Читать книгу Tough Love - Lori Foster - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSTACK FROWNED OVER her raised voice. “Calm down.” Her quick glare befuddled him. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’re shaking. And your arm is burnt and—”
“And you made promises.” While looking at her arm, she added, “Sexual promises, so don’t even think of dodging out on me.” She winced when she saw the burn. “Damn it. It wasn’t hurting, but now that you’ve pointed it out, it is.”
“I wasn’t...” All her attention remained on her arm, so he gave up trying to explain that he’d only made an attempt at nobility. No way was he “dodging out,” as she’d accused.
The burn on her arm didn’t look serious. Slightly bigger than a quarter, it was red, angry, but only slightly blistered. “I can take care of that for you once we get to your place.”
“What will you do?” She held her arm to her chest protectively.
Stack felt the crooked grin pulling at his mouth. The woman would brave a car fire, dismiss any danger, but at the thought of him patching her up, she grew wary. “I have a first-aid kit in the trunk,” he explained, hoping to soothe her. “We’ll put some ointment on it and wrap it, that’s all. You can take some ibuprofen for pain.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh, good. Nothing too awful.”
“Nothing awful at all,” he promised. But the way she continued to study him prompted him to add, “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?”
“It’s not that, it’s just...” She looked at her arm again, then deliberately dismissed it. “Before we do that, I need to shower.” She licked her lips. “And so do you.”
A hint? “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Positive.”
Thank God. “Then how about we shower together?”
As if she’d just been waiting for him to offer, she smiled. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”
Thanking him? This time Stack couldn’t choke back the laugh.
“What?”
He shook his head. Telling her she was the first woman to thank him for sex wouldn’t be a good idea.
She scowled and repeated with more insistence, “What?”
Again he took her hand, then lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “Like your enthusiasm, that’s all.”
“I am enthusiastic.” She shifted her hand so her palm cupped his jaw. He’d shaved before the wedding, but now, as her thumb moved back and forth, he heard the rasp of new whiskers. “It seems like I’ve been waiting for this forever.”
Yeah, no kidding. “You’re the one who set the stipulations, darlin’.” Hell, the second she’d propositioned him, he’d been ready. But she’d spelled out the rules—most importantly that they had to wait until the night of Cannon’s wedding to seal the deal. Something about her not wanting to take the chance that they’d get together, hit a snag and she’d end up without a date to the wedding after all.
As if she expected him to annoy her right off. As if having him as an escort to the wedding was more appealing than having sex with him.
What had burned his ass the most was her assertion that in the meantime, they should both carry on as usual, dating others, sleeping around, as if they hadn’t made an intimate deal.
What woman did that?
“So,” she said, trying to be all businesslike despite her breathiness. “Quick shower first, you can take one minute to wrap my arm, and then, finally, sex. Yes?”
God help him. “Sure.” He’d do his best to behave until then. And maybe after the shower she’d stop shaking and settle down. Because even now he could see the slight quivering of her shoulders. He didn’t bring it up again, though. Why bother? She’d deny being affected by the wreck and fire and the injuries she’d witnessed, and for him it didn’t matter anyway.
Nothing mattered except finally having her.
“Turn right here.”
Stack slowed the car. “Where are we going?” He knew her apartment was straight ahead.
“My house.”
“Your...house?”
“Yes.” Clearly pleased, she told him, “I moved in last week.”
Impossible. She’d only recently relocated to Ohio and settled into an apartment. But a house? He hadn’t heard anything about her moving, and no way could she have moved on her own. Women had a lot of stuff. Clothes, makeup, toiletries, not to mention furniture and drapes and everything else she’d have needed.
“Who helped you move?” If she’d asked others, but not him, he’d—
“I hired a company.” She shrugged. “All I did was pack up my most personal belongings, and they took care of everything else, including the setup in my new place.”
New tension invaded his muscles. “You could have asked me.”
“I didn’t need to.”
No, in so many ways she was the most independent woman he’d ever met.
“Stack.” Indulgent, her smile small and knowing, she stroked his shoulder. “I appreciate your willingness, but you’re always so busy, I didn’t want to infringe on your free time. I told you, I can afford to hire the help I need.”
Yeah, that bugged him, too. “You said you’re well-to-do.” She’d mentioned it only once, sort of matter-of-factly when explaining why she wanted him to be her date to the wedding. According to her, guys hit on her because of her wealth.
