Unmanageable
Page 18
* * *
—
She’d never felt so needy. Veronica pulled Brian’s lips back to her, needing his touch, his warmth. She didn’t quite understand all the emotions that had run through her this evening, but somehow she knew that his touch was the only cure.
She crushed her mouth to his, concentrating on the feeling of their lips meeting, the warm moisture of their mouths, the taste that was only him.
His tongue began a rhythm that had her girly parts clenching. God, she wanted him, needed him. She brought her hands about him, letting her fingers slide over his shoulders, feeling the well-defined muscles and then down that hard back. When she reached the bottom of his T-shirt, her hands swept up again, gliding under the fabric so that she could feel all that delicious warm skin. Her fingers worked deep, massaging, squeezing, enjoying. The man was so solid, so real. The natural heat of his body warmed a chill that she didn’t realize she had.
His hands remained tangled in her hair, holding her face to his as the kiss continued and continued. He was absolutely thorough, tasting every bit of her mouth, sensitizing every millimeter of her lips.
Then slowly his lips moved over her cheeks, caressing, enjoying, reveling. Her body was moving on its own, pressing against his, grinding against his.
His lips moved over her chin, down her neck, tracing tendons, stopping to nibble at pulse points. So good. So good.
He paused at the meeting of her clavicles, his tongue moving in slow circles. His hands slowed, lowering from her hair, stopping to massage her shoulders, before slowly reaching for the bottom of her T-shirt to pull it over her head. He leaned back to stare.
She shivered at the first breath of cold air to reach her skin and then shivered again at the look in his eyes. He was devouring her, his gaze fixed on her breasts in the sleek T-shirt bra.
It was cute, but she’d worn it for comfort and for how it looked under the thin T-shirt. It certainly didn’t deserve the look he was giving it. Only, maybe it did. There was no mistaking he certainly thought so.
Almost reflexively, her arms began to rise to cross over her chest. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide—in fact, she wanted to display herself for him—but some inborn instinct had her moving. He caught her wrists, holding them firmly but gently.
Their eyes met.
“Take your shirt off too,” she whispered.
Instantly he complied, and then she was too busy looking at the wonder of his golden flesh to even think about her own half-nakedness.
How could any man be so beautiful, so perfect? No, not perfect. He had a few scars that she’d never noticed before, small white lines on his golden flesh. She pulled slightly against his restraining hands and he released her. Her fingers moved to trace each line and then her lips followed.
He allowed it for a few moments before he caught her again, pushing her back. “I want to see too,” he murmured.
His hand slid up her arm until he reached the slim strap of her bra. With gentle fingers he moved it down her arm, his head bending to leave a trail of kisses after it.
And then the other strap.
With another slight shiver, she reached behind and loosened the hooks of her bra, letting it fall forward.
His already large pupils grew even more, almost filling his eyes with darkness.
Reverently, he reached out and traced the tip of a finger around her right breast and then across, up over the sensitive tip. This time it was more than a shiver; she trembled with desire.
He bent his head, but met her lips, not her breast. The kiss soft, but needy, letting her know all that he was feeling.
“You are so beautiful,” he said against her mouth. “Sometimes I think you must have been made for me. I can’t think of a single thing that would add to your perfection.”
She kissed him back, hard, letting her mouth tell him all her secrets, all that his words made her feel. She’d never felt unattractive, but beneath his lips, listening to his words, she felt like a goddess.
Her fingers roamed his back again. If anyone was perfection, it was him. His skin was so smooth and warm. He still smelled of the sun and the beach, wet and wind.
Her mind conjured the picture of him shirtless on the beach, moving from pose to pose. She’d been surprised that every woman in town—and perhaps some of the men—weren’t there to watch. It had been a sight to warm her fantasies for many a night. Not that she needed to fantasize when he was here, here above her, below her, around her.
His other hand rose up and traced her other breast, as the first one held still, a finger resting just below the tight nipple. The second hand repeated the same circle-and-stroke pattern and then they moved together, barely brushing the skin, but sending trails of fire throughout her body.
She started to pull him closer, wanting more contact, needing to feel his skin against her own.
“Patience, little one, let me enjoy for a moment.”
“ ‘Little one’? I’m hardly little.”
A light chuckle vibrated through his fingers into her chest. “Compared to me you are.”
That was hard to deny. “But I want to feel you, to touch you, to taste you.” She ran her tongue about her lips, wetting them, trying to tempt him.
“And so you shall, soon enough, but would you deny me my pleasure first? Can’t I have a few minutes to enjoy how wonderful you are?”
Her mind filled again with the beauty of him on the beach, the setting sun behind him. How could she deny him the same pleasure? “Just don’t take too long.”
