by Jeana
With a move of surprising agility, he grabbed her by the ankles and flipped her onto her back, yanking her legs apart and holding her there, exposed and open to him. A low moan ended in a whimper of delight as his fingers slid between her legs to test her.
"I want this," he said in a voice so low and deep that it rumbled like thunder through her ears. “I want you on your hands and knees in front of me. Will you do that for me?”
Holy freaking hell. Unable to speak, her throat gone dry from the blaze in his eyes, all she could manage was a quick nod. She turned onto her hands and knees, and threw a look at him over her shoulder. He caressed the curves of her bottom, his touch light and delicate.
The mattress dipped as he crawled onto the bed, covering her with his body, his arms and legs outside of hers, trapping her underneath him. The power of his body surged through her with electric intensity. When his lips nuzzled her ear, she arched like a cat and felt the weight of his body above her. With one mighty shove, he was inside her. His teeth gripped the shell of her ear, tender and gentle, but with enough strength to show he was in charge. True to his promise, he began to move, slow and easy at first, building speed and strength until the bed shook on its frame.
The sound of flesh smacking flesh filled the room. She straightened her arms and gripped the headboard. It banged into the wall with the rhythm of Randy’s pounding. She moaned, and he redoubled his speed. Together they built their orgasm, chasing release, finding mutual pleasure in each other, and forgetting their demons.
The hair on his chest prickled her back as she leaned against him and gripped his thighs with her hands. His palms skimmed over her hips and lifted to cup her breasts. Thumb and forefinger pinched her nipples, rolling and tugging them, while he plunged into her with inexorable rhythm. The man had an uncanny ability to sense her body’s responses, reacting to her needs before she knew them, and adjusting the depth and angle of penetration to fuel her desire.
“Ladies first,” he rasped into her ear. “And then I’ll join you.”
Before her sex-dazed mind could unravel his cryptic quote, he sank to the root inside her and froze. His large hands pressed her hips into his, impaling her and holding her in place, demanding submission. Eager to comply, her body clenched around him. She broke apart with a startled cry and shattered into a million pieces. The mind-erasing jolt of orgasm rippled through her, and for a few blissful moments, the world consisted only of Randy and his hold on her.
Boneless and numb, she slumped in exhaustion and bliss, held upright by the tight arm around her waist. Her head lolled against his chest while her over-sensitized flesh continued to spasm around him. Two quick thrusts followed by two more, slow and deep, sent him over the edge to join her.
When he relinquished his hold, she melted into the mattress, a mass of jelly-like flesh. He flopped down beside her with a deep sigh of contentment. A sudden thumping on the floor brought his eyes to hers.
“What the hell is that?”
“Oh, God. It’s the guy downstairs.” She leaned over the edge of the bed and shouted at the floor, “Sorry, Mr. Gonzalez.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and frowned. “Were we really that loud?”
Randy’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I don’t think I’ve ever fucked anyone that hard. I’m surprised we didn’t knock a hole in the wall.”
When their breathing had settled, he rolled onto his side and wrapped one of her curls around his little finger then gave it a small tug. She turned to face him and slid her hand along his stomach to play with the curly hairs leading from navel to groin. He sighed with pleasure and relaxed onto his back, laced his fingers behind his head, looking sated like a well-fed lion.
She watched him as her fingers explored. When she dared to let her hands wander toward the scar on his neck, his eyes narrowed in warning. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his stomach before closing his eyes again.
“I’m ticklish,” he said.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. And I don’t like it,” he warned, cracking one eyelid.
“What are you going to do? Spank me?”
“I might.” He closed his eye again and a grin curved his full mouth. “Maybe not. You’d like it too much.”
“What is this?” The tip of her finger traced the jagged scar beneath his jaw. Small white crosses marked twenty or thirty stitches along the length of the incision.
“It’s a scar.”
“I know that. What happened?”
