by Maisey Yates
There was no turning back now.
“One more time?” he asked.
“I feel like you do. I feel like it’s torture to not remember. I feel like maybe if I did...maybe this wouldn’t be quite so torturous. Then maybe we could just finish this marriage thing and go on with our lives. Maybe we won’t be completely tormented by the what-ifs.”
It made sense. Because in Lydia’s experience the promise of sex was a whole lot hotter than sex itself. She was usually more turned on by kissing than she was by the whole nudity/penetration thing. Not that it didn’t have its merits, it’s just that she was usually a whole lot hotter imagining what might happen, than actually dealing with what did happen.
Maybe it didn’t make sense. Maybe she was so deep into justifications she just started to buy whatever sounded vaguely logical because she was desperate.
Either way, she didn’t really care. All she cared about was what might happen next. Where he might touch her... Where he might kiss her.
She let her eyes flutter closed, and she waited. She waited, and nothing happened. Then, she felt the brush of his thumb over her bottom lip, slow, steady.
“You’re going to have to open your eyes, peaches.”
She did. The electric shock of his blue eyes boring into her was almost too much to bear. Making her shiver inside. Ratcheting up the tension between them to an almost-impossible degree.
He continued to trace the line of her lower lip, his movements purposeful, exquisite. He was touching her with his thumb. That was it. Touching her on the lip, not even anywhere salacious, and she was melting. It wasn’t difficult to understand why she had succumbed to him so easily on their wedding night.
It had been easy to imagine that it was some kind of madness contained inside the shot glasses at Ace’s. It was easy to pretend that it had been a one-off. The glorious friction, the delicious slide of his hand over her face, was proving that it was probably more than a onetime deal.
She was starting to think it was something that lived inside her. Buried down deep. Something that only he could call up. Colton West, who was supposed to be just as dispassionate as she was. Just as controlled. And yet, they tested each other.
Opposites attracted—she’d heard that over and over. But they weren’t magnets. They were people. And while she would have said only a few weeks ago that they were opposites, opposites that wanted each other dead, she understood now that neither of those things was true.
At the moment, same, opposite, it didn’t matter much. The only thing that mattered was want. Want and have.
That thought made her feel giddy. Made her shake. She lived her life with so much rigid control that wanting and having were never the same thing. She weighed every option, every consequence. Overthought everything to death. It had taken her a year to decide what kind of car to buy. Had taken hours of reading Consumer Reports.
But there were no consumer reports to read on Colton. And even if there were, she wouldn’t care.
She felt...suddenly she felt unprotected, exposed. Without all the little rules and walls that she imposed on herself surrounding her, there was nothing to keep her safe. Nothing to deflect his intense gaze. Nothing to hide the desire that she felt for him. She just had to own it. And follow it.
Her day usually looked a lot like a multiple-choice test. All of the options neatly laid out before her, predictable and simple. But this...this just felt like a wide, dark chasm of unknown. She was just going to have to jump into it, consequences be damned. She was ready. She was giddy.
Just this once. And then you’ll leave it behind and everything can go back to normal.
That made it feel manageable at least. Made it feel a bit less scary.
“Kiss me,” she said. No, she demanded. She didn’t think she had ever done that before. She had always waited for a man to lean in. Had always just kind of waited, accepted.
But this was different. Because he was different. And it made her feel different.
He complied. No, that was too safe a word. Too gentlemanly. Too much...not this. He consumed. He parted his lips over hers, kissing her deep, hard, reaching up to take hold of her face, keeping her steady as he devoured her.
He leaned in, pressing her back against the couch, sliding his hands through her hair. She shifted, and found herself parting her thighs, allowing him to settle between them. She let her head tilt back, separating their mouths, a soft sigh on her lips. Colton angled his head, kissing her neck, his teeth scraping over her delicate skin.
Teeth. Who would have thought that could be erotic? She certainly hadn’t. She had certainly never been with a man who would do something so feral. She liked it. So maybe something inside her was feral too.
Under other circumstances that might have disturbed her. Not in these. Not at all.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, pressing his palm against her lower back, encouraging her to arch against him. She did not need much encouragement.
He rolled his hips against her, allowing her to feel the evidence of his desire for her. Suddenly, that wasn’t enough. Suddenly, she needed to know more. She reached between them, curling her fingers around his arousal, gasping as she felt him. All of him. She moved her palm slowly up and down his length, relishing the rough groan that rumbled in his chest as she felt him through his jeans.
He reached down, grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her hand away from him, bringing her arm up above her head, before taking hold of her other wrist and doing the same as he claimed her mouth again.
She groaned as he kissed her, didn’t even bother to hold it back. She had never made noise during sex before. It always seemed embarrassing. Even if she’d been tempted, she had held it in. But she didn’t possess the capacity to hold it back now. Not with him.
