Holly barely got a glimpse of the rooms as he strode through them. They were stark though. Modern. There was nothing personal in any of the main rooms they passed through. She glimpsed a turquoise pool outside the living room, a raised area she assumed was a hot tub, and a waterfall.
Ross didn’t stop for any of it. He carried her through a door and into the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen in her life. A king-sized bed sat against the far wall, and there was at least an acre of floor between it and the door. The windows opened onto a landscaped view that included the pool.
Ross took her over to the bed and laid her down on it, kneeling over her as he did so. He reached for something on the bedside table, and the room started to grow darker as shades dropped slowly down over the bright windows.
Then he tossed the remote aside and reached for the hem of his shirt. Holly’s mouth went dry as the ridges of his abdomen appeared. His shirt fell over the side of the bed—and then he stretched out, holding himself above her, barely pressing any weight into her body at all.
“You still sure?” he asked softly.
Holly’s gaze flicked over his face, searching for… what? She did not know. His eyes were smoky brown, serious, and she knew that if she said no, even now, he’d stop. In spite of their position, in spite of the insistent press of his groin against hers, Ross would lever himself up and put his shirt on again if she asked.
She wasn’t going to ask.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”
Chapter Thirteen
ROSS LET OUT the breath he’d been holding. Because he’d known it was entirely possible Holly would change her mind—if her very logical brain started reminding her about all those internet articles she’d read and photos she’d seen. If she started thinking about the fact he was a Blackthorne.
But she hadn’t. She’d said yes. He practically groaned with relief.
Then he dropped his mouth to hers, dying to taste her, dying to give her everything he could. Her mouth opened, warm and wet and welcoming. Her arms went around his neck—and then she opened her legs and wrapped them around him too.
Oh God, heaven.
Her crotch hit him right where he most wanted pressure and he groaned. His dick was aching to be free. To slide into her and take them both to nirvana.
Patience.
Holly deserved his best.
He cupped her breast. She didn’t have a bountiful chest, but in his mind she had a perfect one. Just enough to fit in his hand. Beautiful, firm, perfect.
He skimmed his hand down her side. Her skirt was bunched at her hips because it had fallen when she’d put her legs around him. He took full advantage, stroking her bare thigh, the edge of her panties. Not a thong. And not silky. A nice, simple cotton panty that was probably white.
So very Holly. No nonsense. Serious. With a plan and a job to do.
He had a plan too.
Long, slow, wet, deep kisses. He focused on those until he was about to burst. Then he levered upright and helped her to her feet beside the bed. She swayed a little and he caught her close, feeling protective and fierce all at once.
“Need to get this off,” he said, tugging her shirt upward. She cooperated, putting her hands above her head. He shook out her shirt and laid it on a chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She watched him with a wry expression.
“What?” he asked.
“Thoughtful,” she said. She reached out and put a palm on his stomach. His skin sizzled as her small hands ran over the ridges of his abdomen. “So not fair.”
“What?” he asked stupidly.
“You. This body.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I like it. But some of the things you eat, Ross—you should have to fight a little harder to look like this.”
He put his fingers in the waistband of her skirt, looking for a zipper or a button. Found a hidden zipper at the side, along with a hook. “I work out,” he said, dropping his mouth to her neck as she tilted her head back. “Hard.”
She shuddered. Her palms skimmed up his chest, over his pecs. She pinched a nipple softly, and sensation streaked to his groin.
“So hard,” she whispered.
“Very hard,” he growled, sliding the zipper down after he’d released the hook. The skirt fell to the floor. And as much as he didn’t want to stop what he was doing, he picked that up as she stepped out of it and placed it with her shirt.
When he turned back to her, his breath arrested. Holly Brooks was a goddess. How had he ever—ever—thought that the overly polished kind of women he often met on the circuit were beautiful? Because they weren’t. At least not like Holly—in her simple white cotton panties and white lace bra.
She looked at him shyly. Her lashes dropped and he could see her pulse thrumming in her throat.
Go to her.
He moved, swept her against him before she could begin to think that she was somehow lacking. Because she would. He knew that about her.
“I have never seen anything so damned sexy,” he said, his voice hoarse and choked and filled with some kind of emotion that shocked him.
“You don’t have to say—” she began.
He hushed her with a kiss. After a moment, the heat between them flared so hot that Holly started to fumble for the buttons on his fly. She got them undone and then he reached down and shoved his jeans off, stepping out of them as he lifted her onto the bed.
“I want inside you so bad,” he told her.
“I want that too.”
“I have condoms.”
“So do I.”
He pushed onto an elbow and looked down at her. At her pale skin and pretty red hair. So lovely. He trailed his finger down her chest, then pushed it beneath one of the cups on her bra.
“I should have known.” Carefully, he exposed her nipple. “Beautiful,” he said as he lowered his head and skimmed his tongue around the tight little bud.
“Oh,” she gasped. “Please don’t stop.”
“Don’t intend to. Not until you’re limp and can’t take anymore.”