“Dog sledding accident,” he said, eyes still shut tight, but one corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Seriously? You’ve been dog sledding?”
“No, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?” The broad chest shook with repressed laughter. She gave his leg an impatient shove with her foot and rolled onto her back, biting back a smile.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I didn’t want to know anyway.”
“Mitch knows,” he said after a short silence. “Maybe you should ask him what happened.”
She snorted. “Like he’d ever tell me anything. We don’t really get along most of the time.”
Bright moonlight flooded the room. The blue glow lit the angles and planes of his cheeks and jaw in sharp relief. A deep summer tan gilded his face, neck, and arms, but the skin of his chest was pale. When he swallowed, the muscles of his throat constricted, and she knew his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Do you still love her?” Karly asked, not wanting to know the answer but curious just the same. A full minute passed without a response, and she thought he might have fallen asleep.
“Doesn’t really matter,” he said flatly. “But we’ve got a son. He doesn’t understand why I’m not there for him.” He continued to stare at the ceiling. His voice thickened with emotion. “How can I make him understand when she won’t let me see him?”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” It was her turn to stare at the ceiling, thinking thoughts better left forgotten. Thinking of Emma, alone and frightened, and Jerome with his wife. The moment of silence following their confessions filled the room. Karly swallowed back tears. She didn’t want to cry. She’d already shed too many tears over Jerome. Emma was another story, and one she’d never get over.
“What about you? Do you still love that guy?” The warmth of his hand on her bare skin soothed away some of the angst. A fingertip brushed back the ringlet of hair drooping over her forehead.
“I thought I loved him.” The complexity of the situation tightened the tension in her forehead. “But I don’t want that kind of love. All one-sided and fucked up.” To end the topic, she turned her face toward the window.
Randy released a long sigh. The bedsprings creaked as rolled into her, turning her toward him. They lay facing each other for a while, legs entwined, and fingers exploring.
“The sun will be coming up pretty soon,” he said.
“Yeah. It’s been a long night.”
He pulled her closer, nudging his erection into her belly, and kissed her long and slow. This time they came together softly with a need made all the more fierce by their confessions.
CHAPTER 12
Randy awoke with the sedentary tick-tock of the alarm clock in his ears, the scent of citrus and honey in the air, and a euphoric sense of disorientation that kept him lingering between waking and dreaming for a good long while. A cool breeze wafted through the open window, carrying with it the sounds of the city below. Peaceful and relaxed, he blinked against the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the blinds. He swiped at his nose to squelch a sneeze and found a naked girl draped across his chest, her strawberry ringlets brushing his nostrils as she snuggled deeper into him.
Karly.
As memories of the previous night returned, he felt an answering tightness in his groin, wondering how much of it had been a dream and how much was real. The naked breasts pillowed against his bare chest suggested a reality far more appealing than anything his subconscious might dream up. He stroked a fingertip down the curve of her spine. S
he sighed and stretched into his touch like a smug kitten.
He’d fucked her and fucked her well, more than a few times. The temptation to do it again taunted him as she tightened her arm around his waist. Unfortunately, he had commitments, or he could have stayed in that bed forever.
The bedclothes rustled as he slid sideways and out from under her embrace. With gentleness he didn’t know he possessed, he arranged the pillows beneath her head and pulled the covers up over her nakedness. Lovely, he thought, viewing her translucent skin in the golden glow of morning, like a fine china doll with her hair spread over the pillows and her cheek cupped in one hand. The other hand lay on the mattress, palm to the ceiling, delicate fingers curled loosely in a gesture of complete relaxation. The vulnerability of her pose struck a primitive note deep within him, a sudden fierce need to protect and guard her, to make her his.
As his gaze roamed over the creamy curve of her shoulders and the rosebud mouth, lips parted in sleep, he wished it could be otherwise. In the wake of the past few hours with Karly, he knew exactly why Pilar left. With three years and a child between them, they’d shared little more than a bed. He’d shared more with Karly in the space of twenty-four hours than he’d ever shared with Pilar. Karly was like a beacon shining into the dark abyss of his life, illuminating the dusty corners and leaving all his secrets exposed, when every survival instinct warned him to hide.
