by Piper Lawson
She nodded, her fingers running over the edge of the table. “My dad’s driving my grandparents to the airport. He’ll be gone a few hours.” She rose and turned away. “Are you thirsty? I can make coffee. Or tea.”
“I’m good.”
Need curled in my gut, the full force of it hitting me now that we’d done away with the distraction of working.
I crossed to stand behind her, listening to her fussing with drawers and jars.
“Are you hungry? There are leftovers and…”
“Yeah. I’m definitely hungry.”
She stilled at the sound of my voice at her back, turning. She peered up at me from under a curtain of dark lashes, her breath hitching.
I stepped closer, my eyelids lowering halfway as I breathed her in. I brushed a piece of hair over her ear, tucking it back.
It’d been weeks since I’d run into her at the gallery but it felt like I’d always had this need. It was part of me, a low-grade frequency vibrating through my core that I couldn’t ignore or deny.
I backed Sam into the counter, rewarded by the friction of her hips against mine when her ass met the edge.
“Jesus, Lee,” she murmured, a half smile playing on her lips. “When’d you get so hot?”
I grinned. “I was always hot for you, Sam.”
Her fingers reached for the pull for my sweater. She drew it down, her gaze never leaving mine. The zipper gave way, her hands landed on my chest through my T-shirt. She pushed the sweater off, and neither of us caught it when it landed on the floor.
It felt forbidden and so damned right at once when I reached for her, desperate to feel as much of that smooth skin I could get my hands on. My hands skimmed up her sides under her sweater, my thumbs grazing the bottoms of her breasts. I felt her intake of breath everywhere and it was like she was breathing into me, into us, when my mouth dropped to hers.
It was fucking unreal. The way her mouth melted under mine, the way I could make her moan just by grazing my teeth across her lower lip.
Her hands found the back of my T-shirt and the impatient sound in her throat had me pulling back long enough for her to jerk it upward over my head.
It stuck on my head, the difference in our heights more obvious than ever. I ducked so she could pull the fabric away from my body.
Then her hands were on me. Exploring my bare chest, making my muscles leap under her touch as I groaned against her mouth.
“Fuck, it feels good to have your attention.”
“You always had it. From day one.” Her low words ran together, one blending into the next. “You looked like you didn’t know what you wanted out of life, but you were going to find out if it killed you.”
Her words were killing me. When her fingers flirted with the waistband of my jeans, I growled. “Upstairs.”
If she was going to let me do this—which was still an if, because all we’d done was kiss—I didn’t want to do it on the kitchen table.
Except that I really fucking did, and if she looked at me like she was for another five seconds, it would be game over.
I swept her up into my arms and she squeaked as I started up the stairs. “What are you doing?”
“Relax. I’ve got you.” Her hands clutched at my neck. The laugh that rumbled through me made her soft sweater rub against my bare chest, reminding me she still had too many clothes on.
Upstairs I set her down in the middle of her bedroom floor. We were surrounded by the same paint color from a decade ago, her canvases on the floor and her bed tidy in the corner.
I stripped the sweater over her head, letting my gaze move down her half-naked body.
Her skin was fucking luminous. Her breasts small and high, their tips hardening in the cool air. She was all woman, an invitation I couldn’t wait to accept.
I wanted to stop time. To memorize every part of her in case I never saw it again.
To document every inch, cross-reference it against every innocent and not-so-innocent brush, touch, tickle, and grab.
But more than all of it, I wanted to show her.
I backed her against the wall. Her mouth lifted, seeking mine, and I used my height to deny her.
I twisted my fingers in hers, and on a foreign rush of possessiveness, pinned them over her head. Sam’s noise of protest was darkly satisfying.
She was all soft skin and curves I could lose myself in. And the way she responded to my touch… the way she arched against me like she needed to get closer, her wrists trying half-heartedly to escape…
I skimmed a hand down her neck, her collarbone. Over the curve of her breast, feeling the perfect weight of her before tracing along the bottom.
I rolled her nipple, already hard, between my fingers. Sam arched into the contact and I groaned in approval. “Good girl.”
My cock was already straining against the fabric when I dropped my mouth to the top of her breast, the hard peak begging for my attention.
“Oh my God, Lee…”
Each syllable pulsed with need and I switched to the other breast, dragging my teeth lightly along the underside before turning my attention to the hardened peak.
Sam’s fingers were tangling in my hair, pulling hard with impatience.
I traced the curve of her stomach, the flat skin disappearing into her shorts. My finger hitched in the top, and I slowly drew them down over her hips as my mouth fixed on her neck. “I love how you taste,” I muttered against her skin.
She squirmed, creating impossible friction between us. I hissed out a breath as she hit my cock.
My fingers slipped down, finding the spot between her thighs over the cotton of her panties. A tortured little sigh escaped her throat.
I wanted to stop time, her nearly naked and writhing against me as my fingers rubbed her, the growing wetness between us evidence of how much she wanted this.
