Sheltering His Desire

by Allyson Lindt

  He trailed his lips along her cheek, and down her jaw. Traipsed a line of kisses over her clavicle and to her sternum. Each new, feather-light touch sent a pleasant shudder through her. She whimpered and tilted her head back as he moved lower. His touch through fabric teased her. She shifted her weight to bring herself closer, and he lifted his head to close his mouth over hers again.

  One hand found its way under her shirt, and she gasped at the barely-there sensation of his palm on her bare skin. She rested one hand at the base of his neck. The short, blond hairs tickled her fingertips as she held his head captive. Sank into the growing hunger. She dug her fingers into his chest, memorizing each new line of definition as she grasped for something to cling to.

  The desperation that had been there last night was gone, replaced with something steadier. More sensual. But need still bubbled inside her. She wanted to burn every touch into her memory to savor later. He brushed the bottom of her breast with his thumb, and a gasp tore from her throat. He dragged a path across her nipple, then back again, teasing through fabric. Dampness grew between her legs.

  He kissed along the edge of her ear. “You make delicious noises when you’re turned on.” His voice was so quiet she felt it as much as heard it. “What kind of sounds do you make if I do this?” He dragged the cup of her bra out of the way, scraping lace and elastic over the tender skin.

  She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. “That kind apparently.” It was a struggle to find words.

  “What if I do this?” He lowered his head, and flicked his tongue over the jutting pink nub. Slowly at first, but then building up speed.

  She squirmed against him with a whimper. An ache called from between her thighs.

  “That’s good too.” He blew lightly on the damp skin.

  Her head felt light as the blood rushed from it. Squeaks and gasps pushed from her throat.

  “I’ve got a better place for this.” He covered her hand with his.

  She managed a laugh. “Where’s that?”

  Palm against the back of her hand, he guided them both lower. Her fingers brushed a bulge, hard and long, outlined by denim, and he groaned. “Right there.”

  A new spark of desire raced through her, and she traced his erection through his jeans. Each time she brushed it from a new angle, or gripped his shaft, or caressed the head, he responded. Kissing her nipple, sucking, nipping the flesh with his teeth.

  She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, clothes half-out of the way, groping and kissing while she sat on the tailgate of her Suburban, him standing between her legs. But this wasn’t making out with a boy at the lake. She could have more. She drew his mouth back to hers, and kissed him hard, tongues dancing around each other.

  When she broke away, she met his gaze. “We should go back to my place. Or yours. Wherever.”

  His hungry gaze slid over her face. “What’s wrong with here?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “We’re outside.” Except, did she actually mind?

  He nipped at her neck with his teeth, and then her shoulder. “And no one’s around. We have the area to ourselves. It’s dark.” He looked her in the eye again. “And tell me the idea of getting caught isn’t at least a little exciting.”

  Her anticipation spiked. “It’s more than just a little exciting.”

  “Good.” He dragged a thumb across her nipple again. “Because I’ve tried. I really have. To put yesterday out of my mind.” He covered her hand again, and squeezed. She followed his lead and tightened her grip on his bulge, stroking as he pressed against her hand.

  He lifted her chin, holding her head in place, and locked her gaze on hers. “My best intentions have failed.” His voice had dropped an octave, and the husky tone floated over her skin. His accent was back. The drawl he tried so hard to hide. The one that made her senses flare to life. “I can’t stop thinking about your lips wrapped around my cock. How gorgeous you looked. How incredible it felt. But I’m dying to bury myself inside you. Knowing how tight you were, how wet you got? I want to feel your pussy squeeze around me.”

  He dipped his head in again, the heat from his breath hot against her cheek when he whispered, “I have condoms tonight. God, I need to fuck you, Lys.”

  Part of her mind snagged on the words. He’d planned to spend this evening with her. The entire night, right? But he’d stopped for protection? A smirk slid onto her face. She fumbled for the button on his jeans, and then slid down the zipper. “I like the sound of that,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  Tate was so hard, he could barely think. Every time Lys traced his cock, his entire system jerked with pleasure. When she finally freed him from his jeans, the combination of her warm palm and the cool air brushing his bare skin dragged a long groan from him. He wanted to draw this moment out, but his resistance hovered near empty.

  She stroked his shaft, and he squeezed her breast harder. She made the most delicious whimpers with every touch. He made quick work of the button and zipper on her jeans, and tugged. She kicked off her sandals, and lifted her ass off the tailgate long enough for him to drag her pants down her legs. It was too dark to stop and drink her in, but her pussy—the way it looked, the way she tasted, was burned in his mind anyway. He moved a hand between her legs. When he pressed into her slit, his fingers were instantly coated.

  “God, you’re so wet.” He dug his teeth into her shoulder, muffling his words.

  “I blame you ahh—” Her teasing words faded into a gasp when he shoved two fingers inside her.

  He slid in easily, pumping in and out. “You were saying?”

  She shook her head, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Each time he pumped inside her, she squirmed and pushed back. He sought out her clit with his thumb. His dick throbbed in the night air, eager and waiting.

  Her breathing grew more punctuated. Groans became gasps became panting. “Fuck, Tate. Oh, God.”

