She dropped his hand and opened the door to the bathroom. “Oh my God, I love all this stone.”
“Really?” He looked over her shoulder at the tiny bathroom. Cash had a thing for texture, and Tommy had given him hell about the bathroom sink, because each stone had to be hand placed. He’d taken a dark bathroom vanity and removed the top, then inset stones of various sizes and shapes and set the bowl of the sink inside them. A thick glass top covered the stones, and Cash had been proud of the outcome. The bathroom floor was dark granite, and the walls were painted cream. He’d trimmed the bathroom with mahogany wood, having negotiated a killer deal in exchange for visiting the salesman’s daughter’s school to talk about being a fireman.
“The whole thing is so masculine.” She squeezed between him and the doorframe and poked him in the stomach. “Suits you perfectly.”
In the alcove, Siena glanced at his bedroom door. Cash reached around her and pushed the door open.
“Don’t even think about making a move on me. I’m just giving you the tour.”
“I think I can control myself.”
Cash waited outside the room when she walked in, positive he could not control himself. Seeing her beside his bed was difficult enough, and when she flopped down on it and flashed a smile as she fell back, her arms out to her sides, he nearly lost it.
“Ah. This is so comfy.” She turned and faced him, her legs dangling off the end of the bed, her body completely open to him.
He clung to the top of the doorframe, his muscles twitching. “You’re too damn trusting.” He didn’t mean to sound so gruff.
She narrowed her eyes. “You spend a lot of time telling me what I do wrong.”
Shit. I do?
She rolled onto her side and propped her chin up on her elbow. “But I don’t think you do it because you think I’m stupid. I think you do it to protect me. To point out what I should be careful of.”
He raked his eyes along the arch of her back, following the curve of her hips—hugged by her black leather pants as if they were her second skin. His chest tightened as he dug his fingers into the edge of the doorframe above his head.
“Is that what you think?” he managed in a hungry growl.
She crawled across the mattress on her knees, like a sex kitten on the prowl, then slid from the bed and closed the gap between them. She ran her finger slowly from his waist to his chest and looked up through her thick lashes. Her lips parted, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with desire.
“It’s exactly what I think.”
She slid between him and the doorframe again and disappeared into the living room, leaving him rock-hard and confused as hell. After several deep breaths, he joined her in the living room, where she sat on the couch, her booties on the floor beside her, her feet tucked beneath her. She held a picture frame in her lap and looked up from it as if she hadn’t just teased him to the edge and left him hanging.
“These are your siblings? Our families are so similar.” She ran her finger over the images of his brothers and sister. “Handsome family.”
He loved the sweet look in her eyes as she gazed at the photo of his family and hated himself for the jealousy that clutched his heart.
She sat up a little straighter and lowered the picture so he could see who she was pointing to. “Who’s this? Look at those eyes. Wow.” She ran a finger seductively down her neck, lingering at the edge of her sweater.
“Duke.”
“Mm. Duke. I like that name.” She tilted her head to the other side, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And this cutie, with the crooked smile? Who’s that?”
“Blue.” He gritted his teeth as she nodded and assessed his photo.
“Now, that’s a sexy name. Blue Ryder. I bet he has no trouble reeling in the women.”
He took a step closer, intending to snag that picture right out of her hands, but her look stopped him cold.
“Then again, it doesn’t get much sexier than Cash, does it?”
You’re going to drive me fucking insane.
He narrowed his gaze, locking eyes with her. “Not in my world it doesn’t,” he growled.
She turned back to the picture. “Now, this one, he looks my age, and this other one, oh, he’s wicked cute. He’s kinda got a surfer dude thing going on.” She pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow. “What are their names?”
“Jake and Gage.” He sat beside her and leaned his elbows on his knees, one hand clenched into a tight fist, the other wrapped around it.
“Ooh, Gage. That’s intriguing. And you have a sister. She’s gorgeous.”
