Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home
Page 48
Then she leaned forward and bit him.
He jerked. “Judas Priest, you’re killing me.”
She licked the same spot and felt him shudder. “Remember what I said about finishing what you started?”
“Can we forget about the wall?”
“What wall?” Another bite.
Her teeth had barely left his skin before he turned from the waist and whipped out an arm, tucked her in tight between his body and the paneling. His gaze seared into hers as he anchored the fingertips of his left glove in his teeth and yanked his hand free, let the glove drop to the floor and followed suit with the right. With a groan he slid his fingers into her hair. He lifted her face to his, thumbs stroking the edges of her mouth. She reached out, encountered the leather of his tool belt and pulled him in closer. Something long and hard pressed against her belly, and it wasn’t his hammer.
“Want to tell me what this means?” he asked hoarsely.
She looked down. “That despite the work boots, you’re into me?”
“That goes without saying. I mean this. You. Here. With me.”
“You’re not going to feed me that line again, are you? That I’m too good for a handful of hookups?”
“Is that what you’re looking for?”
“I’m looking for whatever will work for us over the next five weeks.”
His thumbs stilled against her lips. “Does this have anything to do with the booze I poured down the drain? Because you and I both know my problem won’t disappear that easily.”
“It has to do with the fact that I can’t sleep for wanting you. And what you said yesterday, about waiting, and how it can be the wrong thing to do. We’ve already wasted a week.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Though I admit it’s quite the turn-on, knowing you’re not under the influence of anything but lust.”
He groaned her name and skimmed his hands down the sides of her neck. “I’ve wondered,” he whispered. “Whether you taste the same.” When he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to one corner of hers, then nipped at her lower lip, she started to vibrate. He touched his tongue to the same spot and her hands climbed frantically up his naked chest and knotted in his hair. Their mouths collided.
The kiss was desperate and searching, a frenzied reunion. The scrape of stubble, the clash of teeth, the crush of bodies—the joining of their mouths was as much a scolding as a pleasure. Why had they waited so long?
She lifted her left leg and wrapped it around his hip, dragging him even closer, indifferent to the tool belt digging at her inner thigh. She was frantic to ease the ache in her core, the ache that cried out for the hot pressure of his erection. Damn it, he was too tall. She pushed up on her toes and wriggled, yanked on Joe’s hair to signal—
Suddenly with one hand on her ass and an unflattering grunt he hefted her. There. Oh, yes, there. The shock of moisture against her center meant her panties were already soaked. She wrapped her other leg around him and thrust forward. Joe broke off the kiss and supported her with his other hand.
“Welcome back,” he rasped.
She tipped her head against the wall and laughed, exhilarated by him, her own daring, their mutual need and the pulsing promise of release. He laughed, too, reclaimed her lips and tangled his tongue with hers. When she started to move he sucked the breath right out of her mouth.
She pistoned against him, slowly at first, then faster, and faster still. The pressure built—agonizing, delicious and demanding. She started to pant. Joe buried his face in her neck and muttered bald, bad words against her skin, his hips holding her in place, his hands kneading her ass, until her climax burst upon her. Her body seized, her center throbbing as fiery sparkles of bliss shot outward.
“Joe,” she cried.
“Right here, my sweet.” He kissed her slowly, deeply. She sagged against him, dropped her head onto his shoulder.
“Dear God in heaven.”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with it.”
She smiled against his skin, felt him shift position. “You’re not going to drop me, are you?”
“As much as I hate the thought of putting you down, we’re running a risk, here.”
Allison lifted her head—no easy task, since her neck felt about as strong as a blade of grass—and followed his gaze toward the window. She stared at Joe’s reflection, at his muscled torso and long legs, the forward angle of his hips, and got turned on all over again.
“Oh, my,” she whispered.
He huffed a ragged laugh. “Oh, no, you don’t. With the lights on, anyone can see in. We need to take this somewhere else.” Gently he eased her legs from around his waist and lowered her to the floor. She clung to his biceps.
“Afraid Audrey’s out there?”
He made a face. “Any minute now she’ll come busting in, shouting about a meat crisis.”
She pressed a palm to the rigid thickness behind his zipper. “I think you might be having one.”
He moaned, and reached out. She dodged him and clomped over to the light switch, slapped it to the off position and clomped back, the glow from the light posts illuminating her way. “Where were we?”
“Wait.” He caught her hand before she could touch him again. “Not here. Not like this. Let’s go to my place. I’ll hit the shower—”
“Yes, to your room. No, to the shower.” She tugged him toward the door. “And bring the tool belt.”
“I think I can keep you entertained without it.” He pulled to a stop, unbuckled the tool belt and let it drop. She nearly went down right along with it when she saw how low his jeans rode his hips. Her palms twitched as she recalled the warm, coarse feel of that thin smattering of hair that covered his chest and abs and disappeared behind the solid line of his fly....
