Spitfire in Love

by Isabelle Ronin

  Before I could even feel self-conscious, his hands slid under my ass and cupped both my cheeks, jerking me forward. I let out a loud gasp as my center met his arousal.

  He pumped his hips against me several times before he caught my mouth in a searing, carnal kiss. His tongue was wild, seeking the recesses of my mouth before he dragged it down my neck, making sucking sounds, making moaning sounds that drove me to the edge.

  Through the fabric of my dress he closed his mouth on my nipple and I cried out. I tangled my hands in his hair, pulling, pushing him against me. His other hand slipped under my dress, his thumb lightly skimming between my legs before sliding upward. He pushed my bra down and toyed with my other nipple with his fingers.

  “Wanna come?” he whispered.

  “Cam, omigod.”

  “Wanna come, Kara?” His eyes, so dark, so intense, were focused on my face. “Say yes.”

  “Yes,” I whimpered.

  “Christ. I want you so fucking bad,” he groaned before he tugged my dress up and off.

  He lowered the cups of my bra, pushing my breasts up as an offering to his mouth. He kept on sucking, flicking his tongue over the tips of each nipple, torturing me.

  There must be a release to this torment. It kept on building inside me, bigger and fuller and tighter. He didn’t stop sucking, and when his hand slid down to press between my legs, it hit me instantly. I was crying out, shaking, digging my fingernails into his back as the sweet, sweet release of ecstasy came.

  Chapter 29

  Cameron

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She was. I’d never seen anyone more beautiful. Especially right now, when her face was glowing from the aftermath of her orgasm.

  She closed her eyes. There was a secret smile on her lips.

  My back stung from the imprint of her fingernails. She’d dug them in deep.

  My spitfire.

  Her arms and her long legs fell limply on the bed. I stroked her stomach, her sides, fascinated at how big my hands looked on her body. I could hold almost her entire waist in them.

  I massaged her arms gently, her legs, taking care that she was comfortable, then grabbed the folded blanket we hadn’t used and covered her with it.

  The look of satisfaction on her face made me want to make her come again. Her climax came so quickly that I wondered if it was always going to be like that. Was that her first? It made me want to give her more pleasure, find out if that was true.

  But I knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. I wanted to pump myself inside her, feel the eager thrust of her hips as I let myself get lost inside her wet, tight heat…

  “I’m taking a shower. Be right back.” I pushed up from the bed before I did something we’d both regret in the morning.

  She’d said she wanted to wait, and I meant it when I said I would never push her. She had to come willingly to me.

  But damn. The sight of her spread on that bed, all rosy and soft and so fucking beautiful…

  I clenched my jaw. A cold shower would be a good idea right about now, I thought as I headed to the bathroom. She was ruining my self-control.

  I glanced at the clock, noted it was one in the morning. We’d only slept for a couple of hours.

  Needs and wants, I thought as I turned on the light, took off my pants, stepped into the shower. There usually wasn’t a confusion between the two for me. I could differentiate and prioritize them quite easily. With Kara, everything got blurred but for one thing—there was an absolute demand inside me, an almost desperate one, to keep her in my life.

  I had slashed myself open, willingly, in front of her and spilled my guts—secrets that I’d been harboring inside for years that ripped me apart every time I thought about them. Much less spoke of them.

  But I knew that was what she wanted from me. And I was desperate enough to do anything to keep her.

  There had been no choice for me after that. It was either tell her or lose her.

  And the thought of losing her was unbearable. And this time I knew it would happen if I didn’t do anything.

  It surprised me how I felt after telling her everything. It felt…less dark around me. As if a heavy shadow had taken a few steps back. It was still there—I could still feel it hovering—but it was somehow less ominous now. It didn’t seem an all-consuming presence as it was before.

  What shocked me more than anything was that she stayed.

  She fucking stayed.

  I knew there was a huge possibility that she would leave when she’d heard the whole terrible story. I told her everything anyway. Because she had asked it of me. And if there was even a slight chance that she would stay, hell, I’d take it.

  There had never been anyone like her before in my life. Everything I’d experienced with her was all new to me. I had no baseline, nothing to compare it to. And I was afraid I’d screw it all up. In fact, I was sure I would screw it up.

  I wasn’t sure about a lot of things, and that was fine, but there was one thing I was certain of—with absolute fucking clarity. The moment I woke up and saw her, with those big hazel eyes filled with emotion that choked me up, there was this overwhelming need to touch her, claim her for myself, make her feel how important she was to me. And I was going to show her the only way I knew how.

  Not with words or promises, because I had never been very good with those, but with my touch. Make her feel even a tenth of what I felt for her, give her something I could only give her.

  And she had welcomed me, given a part of herself to me. I knew how much it meant to her. I remembered her telling me how she’d never dated anyone before and that she was still a virgin.

  And for her to give herself willingly to me made my breath hitch. Made me feel that I… meant something to her. Something important.

  I want to be your monkey. I chuckled. She did this thing where she’d rest her cheek on my shoulder and rub. Like a sweet cat. It was so unexpected. Freakin’ drove me insane.

