“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” He tipped his mug toward her and downed the rest of its contents. “They won’t go to GenCon or BBG.”
“Do you think those are a big deal? I’ve never been to either.”
“What? Why not?”
“My friends aren’t really into board gaming as much as I am, and Sam’s not into cons. I dragged her to a few this fall and she had fun, but it’s so not her thing.”
“You could always go by yourself.”
“Right. Yeah, no thanks.”
“Why’s that such a bad idea?”
“Girl alone, at a geek con? Not a good idea.”
“What?”
“Look, you’re a good geek guy, but for every one of you, there’s five douche geeks ready to stare at my boobs and tell me I don’t belong, not to mention anything else that might happen.”
“That would never...” His words trailed off at the flatness of her stare. “Would it?”
“I don’t want to run the risk. Two of my closest friends have been victimized at cons, and I’m not even including the number of times I’ve been groped or disrespected. I’d rather...stay where I know I’m going to have a good time. And maybe...maybe that’s defeatist but I feel like I spend so much time pushing for better con policies when I cosplay that...I just want board games to be fun. Easy. I don’t want to have to fight for my place at the table or watch my back.”
Declan stared at Rashae. He’d never considered that sort of thing happening. Sure, he’d heard plenty of...normal...guy talk. Fuck. Was he part of the problem?
“I can’t—are your friends? They...okay?”
“Now? Yeah. But it’s made us be careful, we have rules, we watch out for each other, because you just never know who the bad guy is. In real life, they don’t wear costumes, carry guns or want to take over the world.” She tipped her mug up. “That was delicious, thanks.”
“You warm enough, yet?”
“I think my toes are still a bit frozen.”
“Come in here.” He circled the island and took her hand, leading her back into the living room. “If you ever want to go to a gamin’ con, let me know?”
“You’d what? Watch my back?” She smirked over her shoulder.
Declan chuckled and shook his head. No denying the truth. He took her coat, a bit damp from the melting snow, and hung both of theirs in the entry. By the time he got back to her, she’d created a nest of the other blanket and pillows in front of the fire and her boots were off.
“This old house is so cold.” She patted the sofa next to her.
It was a bad idea, and yet he was pulled into her orbit without a hope or a prayer of doing anything different.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to just crash here for a bit?” She had the blankets tucked up under her chin and their shoulders bumped under the covers.
“Of course.”
“And I was thinking we could go over some of the stuff we didn’t flesh out yesterday, if you weren’t busy. If you are, I can stay out of your way. I’m really sorry for all of this.”
“At least you didn’t lose to a snow drift today?”
“Wow. Okay. You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?”
“Um...nope.”
“I take back every nice thing I said about you.”
“I told you I wasn’t very nice.”
Nice wasn’t the word he’d use for the thing swirling around in his chest. It was more like...hunger. He’d tasted her lips once, and it wasn’t enough.
8.
R
ashae suddenly found it hard to breathe. The blankets were stifling. How had it gotten so hot so fast? But wasn’t this what she’d come here hoping would happen?
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had kissed her like Declan. How her body had hummed with life. It was reckless, more than a bit crazy—but also right. Chemistry like this couldn’t be wrong. Could it?
Maybe it was the holidays, or maybe watching her friends fall in and out of love she wanted it. Just a bit. It wasn’t like this thing between her and Declan could last, but they could have some fun, couldn’t they? Was that wrong?
Declan stretched his arm out over the back of the sofa and turned toward her.
What had he said?
He wasn’t very nice.
Well, she was banking on that. That for a minute—an hour if she was lucky—he’d be very bad.
“I’m not the kind of man you want to get o’ with.”
The way he spoke, rolling one word into the next, was hard to understand. Or maybe it was the blood pounding in her temples and the way her body throbbed.
His hand slid around and between her knees. She felt the heat of him through her jeans. He leaned in closer.
Her hands trembled. She wanted him to kiss her, didn’t she?
Declan was right, he wasn’t like the usual men who took interest in her. He might play at being well-mannered and polite, but it was a thin veneer. She couldn’t pat him on his head and send him away when she was done. Declan would demand her attention, and when they were done... Hopefully it would be worth it.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward her. The hand on her inner thigh tightened, canting her knees toward him.
“You should tell me to lay off.” He spoke each word carefully. His accent more...in control, while the way he peered at her was...wild.
“Why would I want to do that?” She didn’t sound half as breathless as she felt.
“Because I’m not the man who should be snoggin’ the Secretary’s daughter.”
Ugh. She was happy for her dad, but why did that matter so much? She was really over people caring about that.
She tipped her chin up.
His mouth was so close.
Right there.
“Let’s pretend he’s not my dad for a bit. What then?” She stared into his heavily hooded eyes, so blue they almost didn’t seem real.
“I’d say you were in trouble.” He tilted his head a bit more to one side.
“I like trouble.”
He was so close her mouth brushed his as she spoke.
