by Mara Jacobs
“Are you done?” he said, his eyebrows lifting. Annabelle nodded a weak little nod, terrified of his next words.
Duncan turned to the waiter hovering in the distance. “Check, please.”
“Oh my God. Duncan, no!” Annabelle pleaded, throwing her hands up to his shoulders trying to turn him around to look at her. “Please, don’t be mad…” she went on, becoming aware of a suspicious shaking under her hands as he turned around. Laughing.
She threw him her very best pout, but he said, “You deserved that. You and your father. I cannot believe I was set up.”
“Believe it,” she groaned. “And it was brilliant…all except for the part where I started to fall for you. Then it became weird and twisted and this big fat lie that I had to live with—”
She saw the poor waiter scurry off again as Duncan pulled her close and shut her up with one long, hard kiss. Her toes literally curled. “You started to fall for me?” he asked against her lips, sounding very pleased.
Annabelle simply nodded against him.
“Okay, then. How ’bout that steak?”
Chapter Ten
“Nervous?”
Annabelle responded with a quick smile as Duncan unlocked the door. Yeah, she was nervous. The two of them were never at a loss for words, but the drive home had been noticeably quiet. Just like their walk from the car to Duncan’s townhouse.
And now, she thought, now they were literally standing on a threshold.
“Come here,” he said, reaching out, taking one of her hands and slowly moving it up to his shoulder. He stepped in like he was pulling her close for a slow dance when her feet came out from under her and, like Scarlett O’Hara, she found herself airborne and being carried off in the arms of her own Rhett Butler.
“Duncan James,” she said, “you've been sweeping me off my feet all week.”
Once inside, he backed up against the door, closing it with his backside, and asked her to lock it by throwing the deadbolt. Then he said, “How ’bout I give you a tour in the morning?” She simply nodded as that delicious nervous angst bloomed inside her chest.
He walked to the stairs and set her feet down on the first step so they stood more or less eye to eye. His hands moved into her hair on either side of her face. “I’m crazy about you, Annabelle Devine.” With exquisite concentration, he took his time kissing her lower lip, lightly running his tongue across the upper one. “I want you in my bed something awful,” he drawled, his Southern accent growing heavy, his voice going sleepy. He trailed his lips across her jaw line. “I’m completely healthy,” he assured her, moving down her neck toward that one little spot she was growing so fond of. “I’m prepared. I’ll protect you,” he promised, his mouth settling on top of her shoulder then trailing a path to the sensitive place where he nipped at her flesh.
Moving a hand to the banister and another to her hip, Duncan nudged her backward up the next step while his mouth played again with hers. “There’s no zipper on this dress,” he said between kisses, moving them further up the steps. The pressure of his hand on her hip was tantalizing. “So I’m gonna watch you take it off,” he said pulling her firmly against him halfway up the stairs.
His tongue slid into her mouth and plundered. Annabelle moaned against him as the wave of passion tossed her under its magnificent surge. Gone again was conscious thought. Her mind drifted to another dimension while her body remained anchored by the onslaught of chemical combustion. Her breasts felt engorged and begged to be touched. Her thighs quivered with need. Her tiny lace thong grew damp from arousal. And just as it had been on New Year’s Eve, she longed to feel the firm, steely heat of him rubbing against the soft throbbing ache of her.
“Annabelle…baby,” Duncan whispered in her ear. “Take your dress off for me, please. Right here. Right now.” He held her by her shoulders until she was steady. Her dress, created by rings of fabric, needed to be pulled over her head. So she licked her lips and watched his expression through lowered lashes as she slowly drew the gardenia from her hair and let it drop to her feet. She noticed his jaw tighten as she deliberately removed the tiny hairpins one by one, making a great show of letting them fall from her fingertips. She watched him swallow when the tight white fabric started to inch up her thighs, saw that his eyes were trained on the apex of her legs. She hesitated on the brink of exposing her pink lace lingerie, causing Duncan’s eyes to flick from the tops of her bare thighs to her face and back again.