He snagged the photo from her hand. “Trish,” he said angrily as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the arm of the couch with this chest as he set the frame back on the end table.
She didn’t say a word, and he couldn’t think past the feel of her delicious curves beneath him and his thundering, jealous heart beating in time to hers.
“It took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to act attracted to your sister, too.”
His hand slid to her hip, inciting a groan. “You have to be certain you want me, because if I kiss you, I’m not going to stop.”
“Good.” She grabbed his sweater and pulled him against her. “I’d be disappointed if you did.” She slid her legs down the couch beneath him.
“Siena, I’m not your typical date. I’m not made of money. I don’t have fancy clothes. I live in a box.”
“I love your cozy little box,” she said in a heated whisper.
“Don’t toy with me. If I make love to you, my heart’s in it, not just my body.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
The challenge in her eyes spurred him on.
He lowered his mouth a breath away from hers. “Don’t fuck with my heart. I can’t afford any more scars.” He searched her eyes, seeing the want there, the need, for him.
“I don’t scar,” she whispered. “I soothe.”
She ran her hand along the back of his neck. Their mouths met in a frenzy of need, a rough, animalistic kiss that sent shivers through his body and an ache between his legs. God, she tasted good. He had to have more of her, and as his lips found her jaw, she clung to him. A sexy little noise escaped her lips and drew his mouth back to hers. His hands traveled up her sides, then back down along the sleek leather as he rode the curves of her hip, her thigh. Then his hand found the edge of her sweater and slipped beneath. He captured her moan in his mouth, needing more of her, wanting to taste every inch of her. She buried her hands in his hair and pulled his head back, staring hungrily into his eyes.
“Cash.” She breathed heavily.
He tried to read her thoughts. Should he stop? Kiss her? Somewhere in his searching, he became aware of her hand on his jeans, tugging them, fumbling for the button, and heat seared through him. He grabbed her wrist and shook his head, breathing too hard to speak. She fought against him, reaching for him again, and when he released her hand and drew her sweater up, he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. He’d seen her body before, in the photo shoot in the magazine, but nothing came close to knowing that her heart was pounding for him, the desire in her eyes was for him—and him only—not a damn camera.
TOUCH ME. KISS me. Taste me. Lying beneath Cash wasn’t enough. She was beginning to see that nothing with Cash was enough. She’d had more fun on their date than she’d ever had on a date before, and the minute they walked into his apartment, she’d wanted to back him up against the brick wall and kiss him until he thought of nothing but her. But he was so damn careful. She thought the bedroom might lure him in, but no. She’d worried for a second that he’d think she was too easy, but when she’d brushed by him, his body exuding the same need as hers, she didn’t care. He’d find out she wasn’t easy, that what she felt for him was different, magnified, new.
He lifted her sweater, and she held her breath and closed her eyes, anticipating his luscious lips on her skin. His hands found her r
ibs again. They were so big, so strong, and making her so damn crazy as his thumbs brushed against the bottom of her breasts. He kissed his way up her stomach, then between her breasts.
“Yes,” she said in one long breath. She reached for his hand and brought it to her breast. God, she craved his touch. And, oh, did he feel good, caressing her through her lacy bra. She needed to feel his skin against hers, and she reached for the clasp between her breasts.
He looked up at her, breathing hard, his eyes mirroring the aching need in her body. “You sure?”
She nodded.
With one swift twist of his fingers, the clasp released, and he moved the cups to the side.
“Christ. You’re gorgeous.”
He lowered his mouth to her breast, his tongue stroking her sensitive nipple, then sucking, kissing, and slowing to slow, hot strokes again. She arched into him as he moved to her other breast. A shock of cold air swept across her wet breast, and she sucked in a breath. His hand found her then, and his finger and thumb worked her nipple until it was hot, sending a shudder right through her. She urged his hand lower, needing more of him, and held her breath as he slid his hand beneath the waist of her pants, along the swatch of her thong.