He bit out a swear word when he saw where her gaze was focused. Snatched up his shirt and propelled her out onto the sidewalk, took a second to shut the door behind them. Snagged her gaze. Pushed her back against the door and took her mouth. She kissed him just as hungrily, intoxicated by the need she’d roused in him. When she started to wrap a leg around him again he choked out a laugh and pulled away.
“We need to go. Now.” He grabbed her hand and led her toward the office. She resisted when they neared the door to her room.
“Here. We can go in here.”
“Yeah?” His mouth tilted as he looked her over. “Can’t wait to see where you hid the key.”
* * *
JUST AS HE’D SUSPECTED, Allison had locked herself out of her room. Not that it mattered, since he wanted her in his bed.
Though how the hell they made it to his bedroom without one of them tripping over Allison’s bootlaces, Joe had no clue. But finally he had her right where he wanted her. Now to be able to see her...
He groped for the bedside lamp and tapped the base once. A dim light spilled across the bed he was damned glad he’d taken time to straighten that morning. Before he could turn around a soft pair of arms snaked around his waist and two hands busied themselves unfastening his fly. He turned in her arms before she could free him, planted a swift kiss on the lower lip she’d stuck out.
“Let me get my boots off.” He dropped onto the edge of the bed, then got distracted by the sight of her standing before him, hair tousled, eyes half-lidded, nipples poking through her pajama top. His gaze didn’t make it any farther south. He stretched out a hand but she danced out of reach.
“Naked,” she demanded. “Now.” She kicked out of her boots and reached for the hem of her top—and lifted an eyebrow. He lunged at his laces, fingers fumbling since he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. Somehow he managed it, ripped off his boot and sock and tossed them aside. She pulled off her top and threw it in the same direction.
“Now the other one,” she said. But her words barely registered.
“Hello?” She slid her thumbs behind her waistband. “The other boot?”
He growled and fell back, practically shredded the laces to free his foot. The second boot and sock sailed across the room. Then he shot up off the bed and mimicked her pose, thumbs at his waistband, chest heaving...gaze roving every sinful, satin inch of her.
Her gaze was locked. On his groin. He eased the zipper down and she licked her lips. His fingers shook. So did her best sexy voice when she suggested breathlessly, “On the count of three.”
He started. “One...”
“Two...”
“Three.”
She had her bottoms off before he did, which was just fine with him. God, she was beautiful. She was also laughing her ass off.
Probably because his jeans had caught at his knees.
“Allow me.” She kissed him, her mouth opening under his as her fingers worked his boxers free of his erection. She pushed them over his ass and down, squeezing as she went, sinking slowly to her knees. Her chin caught the tip of his dick and he inhaled sharply then stopped breathing altogether when she paused to give that a squeeze, as well. She tugged his clothing free and made a leisurely climb back up his body, her tongue sliding him nearly into oblivion. He yanked her up the rest of the way, held her face before she could go for another lip-lock.
“I’ve been sweating all day,” he reminded her gruffly. “I really need that shower.”
“I like you sweaty.” She ran her hands over his pecs and down his biceps, wrapped her fingers around his elbows and tugged him closer. They both sucked air at the long-awaited thrill of skin on skin. With a gratified moan she wreathed her arms around his neck while his hands explored her back, her waist, her ass.
“I never had you sweaty.” Her grin trembled. “Sweaty from doing me, yes. But never sweaty from doing hard labor.”
Even as her words made him stiffer than he’d ever been, his skin feeling two sizes too small and his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, he got it. She wanted this to be new, untouched by their past. He’d do his damnedest to give that to her.
All the things he hadn’t done for her, all the time he hadn’t taken to learn her body, to appreciate her passion, because he’d had a meeting or a phone call or a hangover. He’d been a selfish bastard. But she was giving him a second chance and he wouldn’t waste it.
He’d do it all now. Take the time now. Now, and in an hour, and in an hour after that, and as often as she’d let him over the next five weeks. His pulse rocketed.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her eyes searching his.
“Not okay. Amazing.” He fell back onto the bed and took her with him, rolled and levered over her. She hummed when he nuzzled her neck, gasped when he tongued her breasts, giggled when he blew into her navel. When he kissed his way lower she stiffened.
“Condom,” she said suddenly, and reared up, as if prepared to lead the search party. He grasped her hips and held her in place.
“You in a rush, city girl?” He scooted a little lower, gently spread her thighs. “Relax. We won’t need them for a while.”
“We won’t?” she squeaked, her muscles rigid beneath his hands. Then in a different tone, one tinged with hope, she ventured, “Them?”
He responded with a leisurely lick, a direct hit. She jumped and made a strangled sound, fought to close her legs, clutched his hair with one hand. Before she could start yanking he treated her to a few flicks and lazy circles of his tongue. She hesitated, her hips quivering, and he knew he had her.
“Lie back,” he murmured. “Let me play.”
Sixty seconds later her hips had gone from quivering to full-out bucking. She thrashed on the bed, directing her choked screams into the pillow she held to her face—he suspected more to hide her embarrassment than to control her noise level.