When she continued to stall, he closed his eyes and licked his lips. “Sweet Jesus, Annabelle. I swear to God, one slice down the middle is all it will take.” He started reaching for his back pocket but froze to watch Annabelle pull the dress up and over the moist heat hidden behind her pink lace thong…then fully expose her hour glass figure and lacy push-up bra. She drew the dress over her head, then shook out her red curls and combed her fingers through her hair before tossing the ball of fabric to land behind him on the foyer floor.
Duncan growled as his jacket hit the floor. And, as he loosened his tie, he backed her up the next two steps while pulling his shirttail from his pants and unbuttoning the cuffs. “Still wanna see me with my shirt off?” he asked, stalking her.
Annabelle could only nod, reaching out to steady herself with the banister. Her red heels started to slip, so she took one off and then the other as he backed her up the steps. When she looked up again, Duncan’s chest was exposed. And boy, oh boy was it magnificent. She stifled most of a squeak as her eyes feasted on his tanned and muscled torso with its sexy smattering of curly dark hair which dipped and narrowed, disappearing beyond the waistband of his slacks. Her eyes drifted there just in time to watch Duncan loosen the buckle and pull his belt out of its loops with menacing slowness. He held it over the banister and let it drop to the floor below.
Annabelle came to a dead stop short of the top of the stairs. Her eyes took in the length and breadth of the ill-concealed hard-on behind Duncan’s pants. She glanced up only when she heard him say, “You are welcome to lick your lips all you’d like.”
She felt her face flush and was at a loss for a pithy comeback, suddenly realizing she was in way over her head. Duncan. Older and obviously more experienced. She. Four years his junior and far, far less experienced, she was sure. And this––her heart caught in her chest––this meant so much. This…being with him, meant…everything.
Frantic, she turned to run from the realization. Run from the emotion boiling up inside her. Run from the fact that she was in love with Duncan James and couldn’t bear to make one false move and jeopardize it all. She sprinted up the rest of the steps and ran down the hall, but Duncan grabbed her up by the waist and hauled her in the opposite direction saying, “The bedroom is this way.”
Short of kicking and screaming, she flailed enough so that he put her down as soon as he managed to get her through the door. Then he shut them inside, turned his back to the door and folded his arms across his chest. Annabelle’s breathing was heavy and labored and it cost her every ounce of courage she had to meet Duncan’s eyes.
“You freaking out?”
“Little bit.”
He nodded. Then looked down at the floor. Realizing he still had his shoes on, he toed them off. “Okay,” he said through a thick release of breath, running a hand through his hair before looking back up at Annabelle. He spread his arms in quandary. “Well…you look beautiful,” he said, indicating her partially naked state with a quick gesture before reaching up and rubbing his jaw.
“It’s just…” Annabelle started. “It’s just that…” But the swell of emotion grew so intense that the only place she could imagine finding solace was in Duncan’s arms. So she moved to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. His strong arms engulfed her upper body and held her tight. “It’s just that it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt,” she whimpered.
Duncan rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. “No one is going to get hurt.”
“Yo
u don’t know that.”
“Yes,” he said, lifting her chin so he could see her eyes, “I do.”
She believed him. She trusted he believed what he was saying and that was all she could ask. She reached up and placed a hand at the back of his neck, coaxing his lips to hers. Tentatively she pressed her tongue between his lips to meld with his own and offered up not only a sweet kiss, but her trust and belief as well. Both arms came up to circle his neck and she stood on tiptoe as he pressed her pelvis to his, letting their heat meld there as well.
“Touch me, please,” Duncan breathed. “God knows it’s all I can think about.” He took her head in his hands and devoted exquisite attention to her mouth while her hands drifted over his shoulders, slid down his chest and worked together to unfasten the waistband and unzip his pants. “God, yes,” he moaned into her mouth, kissing her with greater intensity as she slid one hand down between his pants and his boxer-briefs that covered the taut, firm shaft of his erection.