Another chuckle. Again, the small shocks of vibration.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. I’ve always been known for my patience, but I can move fast when the moment arrives.”
She wanted to tell him that the moment had definitely arrived, but resisted, trying to give him his time despite how needy her body was feeling. A devilish thought took her—she’d give him his time, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use other means to hurry him.
Drawing her shoulders back, she pulled in a deep breath, letting her chest rise, letting her breasts reach for him, forcing his fingers to open and cup about them.
His fingers wrapped softly while his thumbs moved to brush back and forth across the tips.
That felt good, incredibly good, but it also made her want even more. She’d succeeded in moving the game ahead, but not without cost to herself. This time when she licked her lips it was without thought.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top curve of each breast, and then another, and another. Each kiss was slightly harder, slightly wetter, slightly more devouring. She tried to move slightly, tried to bring her nipple to his mouth. Her breasts felt full and drawn, almost as if they’d burst if he didn’t offer some relief soon.
He did not. With no apparent effort, he held her in place, continuing his slow trail of kisses.
“Please,” she murmured.
“Soon,” he replied, and then proceeded to move even slower—even more thoroughly.
She began to swear inside her head, trying again to move him closer, to get his lips on the target.
He pulled back and stared at her, then with great deliberateness lay a closed-mouth kiss on the top of each eager nipple.
“More. I need more.”
“And I promise you, you’ll get it.” He parted his lips and slipped them over a rigid peak—and then pulled back with great delicacy, barely brushing her skin.
Her body was on fire, and yet he continued to tease. All she could do was moan.
One of his hands came up and stroked her other breast, but still with that same lack of speed and urgency.
It was her turn to pull back, to wait until he raised his eyes to hers. And what she saw there betrayed the actions of his body. He might be moving with care, but the urgency was there—just held in control.
“I’m already without coherent thought,” he answered. “But I look forward to it.”
And then suddenly he sucked her left nipple hard and deep, even as his fingers lightly pinched at the right.
Her hips rose from the bed, her whole body reacting to the sudden change, to the flash of fire that moved through her. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing and then lapping in a way that had her straining toward him.
Her hands came up, tangling in his hair, drawing him closer, holding him to her.
His hand slipped down to her waist. She felt the button on her shorts give and then his hands moved down over her cheeks, clenching her. Her buttocks drew tight, her hips cocked forward. His mouth still at her breast, he pulled her close, letting her feel every long inch of his desire. There was no disguising the urgency now, no holding it back.
Her shorts were gone and then her panties, each kicked aside with a flick of her foot.
Her hands moved down his back, reveling in his slick skin, in its smoothness and strength. They reached the top of his shorts and dipped within, running about the edge, playing with the soft skin below.
He released her breast, moved upward until she could feel the full weight of him against her, the jut of his erection pressing her inner thigh, thick and hot. It was her turn to fight at his buttons. She released them one by one, touching him with her hand, sensing his need to be free.
She started to push his shorts down.
“Back pocket, condom,” he whispered into her ear.
She reached around and grabbed it, then they were both naked, burning skin touching burning skin. For a moment, only a moment, she thought she could stay this way forever, locked in this moment.
Then he shifted, his cock rubbing the few curls between her legs, magically finding just that spot. She pressed back, spreading her legs slightly to increase the contact. Her wetness slicking them both.
His arms came down, wrapping about her thighs, lifting them. Then they were over his shoulders. He lowered her slightly.
A few adjustments—and then he was there, in her, filling her, completing her.
And fill her he did, so completely. She gasped, adjusting to his girth.
He began to move, sliding in and out of her slick folds.
She lifted to meet him, grinding herself, making sure that each movement brought her clit into full contact. His hands grabbed her ass, holding her still, and then he began to pound.
She’d never liked that word, pound, when it came to sex. But there was no other word for what was happening—and it was wonderful.
Hard, fast. Not a bit of gentleness—and yet it was as if he knew exactly what she needed.
She lost track of everything but that spot between her legs, that place of need.
Each time he pulled out, she felt so empty—and then the fast, hard entry, pressing tight, sending hot flames running up through her.
She squeezed her thighs tight, felt it build, felt the coming climax tighten.
She tried to relax then, tried to hold off, tried to let it build further.
But it was too late, and with one great scream, she came, rippling about him.
And still he continued.
She gasped for breath, tried to find calmness, but it was too late for that too.
It began to build again, her belly clenching, her thighs pressing—and the constant thrust and pull. She looked up at him, saw the strain on his face, felt his rock-hard thighs shake—and saw the look of heat and wonder in his eyes.
He pulled out, held her gaze, thrust in hard and deep—and deeper still—and let it take him.
He gasped her name and she came apart again.
