She didn’t move to kiss him this time, but waited, her breath whispering across his lips, and gave an almost undetectable shake of her head.
“Please,” he demanded. He wasn’t strong enough. He was weak—possibly the weakest man of all time, a slave to his senses, a self-indulgent fool who would undoubtedly regret this in the morning, but who, right now, could no more walk away from this woman than he could turn his back on someone who was drowning.
Callie still didn’t move. When she spoke, her voice was soft as the summer breeze that was stroking the back of his neck. “Why would I do that, when it’s what I want more than anything in the world?”
Gene groaned, slid his hand into her hair, and lowered his lips to hers.
Their previous kiss had been feather-light, tender and gentle. But this time, he was too hungry to rein in his passion.
He claimed her mouth, hot and hard, conscious he could almost be bruising her with his ardor, but she didn’t complain or move back. Quite the opposite—she lifted her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, tipping her head to the right to change the angle of the kiss. He brushed his tongue across her bottom lip, and she moaned and opened her mouth to him, welcoming the slide of his tongue inside with little thrusts of her own.
Gene’s thoughts and emotions spiraled together, becoming a jumble of sensations. He couldn’t think about anything but the sensual slip of her tongue against his, the feel of her silky hair sliding through his fingers, the softness of her flesh beneath his hand when he laid it on her waist. As he’d guessed, she tasted of strawberries, the prominent flavor of the rosé she’d been drinking, touched with the earthy richness of the chocolate pudding they’d eaten at the end of their meal.
He moved his hand to the small of her back, pulling her against him, feeling the press of her breasts against his chest. Slowly, his mind scolded him—this was just a kiss, and he didn’t want to insult her by assuming it would lead to anything more. Which of course it shouldn’t.
Pull away now, his brain yelled. Say thank you and wish her goodnight, and retire gracefully before you make a fool of yourself.
But it was hard to stop when she’d tugged his shirt from his trousers and had slipped her fingers beneath it. Her hand was warm on his back, her nails grazing as she explored his muscles, and when she scored them lightly around his ribs and stroked over his nipples, Gene nearly exclaimed out loud.
Callie moved then, stepping back, and with surprise he realized she’d opened her door and was backing into her room. He paused, about to say something, but she took his hand and pulled him with her, leading him inside.
He went, because he was too confused and excited and hot to refuse, but as she let the door close behind her and continued to back up to the dresser against the wall, warning bells rang in his head, and he opened his mouth to say something.
Callie pulled him hard toward her, though, hard enough to make him stumble, and he fell against her, jolting the dresser and making the leaflet on the vineyard that stood there fall over.
“Sorry,” he began, “I should—”
But she turned, and with one arm swept the leaflets, cards, pens, and other knickknacks onto the floor. Backing up, she rested her bottom on the edge and lifted herself onto the top. Then she pulled up her dress to her knees, parted her legs, and yanked him toward her.
“Callie,” he said, resting his hands on her knees, but any warning he might have given vanished at the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers and the temptation of her silky thighs lying just within reach.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, reaching up a hand to slide into his hair, and she clenched her fingers in the short strands. Her nails scraped across his scalp, and Gene was lost.
“Fuck,” he said, and crushed his mouth to hers.
Callie gave a long, low moan deep in her throat that reverberated right through him. He delved his tongue into her mouth, hungry now, wanting to consume her, possess her, more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, he was sure.
Slowly, he slid the skirt of her dress up her thighs, his fingers finding soft, warm, silky skin. It was warm in the room as she hadn’t turned on the air conditioning, and her skin felt a little moist to the touch, the same way he knew sweat would be dampening his hair at his temples and the nape of his neck. He wanted to run his tongue up her body, to taste the salt, but she was widening her thighs to give him better access, and of their own accord his fingers hooked in the elastic of her panties and slipped around between her legs.
He lifted his head and watched her as he moved his thumb down over the soft skin, where it slid easily through her slippery folds to the already-swollen bud of her clit. Her mouth opened and she inhaled, but she didn’t push him away. He moved his thumb down to collect some of her moisture, then returned it to circle over her clit, pressing lightly on the small swelling.
“Oh…” Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “Gene…”
“Is that nice?” Fuck, it was heavenly, feeling her, knowing she was aroused, seeing her eyelids drop to half-mast with pleasure at his touch.
“Yes…” she hissed.
Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked it. There might have been a very small chance of him stopping a few minutes ago. It had rapidly shrunk to miniscule when he’d touched her. And now he’d tasted her, there was no question it was zero.
“I want you,” she said. All signs of humor and teasing had vanished from her eyes, which glittered with a dark passion that made his erection strain at the seam of his trousers.
“Good,” he replied, and kissed her again.
Chapter Seventeen
Callie pushed herself off the dresser, then lifted her arms as Gene held the bottom of her dress and drew it up her body. He did it slowly, almost reverently, as if excited to reveal her inch by inch, feasting his eyes on what lay beneath as the material peeled slowly up her skin.
Her heart thumped against her ribs as the dress reached her hips, her waist, skimmed over her breasts, and then she felt her hair lift as he drew it over her head. He draped it over a nearby chair and turned back to rest his hands on her hips.