“Cash,” she panted.
He moved down her body then and hooked his hands in the waistband of her pants.
“You sure?”
She nodded frantically. Hurry. Hurry.
He stopped and raked his eyes down her body again, her sweater pushed up to her chin, breasts bared before him, her chest heaving with every heavy breath. He lowered his lips to her belly and pressed a soft kiss there. She moaned again, waiting, wanting to pull her own damn pants off. And then it hit her. Media. Fuck. She closed her eyes and tried to quell the panic blooming in her chest. She hated herself for even worrying about this, but she’d once been with a guy who sold the story of their intimacy to the press. She had to be careful.
“Wait.”
He released her pants, and his eyes shot to her.
“You wouldn’t. I mean, I know you wouldn’t.” Shit, shit, shit. She hadn’t been intimate with a guy in so long that she didn’t even know how to say what she had to.
He slithered up her body. “What, baby? Tell me.”
His voice was so tender, his eyes so trusting. She had to close hers just to get the words out. “You wouldn’t somehow leak this to the press or something, would you?”
His eyes narrowed and filled with unmistakable anger. “Are you shitting me?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…I don’t think you would. I just have to say something because…because it’s happened before. That’s why I never sleep with anyone. It was years ago, but it really hurt and I can’t go through that again.”
His jaw clenched again; his nostrils flared. “After what I said to you, do you think I’d hurt you?” He pulled back, and she grabbed him and held him still.
“No, I don’t. But I have a hard time with this stuff.”
He let out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. Then he took her in his arms and held her close. His cheek felt so good against hers, and in his arms she felt safe. Safer than she’d ever felt. Her heart swelled, embracing him and aching for the pain she’d caused him at the same time.
“Whatever we do, it’s between us,” he whispered. “Sex isn’t a game to me, Siena. You’re not a game to me.”
She didn’t need anything more to know the truth. She drew back and touched his cheek. God, she loved his face. How could every fiber of her being feel like it belonged to him when they’d known each other for only a few days? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break the mood.”
He shook his head. “I want you just as badly, but knowing you’ve been hurt makes my heart hurt, too. And I want to pamper you instead of ravage you.”
“Ravage me now. Pamper me later.”
In the next breath, she was in his arms, being carried into the bedroom. Her lips met his and kissed him like she wanted him to kiss her—greedy, demanding, needful. When he lowered her to the edge of the bed, she reached for his pants, wanting more of him. Her fingers hesitated, and she pushed up his sweater, then brought her lips to his hard stomach, wanting him to feel the same luxurious love that he’d given her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rose slowly to her feet, kissing her way up his ripped, muscled torso. He reached behind with one arm and drew his sweater over his head, taking the T-shirt beneath with it. She gasped a breath. When they’d been in the photo shoot, she’d been totally focused on not focusing on Cash. Instead she’d focused on the photographer’s directions, the lighting, making love to the camera. Now. Here. Everything was different. Heat radiated from him as she ran her hands up his body, then brought her lips to his chest, grazing his nipple with them and leaving a light trail of wetness from her tongue. He drew in a breath. His hands found her hips, and then he drew her sweater over her head and gently, delicately, slid her bra strap from each shoulder. She closed her eyes, having never felt so much tenderness and emotion from anyone. The few men she’d been with had moved fast; their lovemaking had been urgent. A minute of kissing, five minutes of foreplay, then three minutes of intercourse. Ungratifying at the worst. Lonely at best.
His tongue slid along the curve of her shoulder, sending chills down her spine and heat to her center. Her body trembled with need, and she steadied herself with both palms pressed flat against his beautiful chest. She brought her tongue to his nipple and teased him, loving the way his breathing hitched with each stroke of her tongue. She slid down his body, her tongue leading the way, and settled herself on the bed before him as she adeptly unbuttoned his jeans and worked the zipper. With one finger, Cash drew her chin up. Her eyes met his as he shook his head. Then he lifted her to her feet again and wrapped her in his arms, chest to chest, skin to skin, and looked deeply into her eyes.
