So what?”
“You’re a passionate woman. Trust me…you want a man who can handle that. What are you going to do with a man who can listen to this screaming and not blink? He wouldn’t know passion if you filled a hearse with it and ran his ass over.”
They were centimeters apart now—close enough that her glare nearly incinerated him. “And this is where you say you are the only guy who can handle me?”
He pressed his lips together, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re asking a dangerous question,” she said, her fingertips tiptoeing along his thigh, headed north.
“I think you have a little thing for danger,” he replied. He returned the favor by moving his hand under her dress until he separated her thighs and her heat threatened to incinerate him.
Baby, just ask.
Her gaze dropped to his lips. It was all the invitation he needed. Instantly, his mouth was on hers. He’d never been more grateful to be in the dark, and the alcove in which they were seated kept them out of view.
Whatever sound of surprise she made was lost, her hesitation shattering in the split second it took him to put his hands on her. The slinky black dress she wore left plenty of room for him to flatten his palm on her leg, then edge it upward as he slanted his head, searching for a newer, deeper angle. He barely noted the crescendo of ear-splitting noise in the background as Kelsie slid her arms around his neck, her cold palms pressing against his heated skin.
He had every intention of warming her up. Melting her. And the completely inappropriate moans and murmurs escaping their joined lips indicated he was succeeding.
Their only company near the alcove was a white-haired man who had to be eighty if he was a day, and his companion, a woman who appeared to be singing, loudly and off-key, along with the onstage performer. Between the darkness and the rows of seats separating them from the older couple, Sawyer had no qualms about edging his hand higher along Kelsie’s thigh until his fingers were wet and her gentle grip on his neck turned into a demand that she voiced between kisses.
“I want you.”
If she had been anyone else, he probably would have nailed her right there in the opera house, but this was Kelsie. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take her home and take his time with her. He’d been thinking for days about stripping her down, and a dark corner in a noisy room wouldn’t cut it. He wanted to explore her every curve, and he wanted to take his sweet time doing it. He wanted to feel the slide of her body against his and indulge in the contrast between hot woman, cool sheets, and heated skin. The idea that she might come to her senses during the ride home terrified him, but he also wanted her to have that chance. Because this would be no quickie. This was new territory for him, and he wanted to explore it for all it was worth.
“You wanna go home?” he asked.
“God, yes.”
“You sure? Because I think you were here to meet men.”
She glared, and he bit back laughter. Then he kissed her again, and while he had her nice and distracted he circled her clit with his thumb. She jerked in her seat, clawing her way closer until she was as plastered to him as the armrest would allow.
“Not playing fair,” she managed between shaky breaths.
“Sweetheart, this is just the beginning. And by the way, I think you stopped playing fair long before I did. You may have forgotten that little hand job of yours, but I sure as hell haven’t.” With that, he stood and helped her to her feet. She scrambled to fix her dress as they exited, and he nearly laughed out loud when he noticed the old man was wearing earplugs. The woman stopped her singing mid-note to give them a dirty look, but he didn’t care.
He was about to get laid.
They made their way out quickly, even though he stopped her a number of times to kiss her. By the time they grabbed a cab, they were laughing and all over each other like a couple of horny teenagers. As soon as he gave the driver the address, Sawyer dragged Kelsie onto his lap so she straddled him, facing the back of the car. Her dress hiked to her hips, giving him full access to the gorgeous expanse of her thighs. He was hard as a damned rock, and she was riding him through two layers of clothes. Her hands cupped his face as she worked her tongue in his mouth, and he met her stroke for stroke. He coaxed her back and forth on his lap, dragging pleasure from the agony of not being inside her, while he tasted every crevice of her mouth and swallowed every moan from her gorgeous lips. When the kiss broke, he wasted no time closing his mouth on her breast through her dress. He tugged on her nipple with his teeth. She threw back her head and drove hard on his dick, paralyzing him.
“Fuck, Kelsie.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
“Not in the cab, babe.” He grinned and let go of her thighs to work her breast free, then softly licked the hard peak.
“Oh, God. More.”
He ignored the request, keeping instead to his gentle teasing. Just the tip of his tongue, the barest of touches, and she was shaking in his arms. He loved that. He loved it more when she reached to cup her own breast, tweaking the arousal there. It was his undoing. Bad at sex, his ass. He sucked her in, biting and tugging and dragging his tongue over her hot flesh until she trembled and he’d nearly come in his pants.
He had no idea how they got back to their apartment building so quickly. Or maybe it had taken forever. He handed the driver a handful of cash and got a wink in return. He and Kelsie tumbled out of the car and into the building, and he was damned grateful they had the elevator to themselves.
The door hadn’t even closed all the way before he had her against the wall. She had both hands in his hair, and his were everywhere else. Her thighs, her waist, her breasts.
“Oh, God,” she muttered. The wrong damned tone of voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m just like all those other floozies you’ve done in the elevator.”