He pushed himself against the heel of her palm as she slid it down the length of him, and then groaned his approval when she used her fingers to massage his balls through the fabric. His lips kept their connection as he removed his pants. Then he took her hand and moved it inside the elastic band of his shorts and she followed his lead, slowly exposing his erection as the heat of her hand came in contact with the engorged shaft of his cock. He sighed her name in appreciation.
As his legs worked to disengage his boxers, Duncan slid the straps of Annabelle’s bra off her shoulders, biting the smooth skin at the side of her neck. He unhooked her bra and pulled it down between them, his mouth eagerly following his hands to her aching breasts. She sighed, closing her eyes, biting her lower lip as she guided his hands to use more pressure. Her need swelled in delight and she rocked her pelvis against his shaft, stroking both of them where they needed it most.
Her legs instinctively circled Duncan’s waist when he lifted her up, backing her to his bed where he lifted one knee, guiding them both on to the top of his comforter. Annabelle slid backward to the head of the bed, digging her fingers into the end of the comforter and pushing it under her body as Duncan helped drag it down beyond them. He laid her down, her head on his pillow and took his time to look his fill of her naked breasts, narrow waist, and long shapely legs.
“How the hell did I get so lucky?” he asked, sliding one hand up and down the side of her body as his eyes roamed freely. “Underneath all your stylish perfection, there is this sinfully, smokin’ hot body.” He lowered his head, closed his mouth over a nipple and sucked hard, causing Annabelle to gasp and buck her pelvis. He covered her lower body with his own, feasting on her breasts while drawing her hands up over her head.
His own hands slid back down languidly, caressing the sensitive insides of her arms, the ticklish depression of her underarms, the rounded sides of her breasts, and the indentation of her waist before tucking themselves under her back and massaging her buttocks. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on your shapely derrière,” he said leaving a trail of kisses down her stomach and over her navel as his hands fondled her hips and rear-end.
He pulled the silky threads of her G-string down her hips and off her legs. Annabelle closed her eyes, feeling the contrast as cool air hit her warm, wet pubic hair, leaving every part of her exposed. Duncan traced his thumb through the thick of it, making her body bow when it slid over her clitoris and continued down her slick center. “So perfect,” he said, his breath tantalizing the engorged nerve endings. His mouth lowered and he lovingly kissed her right where she could feel it most.
“Oh baby, there’s so much I long to do to you,” he moaned, lifting up and crawling forward over her body. “But I can’t get what you did to me the other night out of my head,” he said looking into her eyes. “Here,” he offered his hand and helped her sit up. Then he moved back against the headboard and fumbled with a condom before taking her hand and bringing her to him.
“Just like you did before,” he begged, clasping her hips and maneuvering her on to his lap. “Rub yourself against me,” he pleaded as she slid her body along the back side of his erect shaft. “God yes,” he breathed, his head thrown back as Annabelle started to rub her aching center up and down the long length of his cock, her body providing lubricant for the condom. “I fantasized about this,” he said bringing his gaze down between them to watch the action. “Every night since.” He cupped her ass with his hands and set the rhythm for the both of them. “Feel good?” he asked when Annabelle started to moan.
“So good,” she said, closing her eyes, licking her lips. He smiled. She could hear it when he spoke.
“That mouth of yours is one hell of a turn-on,” he said, moving her body a little faster. She tilted her hips and pressed harder, targeting her swollen nub. Duncan’s hips started to pump causing an “even better” to spill from her lips.
“You like this, baby?” Duncan asked, his breath coming faster. His fingers gripping her ass tighter. His cock sliding quickly within the folds of her flesh. “Is this what you needed? Finish what you started New Year’s Eve, Annabelle. Come on, baby. Come for me,” he breathed, “Come for me so I can take us where we both want to go.”
He reached between them to press his cock hard against her. When Annabelle first started to spasm and shake, he moved his thumb over her nub and manipulated her into a soul-wrenching orgasm. And as the hollow need inside her grew desperate to be filled, he lifted her up and then slid her down, sheathing his erection. Another orgasm erupted immediately, causing her body to go loose everywhere except where it counted for Duncan. Her internal muscles milked him hard, setting off a wild chain of events.