  She was close, he could tell from her rigid spine, the lilt of her sighs, and the way she clenched around his fingers. Climax rolled through her. He needed to be inside her, now. In a fluid motion, he pulled his hand away, and thrust his cock inside her.

  Her fading cries peaked again, and she dug her nails into his back. He pounded her. She felt even better than he imagined. Spots danced in front of his eyes as his orgasm built. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kept the pace fast and frantic. She gripped his erection when she came again.

  Every point of contact converged into a single spot in his mind. He couldn’t last any longer. As much as he wanted to draw the moment out, it wasn’t going to happen. He ground against her as he came, spilling hot and frantic inside her. Still driving hard until his legs were weak, and he was spent.

  He rested his hands on the tailgate, on either side of her, to support his weight, and buried his head against her shoulder.

  She rested her forehead on his chest, still sighing with each gasp for air as she brought her breathing under control.

  He slid out as he softened, and something occurred to him. “Fuck,” he muttered against her skin. What was wrong with him?

  “Already?” Her laugh was light.

  God damn it. He’d never done that before. Ever. “I forgot the condom.”

  Her frame froze beneath him, and then she pushed him back. Wide eyes met his. “You said you had one.”

  “I do. Still.” He tried to keep his tone calm. Struggled not to let his irritation with himself leak into it. “I got caught up in the moment. I forgot…”

  She lifted her clothes from the ground with her toes, and shook the dust off. The snap of denim was loud in the late evening. “Forgot.”

  He didn’t know what bothered him more. That he’d gotten so caught up in the moment it had slipped his mind, or that he had enjoyed it so much he wanted to do it that way again. With her. “I’m sorry.”

  She raked her fingers through her hair. “Do you forget a lot?”

  “Never.” He poured all the emphasis into the word. />
  “So, you’re clean, right?”

  The question stung, but he understood her concern. If there was one thing he hadn’t been for years, it was celibate. “Absolutely.”

  She nudged him back with her body. “I’m on birth control. We should be good.”

  A strange kind of ambivalence nudged his senses. What the hell? He was just a little drained. That was fantastic news. “Good. Great.” He forced himself to relax.

  ****

  The ride back home started quiet, but conversation eventually flowed again. Alyssia leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the passing lights, and swapping random banter with Tate. A strange moment of panic and hope had passed through when she’d said he hadn’t used protection. A bubble of fantasy. Of what might happen if her birth control failed. However, she knew that wasn’t his dream. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel trapped, or obligated by something like… She didn’t even dare think the words. She wouldn’t do that to him.

  They pulled up in front of her townhouse, and she met him outside the vehicle. In the dim light, streetlights highlighting his features, he looked as handsome as he ever had. She traced a finger down his cheek. “You heading out?” She swallowed the desire to ask him directly to stay. That wasn’t no strings.

  He intertwined his fingers with hers, and led her toward her townhome. “I’m a little wired, and I don’t have anywhere else to be. If you’re not busy, I might stick around.”

  She couldn’t fight her smile. “I think I could make time for that.”

  He unlocked the door, stepped aside for her to enter, and hooked her keys on their hook. “Movies?”

  “Sure. I’ll find something. I have Coke in the fridge.” This was better. It was the comfortable, laid back interaction she enjoyed with Tate. It was true, thinking his name still made her blood run hot, and she didn’t know if she’d ever stop daydreaming about the way he kissed. And everything he’d kissed. But at least they were acting normal again.

  “I’m good.” He dropped onto the couch. “Something smart?”

  “Something sweet.” She grabbed the remote and pulled up a list of streaming videos. Moments later, Silver Linings Playbook started. She wasn’t worried he’d argue. For as much as Tate swore no one in real life got a happily ever after, he enjoyed the fictional version. Only guy she’d ever met who didn’t mind sitting through romance movies with her.

  He patted the couch next to him. No reason to overthink this now. She took the seat, and tucked her legs beneath her. He draped his arm over her shoulders, and she leaned in. This was definitely doable.

  The film started, and though she’d seen it several times, she let herself be sucked into the story line. They finished one movie, and picked another. Somewhere along the way, Tate nudged her forward, lay down in the couch, and then pulled her back into him. She didn’t argue when he pulled her tight, pressing her back against his chest, and draping his arm over hers.

  Within a few minutes, his breathing shifted. He’d drifted off—the realization tugged something inside her. She could get used to this. That was probably a bad road for her to go down. She adjusted her thinking as she snuggled into him. It wasn’t like she wanted him there every night for the rest of their lives or anything. This was just comfortable. Nothing more.

  ****

  Tate stretched and tried to push the lingering fog of sleep from his brain. He couldn’t believe he’d passed out on Alyssia’s couch. He had vague memories of her warm body in his arms, but maybe he’d just dreamed that. No, he was pretty sure it was real.

  Something clattered from the kitchen, jarring him more awake. Might as well investigate. He paused in the doorway, and his senses roared to life. Lys had her back to him, and was grabbing something from the counter. Her damp hair hung down her back, and she only wore a T-shirt and panties.