He froze, then retreated just a little. Just enough to look her in the eyes. “You are nothing like those women. Nothing.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s one of your lines.” She offered a weak grin.
“No. Wanna know why?”
“If you have proof…”
“Well, first of all, I’ve never made it past the first date without having some kind of sex.”
“This is charming.”
“Second, I’ve never made it to the fourth date at all.”
“No less charming,” she said dryly.
“Third, I’ve never gone to the fucking opera for anyone. And I’d go again just for what happened in the cab ride here, and if that doesn’t tell you what you need to know, then I’ve got nothing.”
A grin teased her lips. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got something.”
“I definitely have something, and it’s definitely there for you.”
“Hardly an exclusive club.”
“Sweetheart, think hard. Have you ever seen me stumbling out of the elevator dressed like this?”
“No,” she whispered.
“That’s because it hasn’t happened.”
“What happens tomorrow? You don’t want long-term,” she said.
Well. That sentence just lay there like a dead weight. She was right—he wasn’t into anything long-term. But Kelsie—maybe they could be friends afterwards. Tha
t would be new. “You don’t want long-term with me, so we’re even,” he finally countered. “And if you want those bedroom questions laid to rest…”
“There’s the line,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wouldn’t feel right without it.”
“Good.” He closed the distance, capturing her in another kiss just as the doors opened to her floor. He hadn’t asked whether she preferred her place or his. He figured she wouldn’t want any part of his bed, all things considered, and her concerns over the elevator pretty well confirmed that.
Her hand shook when she tried to unlock her apartment. Minidick must have heard the scratching at the knob, because he proceeded to lose his shit. Great. That little cockblocker would probably kill her mood completely. “You got any of that meat left?”
“Yeah,” she said. Shaky. Sawyer closed his hand on hers, helping her get the key in the lock. She pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold while he stood there. Hesitating. Not because he didn’t want her, but because he didn’t want her to feel like she had to. She thought he knew every line in the book, but the truth was he’d never needed lines. At least not anything that required concentration or effort.
Minidick fan-rushed Kelsie and stood at her feet, shaking and wagging and yipping. A quick glance at the food and water bowls made it clear the crisis was all in the mutt’s head. Kelsie must have been on the same page, because she met Sawyer’s eyes with a shy grin. Then she reached for his hand and pulled him inside.
“You can’t undo this,” he said. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d never wasted so much time on warnings, but the thought of her regretting him made him ache almost as much as did his desire for her.
“You trying to get out of this? Or am I just not good enough to join the roster?” She punctuated the jab with a challenging smirk.
“Sweetheart, right now you obliterate the roster.” And me. But he didn’t say that.
“Good, because I really don’t care about your damned list.”
Profanity. He liked where this was going.
He turned and locked the door, and when he pivoted back around, he almost lost his breath. She had that same flushed, exuberant look she’d worn after their visit to the club, only this time it was for him. That black dress was probably supposed to be more modest than it appeared on her, but all he saw was curve after curve he couldn’t wait to explore. Deep brown eyes focused on him with a soft intensity that made him feel things he’d never felt before, but he wasn’t going there. His entire purpose in her life was to find her a man, and for a thousand different reasons, that man could never be him.
This was just sex.
He drew her a step toward him, then reached behind her to unzip the dress. It didn’t fall to the floor—it was too clingy for that particular cliché to happen—so he knelt in front of her and ever so slowly began to work the fabric up her thighs, palms flattened against her skin, his face within licking distance of dragging her, screaming, into her first orgasm of the night. His mouth literally watered at the thought, but instead of diving in and tearing through her underwear with his teeth, he looked up. Met her eyes. They were a little glazed.
With his hands now on her hips, he stood. Her dress bunched around her waist as he eased it higher, baring the curve of her waist, then dragging the material past her breasts. As soon as those peaks fell free, he longed to taste them. To lick and suck until she screamed his name, but he didn’t want to leave her with the dress around her neck—he needed her naked, yesterday—so he stayed on task, lifting the garment from her shoulders and easing it over her head.
Finally, she was bare to him, but for her panties and high heels. He held up the dress. “You wanna hang this—”
She calmly took the proffered garment, then tossed it. It landed on the floor, and Minidick promptly ran over and made a nest of it.
“Bedroom?” he asked. Not because he didn’t know where it was—the apartments were too small and too much alike for there to be any mystery there—but as one last stab at permission. One last chance for her to be damned sure.
She merely turned and gave him a stunning view as she walked to her bedroom, heels clacking on the hardwood.
Holy. Shit.
Eyes never leaving her, he took off his jacket and laid it across the back of a chair. In the same moment, she looked back over her shoulder, coy as fuck, sending all traces of civility into the stratosphere. Screw that. He tore at his shirt, freeing himself of the fabric just as he entered her bedroom. He tossed the garment, then shut the door. When he glanced at the bed, the fluffy blue and gray comforter barely registered. He just needed to know where they were headed, and fast. And she was clearly on the same page, because her hands were working loose his fly.