Duncan pushed Annabelle to her back while she still came, whimpering his name, squeezing his cock inside the very core of her body. “Holy shi—” he began, but the blood drained from his head down to his groin, erasing all thought. His hips worked like a piston, ferociously fucking the girl of his dreams. Every muscle from his toes to his forehead strained, his shoulders and neck were rigid, his jaw clenched. He heard himself grunt louder and louder, out of control with every pump, until his entire body shook uncontrollably with a long, hard climax.
“Holy Mother of God,” he panted, lying on top of her, sweaty and spent.
Moments later, still breathing heavily, he reached for Annabelle’s hand and squeezed it.
She squeezed back.
Finally finding the strength to move, he rolled off and sprawled flat on his back, both their heads at the end of the bed. “Annabelle, sweetheart,” he whispered, his heart rate still off the chart, “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to marry me.” His other hand collapsed on top of his stomach and he closed his eyes as Annabelle rose up on an elbow to peer down at him.
Through labored breathing he told her again, “You’re gonna have to marry me, baby.” He opened his eyes and wiped sweat from them. “Because there is no doubt you have just ruined me for all other women. And, more importantly,” he went on, “I know damn well there isn’t a condom in this world built strong enough to survive a fuck like that.”
He glanced over as Annabelle choked out a laugh at his ungentlemanly choice of words. Giving his spent body a long, cool once-over, she shrugged a shoulder. “Okay,” she said before flopping back down and snuggling in against him. “I’ll call Daddy.”
He smiled at that, his arm going around her, his fingers playing over her deliciously soft skin. And then he smiled broader because he was a lawyer. And although Miss Devine might be somewhat unaware, she’d just entered herself into a verbal contract.
And he had every intention of holding her to it.
~*~*~
~*~
Interested in what romance has is in store for Duncan’s friends Brooks and Vance? Visit Liz’s website www.LizKellyBooks.com to read an excerpt from Loving Lolly: Part One of the Good Cop Bad Cop Series coming in early 2013.
Grace
For Scott, with love.
Kiss of a Lifetime
&n
bsp; Chapter 1
December 12
Arlington, Virginia
“I hear,” Leo Ramos said as he pulled Grace toward his chest with one arm, pivoted, and expertly rolled her body over his hip, “that you’re kissing Lewis Kampmueller on New Year’s Eve.”
Grace Devine landed flat on her back on a mat that really needed to be softer. She had to wait a moment before she had enough air to speak. She’d been at the FBI’s Washington Field Office for six months and hadn’t mentioned the annual Devine-Kampmueller New Year’s Eve Ball to anyone. She had done her absolute best to not even think about it. “There’s no way you can know that,” she finally wheezed.
“And yet,” he squatted next to her, forearms resting on his thighs, “I do.” Ramos’s brows quirked over amused eyes, his irises a shade of deep, rich brown.
Grace rolled to her side and came up on her knees, facing him. He was close to laughter, his black silky hair mussed and his skin damp from exertion. For a crazy half-second, she was tempted to lean over and brush her lips against his, just to see if his smile tasted as good as it looked.
Yeah, and he’d probably fall over flat on his back in shock.
Grace was one of the guys. She sweated with the squad during workouts, outshot most of them at the firing range, won her share of Friday night poker games and never, absolutely never, ordered a sweet drink at the Pub.
In the testosterone-fueled world of FBI special agents, it worked for her.
Or it used to.
Their off-site training facility, affectionately nicknamed The Pit, was empty now except for the two of them. While much of her work on the counterterrorism squad involved field interviews, computers and too much late-night coffee, their squadron leader, David Carter, had the whole squad train together twice a month to keep their defensive skills sharp. Tonight, Ramos had stayed late to help her with the Koshinage hip throw, a seemingly simple move that she’d mangled every time she tried it. Damn it. She didn’t want to leave until she had it mastered. Ramos knew that about her. He was the same way.