One finger and his tongue were all he’d needed to take her to the edge. To push her over, he added his thumb. She flung her hips up and spasmed, pillow forgotten, hands fisted in the bedspread, throat working as she released a shattered cry.
Softly he blew on the apex between her thighs, wanting to soothe, reveling in the sight of her mindless satisfaction. Eyed the hapless pillow. Hopefully by the time he was through with her she’d have lost her self-consciousness about this particular act.
By the time he was through with her. He knew better. That time would never come. The thought of leaving her behind in D.C.—the thought of leaving her at all—made his heart curl into itself.
But he couldn’t help feeling smug as he kissed his way back up a body still racked with tremors. She lay spread-eagled and panting, perspiration gleaming on her skin, astonishment widening her eyes.
“You...you never did that for me before.”
“I missed out on as much as you did. Trust me. I plan to make up for it.”
She flung her arms and legs around him and pulled him in tight, as if his words had triggered some kind of man trap. His erection pressed into the hot cradle of her thighs and they both groaned. She grabbed his face and bit him on the chin.
“I need you inside me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
WITH A HUSKY CHUCKLE of anticipation she helped him roll on a condom. Then she stretched out on her back, arms over her head, body straining toward his. He’d forgotten how insatiable she could be. He braced himself above her and stared down into her glowing face. The reality of having her in his bed, of having all night to touch her and taste her and make her scream, filled him with a gladness, a rightness he hadn’t felt since before his brother’s death. He lowered his head, slid his mouth along hers for a lingering kiss.
“Just so you know,” he said. “You taste even better than I remember.”
He positioned himself between her legs, nudged her knees up and eased forward. She was slick, but so tight she didn’t want to take him in. He pulled back and tried again, and just as he pushed she hooked her ankles behind his ass and thrust upward. She gasped as he slid home, her inner muscles gripping him snugly.
He paused, gritting his teeth, somehow finding the strength to resist the urge to thrust again. He blew out a breath and rested his chin on her head. His arms shook. “You okay?” he asked, the question not much more than a grunt.
“Not okay,” she said, echoing his earlier words. “Amazing. And by the way...” She swept her palms across his cheekbones, pushed his hair out of his face and grinned. “Welcome back to you, too.”
His heart unfurled and he returned her grin. But when he began to move, her hands pushed at his shoulders. Had he hurt her? He went still again, biting back a whimper. She really was bent on killing him.
He was about to ask again if she was okay but her brown-and-green-flecked gaze didn’t look the least bit troubled. In fact, the way she studied him... Her lips parted and his breath stalled. Was she about to tell him she’d changed her mind? That five weeks wouldn’t be enough? That she liked Castle Creek so much she’d—
“You’re softer,” she mused.
He blinked. “Not something a man wants to hear when he’s inside you.”
“You know what I mean. Emotionally. You’ve changed.”
Maybe he had changed. But was it enough? Was it too late? A sudden hopeless fury clawed at his insides. He twisted his mouth into something feral, withdrew from her satin heat and thrust again, deep. Allison gasped, and threw back her head. His thrusts graduated to plunges as her moans and whimpers grew rougher and more demanding and she slammed her hips up to meet his, again and again. He felt the pressure cresting, his balls tighten, the sweet, boiling lure of completion. Damn it. He wanted to make it last but there was no way, no way in hell he could d
raw this out.
“It’s been too long,” he gritted. “I can’t—”
“Joe!” She went rigid, then started to shudder. Her body arched and her fingernails dug into his shoulders and the fierce, rolling clamp of her insides launched him into his own climax. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and for long moments they shook together. It had been way too long.
When she finally started to relax he moved, preparing to shift away. But she moaned in protest and lifted her hips, seeking his.
He didn’t want to break the connection, either. He did, however, want the woman to be able to breathe. He eased his weight onto his right elbow and used his left hand to smooth the damp hair out of Allison’s face.
“I’ve missed you,” he said simply.
Her eyes turned to liquid hazel. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered. She swiped the moisture from her eyes, raised her arms above her head and stretched, hummed in appreciation when he palmed her breast.
“You said it’s been a while.” Her mouth took on a mischievous slant. “So you really have been Mr. DIY.”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“Me, too. I mean, that was the first orgasm—”
“You had three. But who’s counting.”
“—in a year that didn’t involve silicone toys or fingers. My own fingers, I mean.”
He stirred inside her. “No details,” he growled. “Not yet.” It’d be damned humiliating if they started something he couldn’t finish. He bent, and kissed her on the nose. “In fact, let me get rid of this thing.” He eased out of her, and rolled off the bed.
When he returned from the bathroom she was under the covers, propped up on one elbow, watching him with a hungry glint in her eye. But when he slid in beside her she merely cuddled up against him, and put her head on his shoulder. He lay back with one hand behind his head, the other holding her close, and wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky as to get a second chance. The start of one, anyway.