by J. R. Ward
He moved so fast, she couldn’t have pulled back if she’d wanted to. His hands clamped on either side of her face and he brought her down hard to his mouth.
He kissed her with erotic aggression, the pent-up energy in his body tunneling into her and lighting her on fire through the shifting contact of their mouths. As she gasped, his tongue shot into her mouth and he pulled her on top of him until she felt him from her collarbones to her ankles. Moving fast and hot, he devoured her, holding her with heavy hands, thrusting his hips up into her so she felt his erection.
When he pulled back, they were both panting.
“Leave now,” he said roughly. “If you’re going to.”
She should go, she really should. She’d never been with someone outside of a relationship, and she and Sean definitely didn’t have one of those.
Except this moment, this raw, incendiary moment, was too enticing to walk away from.
Sean lowered his hands and held out his arms as if wanting to make sure he wasn’t forcing her in any way. “Lizzie, make up your mind. And do it now.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to go. I’m not going to stop this—”
He was all over her in the next heartbeat, kissing her like a man possessed, like a man who was starving. His mouth and tongue devastated her, and in the back of her mind, she had some dim thought that he was very good at this, had no doubt had a lot of practice.
Her heart ached at the passing realization, but the sting didn’t linger. She refused to let it. She had him here and now and he was…on fire.
His thigh pushed between hers and his need rubbed on her lower belly, a stunning length that left her shivering. As the storm swept in and the rain came down, he stripped off her shirt and pulled her up his body so he could take one of her breasts into his mouth.
She cried out and arched her back, feeling his hands grab on to the backs of her thighs and squeeze. It was impossible to keep up with him and unthinkable to slow him down and unbearable to imagine him ever stopping. Somehow her panties disappeared, probably because he ripped the side apart.
And then he was touching her.
As she cried out, his hips surged up and he cursed in a low, desperate sound, as if the feel of her was almost too much for him. It certainly was too much for her. She shattered apart, going rigid on top of his bare chest, her body torquing wildly as she climaxed. His mouth latched onto her throat and he sucked hard as he helped her ride out the sensations, his hand between her legs keeping her going.
When it was done, she collapsed against him, her face falling into his neck. She was limp as he rolled her over and she should have been embarrassed as she lay sprawled on the couch, but she just closed her eyes in bliss.
She felt the sofa wiggle as he stood up. Heard the shift of cloth as he took off his boxers. Then there was a soft tearing sound.
He stretched out on top of her, splitting her thighs with his knees. His skin was griddle hot, his body flexed and straining with his need to finish.
At the first blunt brush of his arousal, her eyes popped wide.
“You’re protected,” he said. “I took care of it.”
Her lids settled and she ran her hands up his thick shoulders. As his hips began rocking against her, he stared over her head, his face dark with concentration and barely leashed energy.
He went slowly, but even still she had to wince. In spite of how careful he was, and even though her body wanted him, the discomfort made her stiffen beneath him.
He stopped. Retreated a little. “Lizzie?”
Before he could say anything else, she blurted, “It’s been a while for me.”
As he looked down at her, his eyes became remote. “How long?”
“A while.” When he just stared at her, she whispered, “A year or two.”
Now he was the one wincing.
With an abrupt shift, he lifted off her body, pulled a throw blanket over her and sat down at the far end of the couch. Putting his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his face then reached between his legs. There was a snapping sound as he pulled off the protection.
In the silence that followed, Lizzie tucked the blanket in tight to her neck and stared at him. She was pretty sure why he’d stopped. The question was whether he’d be honest.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face some more. “I don’t want to use you for sex, just to get rid of that dream.”
As if that was the only reason he’d wanted to be with her. Ouch.
And damn, she hated being right. Good thing they’d stopped when they had.
She sat up, holding the blanket to her breasts and thinking she had to get out of this apartment fast. Thank heavens her T-shirt was right on the floor next to the couch. She picked it up and managed to get it on even though her hands were shaking. Where were her panties—oh. They were unwearable.
She got to her feet and wrapped the blanket around her hips, prepared to leave without another word.
Except then he said, “Can I come with you?”
She looked over at him. “What do you mean?”
“Can I, ah…Can I sleep with you? As in sleep, sleep with you?” He glanced up at her. “God, that sounds lame.”
Her first and only thought was…she would love to have him in her bed like that.
He cursed and muttered, “Forget—”
“Yes.” She held out her hand. “Yes, you can.”
* * *
As Sean settled into Lizzie’s bed, he let out a deep sigh. Man, this was good. The sheets smelled like her and so did the pillow his head was on. From over on the left, the rain softly hitting the window made him think of cats padding over hardwood floors. Lightning still flashed and thunder still rolled, but the storm was winding down.
This was better than good.
Lizzie came in with two glasses of water. She put one on the bedside table next to him and took the other around to her side. She was awkward and lovely as she dropped the throw blanket and scooted under the covers with him. Then the lights went off and they were together in the dark.