Stack knew it had a hell of a lot more to do with her looks, as well as her sweet personality, than anything as mercenary as supposed wealth. Besides, the fact that she neither acted nor lived like the pampered rich made him doubt her claims. Wealth could mean many different things to different people, depending on what they were used to.
She turned her head, studying him. “You sound disgruntled, but I don’t know why. We don’t have the type of relationship where I’d impose on you. We’re...”
“Friends with benefits?”
Lifting her shoulders, she said, “We will be—as long as you don’t change your mind.”
“Not a chance.”
“You look awfully grim for someone about to have sex.”
He flashed a glance her way, saw the teasing glint in her eyes and smiled at her.
“Better.” They were only halfway down the street when she pointed. “There. That’s my driveway. The little yellow house is mine.”
Disbelieving, Stack pulled into the driveway. Electric lanterns at either side of the double front doors lit the area, showing some fall decorations, a cozy wicker chair, and pots of still-thriving, colorful mums. With the headlights of his car, he could make out much of the house. Small, but very tidy. Yellow with white trim, a curving walkway, large entry, and one-car garage. “Nice.” In fact, it looked like something out of a storybook.
“Thank you. I saw it and knew I had to have it.” She reached for the door handle, but he touched her shoulder, staying her.
Getting out and walking around the hood, he opened the door for her—and with each step, he wondered why a woman of means would buy such a small, cozy house instead of something more extravagant.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, as she went on tiptoe to kiss him.
And just that, such a simple touch, her lips barely brushing his, almost set him off. When she started to retreat, he drew her back, kissing her more firmly, a little longer, a lot deeper. The crisp, cold air swirled around them.
Snuggling closer, she clenched her hands on his shirt.
They were too close to a bed for him to start this in the yard. Shower, treat her burn, then he could and would keep her in bed until neither of them could think straight.
Cupping her face, Stack eased up on the kiss, retreating by small degrees.
Overhead, the moon ducked behind clouds, and the wind kicked up, toying with her hair and making her shiver. Vanity had a lot more skin exposed than he did. Catching the lapels of his jacket that she’d wrapped around herself, he pulled it closed, kissed her soft mouth one more time and stepped away.
“Sorry. I should save that until we’re inside.”
The clouds parted, allowing moonlight to stroke over her face, showing off the slight tilt of her smile and the curiosity in her eyes. “I like kissing you, Stack. I like it a lot.”
“I promise a lot more kissing—all over—but not just yet.”
She sucked in a breath and nodded.
Stack started for the trunk of his car.
“I have a first-aid kit in my house.”
“I know mine has what I need.” He opened the trunk, and saw all the wedding gifts they’d collected for Cannon and Yvette.
Vanity put a hand on his arm. “We could unload later.”
“We could.” Did that mean she wouldn’t be tossing him out the second the sex stopped? Because she’d pretty much hinted at exactly that.
The conversation had replayed in his mind many times in the weeks since it had happened. They’d been together at Rowdy’s bar, sitting close, her tone, her look, her body language all suggestive enough to get his libido racing.
After some teasing banter, she’d hit him up to be her date for the wedding. He’d waffled, until she added a guaranteed follow-up of the carnal variety.
I’m open to using my place—bed and light provided. That way you won’t have to worry about getting rid of me afterward. I promise to toss you out before you can even get nervous about it.
If she still thought to follow through on that promise, she’d be in for a surprise. It was late enough now that even if they stayed at it until dawn, he knew he wouldn’t get his fill.
One way or another, he’d have to talk her into a full day.
Maybe a full week. Or...longer.
“So just leave it all in there for now. If you keep your car locked, it’ll all be safe, right?”
“Right.” He stared down at her, sexual chemistry arcing between them. “You don’t plan to kick me out at sunrise? Because seriously—” he looked up at the sky “—it’s going to be happening soon.”
Time ticked by in silence. Watching him, Vanity licked her lips, then shook her head. Eyes big and soft, she whispered, “I’m going to need more than just a few hours.”
That promise had his heartbeat thundering again. Moving things aside, he located the first-aid kit tucked into the corner of the trunk. He pulled it free, closed and locked the trunk, then put a hand to the small of her back. “C’mon.”
With both of them walking quickly, she opened her small purse, dug out her house key and handed it to him.
He opened the door and stepped into her living room.