  She was so sweet, so hot. Her small breasts were perfect, so responsive. I loved the way she gripped my hair, how unaware she was doing it, and how she gave herself fully to sensations.

  Gotta think of something else.

  No matter how many times I thought about it, I couldn’t get over how she was still here after what I’d told her in the maze.

  It’s not your fault. Nothing that you or anyone could say to me would change my mind about it, she’d said. Did she mean it?

  I’d heard it all before—from the doctors I’d seen when I was a kid, how it wasn’t my fault, how I should start to heal and let go. Their words all felt meaningless. None of them got through to me. They were professionals who got paid to care. That wasn’t real. Not to me.

  But she was. It was her presence—her resilience and compassion—that meant more to me. More than anything. I needed her right now. Under me, moaning, calling out my name. I wanted to feel the press of her legs against my hips as I…

  Think of something else.

  But, Christ, I wanted this woman like I’d never wanted anything before in my life. There was no rational explanation for it. It just was.

  What the hell is this?

  My bike. I missed my damn bike. I couldn’t wait to ride it again. The speed, the freedom. Once it was repaired, everything would go back to normal again. I pictured it in my head. Parked in front of the cabin, it would look black and sleek and gleaming.

  And there she was coming out of my cabin, wearing nothing but white lingerie. In my head it was sheer white. And lace. It made my mouth water. Ice-pick high heels.

  She’d throw me that come-and-get-me look over her shoulder. She’d crook her finger at me, her fiery hazel eyes on me, as she hooked her leg over my bike and straddled it like she was going to…

  Damn.

  I pressed my hands on the tiles, clenched my teeth. The bike. Get
back to the bike.

  Maybe she’d look better naked. In my mind, her lingerie disappeared. She was naked now, blinking slowly at me, silently asking me to take her.

  I gave up and rubbed one out.

  I dried myself quickly, put on the same jeans, and stepped out barefoot into the living room.

  She was sleeping.

  I sat on the floor quietly, watching her face as she slept. She looked peaceful, with a small smile on her face.

  I reached out and gently moved the lock of hair on her cheek. Then she opened her eyes slowly.

  It felt like getting a quick, sharp stab. Right in the damn heart. That first moment she opened her eyes. And that moment of recognition in her eyes. And that moment when she smiled. As if she was happy she woke up and found me there. I was at a loss for words.

  There was a tightness in my chest, and the more I watched her face, the tighter it got.

  “Hi,” she said.

  I would have spoken if I knew my voice would work.

  “Aren’t you going back to sleep?” she asked drowsily.

  But I was feeling…off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “I’m not—” I cleared my throat. “I’m not tired.” My voice sounded clipped.

  Why the fuck do I do this?

  She blinked at my face. I had to get away from her line of sight. She’d noticed something wasn’t right and she was starting to wake up.

  I rose from the floor and walked to the fireplace, adding more kindling to it. It might get colder tonight, and I wanted to keep her warm.

  Was she warm enough now? Did she need a thicker blanket? I frowned at the flames.

  What the hell is this? What the hell am I feeling?

  I was an expert at blocking things out—thoughts and feelings. These things were dangerous if I let them take rein. But ever since I’d met her, I couldn’t find the switch to turn them the hell off.

  I tensed when I heard the rustle of sheets on the bed as she pulled herself up.

  “Hey, Bigfoot.”

  Damn. Damn. Damn. I lowered my head. Fought it. Failed. I gave up and smiled.

  “Don’t run away,” she said.

  I looked at her over my shoulder. And my heart thudded against my chest.

  Her hair looked dark in the firelight. It tumbled over her shoulders, as if she’d just woken from a wild night of sex. Her eyes, feline eyes I couldn’t get out of my head no matter what I did, watched me now, waiting, wondering.

  “Are you sorry you told me?” she whispered.

  Told her about the maze? Never.

  “No.”

  “Then what is it?” she asked. “Because you’re doing it again.”

  I had no explanation for her. I couldn’t even understand what I was feeling, so how could I even begin to explain?

  I crossed over to her, my eyes on hers. She surprised me when she scrambled up, kneeling on the bed facing me. I stopped in front of her.

  “I don’t mean to do it again,” I said.

  The fire popped and sizzled behind me.

  “Is it hard to talk about it?”

  “Yeah.”

  We were whispering in the dark. I could see the light from the flames playing on her alluring face. Slowly, I reached out and stroked her cheek, slid my hands down, and held both sides of her neck as I rubbed her nape with my fingers. She closed her eyes, her body leaning in for more.

  “But we both know you can get anything out of me if you want to, don’t we?” I said. It wasn’t a question.

  Now she smiled. A knowing smile. She tipped her face up to me, silently demanding a kiss, and I kissed her softly, taking my time, nibbling on her bottom lip.

  My hands traveled down to her shoulders, her arms, then gripped her hips, and I lifted her up. I loved how she automatically hooked her arms and legs around me, how trusting she was that I wouldn’t let her fall.

  “Did I give you blue balls?”

