I’m the wrong person to pose that question to. I’ve wanted to claim her since the second I laid eyes on her. Her marital status never mattered to me. I’m not a complete asshole. I am sorry for her loss, and I do recognize that if not for Clay’s untimely death, she wouldn’t be standing here asking me these questions. I take no pleasure from the situation either. But it is what it is.
"I don't know what to tell you. I know you can't help overanalyzing everything. It’s your nature. But try not to. You'll never be happy if you're always trying to please other people's idea of what you should be."
She nods and tips her head down shyly, so I tug her a little closer. Now I have her standing between my legs, and all I can think about is ripping every last piece of fabric off her. My hands settle at her hips, and I feel her bones jutting out. She’s gotten painfully skinny this last year. I want to take her downstairs to the kitchen and feed her until those generous curves are back.
The nervous look fluttering over her face has me worried I’ve gone too far. I pry my hands away from her hips. She’s still grieving. Still fragile. All those questions just proved that I have no business doing this. I shouldn’t have listened to her friend last night. My whole idea to wait a year and come claim her like some Neanderthal was fucking stupid. I want—no, I need—her to be ready for another relationship before we start anything. Because once I finally have her, I am never letting her go. Of that, I’m certain.
It’s this goddamned self-imposed celibacy thing. I’m wound up so tight I could blow at any second.
"Are you okay?" I manage to ask.
She steps in closer until her knees knock into the side of the mattress. Her breasts are at chin level, and I resist sinking my face into them. Although, as I flick my eyes up to her face, I catch a hungry look that makes me think maybe I’m wrong. I’m the one who is overanalyzing things. Maybe she wants this too. My hands find their way back to her hips. Her lips part, but no words come out. She’s struggling and frustrated. It finally dawns on me that she needs me to make the first move. I forget that she’s nothing like other women I’ve known, and I relish the idea of being the one in charge. Every woman I’ve been with in the last few years has been a quick fuck. There was no point in establishing who wanted what because we were both after a release and nothing more. Not one of them needed me to take the lead. This is going to be so good. I want to unlock every last sensual detail about Hope.
I run my hand down to the hem of her shirt and then up underneath until I encounter smooth, warm skin. "I like how you look in my shirt, baby." In a quick move, I pull the shirt up and over her head, dropping it on the nightstand.
My hands slide down and cup her sweet little ass. She gasps and puts her hands on my shoulder for balance. "Hope, I really want you."
The most gratifying, honest smile lights up her face. "I want you too."
Thank fucking fuck.
I stand up and she stumbles back a step, but I’ve got her. I slide one hand up into her hair and tip her head back so I can taste those sweet lips again. She’s so soft and eager. I touch the tip of my tongue to her and she opens for me. While my tongue explores her mouth, I let my hands roam back down to her ass. Her little cheeks fit my hands perfectly as I pull her up and into my hips. The move startles her, and she breaks away. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—I’m hard as steel, and my jeans are doing a lousy job concealing my condition. Her hands slide off my shoulders. Oh, hell, no.
"You okay, Hope?"
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, distracting me so that I almost miss her words. "I’m scared."
"Of me?" I know I’m an animal, but I’m trying so hard to be gentle with her.
The corners of her mouth turn down, and her eyes lower till she’s examining the floor. "Of this." Her little hand flutters in the space between us.
"I haven’t been with anyone but my husband in over twelve years." She whispers the last part, but I hear her.
Inside, I’m thumping my chest. Not that this is news to me. Of course she hasn’t been with another man. Everything about Hope radiates loyalty and honor. Deep down, I know it’s the reason I want her for myself so fucking bad. Our differences may be staggering, but in this, we're the same. If we make a promise, we keep it. As bad as my first marriage had been, I’d never strayed. Unfortunately, my ex had not felt the same way about fidelity. But Hope is different. I know it in my bones.
"I kind of figured," I tell her as gently as possible.
She nods but doesn’t look up.