It took every bit of self-restraint not to come undone when I slid my finger under the edge of the cotton and pressed knuckle-deep inside her silky heat.
Her moan and the feel of her had me hard as rock.
“It’s okay,” I murmured against her neck. I didn’t know if I was telling her or myself.
There were a million ways I wanted to sink into her, a thousand angles. I wanted to take my time with her, save every second to memory.
But the clink at my hips made me realize she’d found her way to my belt. The button on my jeans too.
I kept up the pressure, stroking inside with my fingers as my thumb slid up over her clit.
“Oh, fuck.” Her hand shook only a second as she shoved at my pants and shorts.
It was her turn to take control. She did it without any force, and muscle, even without any touch.
Her gaze dropped between us, her gaze hungry as she cleared her throat.
“I can’t believe I never knew.” Accusation blended with lust in her voice.
“And now that you do?”
“It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.”
It took everything I had not to press her up against the wall, to drive into her and duck her until we both exploded.
She brushed a finger experimentally over the barbell. I shivered. “Is it good?”
“Yeah.” I was already leaking, and her fascinated gaze darkened.
She slid her thumb over my slick crown and I pressed another finger inside her, making her gasp. “I want to tell you something,” she murmured.
“Do it.”
“After you’d leave my room at night,” she swallowed, her half-lidded gaze on mine, “I’d breathe you in from that pillow you used to lie on. I’d get myself off and imagine it was you.”
Blood pounded in me, everywhere. My head, my chest, my cock.
The feel of her cool hands on me coupled with the hot, tight vise around my fingers was driving me insane.
“Even after you turned me away…”
“Sam, I didn't turn you away. I was fucking in love with you.”
She blinked up at me, her hands stilling. “What?�
��
I swallowed, my heart beat thudding in my ears as the cocktail of need continued eating at me.
“I know it doesn't change anything now, but it's true.”
She rose up on her toes, wrapping an arm around my neck and hauling me down to her. Her other hand resumed its torture, making me buck into her grip.
On a groan, I pulled my fingers back, using both hands to tilt her hips, pressing her against the wall.
My abs shook with the effort of holding back. “Sam, slow down.”
“Riley, hurry up.” Her teeth found my ear, and my eyes rolled back in my head.
Jesus. How the hell did she know what I liked?
“Pocket,” I rasped as I ripped her panties down over her hips.
She reached inside, finding a foil-wrapped package. She tore at it with shaking hands, then rolled it on me.
There were a million things I should’ve done in that moment.
Told her how beautiful she was.
Carried her to the bed.
Made her come with my hands, my mouth.
Because I’m a good guy, and that’s what good guys do.
Instead I pinned her wrists to the wall. Held her steady, even as her hips created agonizing friction against mine.
Her face was flushed, eyes hot as she twisted in my grip. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It reminded me of the words she’d said years ago.
“No. You’re not.”
This time, you’re not.
I pressed the head of my swollen cock against her, and her smile faltered.
Then I thrust into her, swallowing her cry with my mouth.
I needed her to take me. To feel me.
To fucking know me.
Pleasure shot down my spine, settled in my groin as I waited for her to adjust.
The second her tight noise turned into a moan, I hitched her legs up around my hips again, lifting her higher to find an angle I knew on instinct was there.
Some people swear by make up sex. Angry sex. Hate sex.
Regret sex beat every last one of them.
I stroked deeper, finding a rhythm in the heavy drag of her body against mine. Our noses bumped, and the faintest pain twinged from when she’d hit me. My sharp inhale flooded me with mint and sweat.
I was blind, but Sam’s noises were my guideposts. I chased the feeling we both needed, grabbing her ass, my biceps clenching as I shifted her higher.
“I’m close,” she panted.
“Keep going.” I brushed my mouth across hers before dropping my head to bite the top of her breast. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and I didn’t care. I wanted to mark her. If she marked me too…
That was fucking perfect.
“Lee.” Our lips brushed as she implored me with her voice, her expression, the insistent pressure of her fingers in my sides.
Something had to give. Right now, the strongest woman I knew was the weakest link in a chain we’d woven together, starting a decade ago.
She clenched around me, and I knew it the second before it happened.
I had a front row seat to the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed. Each taut muscle, each slow curve, each glimpse of her sweat-slicked skin twisted the need in my gut tighter. I wanted to fuck every inch of her with every inch of me.
And when I followed her over…hell, I was lost.
20
Ruin you
My arms wrapped around her as we lay on our sides on the carpet. The experience was like standing on the edge of a cliff, peering into the void below.
Her heart, racing against mine, started to slow.
And I noticed the details that’d escaped me before.
How her hips fit so neatly against me.
The way my arm looped around her, my fingers playing with the edges of her hair.
I’d never had that “should we have done this?” moment after sex. I sleep with women I’m dating. It’s a civilized, adult progression from mutual attraction to mutual respect to everything that comes after.
This felt…different.
But I wasn’t ready to look at it too closely.
Sam lifted her head, dark lashes blinking as she raised soft eyes to mine. “Hey.”