What was the point of making an ill-advised decision if you didn’t go all the way? Embarrassment had no place in fantasy. Regret had no place. This was all about what she wanted. All about what felt good.
This was... It was a contained moment in time. Something that would never go beyond this space. That made it both safe and dangerous. A kind of controlled burn. Something that wouldn’t destroy the whole mountainside, just this one little room. This one little moment.
She curved herself against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. Opening herself to him, she rocked against his erection. He growled, moving his hand down from her lower back to cup her butt, his fingertips digging into her flesh. Suddenly, their clothes felt like too much of a barrier.
She struggled against his hold, and he released her. She pulled at his shirt, trying to get it over his head, but with him holding on to her rear, that made it difficult.
“I demand nudity,” she said.
He pushed backward, on his knees, between her thighs as he stripped his T-shirt off. She reached out, pressing her hand flat to the center of his chest. “Stay like that,” she said, “just for a second.”
She wanted to look at him. And she wanted to watch herself. Watch as she allowed her fingertips to trail over his skin, down his rippling ab muscles. Then back up again, grazing his nipple as she relished the feel of his heat. Of his chest hair. The fact that she was touching him. She, Lydia Carpenter, was touching a man who looked like this.
She had wanted to defend Nolan when Colton had besmirched him. But dusty was kind of a good word for the sex. Bookish. Not in a well-studied, Kama Sutra kind of way. Just in a very dull, pale sort of way.
He was nothing like this. That was for sure.
“I want you to...” She nearly bit her tongue. She hadn’t meant to start talking without fully thinking through what she was about to say. But she was looking at Colton, thinking he had the body of every bad-boy fantasy a girl could have ever have, but knowing that he wasn’t really a bad boy. He was a good man. Which was worth everything in real life.
>
But tonight she wasn’t interested in good, responsible Colton and she wasn’t interested in being Lydia Carpenter, small-town politician and quite levelheaded lady. Tonight she just wanted.
“What do you want, peaches?” She didn’t even mind the nickname. It felt intimate. It felt specific to her. To their situation and to this moment. She held it close to her chest, savored the momentary warm glow that she felt.
She had always been highly susceptible to things that felt like they were only hers. And peaches was only hers. She might not like the fruit, but she would never look at the word the same way again.
“I want you to do whatever you want,” she said, her voice shaking a little bit as she spoke the words.
The light in his eyes turned dark. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. Whatever you have always wanted to do. Do it with me. Do it now. We’ve been way too well behaved.”
Too well behaved for all of her life. Quietly tiptoeing through the halls so that she never disturbed her sister. Quietly grieving, so quietly because it would never top her parents’ grief. Because how did losing a sister, even a twin, compare to losing a child? Quietly making love to quiet men on quiet blankets in quiet positions.
He moved his hands to his belt buckle, slowly undoing it, working the leather free and tugging it through the loops on his jeans. He undid the top button, drawing the zipper down slowly. He didn’t say anything as he pushed his jeans and underwear down his narrow hips, tossing them to the side.
She felt like she had swallowed a handful of sand. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow, so tight she couldn’t speak. But that seemed fine because she was pretty sure they were done talking now. And that was okay with her.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said, his tone commanding.
With shaking hands she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, tugging it up overhead. She wasn’t insecure about the way that she looked. She dressed nicely, she was happy with her sense of style. And she knew how to wield a makeup brush. Those things combined left her feeling pretty confident.
But this was different. This slipped down into the ugly places that demanded she consider all potential comparisons. How many other women he’d been with, what they looked like without their clothes on. Because there was no barrier of makeup and perfectly flattering dresses here.
She didn’t like this. This insecurity that was bubbling up inside of her. It wasn’t usually an issue. She had managed to compress her life down to a routine. To things that let her feel confident. She didn’t have to face these kinds of things. Feeling lost, feeling inexperienced, feeling naked.
It was always like this with someone new. At least in her experience. Limited though it was. But, with the other guys she had just moved things to the bedroom, shut off the lights. Had comfortably gone about the business of things with darkness to cover it all.
She supposed she could do that now. But she didn’t want to. Not really. She was caught between two things. The desire to protect, the desire to break out.
So, she simply reached behind her back and quickly undid the clasp on her bra, pulling it down her arms and flinging it to the side. She didn’t stop to look at his face. Didn’t stop for anything. Instead, she unsnapped her jeans, unzipping them quickly and pushing them down her thighs.
She was not wearing seductress underwear. She didn’t even really own seductress underwear. She had never felt the need to. She wished she had them now. Something red lace and sexier than she was. She wanted to be someone else with him. Wanted this to be something different.
She gritted her teeth, gathering her courage before she looked up at his face. And then her heart plummeted straight down into her stomach. He looked hungry. Like a predator. His every muscle was tense like a big cat just before it pounced.
And then, he made his move. He reached down, wrapping his arm around her, drawing her up against him, her bare breasts pressing against his chest. She gasped, grabbing hold of his shoulders, almost overwhelmed by the heat of him, the feel of him pressed against every naked inch of her.