“Do you have protection?” she murmured.
“Yeah.” He was surprised, given her opinion of him, that she had to ask.
“Did you have it for me?” She hesitated. “I mean, you’re going to give me pointers, right?”
He stopped short of breaking out his largest and most enthusiastic point and just stared. “What?”
“You’re going to tell me how I can…improve?”
“Yeah.” What the fuck ever. Whatever it takes to get laid. That’s what you do.
She grinned at that, making him feel like an ass, then shrieked when he picked her up and tossed her playfully onto the bed, following with a kiss that had her digging her nails into his back. He quickly backed off the caveman thing, instead corralling every ounce of restraint into a thorough exploration of her mouth, slow and easy. Captivating. Jesus, she stole his every breath, driving a hunger in him he’d never known. He couldn’t get enough. Even her kisses teased, sweet as motherfucking honey while driving hard every sinful thought he’d ever had in his life. When they finally broke for breath, she smiled and looked like an angel.
He backed off to lose the rest of his clothes and realized he was shaking. Shaking. He managed to remember to grab a condom from his pocket before tossing the pants. He kicked off his shoes and hooked his socks with one finger, then flung them. The whole while, he watched her watch him, and he loved every fucking expression she made. Loved that her gaze lingered on his erection.
He hoped she knew—really knew—it was for her. But there was no way he’d bring that up again. She’d already spent too much time remembering his past. Hell, at this point he barely could. It seemed impossible there’d been any woman before her.
Or that there’d be one after. But that had to be his hormones getting the better of him, because there was always someone else. That was fucking life.
He didn’t waste time crawling over her. Instead, he went right for the sweet spot, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he dove in face first. He’d been dying to taste her. Making sure she was good and wet for him had been a secondary goal, and a useless one because she was definitely wet. And trembling. He thought good and hard about sending her over the edge right then and there, but immediately ditched that plan, mostly because he was one selfish bastard. He wanted to be the one inside her while that happened. Not just his tongue, but him. He tore open the condom and rolled it on, maintaining eye contact. She lay there, bedding bunched between each of her hands just like he’d fantasized, her face a beautiful mix of pleasure and agony. Good to know it wasn’t just him. Her eyes held no questions. Just burning desire.
Ditto.
His dick zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. His legs quaked with an absolute need to slam into her, but he held back, instead taking his time to relish every long moment. By then, his arms were also shaking. The woman was an inferno, and sinking into her was the wrong kind of hell. The kind that was messing with his head a little too much.
She took a sharp breath.
“You okay?”
“Beyond okay,” she managed. The comforter was wasted under her grip.
He was, too.
Buried balls-deep and fucking lost.
She was so tight. So hot. He did the first of two things he couldn
’t resist… He lowered to his elbows, propping just enough to keep from crushing her with his weight, and claimed her mouth. Long, slow, and lazy, his kisses swallowed her every whimper as he rocked his hips against her, driving hard. Every intention he held of taking it easy was obliterated by the exploding intensity between them.
Fuck. Yes.
His fingers were tangled in her hair, his tongue in her mouth. She sucked and licked it, drowning him. Saving him.
He pushed to one knee, changing up the angle and driving harder. The result was instant. Before a gasp even left her lips, she was shuddering, her spasms sending him careening into oblivion. His ears fucking rang from the force of his own orgasm.
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah. Right there with you.”
He hadn’t moved. He was still buried inside her.
And then it hit him. This was the part where he took off, but he didn’t want to go anywhere. He didn’t want to move. Not unless it was for a new position—a new angle from which to discover her body.
He’d never wanted another angle.
God…he’d never really kissed a woman during sex. He did plenty to get there, but that added layer of intimacy had always been a means to an end. Never part of the act. And realizing that made him want to kiss her again. Gently, he explored her mouth, slanting his head for new angles, discovering new pieces of her. Before long, her breathlessness took on a new tone, and she was tilting her hips, forcing him impossibly deeper. He needed a second condom before they went there, so as much as it pained him, he withdrew.
“Where are you headed?” she asked. “And what about my tips?”
He almost laughed. He had a tip for her, all right, but it had nothing to do with her stellar bedroom skills. Her ex was not just an ass, but a really dumb one.
“Right here.” He punctuated that by closing his mouth on her breast. She immediately grabbed his head and arched against him, pushing him into sweet, uncharted territory. He sucked one side and fingered the other, twisting the tight nipple between his fingers. Then he switched sides, leaving her gasping. Once he’d left her whimpering, he worked his way lower, kissing his way from her breast to her stomach to the crease of her inner thigh. Every time she adjusted her hips, he outmaneuvered her.
For Seven Nights Only (Chase Brothers) Page 9