And somehow, even as the height of the orgasm took her, she kept his eye, kept looking deep into him—until, with a final gasp, they fell together onto the bed.
* * *
—
It was hard to catch his breath. He’d thought the previous climaxing had been extreme, but this was beyond everything—and the look on her face as she’d come that second time…There simply were no words.
He rolled to his side, taking her with him, eased out of her, and spotting some tissues beside the bed, he took care of the condom. Then he drew her close, wrapping her tight, and prepared to let sleep claim them.
He drifted for a bit, feeling her breath against his chest, the tickle of her hair beneath his chin. It was hard to remember a moment that had felt so perfect, so full of contentment.
She snuggled closer and after a few moments he could tell from her breathing that she slept.
He reached out with one long arm, flicking off the lights.
And waited for sleep, but it did not come.
He was relaxed, as happy as he’d been in a long time, and yet sleep still eluded him.
Everything was wonderful, and yet he wanted more. He wasn’t sure what it was that he wanted, but something, something that would ease the small ache in his chest, loosen the knot that had formed there.
He rolled to his back, holding her so she lay cushioned against his chest. He stared up at the ceiling through the darkness.
There was the click of claws on the stairs and then the heavy sigh of the hound, as Baxter hauled himself up onto the bed, clearly his favorite sleeping spot. The large dog lay spread on the far side of Veronica, pressing her even closer to Brian, if such a thing were possible.
He should leave.
He knew it was part of their deal. Maybe he would sleep better in his own bed.
And he certainly hadn’t intended to share a bed with the beast.
But he did not move. He just lay there, still and quiet, until finally sleep did come.
Chapter 16
Come see me.
Veronica dropped the phone on her desk and stared at it. What was with Charlotte? She’d never been so demanding before.
Reluctantly she picked the phone up again and began to type. I am in the Forbidden Cove office today, she typed back. I assume you’re in the city.
I thought you had to finish the McKellan brief today.
I am working on it here. What’s your problem? She didn’t type that last bit, but she wanted to. She wasn’t about to explain how much more work she often got done in the quiet of the small local office.
Just want to be sure that it’s done well.
Veronica rubbed her brow, where a slow tension was building. She’d been in such a good mood when she’d walked through the door only a few minutes ago. I don’t understand why that’s your concern. That was about two steps more polite than she wanted to be, but still probably ruder than was necessary.
For a moment there was no answer. Maybe Charlotte was picking up on her not-so-subtle message to mind her own business.
And then, You do know that Greg brought in McKellan. It’s important to keep them happy.
Important to who? Every client was important. And if Greg was concerned, why wasn’t he the one contacting her? The brief will be done in time, if you let me get to work on it. I will do my best work—as always.
Hopefully that would take care of Charlotte for now.
I hope so. I wouldn’t want you to be distracted by the beach and your yoga bum.
God, she didn’t need this. Not bothering to reply, she shoved the phone in a drawer. She needed to block all this from her mind and get to work.
* * *
—
Brian glanced to his left, at his avid audience, as he rose from the
corpse pose that finished his routine. The three dogs looked back at him, smiling. They knew that any moment treats would come out of his bag to reward them for their good behavior.
Taking a few steps, he reached into the bag and almost by magic Baxter appeared by his side. For a dog who moved slower than a slug, he could put on the speed when he wanted. Brian quickly divvied up the treats, then pulled out his phone and a water bottle.
He took a few slugs of water and glanced at his phone screen. No new texts.
He hadn’t been expecting any. Veronica had told him she needed to work late and that she’d be busy all day, but still…
As if in reply to his thoughts, the phone buzzed in his hand and words appeared on the screen.
Hey, can you drop Baxter at my place and give him dinner. I need to finish something up.
I thought you wanted me to drop him by the office so you could walk him home. And give him a chance to see her, even if it was brief. Or do you want me to wait with him? Give you a proper welcome home?
Please no.
Well, that put him in his place.
But before he could even reply. Damn. I know that came out wrong. I can’t even get things right by text. I am just tired. I know what will happen if you’re there.
I can be good.
That’s the problem.
* * *
—
God, it was tempting. Veronica stared down at her phone. She was done with the brief and had sent it over to Brooks, the partner responsible for it. She should be ready to relax and celebrate, but instead, right as she’d prepared to leave after the long day, she’d gotten another text from her sister, telling her that with the wedding coming up she needed to have Veronica cover a couple of things for her, a couple of things that needed to be finished in the next few days.
Things she should start right now.
She opened her laptop again—and then shut it.
Fuck it. Another hour of work wasn’t going to make a difference. It would be fine to start fresh in the morning.
Okay, you can be there, but just to say hi. I need to sleep.