"Before that?" I’m such an asshole, because if she decides to ask me a similar question, I’m not sure I’ll be completely honest. But my curiosity wins out over common sense.
"High school boyfriend," she whispers.
Goddamn.
"I’m not going to hurt you, baby."
Finally she meets my eyes. "I know that."
Those words mean a lot to me. Her trust means everything.
"We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to." I’ll probably die from the most spectacular case of blue balls if I don’t get inside her soon, but I’ll do things at her pace.
Then she does the most amazing thing. She places her index finger over my lips. "No more talking. Kiss me."
No need to tell me twice. I wrap her in my arms and turn her toward the bed. My lips find hers, and this time I don’t hold back. I want her to understand who and what I am. How much I want her. She falls back on the bed, taking me with her. One hand is tangled in her hair, and my other is at her hip. One of her soft hands sneaks under the hem of my shirt, brushing against my skin. Grabbing the back of my shirt, I lift it over my head. She helps me yank it all the way off and toss it to the floor. Her gaze roams over me, heating my skin with pride at the way she seems to appreciate what she sees.
Now she’s breathing hard, making her breasts rise and fall, ready to spill out of the skimpy tank top. My hand slips up under the material, and she sits up just enough for me to take it off completely. I’m left staring at her lace-covered breasts. They fill my hands nicely, and she arches off the bed when my thumb brushes over the fabric covering her nipple. So fucking gorgeous. She’s so responsive, it makes me crazy. I drop my mouth over hers and take another long, slow kiss.
Her hands frame my face, sliding over my cheek and jaw. I can’t get enough of her touch. Groans of appreciation mingle with the sounds of our kissing. She rakes her nails through my hair, sending sparks down my spine. This time, I break the kiss, frantically moving my mouth over her jaw, down her neck, along her clavicle, and down the valley between her breasts. I look up, but her head is thrown back, eyes closed. Using my fingers, I pull the lacy cups of her bra down so I can feast on her nipples. I suck and flick my tongue against the hard peaks until she twists under me.
Those sharp little nails are still buried in my hair, lightly grazing my scalp, sending shivers all over me. Still tonguing her nipple, I let my hand roam down her side. She wriggles when I tickle her ribs, tease her belly button, but goes stiff as a board when I cup her pussy. Christ, the flimsy little pants are soaked. I rub my thumb restlessly over her mons and smile like a devil as she starts writhing under me. As I slide my hand up to the waistband, she goes still.
"Don’t. I’m a mess. Down there."
I honestly have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. My face must be full of what-the-fuck, because she sighs and braces herself on her elbows to look at me. She’s flushed from her chest up, and it’s a beautiful sight.
"You’re used to all those neatly groomed strippers, and…I’m not…I haven’t done that in awhile."
I’m still feeling clueless, but it’s starting to sink in.
"Uh, baby, I don’t really give a shit. I just want your sweet little pussy." I can’t help being crude. The absurdity of her thinking some fucking pubic hair is going to stop me from what I’ve been drooling over for two damn years almost makes me laugh.
Without giving her another chance to protest, I hook my fingers an
d yank the pants down her legs. She squeals and slams her eyes shut, but her hips shoot off the bed and her legs fall open, giving me one hell of a view.
I should have jacked off this morning. The minute she got in the shower, I should have run downstairs and jerked myself because I’m not going to last very long. I want our first time to be perfect for her, and coming in five seconds like a teenager isn’t going to cut it.
She’s all pale, creamy skin and glistening auburn curls. So fucking beautiful. I slide farther down the bed and push her legs up and over my shoulders. Using my fingers, I carefully rub over her clit hood in firm little circles until her body relaxes and she starts moaning. Then I spread her open, using my tongue to tease her first with soft licks, then light sucking. One finger slides into her easily, so I add another. She’s so hot, wet, and damn tight, my mouth stops moving for a minute.