He turned toward her, feeling needy and hating himself. “Can I hold you?”
She rolled right into him and he fit her warmth to his body, tucking her head under his chin, intertwining his legs with hers.
“What sort of nightmare was it?” she asked.
“The old kind.” Yeah, the really old kind. The one where his father came into his room after he’d finished off with Mac. Mac had always been able to take a lot, but sometimes he broke and then it was Sean’s turn, if their father was still angry. As the third in line, Billy had almost never been worked over. He’d just had to listen to the sounds and wonder if he was going to be next.
Which had been a head screw nonetheless.
Man, the not knowing had been the worst. You never knew whether it was going to be this night or another…. Whether the monster was going to come after you because your brother couldn’t handle it…If it was going to hurt less or more than before—
“Are you cold?” Lizzie asked, inching even closer to him. “You’re shivering.”
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and wondered what all those people on Wall Street would think if they could see him now, curled up for comfort against a woman he barely knew because she was all he had to turn to.
He kissed Lizzie’s hair then rubbed his face against it, dragging himself back from where he’d been.
Unfortunately, what he tuned into was her body.
Upstairs, his response to her had been all about pent-up fear and anger, an unleashing. But now in this quiet room, with the storm outside receding and the soft dripping of rain all that was left of the weather’s fury, he found himself wanting to make love to her, not just have sex with her.
His body began to hurt with need denied and now renewed.
Except he knew it was wrong. Over the next couple of weeks, he was going to pack up the apartment upstairs, sell the house and never look back. Meanwhile, she was a woman who wasn’t into short-term
lovers—her history said it all.
“Sean?” she whispered into his neck.
The brush of her breath against his skin made him jerk. And his reply was nothing more than a growl.
Her palm slid over his waist and down to his hips and…He hissed sharply as she found the ache behind the boxers he’d thrown on.
Unconsciously, his hips moved, pressing his flesh into her grip. But then he reached down and brought her hand to his lips. Looking into her eyes, falling into them, he wanted her in ways he couldn’t name. Refused to name.
God…maybe he was protecting himself, as well, by not being with her.
“Lizzie—”
“At least let me…take care of you. Your body isn’t going to let you sleep.”
He went still, lungs ceasing to draw. Oh, man, he wanted her to make him finish and not just because she was right about the not sleeping. He wanted her to be in charge of him.
Slowly, he put her hand back where it had been.
Lizzie urged him over onto his back, and as he complied, she pulled the sheets free of his body. Going up on her knees, blond hair falling forward, shirt hanging loose, she reached down and dragged his boxers off his legs. His arousal landed flat on his belly, swollen and straining.
She came up to his mouth and kissed him with the sweet, hesitant style of a woman more passionate than experienced.
And it was just about the most erotic thing he’d ever had done to him. Many women had touched his body over the years; ever since he was sixteen and had embarked on his sexual life, he’d had no shortage of lovers. And yet he couldn’t remember feeling so delighted by one. Or so turned-on.
“How do you like to be…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
He put his hands up to her face, feeling the burn in her cheeks. “Do what you like to me. I’ll love it, whatever it is.”
Sean gasped as she took him in hand then moved down his body. With a rush of breath, he let his head fall back onto the pillow and balled the sheets in his fists. He gave himself to her with no barriers, nothing contrived, no calculated sensual tricks.
In return, she gave him…everything.
At the last moment, just before he went over the edge, he pulled her up to his mouth. As he spilled himself into her hands, he kissed the lips that had pleasured him.
For some completely ridiculous reason, he found himself wanting to weep.
* * *
When morning came, Lizzie woke up in a furnace.
Okay, not a furnace. She was under a thin sheet and on her bed…. She just felt as if she were in an industrial boiler.
But she was very okay with the heat.
Sean had chased her over to the far edge of the mattress, snuggling up so close he might as well have been under her own skin. His chest was against her back, his head tucked into her nape, his legs twisted around hers.
She chuckled, thinking she now knew what pretzels felt like.
“I’m crowding you, aren’t I?” he said in a lazy, gravelly voice.
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Good.” His hand smoothed down her arm, found her palm and gave it a squeeze. Then he somehow managed to get even closer.
Which gave her a clear impression that however sleepy he was, there was one part of him that was wide-awake. With a soft growl, he rubbed that part in a slow circle against her bottom. When she gasped and arched into him, he made a purring sound.
“You’re hell on my good intentions there, Lizzie.” His voice vibrated in his chest as he nuzzled the back of her neck. “Pure hell.”
“Am I?” She deliberately moved with him and smiled at the rumbling curse she got in response.
“You know you are.” His lips traveled to her shoulder and he sank his teeth into her, tugging a little then sucking the spot through her T-shirt. “You treated me fine in this bed last night.”
God, she loved that South Boston accent of his, that rough tone, that need. “Just returning the favor,” she murmured.
