by Stacy Gail
“Which is?”
“Watching out for you,” he said softly, at last cupping her cheek to savor its warm softness. “I need to do that until you wake up like Alice did. And when you wake up, I’m hoping you’re going to open those beautiful eyes of yours and see what the hell’s in front of you.”
Her lips parted on a breath. That faint sound nearly broke him. “What is it you want me to see?”
The truth resonated inside him so loudly he couldn’t begin to fight it, not even to protect her from his sorry ass. “Me.” The man who lived behind the label of ex-con. The man who tried to smooth her way, even though she hated his fucking guts for it. If she could see who he really was, then he told himself that would be all he’d ever want from her.
This time her breath stopped entirely. Then her gaze darkened with understanding and an awareness that made his skin heat so damn fast he was surprised he didn’t hear it sizzle. Then she pushed at the arm he had braced over her.
“Sun’s going down, so I can’t really see you in this light. If you really want me to look at you, we need to go inside.”
Chapter Ten
Angel tried to get the runaway pounding of her pulse under control by slow-breathing, but that just wasn’t cutting it. She couldn’t find calm anywhere. Discovering the bane of her existence had been hot for her to the point of madness from day one was like finding out there were elves residing in the North Pole. It was too crazy to believe.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
She pressed a hand to her chest and felt the pounding against her palm. Geez. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was having a freaking heart attack. Because she didn’t know what was going to happen next, she thought, trying to ignore the tremors in her legs as she led the way into her condo. That was why her heart was doing its best impression of a drum roll. Everything about Twist had always made her anxious. Agitated. That was all she was feeling now.
Thud. Thud.
Behind her, she heard the glass door slide shut. Then the click of the lock.
THUD.
She turned so quickly her hair spun over her shoulders, and found his attention riveted on her so completely it was as if she was the only thing he could see. His eyes were unblinking, and darker than she’d ever seen them. He searched her face, hungry for something she couldn’t name, but it was powerful enough to make her shiver. No man had ever looked at her like that before. Like he was waiting for her to give him permission to breathe.
Did she really that that much power over him?
No. It couldn’t be.
She shivered again while desire pulsed with sudden insistence between her legs. She racked her brain trying to find something to say to diffuse the explosive silence that wrapped around them. But her stubborn brain refused to cooperate, instead echoing with everything he’d laid out for her by the pool. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe all of it, of course. She’d known him too long to be suckered into believing he was doing anything but playing some kind of game with her. That was just who he was. Even now he was probably thinking it was a laugh-riot to play with the naïve little kid. She’d always been his favorite toy, after all.
Funny thing, though. It certainly didn’t look like he was playing. Nor had it felt like a joke earlier that morning. Maybe he had some sort of twisted prank up his sleeve, ready to pull it on her if she ever lost her mind and fell for the lines he was trying to feed her.
Yeah. That had to be it.
Except…
He’d been hard for her that morning. It could have just been the time of day and the situation, but the way he’d kissed her, held her… that had felt so real.
Real, she thought, inwardly scoffing at what felt like wistful yearning. This was Twist she was thinking about. She knew him well enough to doubt he was playing it straight with her.
So in knowing that, where was the risk? Why not simply enjoy the game while it lasted?
Her careful weighing of pros against the cons came to an abrupt halt when he moved. Her feet suddenly took root to the floor as he closed the distance between them, and with each step she struggled against a rising panic.
No.
It wasn’t panic. Or anxiety. Or any other stupid label she tried to slap on it. It was muscle-shivering, bone-rattling excitement, so much so she couldn’t even breathe. To call it anything else was spineless, and she refused to be that.
At last he reached her, stopping less than a foot away and deliberately looking down into her face as he invaded her space like he thought he had every right to do so. Without speaking, he reached down and took the water bottle she had forgotten she held from her cold fingers, and set it aside. Then, moving so slowly she couldn’t help but think he was giving her plenty of opportunity to put on the brakes or make a run for it, he framed her face with his hands. His palms burned into her skin, as hot as brands, and the heat of it sparked a fever that raced through her system until she thought she might be glowing from it.
“Tell me if the light’s better in here, little girl.” His voice was a velvet rumble, and so different from the usual growl she got from him. That her Nemesis could sound so freaking sexy boggled her mind. “Tell me you can see what’s in front of you now.”
“I see you.”
He smiled as if her answer delighted him and his head began to descend. But he froze when she inched her chin away. His black eyes shifted to hers, and the impact of his gaze alone knocked the breath out of her.
“The question is, do you see me? No toys. No throwing a fit. Do you see who I really am, Twist?”
A flash of irritation crossed those hypnotic eyes. “You still don’t believe that I haven’t seen you as a kid for a long, long time, obviously.”
“Considering what you said earlier today about me throwing a fit, you’re right. I don’t.”
He considered that for a moment before nodding once. “Fair enough. Looks like I have to prove it to you.”
She couldn’t help herself. “Make it good.”
“Baby.” His dark eyes held her in that unblinking way that made her almost believe he couldn’t see anything else but her. “Making it good is the one guarantee I can give you.”