  His cock roared to life, straining against his jeans. Fuck, that was sexy. And she probably wouldn’t appreciate him staring. He cleared his throat.

  She let out a small squeak and whirled to face him. She blushed and crossed her arms over her chest. He tried to drag his gaze away, and finally managed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He winced at his own drawl. He must be more tired than he realized.

  “It’s okay.” She tugged down the edges of her shirt, sighed and then stopped, looking him in the eye again. “I’m not used to waking up with someone else in the house. I guess I forgot my pants.”

  “I’m not complaining.” His erection was starting to protest at being ignored, though. “Have you been up long?”

  “My brain is still on graveyards. I haven’t been to sleep yet. I was just seeing if I had any food to make. Do you want breakfast? I can cook something. Or, well, not really. I can make oatmeal—”

  She was adorable when she rambled. “Stop.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, or himself. He crossed the distance between them, and dragged a thumb over her bottom lip. His fingers tightened, wanting another touch. He tried to be subtle about smothering his rampant arousal. “We’re good, right? We got past this last night?”

  “I think so.” She chewed on the inside of her lip, and meet his gaze. “I mean, we totally are.”

  “Good.” He rested his hands on her hips and nudged her back until she collided with the counter. “Because you look fucking hot, and I don’t think you owe anyone any apologies for that.” She shifted her weight, and her hip rubbed his cock through his jeans. The blood rushed from his head, and he struggled for a moment to form words. He dipped his head, and trailed his nose along her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled intoxicating, like lilacs. “It’s too bad you already showered.” He nipped at her earlobe. Her gasp burrowed into his head, short-circuiting his thoughts. “I would have asked if I could join you.”

  She draped her arms around his neck, and pressed her entire frame to his. Her nipples dragged over his chest, teasing him through fabric. “You’re welcome to use it now, if you want.”

  He cupped her ass, holding her as close as possible. “I don’t have any clothes here.”

  “No one said you had to get dressed after.”

  A voice whispered in the back of his head that he was playing with fire. That this was crossing a line he needed to steer far clear of. His raging desire for another chance at the woman in front of him drowned it out. “You make a good argument. I think I’m going to take you up on that.”

  She brushed her lips over his. “Towels are in the closet, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

  Tate was surprised he had any restraint left, as he stripped down in her bathroom. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about spending the entire day in bed with Lys. Tasting every inch of her, finding out how loud he could make her scream if she wasn’t worried about someone hearing her. His dick stood at attention. He was as bad as a teenager with an inconvenient boner.

  He stepped into the shower. Hot water sluiced over him, and he grabbed the body wash. Now he was going to smell Lys on his skin all day. Did he really mind that much? His cock jerked when he gripped it, hand soapy. A low groan escaped his throat. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, and focused on the sensation. Memories danced in his head as he stroked. Lys squirming against him. Her lips wrapped around him the other night. How tight she was when he buried himself inside her.

  His balls tightened, and he bit the inside of his cheek until a sharp pain echoed back in protest. It ached to let go, but he forced himself to stop before he came. He definitely wanted to save that until he had her company.

  He finished the rest of his shower quickly, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

  There was a knock on the door so soft, he almost wasn’t sure he heard it. He toed it open, to find Lys on the other side. Disappointment tried to nudge its way in when he saw she’d dressed. He pushed it aside and summoned a smile. “Hey, gorgeous. Couldn’t wait?”

  She grimaced, shook her head, and held up her hand. She was holding her phone. “It’s for you,” she said.

  Shit. That
couldn’t be good. “Hello.” Tate kept his tone chipper.

  “Gorgeous, really?” Jared’s irritation rolled over him. “Couldn’t wait for what?”

  Double shit. “Breakfast. We were going out to celebrate that her site went live last night.” The lie tasted fouler than Tate expected. As if he should be bothered he had to hide what he was doing. Ridiculous. This wasn’t anyone’s business but his and Lys’s.

  “Which is why your phone’s off.” The edge in Jared’s tone grew sharper.

  Alyssia perched on the edge of her bed, eyes wide, watching Tate.

  “I left it in the car, forgot to charge it, it’s probably dead.” Which, when Tate thought about it might be pretty close to the truth. When was the last time he’d seen his phone? Last night sounded about right.

  “You just let it die?”

  “Yes. Not all of us treat our electronics like additional limbs.” Tate gritted his teeth. Cold air swept over him, and he shivered. Right, he was still in a towel. Though at least he wasn’t as hard as he’d been a few minutes ago. “You called for a reason. And it wasn’t to get pissy because I complimented your sister.” Lys raised her eyebrows, and Tate shrugged. “Why did you call her looking for me?”

  “I called her because we’re getting a hold of everyone impacted. All of your crowdfunding sites are running slow, and since you’re renting my rack space, I’m an emergency contact.”

  Fuck. “Let me get home. I’ll call you back.” Tate disconnected, and tossed Alyssia’s phone on her mattress. He raked his fingers through his hair. So much for a morning with no distractions.

  Chapter Ten

  Alyssia didn’t know if she was better off or not, only hearing Tate’s half the conversation. Her attention drifted between Tate in just a towel, standing in her bedroom doorway, and what he was saying.