“Hey.” The word stuck in my throat.
Her attention dropped to my arm as she traced my bicep with her finger. Down to my elbow, the scar that was still there after nearly three decades.
Then she moved to my pecs, then lower to my ribcage. Lingering on a pale white mark on my abs. “What’s this one?”
I hesitated. When women asked about the marks on my body, I’d always blown it off. Said they were from playing sports.
Whether it was the sense of calm washing over me, or the fact that it was Sam asking, I didn’t want to lie.
“Kitchen knife. Someone left it on the counter and I was playing with it. It slipped.”
“Before…”
“Yeah.” I flipped her over and her breath hitched as her back hit the carpet. My biceps flexed as I lowered myself over her. “Not what I want to talk about.”
Her fingers closed around my arms, pulling me closer as I dropped kisses down her neck. “You always get your way?”
“Usually.” I pulled back, the protest on her face inordinately satisfying as I rose.
I went to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth. I moved down her body, pausing over her hips to look up. “Spread ‘em.”
“You’re not doing that,” she said, reaching for the cloth.
I shoved her hand away. “I want a clean canvas for my masterpiece.”
Sam snorted a laugh. In her moment of weakness, I managed to part her thighs.
The cold water had her sucking in a breath, but I held her down. “That's my girl,” I murmured.
I tossed the cloth to the side and bent my mouth to kiss her smooth thighs. She went still under my hands, my mouth.
“You’re missing the canvas,” she breathed.
“Have some faith.”
I loved every inch of her body, from the hands she’d used to draw me pictures in school, to the wrist she’d hurt diving off Max’s uncle’s boat, to the smooth expanse of stomach that used to shake with laughter when I’d tickle her.
But there was definitely something to be said for these new places.
My greedy gaze lingered on her pink folds. The sight of her, the damned smell had the tension in my gut knotting tighter.
I’d known sex with Sam would be good.
I hadn’t expected to feel so driven, so desperate.
Fuck, the things I wanted to do to her.
I traced a finger up the inside of her thigh, catching some of the wetness and sliding it over her clit.
Sam’s hands fisted in my hair as she arched off the floor, trying to steer my mouth toward her center.
“Tell me what you want.”
Sam had never used words when actions would do. But now, I wanted them. I wanted her to tell me exactly what she needed from me.
She bit her lip and I pressed harder on her button. Her throaty voice seemed like it was torn from her when she said, “I want your mouth on me.”
I shifted back on my knees. Peered down at her flushed, naked body.
I licked the taste of her off my fingers, watching her eyes cloud as I did it. She shifted up on her elbows, her breasts full and tempting and inches from my lips.
I laid an arm over her trembling stomach to hold her down and met her longing gaze with mine. “Sam?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to ruin you.”
I put my mouth on her and she cried out.
She tasted like honey and woman, and if I hadn’t already wanted to devour her, I would’ve now.
Part of me wished I could eat her sounds. The rest of me loved hearing her, just like this. The effect my fingers, my tongue had on her body.
Her phone rang from somewhere far away and her startled eyes met mine.
“You’re not getting that.”
&n
bsp; I turned my attention back to her body, tracing patterns in her skin as her thighs clenched under me.
The phone finished ringing. I'd barely had a second to appreciate the silence, cut by her moans, when the phone started again.
Sam let out a frustrated groan, shifting up to sitting. Worry warred with desire on her expression. “It’s probably my dad. Don't move.”
Feeling like a saint, I let her scramble out from under me. Sam grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her as she dashed out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen where she’d left the phone.
I dropped back onto my elbows and let my head fall back.
If some part of me had thought things would get simpler after I blew off steam with her, that hadn’t happened. Round one had taken the edge off but there was still a long list of things I wanted to do with this woman.
Fine. Our history ran deep. It was understandable that resolving it would be a little complicated.
A dozen visions ran through my mind, ways I wanted to have her…
On the floor, her back arching off the rug as my tongue made her fly.
On the bed, her on her stomach as I filled her with my aching cock, moans muffled by the pillow.
In the shower, her body slick with soap and both of us slippery with lust.
I heard her voice but couldn’t make out the words.
Her feet on the staircase preceded the rest of her. She appeared in the doorway a few moments later. “He’s on his way home.”
It took a gargantuan effort of self-control not to shut the door, lock it, and drag Sam into the bed within arm’s reach.
Instead I pushed myself to standing, getting some validation from the way her gaze followed my movement.
We dressed and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen.
“We’re picking up where we left off upstairs,” I told her as we stopped by the back door. Her eyes darkened and I brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Tomorrow. I have a townhouse.”
“God, you’re romantic. Is that your go-to line? ‘I have a townhouse’?”
I stared at her. “It’s on Commonwealth.”
“Oh. In that case.” Sam rolled her eyes, but I wasn't ready to let it go.
“You want romance, Sam?” I asked, surprised. We hadn't talked about the confession I'd blurted out, but I realized the words had done something to her.