She fought the urge to cover herself up and instead leaned back against the dresser, her body burning under his heated gaze.
“Pretty,” he said, running a finger across the top of her bra. His finger hooked over the lace, brushing her skin. “But not as pretty as what’s underneath.”
She wore one of Rowan’s creations—a comfortable but stylish orange-colored set with blush-red lace and golden embroidery. It always made Callie think of a sunset on a warm February night.
“Why does everything about you remind me of summer?” he whispered as if reading her mind, sliding his hands around her back to her bra strap. One neat twist and the clasp opened, her breasts dropping a little as the elastic released them. Drawing the straps down her arms, his gaze rested on her breasts as they were gradually revealed.
“Jesus.” He tossed the bra behind him without looking to see where it landed. She liked that—it was as if he couldn’t bear to spare the few seconds it would take to look away. Cupping her breasts, he felt the weight of them on his palms, then stroked his thumbs across her nipples. “You’re so beautiful.” He circled the pads of each thumb around the edges of her nipples a few times, watching as they tightened, then took the resulting beads between his thumbs and forefingers and tugged gently.
“Oh…” Already fired up, Callie gave in to her need to kiss him and pressed her lips to his, sliding her hands to his waistcoat. He stepped back, however, undid the buttons of his waistcoat himself, and let it slip down his arms before tossing it onto the chair. Then his lips were on hers again, and this time when she removed his tie and started to unbutton his shirt, he let her.
Suddenly everything became urgent. The previously gentle presses of his lips turned into a heated and demanding capture of hers, and Callie welcomed his hot kisses, hungry for him, wanted to consume and be c
onsumed by him. Her fingers fumbled in their rush to see him naked, and it took her a few goes to get all the buttons of his shirt undone. Reaching the bottom, she pushed both sides of the shirt apart and groaned at the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingertips.
“You’re driving me mad,” he said, his voice husky with desire.
“I want to.” She slid her hands up under his shirt, skating across the smooth skin of his back. She felt giddy with lust, desperate to have his naked skin next to hers. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him. “I want you, Gene. I’m aching for you. I want you inside me. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day. I don’t care if I’m moving too fast or being reckless. Life’s about the here and now and, here and now, I want you.”
“I want you too. I have since the moment I walked into your office.” He kissed down her neck, his tongue hot and wet on her skin, tracing down to her breasts, where he covered a nipple with his mouth. Callie clenched inside as he sucked, tightening her fingers in his hair and groaning. He swapped from one nipple to the other, teasing them with his lips and tongue until they looked like pebbles on the beach, wet from the sea, hard and shiny.
“Stop,” she said with a gasp as she felt the first flickers of an orgasm approaching, way off in the distance. “I need you inside me. Please.”
He straightened, admiring the effect he’d had on her nipples for a moment before hooking his thumbs in the elastic of her panties and drawing them down her legs. She stepped out of them and lifted herself back onto the dresser, parted her knees, then pulled him toward her by the waistband of his jeans.
“Have you got a condom?” she asked. She had one in her handbag if he didn’t, but was relieved when he nodded. Her fingers fumbled at the button of his jeans while he retrieved it from his wallet, and once he’d found it, he helped her out, undoing the button and sliding down the zip.
Callie inhaled at the sight of his erection jutting out from his jeans, encased in thin black cotton briefs. She’d dreamed about this moment since he’d walked into her office, all smart and sophisticated, with those sultry, knowing eyes that said, One day you’ll beg me to take you, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.
Suddenly, the full realization of what they were about to do hit her. This wasn’t teasing, or flirting, or making out on the sofa. This was naked, raw, adult sex. Gene wasn’t a teenager—he wasn’t even like Jamie, a young man with more hormones than sense. He was a grown man, a hundred percent XY chromosome—possibly more so than any man she’d ever met. Once they’d done what they were about to do, there would be no going back. They’d never be able to undo the memory of his body sliding into hers, of their baser instincts taking over. Of being locked in ecstasy together.
She swallowed hard as he ripped the packet off the condom. Was she being foolish? It might be the twenty-first century, and women had a lot more sexual freedom than they used to have, but that didn’t mean they should sacrifice their self-worth to achieve it. If it had been up to him, he would have walked away and returned to his own room. He had principles, but he was still a man, and she’d pushed him past his limits until nature had taken over from the civilized soul inside him. Would he regret this in the morning?
That might indeed be the case, but she couldn’t stop now. Just as his body had shifted into autopilot, so Callie’s had become pure sensation. It was like being drunk, even though she’d only had a couple of glasses of wine, but the thrumming in her blood, the desperate urge to have him inside her, made everything else fade into the background until the world consisted only of the man before her, with his hard muscles, his hungry mouth, and the stiff shaft he was now releasing from his briefs that strained eagerly toward her.
He hadn’t removed his trousers, and as he pushed down his briefs, she caught a glimpse of puckered skin on his hip—the wound he’d received in Afghanistan. She wondered briefly whether he was worried about her seeing the scar, but then all thoughts fled as he lifted the elastic of his briefs over his erection.