After slipping off her sandals, Vanity closed the door and flipped a few locks. Following her cue, Stack, too, removed his shoes. Usually, unless jogging, he wore boots. But the damn tux had come with glaringly shiny shoes. Luckily, unlike his boots, he could toe them off easily enough.
Until Vanity had removed her sandals, he hadn’t realized that they’d each collected grass and mud while freeing the woman from the fire.
Taking his hand, Vanity got him walking. “Living room,” she said, waving a hand toward a midsize couch and two stuffed rocking chairs. An enormous television hung on the wall above a shelf of books, and what looked like real paintings hung on the remaining walls.
“Nice.” The decor and the artwork, which he tried to see better, but Vanity hadn’t slowed to give him time.
“Thanks.” By the kitchen she finally paused. “That door over there opens to the garage.” Indicating the opposite wall, she said, “And that one goes to the unfinished basement with the washer, dryer and...stuff.”
The kitchen looked newly remodeled, but he barely had time to see it before she got him walking again, this time down the hall. “Bedroom one, bedroom two.”
She was in such a rush that Stack smiled. It was a nice thing to be wanted by Vanity.
“Hall bath,” she told him, and then she tugged him into an open room. Dropping his hand and tossing his tux jacket to a chair, she said, “And this is my bedroom. The connected bath is over there.”
“Pretty,” was all he managed to say before she took the first-aid kit from him, set it on the floor, then plastered herself against him.
Arms around his neck, her gaze on his mouth, she whispered, “Stack?”
He held her waist as she slowly stretched up to reach him. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me, please.”
“Hell of an idea.” And given that she wanted him, maybe he could work on wresting the control back from her in the process.
* * *
A HUNDRED TIMES Vanity had thought about this moment, about playing it cool, taking her time.
Being in charge.
Not likely, not now that she finally had Stack in her house, ready, willing, even anxious. He smelled so good, a little like smoke mixed with the chilly night and his own, delicious scent of macho man. She tunneled her fingers into his cool hair. In warmer weather the sun bleached his light brown hair into a dark blond. Now, though, after a recent trim for the wedding, most of the blond was gone. The wind and the fire had left the wavy strands mussed. She loved it.
She loved his incredible body even more.
While he kissed her, she drowned under the feel of him, so tall and strong with fluid muscles that shifted against her. She trailed her hands down to his hard shoulders, then over his strong chest.
Stack freed his mouth and drew her close, her head to his shoulder. One of his hands knotted in her hair, and she felt his heartbeat knocking hard against his ribs.
“Stack?”
“Give me a second.”
But...why? Levering back enough to see him, she started on the buttons to his dress shirt. When she had four of them free, she slipped her hand inside. Crisp body hair teased her palm; his skin was so hot, his chest solid.
“Hold up.” He caught her wrist and kept her still while he sucked in air. “Shower,” he said. “And your arm.”
“Take your clothes off.” She didn’t mind that idea at all. “Then we can shower.”
His rough, strained laugh made her smile.
“I like that.” He touched her mouth. “I like how your smile always twitches into place. One side kicks up first, then the other, almost like you’re trying not to smile but you can’t help yourself.”
An apt description, at least whenever she was around him. He made her happy. She loved talking with him, laughing with him, looking at him.
Loved getting closer to him.
Would love loving him if he’d give her half a chance.
All the fighters were focused on their careers, but Stack, more than the others, had always seemed disinterested in the possibility of a relationship.
And so she’d used underhanded tactics to get him on board.
“Right here,” she told him, “right now, you could notice things other than my smile.”
Hands on her shoulders, he stepped her back. “Yeah, and I do, believe me.” With some space now between them, he trailed one fingertip over the neckline of her dress, dipping low between her breasts before dropping his hand. “Turn around.”
That husky command curled her toes. “What will you do?”
“Get you out of this dress.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, then slowly turned her back to him and tipped her head forward.
He lifted her hair over her left shoulder so that it trailed down over her breasts. She waited for him to open the zipper, but instead, after a few silent seconds, his lips brushed the back of her neck.
Sweet sensation caught her breath.
Stepping up against her, Stack opened his mouth on her skin, lightly sucking, every so often letting her feel his teeth, then tasting with his tongue.
Making a small sound of wonder, she let her head fall back against him. God, that felt good. So good.
When he reached around her and settled his hands on her breasts, she started.
“Shh.” He caressed her through her dress.