A little whine from her gets me going again. My tongue swipes up her pussy, and I tease her clit with soft little flicking motions. Her breath hitches, and her hips arch up against my face. My fingers work her soft at first, gliding in and out. I settle my mouth over her clit, stroking with my tongue gently for a bit, then harder until her legs tremble. Sweet little whimpers, begging, nonsense words echo in the room as she convulses around my fingers. Her hips jerk uncontrollably, but I keep at her, wringing every last drop of pleasure I can out of my girl.
Brilliant sparks keep firing behind my eyelids. He’s turned my body to jelly. I can barely move. It’s been so damn long since I came like that. Guilt creeps in when a tiny voice inside says I’ve never come so hard in my life.
It’s just the passage of time. It’s been so long that you forgot what an orgasm was.
That soothes my brain, but my body isn’t buying it.
The urge to touch Rock overrides everything else. He crawls up my body, kissing every inch of me along the way.
"Hope? Are you with me?"
I nod because I can’t form any words right now. My hands slip over his shoulders and pull him down to me. Then I’m kissing him, tasting myself on his lips and not caring one bit. I can’t get enough. My fingers fumble with the button of his jeans. Together, we work the rough material down his legs. His hard, warm body blankets me, his thick erection resting on my thigh. I spread my legs and bump my hips up, begging him with my body for more. I need him to fill me hard, hot, and thick.
"Baby, I really need to fuck you now," he whispers harshly.
Mindless, I pant out a desperate sounding, "Yes, yes."
I hear him rip open a condom and watch him roll it on. God, he’s beautiful and huge everywhere. I seem to surprise him by tipping my hips up and wrapping my legs around him. He’s in the perfect position to slide right in, but he stops and looks into my eyes first.
"It’s been a while, baby. I’m probably going to embarrass myself."
I’m not sure what he means. What’s a while for Rock? Twenty-four hours? A week? The man surrounds himself with hot, available strippers on a daily basis. I can’t ponder this any longer because he finally drives his cock deep inside in one hard thrust.
"Fuck," he groans, drawing the curse out until instead of being vulgar, it’s the sexiest word ever spoken.
I grip his very fine ass, digging in my nails in an attempt to pull him closer. Finally he begins to move. Each slide in and out has me gasping and moaning. Sensations spread through my core. Every place where our bodies are connected burns with need. In no time, he goes from gentle, sensuous slides to hard, forceful pumping. I widen my legs, bringing my knees up, wanting him as deep inside me as he can get. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and then the other one. Pleasure pours through me with the new angle. Every merciless thrust pushes me closer to another orgasm, and then I come, screaming and shaking. His cock jolts inside of me, pulsing as he comes.
He shrugs my legs off his shoulders and nuzzles my neck before turning to capture my lips in a searing kiss.
"Thank you," he murmurs before moving away to dispose of the condom.
Everything inside of me is still racing and trembling. Absently, my fingers reach up to pinch my still-hard nipples.
"Jesus Christ, you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen," Rock whispers.
Embarrassed, I drop my hands. He slides back into bed and pulls me to him. Slowly, he takes my lips in a tender kiss. His hands stroke my back with startling gentleness considering how hard he just fucked me.
A slow burn starts up, and I want him again. His soapy scent has been replaced with a lusty sweatiness, and it makes me want to lick him all over. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his chin. The feeling of contentment that washes over me is false because I know this might be all the time we have together. Rock can’t be interested in me long term. I doubt he does long term, and let’s be honest—I'm nothing like the girls he’s used to. Now that he’s gotten fucking a straight-laced girl like me out of his system, he can go back to banging strippers or club girls who have a hell of a lot more experience to offer him than I do.
It’s insane, but I want to keep him. I shouldn’t want anyone in my life permanently already, but I can’t help it. It’s sad and horrible that Clay died so young, but I feel like a year-long fog is lifting and I’m grasping at the sunlight.
His big hand brushes hair off my cheek. "You look so serious."
Yup, seriously crazy about you.
But I keep the words to myself. The last thing he wants is a desperate-to-be-loved woman in his bed. If this is going to end, I at least want it to end nicely.
I force a smile. "I’m starving."
Concern darkens his face. "Let’s feed you, then."