HOLLY THOUGHT her heart would burst from her chest at any second. Ross sucked her nipple into his mouth and pleasure spiked hard inside her. There was an electric current flowing between them, engulfing her wholly, snapping between her nipple and her sex, making her entire body quiver like a frightened virgin’s.
She was anything but frightened. She was desperate, needy, aching with pent up sexual frustration.
Ross reached beneath her and unsnapped her bra. She’d worn the prettiest matching set she had, but they were still white and plain. She hadn’t thought about that until she’d been getting dressed this morning. It’d been too late to run to the mall and hit up the Victoria’s Secret for something sexier, so here she was.
She’d kind of expected he’d take her to lunch and the garage and then maybe they’d return to her house where she could contrive to get undressed when he wasn’t looking.
Like that would have happened. It was obvious to her now that there was no excusing oneself to strip when things were as hot as they currently were.
Besides, Ross didn’t seem deterred by her underwear. When he’d turned to look at her after laying out her skirt—really, she couldn’t get over the fact he’d considered how her clothing might wrinkle on the floor—the look on his face had caused something hot and joyful to flare deep inside.
But then she’d started to overthink it, wondering if she was wrong, if he was more shocked than aroused. Until he’d told her he’d never seen anything so sexy. Whether or not he meant it, Ross Blackthorne was smooth and knew just what to say at the right moment.
She chose to believe he meant it. The kind of man who put her clothing on a chair so it didn’t wrinkle wasn’t the kind of guy to only be thinking about himself.
His hands—not quite as soft as she’d thought they might be, thanks to working with car engines—flowed over her skin like rainwater, seeking all her hollows. She rose to him, pressed her body to hi
s, chasing the pleasure he left in his wake.
When he hooked his thumbs into her panties and tugged, she lifted her hips for him, her body on edge. She was so ready for this.
He nearly choked and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her panties.
“They’re lacy in the back. See-through.”
“Yes,” she said with a grin.
“Well, hell. I want to see that. Later,” he added as he dropped them over the side of the bed. His gaze skimmed her body. “So damned gorgeous.”
He dropped a kiss to her stomach, traced his tongue around her belly button, and then he was moving south again. When he pushed her legs open and settled between them, Holly thought she might die.
Smoky brown eyes met hers over the delta of her body. “Strap in for the ride. It’s gonna get intense.”
He wasn’t lying. From the moment he touched his tongue to her sex, stars sparked and flared behind her eyelids. It didn’t take long for Holly to fly apart, her body melting beneath his.
He took her to the edge again, and she flew high and far before coming back to earth. Then he rolled his way up her body in a wave of kisses and caresses. She reached for him, realized he hadn’t shed his underwear yet.
She lifted her head off the pillow to look—and yes, praise heaven, boxer briefs. The white material clung to his hips, his firm thighs. The prominent bulge in the center was large and defined. Holly slipped her hands into his briefs, wrapped a hand around him.
Ross stilled. Groaned as she stroked him.
“These need to go,” she said.
“Hell yes,” he muttered. But he still didn’t move. Holly did. She pushed the briefs off, tried to push Ross over onto his back so she could repay the favor.
But he stopped her.
“Not this time, baby,” he said, reaching for the drawer in the bedside table. He dragged out a strip of condoms and tore one off before dropping them on the bed.
“Let me,” she said, taking the package from him. She tore it open and sheathed him while he held himself still above her.
He sank into her slowly, carefully, and she held her breath as she gazed up at him, her heart throbbing and her belly swirling with heat. Their eyes never left each other’s face.
“You feel so good,” he said when he’d slid all the way inside her. “You okay?”
She touched his cheek. She couldn’t seem to help it. Ross turned his face into her hand. Kissed her palm. “Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“I’m not. If I don’t move, I’m gonna explode.”
“Yes. Please, please move.”
She rose up to him and he took her mouth in a kiss that removed all restraint between them. He moved, slow at first, then plunging into her again and again, their bodies rising and falling together as the flames of their pleasure licked at them.
The pressure intensified, the fire burning higher, faster, brighter—nothing had ever felt this good. No man had ever made her feel like this. Hot, crazy, desperate.
Alive.
Holly got there first, flying over the edge for the third time since he’d laid her on the big bed. She wrapped her arms around him, threaded her fingers in his hair, and kissed him so hard their teeth clashed. He moaned and thrust harder, deeper.
She knew when he came. His body stiffened and he groaned into her mouth, feeding her back the moans she’d given him. Finally, she tore her mouth from his, gulping in air and wondering if she’d ever be able to move again.
Waiting for the regret that never came.
They lay there, entangled in each other, breathing heavily into the silence. Ross pressed his mouth to her neck, her shoulder, then he dipped down to lick a nipple before he disentangled himself from her and went to dispose of the condom.
She watched him return, admiring the long lines of his body. The tight, lean muscle that made him worthy of a sculpture. He was still half hard, and she admired that too. She’d be a little sore, probably—but oh, it was so worth it.
Ross started at the foot of the bed and panther-crawled his way up her body, grinning the entire time. Holly grinned back.