He moved his hand down beneath the waistband of her panties, the sensation so intense her internal muscles clenched in response. He squeezed her tightly, then moved his hand away slightly before bringing it back down sharply over her skin. She squeaked, jumping slightly. It wasn’t painful; it just stung a little bit. And as it dissipated, left an even-sharper ache between her thighs.
“Was that okay?” he asked.
“More than okay,” she said.
He looked...not quite insecure, not quite shocked, but definitely concerned. And the fact that this was maybe uncharted territory for him too made her feel a little bit better.
Made her feel special even.
He shifted, divesting her of her panties. She helped him get them down below her knees, throwing them into the corner with the rest of their clothes. Finally he kissed her again, moving both of his hands down to her ass, gripping her tightly, pressing her up against the hard, hot length of his arousal.
He slid his hands up, holding her hips tightly, still pressing her up against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him with every bit of desire that was inside of her. She abandoned his mouth, kissed his cheek, the feel of his whiskers beneath her lips making her stomach tight, a sharp thrill twisting it.
She shut her brain down, focused on what she felt. On what she wanted. What she wanted was to trail her tongue over all those perfect muscles. So she did. Down the center of his pecs, to those amazing abs. Until she was down low on the floor in front of him. She knew that her butt was sticking out behind her, up in the air, on display. She didn’t even care.
Didn’t care that this was probably the most provocative pose that she’d ever been in in all her life. That she was playing the part of a seductress when she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever felt like one.
He reached back, grabbing hold of her rear and squeezing her again before landing another light slap against her skin. She gasped, then groaned, a reckless jagged pleasure pouring through her. Spurring her on.
She looked up at him, then back down at his arousal. She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head before sliding it down his length. He growled, grabbing hold of her hair, his fingers tangling with it, curling into a fist. He tugged against her as she lowered her head again. And she ignored him. Little pinpricks of pain dotting her scalp, spreading over her arms in a rash of goose bumps.
She looked back up at him as she took him deep inside of her mouth.
“I can’t... Lydia, I’m not going to be able to control it.”
The admission, tense and helpless, sent a surge of power through her. She had done that. She was pushing him to this place. She was the one who was making him act out of character. Making him do and say things he wouldn’t normally.
A rush of confidence flooded her, and she shifted her position, curling her fingers around him as she continued to pleasure him with her mouth. He kept his hold on her as she did, tugging a little bit tighter when she did something that felt particularly good. This was him, trying to cling to some control. He didn’t have to tell her. She just knew.
She pleasured him like that until his thigh muscles began to shake, until he tugged on her hair a little more intently. “Stop, Lydia,” he said, his voice strained. “I want to be inside of you.”
She lifted her head, feeling dizzy, feeling dazed. “You are,” she said, smiling.
“You know what I mean,” he said, hauling her up against him again. He lifted his hand, tracing her lip again, his blue eyes electric. “I want you. I want to feel you all around me. Tight. Wet. Are you wet for me, Lydia?”
“Y-yes,” she stuttered, his words touching her, stoking the fire of her arousal.
“Tell me,” he said, his expression like granite.
S
he took in a deep breath, nerves sparking through her. “I’m wet for you.”
She had never said anything like that ever in her entire life. She felt desperately exposed. She felt afraid that she had done it wrong. But when he moved, sliding his hand between her thighs, drawing his fingers through her slick folds, she forgot to feel nervous. She forgot to feel embarrassed or self-conscious.
“You want me?” He stroked her, sending sparks crackling along her veins.
She nodded, biting her lip, unsure if she could speak now even if she wanted to.
“You want me inside you?” His voice had grown deeper, huskier.
“Yes,” she said, the word trembling, almost shattering.
He moved away from her then, and she groaned in disappointment when he took his hand from between her thighs.
He moved to the far side of the room, where he had discarded his jeans earlier. He picked them up, pulling his wallet from the back pocket, producing a condom. All the breath rushed out of her lungs, and all she could do was stay where she was, on her knees on the floor, held captive by his movements. By how beautiful he was.
She had never really given much thought to a man’s thighs. To the way his full-body profile looked when he was naked and aroused. She was looking now. At the enticing hollow on the side of his ass, the tight muscles in his legs. That thick, glorious erection. She wanted him. She wanted him so badly that she could hardly wait. She had never felt like this before. Had never felt like she would die from wanting.
But this wasn’t just wanting. It wasn’t just longing. It was about to be having. A fact punctuated by his quick application of the protection.
He moved back to her, claiming her lips in a kiss, pushing her backward until she was flat on the ground, and he was over the top of her. For a moment, they simply looked at each other. And then she touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw, dragging her fingertips over his stubble.
The she kissed him. Because she wanted to be as close to him as possible. Because she didn’t want to wait anymore.