Vanity looked down at how he held her, how he’d filled his big hands with her. His fingers were long and strong, curved under the weight of her breasts. She swallowed, then went still as he brought his thumbs up to rasp her now swollen nipples.
“So soft,” he murmured against her skin. “Be still now.” His hands left her, but before she could register disappointment she felt him searching over the back of the dress.
Despite being a big badass fighter with hands that could knock out an opponent in one solid punch, he had no problem tackling the tiny hidden zipper. Utilizing a painstaking lack of haste, he dragged the zipper down, and seconds later the bodice loosened, then the waist, until he’d opened the dress all the way down past the small of her back.
Still standing close behind her, he slipped his hands over her hips, pushing the material down—until the dress fell in a colorful heap to her feet.
There was a moment of stunned silence, then Stack said in a gravelly whisper, “Great fucking dress.”
Aware of how she looked in nothing more than her sedate jewelry, peach lace panties and thigh-high nylons, Vanity kept her back to him.
Both of his hands cupped her backside. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on this ass for a very long time.”
Trying a laugh that sounded a little too high and thin, Vanity turned—and his hot gaze zeroed in on her breasts.
“Damn.” His attention burned over her.
Pleased with that reaction, she stepped away from the discarded dress and went to work on the rest of his buttons. “At this rate, we’re never going to make it to the shower.”
His nose nudged her hair, glided along the side of her throat, breathed deeply near her shoulder. “You smell as good as I imagined.”
“Like smoke?”
“Like a major turn-on.” He tipped up her face, let his mouth play over hers before settling in for a deep, hot kiss.
His hands on her waist were firm, his palms calloused. He coasted up her back, down to her bottom, back up and around to her breasts. The second he made contact, he groaned.
She did her own touching, trying to get him out of his clothes.
Without breaking the contact of their mouths, he brushed away her hands and got to work on the buttons himself. He’d removed the tie and cuff links earlier, and now he tossed the shirt aside. Every so often his hands went back to her body, and now, with his chest bare, he pulled her in so that their upper bodies made complete contact.
Vanity tightened her arms around his neck and moved against him, loving the sensation of his chest hair against her puckered nipples. At her belly, she could feel his knuckles as he opened his pants.
Wanting to watch, she stepped back. Lacking modesty—and with no reason for it—Stack shoved his pants down and off, removing his socks at the same time. He stood before her in only dark tented boxers.
“You’re perfect,” she whispered with awe, unable to stop staring.
“Vanity.” He shifted, his muscles flexing and bunching. “You’ve seen me before,” he reminded her.
A little dumbfounded, Vanity shook her head. “Not like this.”
He rolled a shoulder. “Without the boner, yeah. But you always see me in boxing shorts.”
True. She’d seen him often, and fantasized about him even more.
Stripped down to nothing more than those low shorts, Stack always stole the show at the rec center where all the fighters worked out. Most days he went at it until sweat left a sheen on his perfectly sculpted body, until his muscles swelled and became more pronounced.
She’d fallen in love with Stack’s perfect physique, but also his laid-back manner and quick smiles and utter dedication to his friends. Now he was hers—at least for a little while.
As if drawn to him, her hands lifted and moved over his chest. The light covering of crisp hair fascinated her. Some fighters waxed or shaved their bodies; she was very grateful that Stack wasn’t one of them.
His body hair, eyebrows and thick lashes were shades darker than the golden brown hair on his head.
Spreading her fingers wide to cover as much of him as she could, she slowly, oh-so-slowly, drew her hands down his body. Her thumbs touched in that center groove created by his washboard abs.
She breathed harder.
His stomach tightened.
The body hair softened as it swirled around his navel, then arrowed downward to disappear in his boxers.
“Keep that up,” Stack rasped, “and we won’t make it to the shower. Hell, we might not make it to the bed.”
Helpless with need, Vanity looked up at him.
“C’mon, darlin’.” With one finger he touched her bottom lip, then up to her ear where he tucked back her hair. “Shower first, then your arm.”
“I...I don’t think I can wait.”
Going all big macho protector, Stack gave an indulgent smile, lightly kissed her lips, and whispered, “I’ll see that you do, and then I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise.”
Damn it, she didn’t need more incentive.
She just needed Stack.
Vanity waited as he retrieved the first-aid kit, then let him take her hand and lead her into the connected bath. She even let him turn on the shower, then stood there and watched while he rummaged around and found two towels.
