Knock Me for a Loop

by Heidi Betts

  “Of course I can,” she whispered. “It’s happened before.”

  “Not this time. Nothing is going to stop us this time.” He raised a hand to her face, brushing his wide palm across her cheek, past her temple, and into her hair to cup her skull. “Kiss me again, Grace,” he…ordered? Begged?

  “You have to let me be on top,” she said, not giving in until he’d agreed to be careful.

  He gave a low, strained chuckle. “And you expect me to argue? Backward, forward, upside down…I’ll take you any way I can get you, sweetheart.”

  It had been so long since he’d called her that or used any endearments toward her—for good reason, she knew—that her heart thudded and her stomach took a tiny dip.

  “You can’t do anything that causes you pain or strains your knee,” she insisted, wanting to be sure—really sure—he wasn’t going to do something stupid or push himself past his endurance just to get laid. “Promise me.”

  “The sun and the moon and the stars,” he murmured, nibbling along her chin and jaw and the lobe of her ear. “I’ll promise you anything.”

  She moaned, fighting hard to keep her thoughts in her head until she was satisfied they wouldn’t do anything to set him back in his recovery. But, oh, his hands and his mouth and his warm, solid body were tempting her with a million other forms of satisfaction with a capital S.

  “Promise you won’t let me hurt you, or do anything to hurt yourself,” she made herself say. Or at least she thought those were the words that tumbled out of her open mouth; it could have just as easily been a long, heartfelt moan.

  But she must have spoken, because he answered without missing a beat. “I promise. Now kiss me before I explode.”

  He wasn’t the only one who felt like an over-inflated balloon. The blood was pounding through her veins like out-of-control floodwaters.

  She did as he asked, meshing her lips with his and kissing him, letting him kiss her. It was like coming home, like being right where she’d always belonged, despite everything.

  Her hands roamed his chest and shoulders and the flat, amazingly well-sculpted plane of his abdomen. His, in turn, pulled the scrunchie from her hair, running through the still slightly damp strands to spill them about her face, and stroked up and down her side, teasing the swell of one breast through the material of her top.

  Beneath her shirt and bra, her nipples beaded. Beside her thigh, his erection pressed and strained.

  But she didn’t want him next to her, she wanted him inside her. So she straddled him, lifting her left leg and planting it on the other side of his hips.

  Zack helped her, settling her into place and rubbing her just over the tip of his arousal, raising the front of his boxers. Then he went a step further, running his fingers under the hem of her top, running them up, up, up. The material bunched and climbed, and she lifted her arms, broke their kiss, just long enough to allow him to skim it off over her head. Then their lips were meshed again, tongues tangling, teeth gnashing.

  His hands moved to the back of her bra, unhooking the clasp as though it were no more than a slipknot, invisible, even. But then, he’d had a lot of practice.

  The lacy, barely there cups fell away, the straps trailing down her arms and leaving her open and naked. Cool air wafted over her, raising goose bumps along her skin.

  Not that they lasted long with Zack’s constant attentions. He seemed to touch her everywhere at once, stroking, rubbing, warming her even as he caused chills to race up and down her spine.

  Cupping her breasts, he tweaked the nipples. Already pebbled and hard, the tissue swelled even more, filling his palms, making her groan.

  Without warning, he sat up, circled her waist with one arm, and twisted them both around. She landed on her back, bouncing gently against the mattress.

  “Careful,” she said, though he gave her barely enough time to get out even a single syllable between kisses. “Watch your knee.”

  “Screw my knee,” he told her, taking tiny nips of her throat, across her collarbone, down to one breast, where he circled, licked, and occasionally sucked.

  “Mmmm.” She threw her head back, arching into his mouth, scraping her nails along his shoulders and biceps. “I’d rather screw you.”

  He chuckled, running the flat of his tongue around the peak of her breast. “And you will,” he murmured wickedly.

  Thrusting his fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms, he pushed them down, snagging her panties and shoving both all the way down her legs and off. They got tossed somewhere past the bed, the same as her top and bra.

  She was blessedly naked, sprawled beneath him and enjoying everything he was doing to her. But he was still wearing his boxers, and that just wasn’t fair.

  Her goal was to strip him the same as he’d stripped her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take pleasure in the chore. She let the pads of her fingers dance down his back like she was reading Braille. She counted his vertebrae, and kneaded the softer flesh on either side.

  When she reached the elastic waist of his boxers, she didn’t stop, but drove her hands straight underneath, over the curve of his buttocks. She scored him with her nails, gave him a squeeze, pulled him tighter into the cradle of her thighs…and grinned in delight when he groaned, gave her nipple a tiny love bite, and ground himself even harder against her.

  She was ready to divest him of his shorts and roll him over so she could ride him already when a long, wet tongue slapped her cheek and licked her from chin to eyeball.

  And it wasn’t Zack’s.

  “Aaack!” she screamed in surprise, then started to giggle, squinting and turning her head against an overabundance of doggie slobber.

  When she cracked open one eye, she found Bruiser poised over them. He was standing above them on her side of the bed, licking her, then Zack, and nudging them both with his big, cold nose and the occasional paw the size of a baseball mitt in an effort to get their attention.

  Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time they’d experienced caninus interruptus.

  Zack lifted his head, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. “I think somebody wants to play.”

  “Yeah, me,” she growled, pretending to be annoyed. Pressing the flat of her hand to Bruiser’s wide chest, she pushed. “Get off, you big horse. You weren’t invited.”

  “Since when does he wait for an invitation to anything?” Zack asked, starting to pull away.

  “Hey!” She grabbed him by the arms and held him in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Unless you’re willing to make this a very peculiar threesome or like being watched, we’re going to have to lock him in the bathroom.”

  “Aww, the bathroom?” she asked, patting the top of Bruiser’s head. “But he’ll be so lonely in there.”

  Zack snorted. “We’ll give him his blanket and all of his toys and snacks, and we’ll be really quick, but yeah—the bathroom.”

  He started to move away again, rolling to the far side of the bed.

  “All right,” Grace agreed, though she was already feeling guilty about it. “But I’ll do it. You stay here.”

  She started to sit up and get out of bed herself, the task made more difficult by Bruiser’s constant nudging and sloppy kisses.

  “Why?” he asked.

  She waggled her brows at him. “Because you’re too slow, Hop-Along.”

  With that, she jumped out of bed, completely naked, but not the least self-conscious, and started zipping around the room, collecting Bruiser’s things.

  She was bent over, one arm filled with doggie bones and squeaky toys, the other busy gathering the Saint’s thick, soft blanket from the floor, when she noticed that Zack hadn’t moved a muscle. And while that was good—she had told him to stay put, after all—she also had a sneaking suspicion…

  Turning her head forty-five degrees, she glanced over her shoulder to find him staring at her. Or rather, staring at her derriere.

  She straightened, holding t
he blanket in front of her, effectively blocking his view. “Stop staring at my bare ass, Hoolihan, and make yourself useful,” she told him.

  “Useful, how?” he asked without a hint of shame or apology for his ogling, and without bothering to shift his gaze so much as an inch. “You told me not to move.”

  Starting toward the bathroom, she gave a little whistle and patted her thigh so Bruiser would follow. “Well, unless you want things to end really quickly once I get back, I suggest you hunt up some condoms. Otherwise, you might just be spending the night locked in the bathroom with your dog.”

  Nothing got a man to hustle like the promise of sex…or the promise to withhold it if he didn’t jump through a few well-placed hoops. One corner of her mouth curved up in a grin as she sauntered off…and Zack made a mad dash for his crutches to tear the room apart until he found the item she’d requested.

  Walking into the nice-sized bathroom, she spread the doggie blanket on the floor in front of the tub and called Bruiser over.

  “Come here, baby,” she said, kneeling down and patting the spot where she wanted him to settle. Then she laid his toys and bones around so he would have something to occupy his time. Otherwise, there was a serious chance he’d eat the shower curtain, the toilet paper, the towels, and possibly even chew the knobs right off the sink and shower stall.

  “We won’t be long, I promise. And after, I’ll take you out for a quick walkie before bed, okay?” She kissed his nose and ruffled his ear before darting out and closing the door firmly behind her.

  Zack was back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, only instead of still being in his blue striped boxer shorts, he was now completely, gloriously naked.

  She took a moment to stand there and admire him, not the least bit self-conscious of her own nudity. Not with him, anyway.

  From the top of his sandy blond hair to his large, long-toed feet, and every magnificently muscled inch between, she admired him. And apparently, she had more in common with Bruiser than she might like to admit, because she thought she may even have drooled a little.

  Cocking her head, her gaze strayed back to his lap and she arched a single brow. “I’d ask if you found some condoms, but all signs point to yes.”

  Grinning, he lifted an arm and dangled a strand of five or six plastic squares of protection. “Just call me Magic 8 Inches,” he quipped.

  “Only eight?” she challenged. “I thought you always claimed to be at least ten, fully erect.”

  His lips twitched. “This is the one and only time eight sounds better than ten. Of course, if you’d like to measure me to make sure…”

  She put a hand on her hip and hitched it to the right. “No, thanks, I’ll take your word for it. Besides, you know what they say: anything more than a mouthful…”

  Even if he’d wanted to, Zack couldn’t hide the involuntary jerk of his penis at her suggestive remark. Grace bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.

  “Why don’t you get your sweet ass over here and put that to the test,” he all but growled.

  She took a step in his direction, then another, taking her time and making sure he looked his fill. When she reached the end of the bed, she climbed on, one knee and then the other.

  “We can’t leave Bruiser in the bathroom for long,” she reminded him, crawling slowly toward him, “so you have to choose. I can either make you happy…” She licked her lips as she reached his thighs and lifted a leg to straddle him. Then she took the string of condoms from his hand and dangled them in front of him. “Or we can make each other happy. Your choice.”

  His chest rose and fell with his rapid breathing, his stomach muscles going concave as she ran her fingers down the center of his torso and lower.

  “Oh, I want us both to be happy,” he said, voice grating. “We’ll just have to save the other for later.”

  The corner of her mouth curved, and she chuckled. “Okay, but we’ll have to be careful. We wouldn’t want Bruiser to mistake this for one of his bones or chew toys.”