I’m actually sleepy, but my stomach rumbles, so I get dressed. I sigh when I turn around and see he’s covered—I still haven’t gotten to explore those tattoos.
"What’s wrong?"
"You put a shirt on. I wanted to study all your tattoos."
He throws back his head and laughs. "You can play discovery later." He holds out his forearms to me. "You can study these while we eat."
I guess that will have to do. I like the promise of later.
Downstairs is a mess. There are plates, empty bottles, plastic cups, and all sorts of other stuff scattered on every surface. Sleeping bodies in various states of dress and undress are draped over a few of the couches. The door to the meeting room is firmly shut, and I wonder if anyone is in there. Rock ignores the mess and leads me to the kitchen.
My curiosity is piqued as we near the "yoga studio." I can’t even imagine what must have gone on in there last night. The door is only open a crack, so I can’t see more than the wall and a sliver of one of the mirrors.
We enter the dining area. A few guys are sitting around one of the smaller tables. I recognize Bricks right away.
A big grin lifts his cheeks, and he stands.
"Hi, Bricks."
He comes closer and eyes Rock, who nods at him. Odd.
"Hey, Hope. It’s good to see you." The quick hug startles me. As his counsel of record, when his ex filed another bullshit violation against him, the court had sent it to me. I promptly got a letter directing me to send it to another attorney. Feelings hurt all over the place on that one. I’d done damn good work for Bricks, but given the way things ended with Rock, it hadn’t surprised me. The enthusiastic way Bricks greets me does, however, surprise me.
I want to ask him, and I think he senses my question because he shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts from foot to foot. Rock must feel what’s coming too, because he squeezes me tight to his side and kisses the top of my head. The other guys at the table where Bricks had been sitting look up in surprise. Is it me, or does Rock’s open affection grab their attention? Surely they’ve seen him with other women before?
"Joining us, prez?" one of the guys asks. He’s tall and broad, with curling blond hair licking the edge of his jaw, a sharp nose, and a sexy amount of scruff.
"Prospect is helping Trin with breakfast," a shorter, and only sligh
tly less muscled than the rest, guy informs us.
Rock seems conflicted. Is he already embarrassed to be seen with me?
But then he pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit. Again, the guys give him a strange look. Rock pulls a chair close to me and falls into it. Even though we’re in two separate chairs, we’re pretty much touching from shoulder to thigh. I’m absurdly happy.
I don’t get to savor the moment, though. A tall, voluptuous blonde girl comes out of the kitchen with a tray of food. She’s both beautiful and cute. Suddenly I feel like an old sea hag. I thrust my hands into my hair, trying to tame it into something less messy.
"Hey, Rock-n-Roll," she calls out with a smirk.
"Hey, Trinity, you behaving yourself?" Rock answers.
"Never." She stops and sets plates in front of each of the guys. When she sets the last plate down, the hulking blond guy, who looks like some kind of Viking warrior, yanks her into his lap and gives her a wet kiss on the cheek. She giggles and slaps him away, then focuses her attention on Rock.
"What are you hungry for, Rock?"
His hand covers mine and squeezes, drawing her attention to me. "Oh, hi. I’m Trinity." She waves a few fingers at me and scrambles out of the Viking’s lap.
"Hi, I’m Hope."
"Well, what can I get you?" Her mouth does this nervous upward half-smile thing, and I feel bad that she seems so damn uncomfortable. I take a look at what the guys are scarfing down—eggs and lots of bacon—and my stomach rolls.
"Is there any cereal? Special K, Rice Krispies? Something like that?" I start to push my chair out. "Actually, I can go—"
Rock’s hand grasps me tighter as he pulls me back down. "It’s fine, Hope. You’re my guest."
Trinity is on her way to a full freak-out.
"Bring me what they’re having, get Hope her cereal, and two waters, please, Trinity," Rock directs.
She nods but doesn’t say anything, just scurries back into the kitchen. I’m not even sure how to react to that.
Slow Burn Page 11