“I have a breaking point,” he warned her. “So no touching.”
She didn’t understand—until he stripped off his boxers.
Her heart tried to punch its way out of her chest.
She stared at his throbbing erection surrounded by that soft dark hair. His testicles were tight, and even as she watched, a bead of glistening fluid showed on the head of his penis. The sight of him like this, so turned on, for her, stole her breath.
She reached for him, but he caught her hands, put them on his shoulders, and went to one knee before her.
Holy smokes. “Stack...”
Briefly he nuzzled her belly. “God, your skin is soft and smells so sweet. I want to breathe you in all over.” As he said that, he palmed her backside...and pressed his mouth against her sex.
The skimpy panties did nothing to blunt the impact of such an intimate kiss. She could feel his breath, the movement of his lips, and it wasn’t until he had her nylons off that she realized he was rolling them down.
“You have sexy legs,” he said as he helped her lift each foot.
“They’re barely keeping me upright.”
He smiled. “I won’t let you fall.” Then he stripped away her panties, too.
He stayed there on his knees in front of her until the anticipation tried to melt her bones. Finally, using the back of one finger, he gently brushed over her pubic hair. The touch felt so electric she gasped.
And Stack, the tease, stood again.
“In you go.” He held the curtain back with one hand.
It took extreme concentration, but Vanity got it together. “One sec.” She grabbed up her big alligator clip by the sink, flipped her hair forward, twisted it, then slipped in the clip. She made a point of facing Stack as she did it.
No reason to give him a peek show, especially not while he resisted her.
As if he’d read her mind, he grinned, then stepped into the shower behind her and again kissed her neck. Near her ear he whispered, “Five minutes. I promise that’s all.”
At the moment, that sounded like a lifetime. “Are you back to being the minuteman?”
His teeth on her shoulder made her yelp.
He kissed the spot from the bite, which had felt more sensual than painful, and started lathering the soap in his hands. “You remember that, huh?”
Turning to face him, she recounted the conversation from weeks ago. “You told me your usual route at weddings was a fast hookup in bathrooms and closets. Quick sex. Seriously, Stack, do you think I’m ever likely to forget that?”
“I was trying to dissuade you from asking me to be your date to the wedding.”
“So it wasn’t true?” He’d claimed he went to weddings solo, so if he got lucky, nothing would hinder him. When she’d pressed him for details, he’d claimed even the bathroom could offer enough privacy.
And instead of being dissuaded, she’d been...intrigued. Still was. Risqué sexual situations were not her forte. But with Stack, she wouldn’t mind taking a few chances.
Grinning like a sinner, he shrugged. “True enough.” Pulling her in close, he worked those soapy hands down her back, down, down, down... “I also told you that when the woman is hot for it, a few minutes is all it takes me to make her happy.”
She gasped at the feel of his hands on the backs of her thighs. “Braggart.”
“What about you, Vanity?” His slick fingers trailed higher. “You hot enough, darlin’?”
“Yes!” She pushed him back, snatched up her face wash, and quickly removed her ruined makeup.
As he soaped up his perfect body, Stack watched her. “Switch places.”
“Okay.” Taking the scented, moisture-rich soap from him, she moved out of the shower’s spray and let him rinse. It fascinated her, seeing the soap suds trickle down the deep groove of his back, over his muscular behind and those long, strong thighs. When he finished, he turned to her again and ran both hands through his wet hair to push it back.
Blindly, refusing to take her gaze off him, Vanity did her own quick cleanup. It wasn’t until she sent the lather over the burn on her arm that she remembered it and winced.
“Easy.” Taking over, Stack gently slid soapy fingertips over the mark and, blocking the shower spray with his broad back, cupped his hand and poured water over her small injury. As he examined it, he asked, “Does it hurt?”
“Not really.” Their heads almost touched as they both looked at the burn. “I don’t even know how I did it.”
He lifted her wrist to his mouth and kissed it, around the burn, up to her elbow.
How could the inside of a freaking elbow be so sensitive?
Taking her by surprise, he turned his head and brushed his jaw over her breast. “Do I need to shave?”
Shaking her head, Vanity tunneled her fingers into his wet hair and kept him close. “No.”
His warm breath moved over her wet nipple. “You sure?”
“Yes...ahhh.” The word turned into a moan as he drew her in, sucking gently.