  I smirked. “Yeah. Big time, but you made up for it when you screamed my name.”

  “I did not!” she blustered. “I think you screamed my name.”

  I nuzzled her neck. “We’ll do more when you’re ready.” Don’t think about that. “Can’t sleep?”

  It took her a moment to reply. “No.” Her voice was raspy, and I wondered if she was thinking of the more. I wanted her to be. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Kitchen. You have to eat.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said just as her stomach growled.

  I chuckled. “Yeah, you do.”

  I knew she had a slim frame, but I wondered if she was too thin because she worked too hard and forgot to eat. She also drank a lot of coffee. I assumed it was to keep up with her work and other responsibilities. I didn’t want her to get sick.

  “Are you saying I’m too thin?” she teased. “Is that why you can’t get enough of my body?”

  My Spitfire.

  “I can’t get enough of you.”

  “And he says he’s not good with words.”

  It was the truth. I didn’t have to look for words when it was so plain to see, when it was that simple.

  Amused at both of us, I propped her on the kitchen island.

  “You like my words?”

  She nodded, her fingers playing with my hair. I dipped my head to kiss her, bit her bottom lip that I couldn’t get enough of.

  “I do,” she said. “Let’s start with your physical attributes. You’re very, very attractive. I really, really like your hair. And your eyes. And your nose. And the way you bite your lip or your knuckles when you’re excited or just because. And your hard back muscles. Don’t forget about your forearm muscles. The sexy veins. And your hot body. And…”

  I laughed. “You are hungry.”

  “Well, make me something to eat then, chef.”

  “All right. You have to let go of me first.”

  “Make me,” she said.

  I sucked my bottom lip in my mouth and stared at her. Her eyes widened. So she remembered that, didn’t she?

  “Okay, okay.” She let out a nervous laugh, placed her hands on my chest, and nudged me back. “Sorry, that wasn’t an invitation. Food first. Food.”

  “Fine.” I kissed her again before releasing her. I turned the lights on in the kitchen, then walked to the counter, where I found the plastic bags containing the stuff I’d bought for her at the service station and rummaged through it. She must have brought them in with her.

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I don’t eat pork. Or beef. Or…” She raised her brows when I turned and looked at her. She pounded a fist on her chest. “Vegetarian lady here.”

  “Of course, I remember.” I turned back to the groceries and pulled out the items and placed them on the counter. “I got you three cartons of eggs and a loaf of bread at the store.”

  “Aw.” She let out a slow, sweet sigh behind me. “Wait, three? How long were you planning on keeping me here?” She laughed. A happy sound that made me smile. She was so damn cute. “Any cheese?”

  “They didn’t have any. You like cheese?”

  When she didn’t reply, I turned to look at her again.

  “I love cheese. That time when you and I…in the bathroom. I’d just had the veggie lasagna from the cafeteria. It happens every time.”

  I laughed softly. I didn’t think I’d ever forget that. “Why do you eat it then?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s so freaking good it’s worth the pain. I’m going to die sometime in the future, and I don’t want to say I missed out on the good stuff.”

  I shook my head at her, then went to find a pan. I didn’t normally cook, but I knew I’d bought one for emergencies. I’d stored it here somewhere.

  “So…that girl in the bathroom. Was she the same girl who kissed you in the hallway?”


  “I haven’t had sex since I met you.”

  “Good. You want a medal?”

  “I think I deserve one.”

  She smirked.

  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to share,” she said. Her voice stern.

  “You mean me?”

  “Of course you.”

  I grinned. Good.

  “Would you share me? The way you glared at Thomas probably scarred the poor guy for life.”

  Share her? What the fuck did she think? The thought made me want to punch something.

  I slammed the cupboard closed. Harder than I meant to. “Thomas.”

  “Calm down, Wolverine. No growling. He’s a good guy. A friend,” she added quickly when I scowled. “Just a friend.”

  I found the pan in one of the bottom cupboards. I placed it on the stove, turned the dial on low heat, poured in just enough oil to cover the pan. Where the hell is the spatula?

  Friend, my ass.

  I opened drawers, slammed them closed.

  “Men and women can’t just be friends.”

  “Yes, they can,” she insisted.

  Exasperated, I glared at her over my shoulder. “We typically don’t spend time with women we don’t want to have sex with.”

  Where the hell was the damned spatula?

  “Gross. And that’s not true for every guy.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is that the only reason you want to spend time with me?”

  “Of course not, but it’s one reason. I want to sleep with you.”

  She scoffed behind me.

  I opened the same cupboard I’d opened the first time. It was there. Dammit.

  I went back to the counter, grabbed a bowl, and cracked an egg too hard. I sucked at cooking. I sucked at it more when I was distracted, and she was one hell of a distraction. I was already pulling a bunch of cracked shells out of the egg white.

  “Sharing you with another guy?” I growled. “Over my dead fucking body.”

  I glared at her over my shoulder. She was grinning. She liked that, didn’t she? I narrowed my eyes. I could see on her face there was no arguing with her about her friend though. I went back to cracking eggs. Damn shitty convenience shitty store shitty eggs.