“So I guess it’s my turn again, Lizzie.” His hand slipped under her shirt and found her breast. “I’m wicked tired, though. Guess I’ll have to go real slow.”
He shifted down her body, tunneling under the sheets, rolling her onto her stomach. His mouth found her spine and followed it all the way to her—
The phone rang with an ear-splitting peal.
Sean paused, but didn’t stop.
Unfortunately, neither did the phone. And what if it was her mother having burned the house down or given the car away or done any one of a thousand things that spelled disaster?
As Lizzie stretched up to the bedside table and popped the phone off the cradle, Sean’s response was to start in on the backs of her thighs.
Man, if this was a telemarketer, she was going rip his or her head off. “Hello?”
“Lizzie, it’s perfect!”
“Mom?” Thankfully, Sean eased up and she caught her breath. “Mom…now’s not a good t—”
“The kiln is working beautifully!”
“It’s working…what?” Lizzie looked at the alarm clock with panic. Eleven. Eleven o’clock…oh God, she and Sean had overslept and the kiln had been delivered and her mother was now using the thing so the chances of getting the art store to take it back were next to nil. “Mom—”
“I’m positively inspired…. The wings of creation are fanning me….” As her mother started in on one of her soliloquies about artistic vision, Lizzie just let her go on.
All she could think about right now was that two thousand dollars they’d lost.
The call didn’t so much end as flame out, with her mother getting more and more caught up in her own excitement until she had to go express herself.
As Lizzie hung up, Sean appeared from under the sheets, his dark hair tousled. “Trouble with mom?”
“Nothing unusual. Unfortunately.”
He eased onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, the gold cross around his neck lying flat on the mattress.
He ran his finger down her cheek. “You know something, Lizzie, I have an idea.”
“What?”
“Let’s play hooky today.”
“Hooky?”
“Yeah, let’s grab some eats and a blanket and drive over to Esplanade. We can sit by the river and just forget about everything.” When she hesitated, he murmured, “Unless you have other plans?”
While she thought about the day, he idly lifted her hand to his mouth and sucked her forefinger between his lips. As he swirled his tongue around, the circling movement was liquid and warm and oh so smooth. His eyes flipped to her face and he stared at her from under heavy lids.
Other plans? As if her job search couldn’t wait until tomorrow?
“No…” she said. “I don’t have anything I have to do.”
He released her finger and slowly rolled on top of her, his body flowing over hers, a heavy weight full of strength. As his thigh fell between her knees, she yielded to him.
He suspended his torso on muscular arms and looked down into her face, hovering above her like some great bird of prey, all latent power. With the way he looked at her now, he made her feel marked and she knew then without a doubt they were going to be together.
Even though he would leave and never look back and she would miss him for a long, long time, she was going to have him.
He dropped down and kissed her lightly. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
When she nodded, he leaped out of bed and disappeared through the door.
Before she got up, she made two quick phone calls. One was to the art store’s manager, who confirmed there was no returning the kiln now that her mother had used it. The other was to the bank, which informed her that her only option to keep the check from bouncing was to do a credit-card transfer.
Two thousand dollars at nineteen-percent interest. Terrific.
She hung up the phone and told herself that at least the kiln could be sold when her mother moved on to her next big inspi
ration.
So everything was going to be okay. Eventually.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lounging beneath a blue sky dotted with cotton-ball clouds, Sean stretched his legs straight out in front of him and crossed his ankles. Lizzie was next to him on the plaid blanket, curled on her side, eyes closed, a little smile on her mouth.
Life was just about perfect right now, he thought.
After they’d staked out a stretch of grass on the Esplanade, they’d had turkey subs for lunch and backed up the foot-longs with oatmeal cookies the size of hubcaps. Now, in spite of the shouts from some guys playing Frisbee and the barking of dogs and the occasional horn on Storrow Drive, Lizzie was fading like a sunset.
And just as lovely.
Abruptly, he thought about all the hours she pulled between being at the clinic and moonlighting downtown. He frowned. Although he respected people who worked as hard and as long as he did, for some reason, Lizzie’s going around the clock bothered him.
Probably because she seemed so delicate right now, the fine bones of her face showing too prominently under her pale skin.
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and yawned. “I’d better sit up soon.”
“The hell you should. Don’t you know how to play hooky?”
She laughed and opened a pair of very sleepy green eyes. “I’m afraid I always followed the rules in school. So I’m not all that familiar with the hooky routine.”
“Well, learn from the master. Hooky means you do whatever you want. And I’m no mind reader, but you look like you’re really jonesing for a nap.”
“I am.” She yawned again and smiled up at him. “Were you a rebel in high school?”
“Yup.” A rebel who had pulled As, but trouble nonetheless.
“And you still are, aren’t you?”
He grinned at her. “My tattoo is an old one, I’ll have you know.”
“Except it’s not the ink in your skin, it’s your nature. I could tell by the way you looked at me that first night. You weren’t all that interested in social pleasantries. But you weren’t mean, though. Your father was the same way.”