He didn’t hold anything back when his mouth took hers, and she knew with a deep, primitive instinct that from now on he was done with keeping himself in check. This was Twist at his most raw.
As his arms wrapped around her as if he wanted to crush her into him through his pores, she realized she didn’t want him to be any other way.
Their tongues tangled in a hungry, eager dance, and the edges of her awareness dimmed until he was all there was. Her fingers speared into the loose curls of his hair while his hands slid over her naked back, the pads of his fingers pressing in as if trying to memorize the feel of her.
“You’re the softest damned thing I’ve ever felt in my life.” The words were whispered against her lips. “You can’t be real. You can’t be.”
“I’m real enough.” She caressed his lower lip with her tongue, then nipped it gently while she trailed one hand down his back and under his T-shirt. “Let’s see what you feel like.”
“Hard to your soft. The way it should be.” Vaguely she became aware that he was walking her backwards, in the direction of her bedroom. “I want to show you how hard I am.”
God, he was such a tease. “Are you referring to all these beautiful muscles of yours, or… everywhere?”
“Everywhere.”
His shirt came off as they moved down the hall, exposing those muscles, then his shoes and socks got kicked off. He brought her hands to the fastenings of his jeans before he reached behind her and tugged at the bikini top tie in the middle of her back.
This was happening. After so many years of loathing him, this was really happening.
God, she couldn’t wait.
She didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out why he’d brought her hands to the front of his jeans, but she didn’t need any prompting. A simple tug popped the top
of his jeans, and as she drew the zipper down she couldn’t help but feel the rock-solid hardness veiled behind it. Her innermost folds swelled and tingled with her own arousal, and all at once it was vital to her sanity to touch him. As the denim loosened, she dived her hand past the waistband, and her gasp was drowned out by his groan when her fingers brushed against the thick base of his cock.
“Careful.” Breath whistled between his clenched teeth, and at last he undid the tie at her neck, then pulled the top completely off to ball it up in his hand. “You’re holding dynamite in your hand. Don’t want to detonate it too early, now do you?”
“I’ll try to handle you with care.” But even as she made the promise, she wasn’t sure she could keep it. His body was a work of art in every conceivable way, from the intricate tribal tattoos of his own design to the muscles that sculpted him into a mesmerizing study of plains and ridges, bulges and defined shadows. His skin was hot to the touch, as if he had been the one lying out in the Indian summer sun. A fine line of dark hair arrowed down from his navel to where she held him, and she found she loved how masculine that was. Her fingers tightened a fraction on his hardened flesh in mute appreciation even as he tossed the bikini top away, freeing his hands to glide up her rib cage to lay claim to the undersides of her breasts.
“You’re perfect.” His murmured words rumbled between them like a tangible thing, thrumming through her until she felt it resonate at the juncture of her thighs. He caressed the outer swells of her breasts before he rubbed his thumbs over the dark pink tips. Pleasure shot through her with unexpected intensity, arching her back in an instinctive response that sought out more—more of him, his touch, the pleasure he gave her. It didn’t occur to her to rein in her reactions to him, because his hands on her body—a body that he made so magically responsive—felt that freaking good. Wetness surged so fiercely between her legs it made the sensitive tissues there throb with need. She didn’t know she could ache like this, as if she’d be crippled forever if she didn’t have him inside her, filling a void that was now an almost painful thing to bear.
“Fill me.” The words whispered from her without her consent, her teeth biting gently on his earlobe while she stroked him with her fingers. Her heart bounced around in her chest when he groaned, while his hot, poker-hard flesh twitched against her palm. “I want you inside me.”
Clothes were suddenly an intolerable barrier. He paused from ripping out of his jeans just long enough to retrieve a condom from his wallet before kicking them off along with his black boxer briefs. As he became unveiled, she took the time to drink him in—the long, muscled columns of his legs liberally inked with his designs she recognized and others she didn’t. Massive shoulders heavy with muscle and a surprisingly long and graceful torso. And lower, to his thick cock, darker than the rest of him and so hard it was almost pointing at the ceiling.
Dampness convulsed between her legs, soaking the bikini bottoms she still wore. Oh, my goodness…
The curve of his ass was even more spectacular than she’d thought, and while he applied protection, she couldn’t stop herself from filling her hands with it. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d had many a steamy dream of getting her hands on this perfect part of his anatomy, so now with no barriers keeping it from her, she was going to indulge to her heart’s content. She squeezed him once, twice, bringing him closer, and their moans mingled in the silence when his thick shaft rubbed against her belly.
“You’re killing me.” His voice was thick. Tortured. She loved the sound of it so much she rubbed herself against him, her pelvis rocking over the sensitive underside of his penis. When he groaned again the muscles in her lower regions quivered in a sweet agony of near-release. “Baby, you’re killing me so good. So fucking good…”
Beyond speech, she could only guide his hands to the briefs she wore, then gave her mouth to his to plunder while he all but ripped the bikini bottoms down her legs. With a little shimmy they hit the floor, and she kicked them away before lifting one leg to slide along the outside of his before hitching it at his hip. As if he’d been waiting for that one cue, he cupped her ass in his hands in the same way she’d done with him, picked her up and half-fell onto the bed behind her.