Fully dressed and burdened with reality, he returned to the bedroom and bent to brush the hair from Karly’s forehead, half-hoping she might awaken, half-relieved when she didn’t. It was better this way. They could avoid the stilted morning conversation, the awkward politeness of two strangers who’d shared physical intimacy, and the painful distance that came with daylight. To prove his point, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, a bitter reminder of work and responsibility. He wrote a quick note on the back of a receipt from his wallet, intending to leave it somewhere for her to find later.
“Sweet dreams, sunshine,” he whispered and closed the bedroom door behind him with heavy resignation, feeling as if a precious opportunity had slipped through his fingers, and certain that he’d never see her again. —THE END of the BEGINNING.
This is the end of Randy and Karly’s prequel, but it isn’t the end of their story. Join them, along with Jack, Ally, Chelsea and the rest of the Felony gang, for the continuation of their story in Vindicated (releasing December 2014). You’ll find an excerpt of Vindicated on the pages that follow.
VINDICATED
With grinding gears and the squeal of tires, Karly screamed her 1979 Trans Am into the parking lot of the English Studies building at Laurel College. Dead leaves scattered in her wake as leaped out of the car, backpack in hand, and sprinted toward the lecture hall. A fellow student gaped as she bounded like a steeple-chaser over the landscape bed and ran full out across the lawn.
"You can't park there," he shouted as she streaked past. She waved him off, aware of the penalty for parking in a faculty space. Behind her, the Trans Am rattled and shuddered before it died with a dramatic bang. Pigeons rocketed into the brilliant blue January sky, scattering feathers in their wake.
This is so not good. I can’t be late again. Cold air stung her cheeks as she hurtled the last flowerbed. It was only the second class of the semester and she’d been late both times. Professor Marks was tough and ran his classroom like a drill sergeant. He’d probably make her drop and give him twenty push-ups as punishment.
Two hallways and one set of double doors stood between her and her destination. The ancient walls and hardwood floors reverberated with her rapid footsteps. The scent of polished wood and austerity hung heavy in the air as she rallied her flagging energy, jogged the last ten yards, and threw open the lecture hall door. She paused at the threshold, blowing and puffing like a winded horse, and scanned the room. Silence. Twenty-five pairs of eyes swiveled and fixed on her. One open seat. Bottom row. Front and center.
Shit.
"Late again, Ms. Eriksson?" Professor Marks' nasal voice dripped with sarcasm. The gray goatee on his chin waggled as he peered over the top of his reading glasses. Even though it was nine o’clock in the morning, he said, “Nice of you to join us this evening. Are you in or are you out?”
Double shit.
“Please, by all means take your time. We’ll wait while you decide.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the table.
Whispers rippled through the auditorium. Accustomed to the hushed voices, blatant stares, and condescending comments of students, she lifted her chin a notch. By the expressions on the faces of her classmates, she might as well have a big scarlet A emblazoned on her breast.
"I'm in. Thank you for the invitation." She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. With her brightest smile, she let the door swing shut behind her. Tuition cost big money, and it would be a cold day in hell before she let a bunch of judgmental hypocrites deprive her of an education.
"Then perhaps you'd like to take a seat?" The professor nodded to the empty seat in the front row. “I saved a place for you in case you decided to grace us with your presence today.” Marks’ attention snagged on a gum-chewing jock in the third row. “Mr. Morales? Please spit out your gum. And Mr. Conway, you will remove your hat.”