Callie fought not to pant out loud as he grasped it and stroked himself a couple of times before rolling on the condom. Fuck, this guy knew what he was doing, and that was so sexy she nearly melted into a puddle. She widened her thighs as he moved closer to her and parted her folds with the tip of his erection.
Then he paused, cupped her chin, and lifted it so he looked into her eyes.
“Are you sure?” he murmured.
“I’m sure.”
He kissed her, and then he pushed his hips forward and sank slowly into her.
Callie closed her eyes and tipped back her head as he filled her. He didn’t stop until his hips met her thighs. She tightened her internal muscles, and she could feel him all the way up, so thick and hard she nearly came on the spot.
He groaned and began to move with cautious thrusts at first to make sure he was lubricated. He slipped his hand into her hair to cup the back of her head, his lips finding hers again with deep, searching kisses that took her breath away. His fingers were gentle on her hair and where he held her hip, but firm, and as his thrusts grew bolder, his kisses harder, she had the blissful feeling of him taking over and guiding them both toward the ecstasy of fulfilment.
He slid inside her so easily now that she knew she must be wet and swollen, all her senses turning her on. The feel of him as she rested a hand on his arm, admiring the movement of his biceps beneath her fingers, like rock beneath the satin of his skin. The sexy sound of him inside her, slick and sensual, and the deep murmur of his voice in her ear as he told her how beautiful she was while he made love to her. The taste of him, sweet as wine, and the smell of his aftershave mingled with the smell of sex. And the sheer sight of this gorgeous man taking her, his body painted silver with starlight.
“Callie,” he whispered, pulling her close, shifting his stance. He thrust even deeper into her, but clearly it wasn’t enough, because after a few moments he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her. She squealed, flinging her arms around his neck, but he held her tightly with one around her waist, and within seconds she found herself on her back on the bed with Gene leaning over her, supporting himself on his hands and casting her in shadow.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her hips, and he groaned and thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her. “Fuck,” he said, and did it again, setting up a fast pace, grinding against her clit every time he moved.
He bent and captured her mouth with his, his tongue hot and wet against hers, and Callie felt the world falling away around her. She moaned against his mouth, and he lifted his head, his gray eyes glittering in the moonlight.
“Come for me,” he whispered, still moving, and kissed down her neck to her breast. He swirled his tongue over her nipple and plucked at it with his lips, and it was enough to tip her over the edge.
“Oh,” she said, half conscious that he’d lifted his head to watch her as she came. But there was nothing she could do about it, because the orgasm had her in its grasp, and she could only cry out and give in to the fierce clenches. They seemed to go on forever, and while her body pulsed, without thinking she dug her fingernails into his back and scored down it.
“Aaahhh…” Gene shuddered and lifted up to thrust harder, giving in to his climax just as hers released her. She forced her eyes open to watch him stiffen, his muscles hardening even more, if that were possible, as if his body had been turned to stone, a frozen monument of the perfect moment. His hips jerked and he cried out, pushing forward so hard she imagined that he would pierce her right through to the mattress.
“Fuck.” He almost yelled the word as his body finally relented and released him. His breaths came in great gasps, and when he opened his eyes, Callie was shocked to see them filled with anger.
Moving back, he held the condom as he withdrew, sat back on his haunches and disposed of it, then flung himself onto his back and covered his eyes with an
arm.
Callie looked up at the ceiling, her own breathing gradually slowing, and tears pricked her eyelids. He was angry with her, because now the paroxysm of lovemaking had subsided, his better nature had returned. He hadn’t wanted to give in to their obvious desire for each other, but she’d made him, or at least he felt that she’d provoked him until he’d been unable to say no.
She clenched her jaw until her teeth ached. Well that was bullshit, because he was a grown man, and at any point he could have stopped. She might have encouraged him, but she’d hardly stripped naked on the front step. And even if she had, that didn’t mean he had to take advantage of the moment. She hadn’t forced him to make this choice. He’d lost control, and that wasn’t her fault. Like all men, he’d been led astray by his own desires.
She rolled her head to look at him. His arm lay over his face, and his chest was still heaving. His other hand rested on his stomach, clenched into a fist. His body looked like a black-and-white photograph in the moonlight, all silver muscles and shadowed hollows, and part of her wished she had the courage to reach for her phone and take a photo of him to remind herself of this night. He’d tucked himself back into his briefs, but his trousers still lay open, the top of the scar on his hip just visible. Would she ever get to see the rest of it? Somehow, she thought not.
Listening to his breathing gradually leveling out beside her, his arm still over his face, she fought not to let the tears fall. She might not have forced him into this, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t foolish. She should have guessed he’d feel this way afterward. Whatever happened now, she had to bear some of the blame. Men were weak, and she’d been an idiot not to take that into account.
Chapter Eighteen
Gene’s heart was pounding on his ribs as if it were trying to break through and escape across the room, but after a few minutes it began to slow and his breathing gradually returned to normal.
Still, he didn’t move. His arm blocked out the shine of the moon through the window, and also the view of Callie lying next to him.
[4 Seasons 01] Seducing Summer Page 13