His lips closed around her lower one, suckling it. His teeth gently bit down and his tongue rubbed against her. She sucked in a breath and arched her back. Invisible fingers caressed down from her mouth, her sternum and lower. Warmth pooled between her legs. The heady swirl of lust fogged her brain.
Oh—this—was what she wanted.
Declan released her lip. Maybe he meant to give her space, sit back, but it was on like Donkey Kong now.
Rashae dug her hand into his hair, gripping the fine strands tight, and hauled him closer. She kissed him back, drinking him in.
He slid his other hand up the back of her neck, turning her toward him. His mouth opened and she didn’t hesitate. She stroked his tongue, suckled his lips.
She fisted his shirt, or one of them, and pulled him closer, needing—more.
The hand between her legs inched higher. Her breathing trembled and he took the opportunity to turn the tables. Taking control. Not that she ever felt like she was calling the shots with Declan. He wasn’t that type of guy.
He pulled back, only a bit, watching her.
She was pretty sure he liked her, and not just because of her art. There’d been a zing of attraction since the moment he’d opened that door and she’d fallen on her ass. The way he stared at her now...maybe she was in a little over her head. And maybe he’d jump in to save her.
Declan turned his hand between her legs, cupping her mound. She gasped, her brain shut off completely, and she lifted her hips. All thoughts ceased. The touch—bold and right—sent her body temperature through the roof. She was too far gone for her brain to wrestle control back.
He applied more pressure.
She groaned, shifting her hips.
It was too late—for what, she didn’t know, but it was too late. There was no going back now.
Declan muttered something under his br
eath. She was inclined to agree with anything at this point, so long as he kept touching her. Kept kissing her.
He rocked forward, kissing her jaw to her neck.
She hooked her arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer.
He lifted up. She clung to him like some sort of love monkey, and he laid her down on the old, worn sofa. The fire crackled a few feet away. Their limbs tangled in the blankets, but only for a moment.
Her back hit the cushions and she curled her arms around his shoulders.
Declan nuzzled her neck, following the V-neck of her shirt with his lips. His thigh replaced his hand between her legs. He held her head between his hands, his fingers on her pulse.
Could he feel how her heart pounded? The way he made her blood heat?
He explored the exposed skin of her chest and neck with his lips and tongue. Who would have thought a kiss at the base of her throat would leave her so...breathless?
He rocked forward, his body sliding against hers, and nipped at her mouth. She turned her face, seeking a kiss, but he held her right where he wanted her. He tipped her chin up to lavish attention on her jaw, the arch of her cheek.
Rashae’s head swam, drunk on the feel of him. The way he worshiped her body. There was no other word for it. He didn’t dive in, kissing and groping. He took his time. Savoring wasn’t the right word, but she was too far gone to find a better one.
She, however, wasn’t as patient.
She fisted his shirt, hauling the sweater up until she could get a handful of his thin undershirt. His skin stretched over lean muscle. Not the bulky kind, no. He was...built from the blocks of life. Hard work. He was a man who knew how to get what he wanted, and far be it for her to protest what he was doing now. Driving her out of her mind.
A corner of the blanket was wedged between her thigh and his hip. She reached down, jerking it out. Declan barely noticed, but the damn thing was driving a knot into her leg.
She pulled again, squirming a bit. There should be no distractions when he was doing...oh my God.
Rashae groaned, arching her back.
The spot.
Oh, those talented lips.
That damn blanket.
She rocked her hips, trying to disentangle herself.
Declan grunted, pitched forward, mashed his shoulder into her face, and rolled off her and into the floor.
Rashae sputtered, laughing down at him. He blinked up at her, his eyes dilated.
She pushed a pillow off, hitting him in the face, and kicked her legs free from the damn blankets.
It was too hot in here for those anyway.
Rashae crawled off the sofa and straddled Declan’s hips.
When was the last time she’d felt this way? Had she ever?
Guys liked her, but they didn’t worship her.
Declan stared up at her, the pillow crammed under his head and his shirt rucked up. There were shadows in his eyes. A darkness she hadn’t yet met. Right now, she wanted to make him forget it. Forget everything, except this.
She slid her hands under the T-shirt, relishing the skin on skin contact.
“Rashae...”
“Shh.” She bent, pressing her lips to his for a light, barely-there kiss. “Whatever you want to say—don’t.”
“I just—”
“Don’t want to hear it.” She traced the lines of his face, the fine bones that made his profile so striking. So strong.
If she were to paint him, he’d be the rogue. Not quite good. Not quite bad. The weight of his choices on his shoulders.
When was the last time someone saw him? Connected with him? If she hadn’t crashed his place, where would he be? Who would look after him?
She was thinking too deep, too personal for what they were. Creative partners. Acquaintances. Friends with benefits? Whatever it was, she needed to shut off her brain, stop thinking and—feel.
Rashae started with the area around his mouth, kissing and mapping it with her fingers. His freshly shaven face was smooth, the scent of his aftershave faint. She threaded her fingers through his hair, learning the shape of him with her palm.