With an inward sigh and an outward smile, she hefted the backpack to her shoulder and trotted down the steps to the first row. One person sat between her and the proffered seat, his long muscular leg and heavy boot extended into the aisle. At her arrival, he raised to his feet, towering over her. Intent upon her destination, she kept her head down and squeezed past, her plentiful bottom brushing against his hips. The heavy backpack shifted on her shoulder and caught him squarely in the chest. He grunted and pushed it aside. She turned to apologize and found her nose level with an imposing set of pecs beneath a tight brown Henley shirt and the intoxicating scent of soap and fabric softener.
Oh my. This was not your typical college boy. This was a full-grown man and then some.
With large, long-fingered hands, he pushed his shirtsleeves up sinewy forearms. Her eyes followed the lines of a tribal tattoo from his left wrist to where they disappeared beneath his sleeve. Bulging biceps stretched against the fabric of the Henley. The tattoo emerged on the north side of wide shoulders, escaping his shirt collar and curling around the back of his neck. She had seen the very same tattoo before – up close and personal.
Randy Mackenzie, bouncer at the notorious Felony Bar and all-around bad boy, blocked the aisle to the only free seat in the house. Unwilling to believe her bad luck, she bit her bottom lip and lifted her eyes to a stubborn jaw and lean cheeks covered with stubble. The sensitive mouth above his dimpled chin, a mouth capable of taking a girl to ecstasy with its talented lips and tongue, ghosted a smile.
Curiosity flickered in his eyes as their gazes connected. Flashes of their one night together blazed through her memory. Tangled legs…fingers clutched in bed sheets…the brush of male chest hair over her breasts….calloused hands ripping off her panties…culminating in the empty mattress beside her the next morning.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled the way he slipped out while she was asleep. How embarrassing. Maybe he didn’t remember her. It had been months ago and just the one night. A second more horrific thought rushed in. Oh, God, what if he really didn’t remember? Wouldn’t that be worse in a way? To be so unremarkable as to be forgotten?
The corners of Randy’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk. I’ve seen you naked, his smile said. Her belly dipped in reply.
Oh, yes. He definitely remembered. But what was he doing in her class?
Professor Marks’ annoyed throat clearing released her from paranoia and nostalgia and hurtled her into the present. How long had she been standing there gaping like an idiot? Seconds? Minutes? It felt like hours. The backpack turned into a two-ton weight. The strap bit into her shoulder.
Just sit down, you idiot, and act cool. It’s not that big of a deal. She sank into the hard theater seat
with a whoosh of exhaled breath and let her hair swing forward to shelter her expression from the world and the hunk of sin sitting next to her.
"Is it me or is this awkward?" Randy’s voice rasped into her ear as she struggled to remove her coat. The deep and throaty voice, rich with bass and roughened by life experience, reverberated in her ear as he tugged on the sleeve of her coat and slid it from her shoulders.
“Little bit,” she replied.
“Is that why you never called me?” The heat of his body warmed her shoulder as he leaned to speak in her ear again. “I waited by the phone for weeks.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right. You practically left a vapor trail on your way out.”
“There were…extenuating circumstances,” he said. “I left a note on the coffee table. Didn’t you see it?”
“No.” Uncertain, she flicked her gaze to his, assessing his sincerity and trying to remember the events of the morning. A lot had happened in the last six months and most of the finer details of their night together had blurred or disappeared entirely, blocked by the humiliation of being fucked and forgotten and a few too many cocktails.
The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned into her ear again, his nose brushing her hair. “But you could have. Called me that is.”
“Phone works both ways,” she replied.
“You never gave me your number.”
“You see my best friend every day. All you had to do was ask her.”
“Maybe I did. Ever think of that?”
No, in fact, she had not. She made a mental note to corroborate his story with Ally. She bit her lower lip and studied his face, unsure exactly what to make of this guy. He returned the scrutiny with unusual gray eyes, dark and brimming with secrets. Engrossed by the gravity of his stare, she didn’t notice Professor Marks, who had been pacing the stage as he lectured on gothic horror in the Victorian era, stop in front of her, his lined face purple with indignation.