“That was incredible, sugar. You’re incredible.”
“Sugar?” she said with an arched brow. But she wasn’t really mad. It was impossible to be mad after the way he’d made her feel.
He kissed the tip of her nose. Like she was cute or something. “Yeah, you taste like sugar. Sugar and spice and everything nice.”
She laughed as he rolled them to the side so they faced each other, propping himself on an elbow over her. “I’ll allow it this time,” she said primly. “Sweet cheeks.”
“Sweet cheeks? What the hell?”
“Oh yes, I watched your ass as you walked away. Sweet. Cheeks.”
“Damn, girl. Way to objectify a dude.”
“If only I had a bottle of champagne to spray…”
He snorted. “Fine, you win.” His gaze dropped to her breasts. She tried not to feel self-conscious, but she kinda did. She’d seen what he dated before. Not that they were dating.
“What do I win?”
His gaze lifted to hers. “Me,” he said.
Then he pulled her to him. She forgot about feeling self-conscious for the next hour.
Chapter Fourteen
ROSS WATCHED Holly circle through his living room, touching furniture and gazing out the windows at the pool. He wished he’d talked her into packing a bag so she could stay the whole weekend. Now that he’d made love to her, he was more addicted than before.
Holly was real in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. She wasn’t a model or an actress or any of the women he usually encountered at races, race events, and Blackthorne charity events. Holly was simply herself, and she had strong opinions and no intention of liking the things he liked just to please him.
Which, ironically enough, pleased him.
She looked up and caught him staring. He was standing by the island, sending texts to Martin and Eric. Except he’d forgotten to press send and he was just staring.
A slow smile wreathed her face. “What?”
“You. You’re gorgeous and you’re in my house. And I’ve had sex with you twice now, which really makes me happy.”
She ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear, and he knew she was blushing. “Such a flatterer,” she said softly. Teasingly.
But he wasn’t flattering her. He was happy. Happier than he’d expected to be with his team in Joliet and him here. He still had time to make the points for the playoffs, or what used to be called the chase, but he wasn’t really thinking about it. He was thinking about her. About what it felt like to be buried inside her, moving as one.
Heaven.
He didn’t want that to end.
“Hey, what do you think about staying the night? We can order in. Maybe swim a little. If you stay until Sunday, we can watch the race together.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stay. I don’t have any clothes.”
“You won’t need clothes. I’ll loan you a robe if you don’t want to walk around naked. Though I approve of naked.”
“Very funny. I mean I don’t want to put on the same underwear tomorrow.”
“I have a washer and dryer. We can fix this.”
“What do I swim in?”
“Nothing?”
She folded her arms. “No, not nothing.”
“I’ll have somebody pick up a suit from the mall. It can be here in an hour tops.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can do that?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah. So what do you say?”
She nibbled her lip. “How about we go to Walmart and I’ll buy a suit?”
He didn’t know why she was so reluctant to accept things from him. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why not? The distillery is closed until Monday—except for the tours, but you aren’t needed for those.”
He pressed send and tossed his phone on the counter, oblivious to any ret
urn texts, and walked over to put his hands on her hips, pull her gently to him. She tilted her head back, her palms resting on his chest. “Stay with me, Holly. Just for tonight. I can take you home tomorrow if you want to go.”
“And if I say no?” she whispered.
She wasn’t going to say no. He could feel it. “I’ll take you home tonight.”
“I feel out of place here,” she said, and his heart clenched.
“Why?”
She rolled her gaze around the cavernous room. “This house. It’s so much bigger than I expected.”
He frowned. “The house? Is that all?”
She met his eyes. “I, uh, I’m not the kind of woman who fits in a house like this. I feel like Beyoncé should glide down those giant stairs in the front entrance with a beam of light shining on her while a fan blows her hair.”
He squeezed her. “Holly. You fit. It’s just a house. I know it’s huge—and I’ve decided I hate the decor, by the way. But I bought it because of the garage. I need a big garage for my cars.”
She blinked. “Seriously? You bought a mansion for the garage?”
“Told you I was a gear head.” He shot her a cheeky smile.
“That’s crazy.”
“I know.” He pushed her hair off her shoulders, loving the way the silky strands felt in his fingers. “So will you stay? I promise not to make you walk down the stairs like Beyoncé. Unless you want to, of course…”
She slapped him playfully. “I do not want to.”
He kissed her. “Stay, Holly,” he said between kisses. “Don’t make me sleep in that big bed alone.”
She moaned as he swiped his tongue in her mouth. “Ross, you don’t play fair.”
“Nope. Fair isn’t how you win.”
“Okay, I’ll stay—but only if you take me to Walmart so I can buy some things.”
“Fine. Walmart. We’ll take the Lambo.”
She laughed as she clutched his shoulders and he tilted her back. “No, no fancy cars. Don’t you have a plain old Toyota or something?”
“I’ve got a Toyota.”
“Then we can take that.”
“Okay, baby. Whatever you say.”
Ross: 7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes (Book 3) Page 13