“You’re not going to go tell the press you slept with me, are you?” he teased.
“What’ll you give me not to?”
With their chests pressed together, hearts beating in tune to each other, in the safety of his bedroom, he kissed her again. She never wanted to leave his arms, and when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pants again, she didn’t stop him. He drew them down, then crouched before her, running his hands along her thighs before lifting each foot, freeing her from her pants. She shivered with anticipation and need as his hands slid sensually up her inner and outer thigh, kissing the space in between. One leg was numb, the other aching with jealousy, and her center was yearning for contact.
He laid her on the bed and brushed her hair from her cheek. “I saw pictures of you with other men,” he said softly, without accusation.
She swallowed, not knowing how to respond.
“I don’t care about them, but when I looked into your eyes, something was missing.” He kissed her cheek, her forehead, ran his finger down her cheek. “You looked…lonely.”
How could he possibly have seen that? No one saw the truth of her heart. She couldn’t move.
He ran his hand gently down her arm and smiled lovingly. “What’s missing, Siena? I want to fill that spot.”
Oh God. She was drowning in need, trying to breathe past a lump that was forming in her throat. How could someone so virile be so observant? Honesty slipped from her lips without thought.
“I don’t know what it is, exactly,” she whispered. “I just feel this hole inside me.” She’d never told a soul how she felt, but it had always been there. A sliver of emptiness that kept her from fully embracing all that she had. Except when she modeled. When she was in front of the camera, that sliver disappeared.
“Then I wasn’t imagining things.”
He pressed his lips to hers and wrapped her in his arms again. She loved being there, in the cocoon of his strength.
“When I touch you, I feel so much,” he whispered between kisses as he moved slowly down her body. “It’s more than your beauty. It’s your heart.” His hands caressed her hips as he
drew his mouth lower. “The woman behind the snarky comments and tough, gorgeous exterior.”
He kissed along the edge of her silky, black thong. She arched her hips, wanting more of him. His fingers traced the thin line of fabric across her hip, then followed it down to her center, where he slipped beneath the damp fabric with a groan. She sucked in a breath, clenched the sheets in her hand as he teased her softly, her inner muscles pulling for more contact. Then his mouth was on her inner thigh, sucking the sensitive skin, running up to the edge of her panties, lingering, licking, as his fingers slid in deep. She moaned with need, arching, urging, wanting more. Cash read her perfectly, and when he slid the fabric over and licked her lightly, it was all she could do not to thank him. She lifted her hips as he drew the thong off and tossed it aside, then grasped her inner thigh, massaging it as he brought his mouth back to her again. Every stroke of his tongue brought her closer to the edge. His hands found her bottom and lifted her up, just a hair, just enough that her knees fell open, and then his hand found her again. Harder, deeper, his thumb stimulating the sensitive nub that sent her heels pressing into the mattress.
She gasped a breath. Then another. “Cash.” She’d never felt like this before. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He didn’t stop, and every lick, every swipe of his thumb sent a million needles through her limbs. And then—Oh God—he slid his fingers inside her again and a million lights exploded behind her clenched eyes; her inner muscles pulsated against him. And she cried out in an indiscernible cry of pleasure, panting, unable to concentrate on a single thought.
She felt his body meet hers, his lips on hers, his hand still pressed against her center, as tiny pulses sent aftershocks through her body. She couldn’t open her eyes, could only revel in the blissful feelings. His mouth found her neck, kissing, then sucking lightly, drawing her need out again as she wrapped a leg around him, feeling the rough scratch of his jeans. She opened her eyes and tugged at them.
“Not yet.”
She whimpered. “Torture. You’re torturing me.”
“I seem to remember…” He kissed his way back down her body. “That you liked maybe two screaming orgasms.”
Flames of Love Page 12