The sensation of falling backward through the air made her squeak into his mouth before the impact of him on top of her kicked off a new torrent of excitement that made the tension in her lower regions tighten to excruciating levels. If he didn’t get inside her soon, she would implode into her emptiness.
“I’ve dreamed of this.” His breath was shallow, jagged, as if he’d run a marathon to get to where he was now. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed of this. In my head I’ve had you under me so many times I almost can’t believe it’s happening now.”
She wanted to tell him that she hoped the reality of her was better than any fantasy he could ever come up with. But the idea of holding a coherent conversation flew out the window when he rubbed his chest over her breasts as if he’d been dying to see what that white-hot friction was like. She whimpered as the heat of it lit up every nerve ending he touched, her sensitized nipples hardening so fiercely it was almost painful. His hands were everywhere—her hair, her breasts, her inner thighs, her…
Oh, yes.
His mouth was once again on hers while he explored the throbbing heat between her legs. For agonizing moments he simply cupped her, making her wait, making her squirm.
“Please.”
Making her beg.
“Twist.” Her hips lifted sinuously, their message clear. “Please.”
“Baby.” His face nuzzled blindly against hers, and at last he slipped a finger into her cleft. Her whole body jerked and her whimper was caught by his mouth. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined. God, Angel.” Apparently done with making her wait, he stroked her inner folds, now so swollen in her arousal that his mere touch nearly tipped her into a world of mindlessness. “You’re so wet. So fucking wet, it makes me crazy.”
He shifted between her knees, which she opened wider in mute invitation. He rewarded her by running his tongue along her neck while focusing his caressing fingers on the raised nub of her clit. A broken sound burst from her clenched throat as pleasure hit hard and fast, a sound that flowed into helpless moans as he kept at her, relentlessly circling it until her whole body pulsed in time with the rhythm he set up. Then he rose up on a forearm, positioned himself against her threshold, and with a fierce surge of his hips, entered her completely.
Her neck arched, the back of her head pushing into the mattress as sensation engulfed her.
Yes.
It was a claiming, a conquering, a wordless decree that she belonged to him. It shimmered through her in an overwhelming wave, emptying her of everything but him. Her interior walls expanded to accommodate him as he seated himself all the way to his base, and the feel of it was so exquisite she found herself teetering on the edge of climax before she was ready for it.
“Wait.” Desperately she scrabbled for sanity, even as it slipped through her fingers. “Oh God, wait. I’m so close…”
“No. No waiting.” Hard fingers fisted in her hair, tilting her face up to his even as she began to gasp. With his mouth against hers he thrust boldly into her—deep, deliberate strokes that almost left her tight depths entirely only to refill her with all the devastating force of an earthquake.
Heaven help her, she couldn’t endure this.
“No control.” He pulled almost all the way out. “No holding back.” He plunged back in so deeply his hipbones hit against her. She arched again with a nearly soundless cry. “Give it up.” Again he nearly separated from her. “Give it all up to me.” Then he filled her all the way to his hilt. “Give it to me.” Out. “Give it.” In. “Give it. Give it. Give it. Ah… fuck.”
His rhythm intensified with every thrust, rocking her world with an effervescent pleasure that threatened to boil over. It started where their bodies connected, and bloomed outward like the vast rippling effect of a meteor impact
. Then the full force of her orgasm slammed into her in a sudden explosion, and there was no thought, no control—nothing but the sensation of pleasure so piercingly pure she thought she might die. She was so lost at the height of it she barely registered the sudden; wild rhythm of his thrusts coupled with his near-tortured groans as his head flung back and veins stood out on his neck.
As she came back down to herself, she watched him get swallowed up by the same firestorm that had engulfed her, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
She was still catching her breath when he dropped his face into her neck, but he didn’t collapse like she’d expected him to. He still moved within her, slow and easy, his shudders calming in tandem with his movements. She enjoyed the gentle easing back down to earth, just as much as she reveled in the gradual increase of his weight settling over her until he was still at last, his full weight pressing her down into the mattress. His long, moaning sigh seemed to drain the last of his energy, and something unbearably sweet clutched deep down in her soul when she realized that whispered sound was her name.
How beautiful he was in this moment, still buried inside her, his lips whispering her name as if it meant something, his body a comforting blanket over hers. If she could freeze time, she would choose to live in this moment forever, when he made her feel cherished. Worthy. Important.
Loved.
Abruptly her mind slammed the door on that thought and locked it up tight.
“So.” Her voice was on the croaky side, and she couldn’t help but smile. He’d had her so mindless with ecstasy—seriously, she couldn’t call it anything else—that she was surprised her cries hadn’t brought Joey and Novak pounding on her door in alarm. “I’m curious. Which is better, reality or fantasy?”
He stirred with a low grunt, as if it took what little fuel he had left in the tank to raise his head. “What?”
“You said you’ve thought about having me under you for a while now. So I want to know which is better—the thought of being inside of me, or actually being there?”