His hands stroked her back, down to her hips, and stopped there. Such the gentleman, to let her have her way. She must not be doing a good enough job if he wasn’t losing himself a little, as she was.
She jerked his undershirt up, bringing the sweater with it, and scooted down his body.
The physical labor of his job showed in the rise and fall of muscles down his chest, the rungs of his abdominals and those lick-able lines at his hips.
Declan was a man who worked for what he wanted. He didn’t take handouts or help. They were similar souls.
She started at his sternum and followed it down to the flare of his ribs. The rise and fall of his chest increased the lower she went. Coincidence? Likely not.
Rashae peered up at him watching her. He had a wrinkle between his brows, as though he weren’t quite sure what she was doing or what his role was. She was willing to bet he had no idea how to lay back and take pleasure. If she had to guess, he was the one that gave.
She traced his abs, first with her fingers and then with her lips, acquainting herself with the flex and dance of his body.
The very air seemed to vibrate with desire.
How far was she going to go?
It was a bit late to consider that. There was only one goal in mind and that was mutually-assured pleasure.
She placed her hand over the erection straining his jeans, stroking his length with her fingers.
He sucked in his cheeks, and his gaze went...molten. Fierce.
Declan moved lightning quick. He hooked his hands under her arms, hauling her up his body and flipped them over, his weight pinning her to the thick, plush rug while his mouth found the spot again.
The silence was broken by her very loud, long moan. She dug her nails into his shoulders, not minding his show of force a single bit.
His body undulated against hers, rubbing her too-tight breasts with his chest and giving her something hot and hard between her legs. Even if it was just his thigh.
Where Declan had merely toyed with her before, now he...took.
He shoved his hands up under her shirt, the rough feel of his skin sending goose bumps around her sides. His palms slid up her stomach and ribs, all while his mouth made love to hers.
“I’m goin’ to eat you up,” he whispered against her lips.
“Is that a promise or a threat?” She failed to see the downside to this.
“The openin’ credits.” His thumb dipped into the cup of her bra, swiping over her stiff nipple.
“You—oh—you should know, I don’t come.” Her cheeks heated at the admission, but it was better to be up front than frustrated.
“That sounds like a dare.”
“Fact.”
She gasped, and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. Whoever said big boobs weren’t sensitive had clearly never asked for her take on the matter.
Rashae grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head. With Declan’s level of attention to detail, she was on board the all-inclusive plan.
He levered up, looking down at her.
“Christ—Rashae...”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t...”
“I shouldn’t—what?” She took his hand at her waist and lifted it to her breast, showing him how to cup the full, underside. “This feels good, so stop trying to find something wrong with it. Us. Unless you don’t want me.” He had a real funny way of showing her that if that was where his head was.
His fingers curled around her and he bent his head.
“Not wantin’ you isn’t the problem. You shouldn’t—”
She laid her finger across his lips.
“I’m not big on being told what to do.” It was a character flaw, one she was aware of, though it didn’t do her a lot of good.
She lifted her head, replacing her finger with her lips against his. He pushed her back down an
d yanked aside the frilly bra cup. She groaned into his mouth while his hands played her body, stroking and plucking at her stiff flesh.
Declan crawled down her body, pausing to press the briefest of kisses to the top of each breast.
Well, that was new...
He grabbed the closure on her jeans and tabbed it open with just his thumb.
No...
Her brain slowed down, mired in mud.
Declan pushed up and used both hands to yank her jeans and panties down. She made a decidedly unsexy sound and covered herself. He pulled her jeans off one leg then the other, one side of his mouth hitched up.
Okay, it was a lot colder in here without his body heat.
He must have read her mind because he grabbed one of the discarded blankets, threw it around his shoulders like a cape and covered her with both him and the throw.
“What if I ask you to stay—right—here?” He wedged her legs apart with his knees.
The man had a plan and it had taken her completely off guard. Here she’d thought she was throwing him a curveball, but he was outmaneuvering her.
She kind of liked it.
“I’ll consider it.” She sucked in a breath. All she had on were her socks and bra, and the bra wasn’t covering much anymore.
“Then this is my official request. Stay–right—here. Please?” He licked the spot—how did he know about the spot?—and slithered down her body, leaving her clutching the blanket to her chest.
“Oh!” She stared at the ceiling while he investigated her belly button. With his tongue.
Maybe she was a bit in over her head...
At least she had a blanket?
His fingers stroked her inner thigh, ever upward while he continued to nibble and explore her stomach and then one hip. His touch was a contrast in hard and soft. His skin was rough, but the way he caressed her was...gentle. By all rights, she should lay back and enjoy the feel of him and yet his head was down there.
Usually, it took a little bargaining for a guy to go down on her, but Declan was diving in like this was normal. Expected. His thing.
He covered her with his hand, his heat sinking into her skin. She focused on drawing in an easy breath. His fingers curled, stroking her skin, sliding the length of her slit, while his mouth inched ever closer.
She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of burning wood, the sound of fabric rustling, and let herself focus on him.
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 7