Carefully backing her up until she bumped into the wall, he caged her in. Steam rose around them. He left one nipple to lick his way over to the other.
“Stack...” She was right back to having shaky knees. “Please.”
He braced one hand on the wall beside her head, and cupped the other between her legs, his fingers lightly exploring, parting her...two fingers sinking in.
She stiffened with acute sensation.
“Yeah,” he murmured, all cocky and confident. “You’re hot enough.” He took her mouth again, kissing her deeply while his fingers slowly worked her.
When she moaned, he eased up to say, “You’re wet.”
“We’re in a shower.”
He nipped her bottom lip for deliberately misunderstanding. “You’re hot, too. And swollen.”
Just as softly, she said, “I know.”
Amazingly, tension began to build, and she wanted it so badly, she tried to hold him closer.
He stared into her eyes, searched her face, and kissed her again. “You’re close already, aren’t ya, darlin’?”
Why that embarrassed her, she wasn’t sure. “I...you...” She inhaled sharply. “Stack, please.”
“We’re good together.”
Her legs stiffened. “Yes.”
“So come for me, Vanity. Right here, right now.”
And damned if she didn’t.
She clutched at his shoulders, awestruck by the powerful climax stealing through her, twisting tighter and tighter until she couldn’t contain it, until she cried out roughly.
“There you go,” Stack murmured. “Damn.”
Head back, legs locked, Vanity gave herself over to the intense pleasure. Stack stayed with her, kissing her throat and her jaw while his fingers maintained that perfect rhythm until she thought she couldn’t take it anymore.
Somehow knowing the right moment to ease up, he withdrew, but cupped his hand over her.
The pleasure faded, leaving behind a warm throbbing contained by the pressure of his palm.
“Damn,” he whispered again. “I almost came with you.”
Lethargic, awestruck, Vanity nonetheless reached for his erection—only to have him draw her up short. “C’mon. Let’s get dried off.”
Her protesting groan made him smile, but he wasted no time shutting off the water and snagging a towel. When he started to dry her, she resisted. A deep breath, then another, helped her recover. Leveling a look on him, she said, “Let’s speed up the process, shall we?” She stepped out of the tub on trembling limbs and hurriedly whisked the towel over her body.
Stack halfheartedly dried himself, then wrapped the towel around his waist.
“Modest?”
“Prudent.” He opened the first-aid kit. “Let me see your arm.”
“It’s fine.” She didn’t want to take time messing with it.
“Sure it is. It also needs to be wrapped.”
Deciding it wasn’t worth a debate, Vanity obediently rested her arm on the sink counter. “Here you go, doc.”
“So now we’re playing doctor?” He cupped her breast, moved his thumb over her nipple. “I could get into that.”
Still supersensitive, she gasped and stepped out of reach. “No, I meant...” She saw his knowing smile and frowned. “Never mind. Just do what you need to do.”
“Yes, darlin’.” With exaggerated focus, he liberally dabbed ointment on the burn before wrapping it in gauze.
As he worked, Vanity watched him. “I’m not modest.”
He glanced at her naked body. “Noticed that.”
The damp towel did little to conceal his erection, so, yes, she’d noticed him noticing. “I’m not all that prudent either.”
“You go after what you want.” He was careful not to get the gauze too tight. “I like that.”
She laughed. “You like it because it’s you I want.”
“There is that.” He finished and closed the first-aid kit. Taking her chin, he tipped her face this way and that while examining her hair.
“What are you doing?”
“Your hair has factored into some hot fantasies. I want it loose.” Frowning in concentration, he figured out how to open the big clip, and her hair fell free. He worked his fingers through it a few times. “Better.”
Without another word he removed his towel, picked her up in his arms, and headed for the bed.
“We’re finally doing this?”
“A minute more and I’d have been a goner.”
“Funny.” She leaned in to kiss his chin. “I did try to offer in the shower.”
“I want to be inside you. I want to feel you squeezing me when you come again.”
Wow, he made her blood burn. “Again, huh?”
“Definitely.” He lowered her to the bed and straightened to stand over her. After studying every inch of her, he went for his pants.
Vanity watched until he pulled several silver packets from his pocket. “You have condoms in your tux pants?”
“Wanted to make sure I was prepared when you decided you were ready.” He set them on the nightstand with two cell phones and his wallet, traveled his gaze over the length of her body, and slowly lowered himself down beside her.