  Zack sucked in a sharp breath as her hand closed around his burgeoning cock. “Definitely not.”

  Sticking the corner of one of the plastic packets in her mouth, she bit down and tore the rest away along the perforation, tossing them aside. Then she tore open the single packet and removed the circle of latex.

  “Do you want me to put it on?” she asked him.

  “You have no idea how much,” he replied, a huff of air bursting from his lungs.

  As much as she would have liked to linger and play with him a while longer, she was also horny and eager and didn’t want Bruiser getting any destructive ideas before they’d gotten to the really good stuff. So she wasted no time in fitting the condom over the head of his penis and rolling it down his thick, significant length.

  Once it was securely in place, she leaned forward and took his mouth in a long, slow, luxurious kiss. His hands slipped to her waist, those wide palms spanning nearly from breast to hip.

  After several long minutes, he pulled back, and she expected him to say, “Let’s get to it,” or pull her forward so that she was flush with his erection. But instead, he drove his fingers through the hair at her temple, caressing her and looking deep into her eyes.

  There was something there, something serious and meaningful that caused her stomach to flutter. It wasn’t just sex now. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she knew the mood of the room had shifted—imperceptibly, but significantly.

  “What?” she asked softly, holding his gaze.

  “I need to know …” He stopped, licked his lips, and started again. “Is this just blowing off a little steam, or is this…Do you believe me when I say I didn’t cheat on you?”

  Her heart seized inside her chest, a tight squeeze that stole her breath for a second. It was The Question. The Big One. A fork in the road. One of those superimportant, life-altering moments.

  The problem was, she didn’t have an answer for him. Not a definite one, at any rate.

  She swallowed hard and gave him the only response her conscience would allow. “I don’t know.”

  His lashes fluttered and a curtain dropped on the other side of his lapis-blue eyes, making her heart twist even more.

  “I’m sorry, Zack,” she apologized, and she meant it. “I want to believe you, really I do. I just…I know what I saw, and it’s hard for me not to think the worst, but…”

  Shaking her head slightly, she put her hands on either side of his face and held his gaze, trying to let him know without words that she did want to be here. Her emotions might be in turmoil, her mind might be racked by confusion and doubt, but the one thing she wasn’t confused about was being with him at this very moment.

  “Right now, this minute, though, I do believe you.” Leaning in, she brushed her lips across his. “Please let me believe,” she whispered against his mouth. “Just for tonight.”

  Row 19

  Zack exhaled on a sigh.

  Just for tonight.

  It wasn’t exactly an absolution of his supposed sins or even a declaration of undying love.

  Just for tonight.

  It didn’t actually change anything for either of them. They might be naked and in bed together, about to take part in the most intimate act possible between a man and a woman, but when they awoke in the morning, they would be right back where they’d started.

  Did he care?

  Hell, yes.

  Was he going to push her away, tell her they had to stop because she still thought—or at least believed there was a possibility—he’d been unfaithful?

  Sigh. No.

  A bigger man might say that pride was more important than getting laid—and it was. But being with Grace wasn’t about pride or sex. And if it meant lying to himself, pretending she trusted him and that everything was okay…Well, then, he could do that.

  Just for tonight.

  Knowing there were no words for what they were about to do or the million thoughts spinning through his head, h
e nodded.

  Grace’s shoulders, which she’d been holding military straight, slumped with relief, and the breath she’d been holding released in a whoosh. Her lips lifted in the gentlest of smiles.

  Amazing how a woman straddled buck naked on his lap and promising all manner of naughty, dirty deeds to come could still look so freaking angelic. She was so beautiful, it was almost painful. His teeth ached just looking at her.

  But other parts of him ached more.

  Digging his fingers more firmly into her hair and along her scalp, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his own. He kissed her to let her know this was all right with him, that everything was going to be all right, even in the morning, in the bright light of day when she might be faced with regrets for what they were doing now. And maybe, if he was lucky, in hopes of helping her to realize that he was worthy of her trust.

  She kissed him back, her lips pressing against his, her tongue sucking and twining, driving him half out of his mind. His free hand splayed at the small of her back, bringing her close so that her breasts flattened to his chest and the tip of his cock nudged between her legs.

  “I thought you said you were going to ride me,” he murmured between nips of her lips, her chin, her throat. He wanted to kiss her everywhere at once, taste every inch of her skin, lick her from head to toe and back again.

  “Mm-hm.” Her eyes were closed, her platinum-blond hair dusting her shoulders seductively.

  “Grace?” He spoke her name softly, amused by the blank expression on her face.

  “Hmm?”

  She was so caught up in the passion, in his kisses, in her own arousal, that he probably could have recited the Periodic Table of Elements or asked her to walk barefoot across flaming coals and she would have reacted the same way.

  “And are you going to, or would you rather we keep doing this?” He trailed his mouth down her chest, leaving patches of wetness along her skin from the tiny love bites.

  “Licking.” He licked the swell of one breast.

  “Nibbling.” He moved to her areola, taking the softer, darker, more tender flesh between his lips, and giving it the gentlest of nips with his teeth.