Her eyes opened slowly, her slightly dazed blue eyes staring into his. “You’ve never shown much restraint around me until now.”
Chuckling, he dipped his finger beneath the dress’s neckline, touching warm, soft skin, the snug valley between her breasts. She sucked in a harsh breath, goose bumps chasing after his touch. “Suddenly feels like everything’s on the line, you know?”
“Really?” She sounded surprised. Didn’t she see? He wanted her. He’d never done anything like this before, but if he had to fight for her then . . . he would.
The realization was startling. He’d never had to fight for a woman. Ever.
Tate dropped his hand and shifted even closer to Wren, so their legs tangled and their chests were pressed together. He slipped one arm around her waist, the other hand moving back up to cradle the side of her face as he tilted her head back. Her gaze met his, wide and unblinking. “Before, it was just playing around. I was attracted to you. Wanted to get you in my bed.” He dipped his head so his mouth hovered just above hers. “But now all I can think about is, how can I keep you in my bed? In my house? In my life?”
Before she could utter a single word, he settled his mouth on hers.
WREN’S HEAD SWAM at the first touch of Tate’s warm, damp lips on hers. They moved over hers slowly, as if he were savoring her, savoring this particular moment—their first real kiss. Helplessly she reached out, her fingers catching at the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. He went willingly, his arm tightening around her waist, his other hand sliding from her cheek up into her hair at the exact moment he deepened the kiss. She parted her lips, letting him in. A whimper sounded in her throat when his tongue thoroughly swept her mouth.
He said he wanted to keep her. That he wanted her. Evidence of his want pressed against her belly, reminding her that all she had to say was yes.
And he’d be inside her. No questions asked.
She slipped her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his soft hair, a whimper leaving her when he broke the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of her neck. His hot lips blazed a trail along her skin, leaving her weak. Restless.
Terrified.
Could she really have something serious with Tate? She was tempted. So tempted. But what if he hurt her? What if she wasn’t good enough? What if he got bored? She was scared. Relationships in general scared her. She didn’t want to get hurt. It was easier to pretend you didn’t need someone than lay your feelings, all your hopes and dreams, on the line.
Kissing Tate, falling into bed with him, wasn’t going to solve her problems—only temporarily, if at all.
Maybe she needed a temporary fix.
“Hey.” He broke the kiss, his lips moving against hers when he spoke. “You’re not with me.”
Blinking her eyes open, she stared up at him, his face so close she could see the myriad colors in his eyes. They weren’t solid green, but a mixture of shades of light and dark green, gold, and brown. “I’m with you,” she said breathlessly, reaching up to touch the side of his face. His skin was prickly with stubble, and she had the sudden image of all that stubble rubbing against her thighs as he dived between her legs.
Her panties dampened at the mere thought.
“Really.” He kissed her nose. “I find it hard.” He kissed her cheek. “To believe you.” He kissed her other cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about him.”
Wren’s eyes widened. What? She wasn’t thinking about Levi. She was worried about herself and the predicament she was in. All of the problems overwhelming her, along with her confusing feelings for Tate. Did he feel the same way? Could he?
“Are you?” Tate repeated, his voice firm. Maybe even a little bit angry. “Are you really kissing me and thinking about your ex?”
“I . . . no.” She shook her head, unsure of what to say next. She’d never been in this kind of situation before, with two men vying for her attention. She’d always thought that could be kind of fun. Such heady stuff, two men wanting her at the same time. What girl wouldn’t want to experience that at least once?
But it wasn’t fun. Not at all. No, more like it was confusing and terrifying. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. She didn’t want to feel like this. And she definitely didn’t want to make Tate angry.
But angry, frustrated Tate was pretty hot. His jaw had gone hard, muscle clenching, and his cheeks were ruddy. She’d caught glimpses of that cute dimple in his left cheek quite a bit when he was flirting with her, but all traces of it were gone at this moment. His eyes were dark and full of fire, his brows lowered, his mouth still damp and swollen from their kisses . . .
Okay, that was really hot. She could literally feel his fingers flex and curl into a fist at the small of her back, like he wanted to punch Levi, which was crazy. She didn’t want them to get into a fight over her.
Though the idea of two men fighting over her was sort of hot.
“I want to make you forget that guy ever existed.” Tate slipped his hand beneath her chin, his thumb and index finger curling around it as he tilted her head back so their gazes met, his turbulent and swirling with anger. “I want to fuck every memory of him right out of you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and her knees went weak. Should she be offended? Tell him to go to hell? Probably, though truthfully his words only aroused her more, and a helpless little sound escaped her.
His eyes darkened as he skimmed his thumb across her mouth, making it tingle. She parted her lips, about to say something, but he slipped his thumb between her lips, and she darted out her tongue, licking his flesh. His eyes darkened even more, and he removed his thumb from her lips, replacing it with his mouth.
Kissing her until she thought she might drown.
She clutched at him, her hands slipping beneath his T-shirt at the exact moment his fingers gathered up the skirt of her dress. Cool air wafted across her backside when he exposed her, and then his hands were there. Big and warm, sliding over her ass, toying with the pitifully thin fabric of her panties before he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband, touching her bare, sensitive skin.
All the while his mouth consumed. Devoured. He had her pressed to the wall, his hard body flush against hers, his hips grinding, his hands kneading, his tongue thrusting. She whimpered as she jerked his T-shirt up, her hands exploring the hot, wide expanse of his chest. Counting the ridge of muscles in his abdomen, sliding over his pecs, teasing the small patch of hair that grew in the center.
He was all man. Muscled and hot and rough, his hands roaming all over her like he was mapping her skin with his fingers. He kissed like he wanted to possess her, like he already owned her, and when he pushed at her panties with a firm shove, she let him, wiggling her hips so they fell to her thighs.
Breaking the kiss, he knelt before her, his splayed hands gripping her hips. She reached out, bracing her hands on his broad shoulders, her entire body trembling in anticipation of what he would do to her next.
And he didn’t disappoint, his head disappearing beneath her dress, his warm, wet mouth on her quivering stomach. She released her hold on him and sagged against the wall, a low moan escaping when he nipped and licked around her belly button, his hand shoving her panties the rest of the way down until they landed around her ankles. She kicked them off, watching in fascination as his head moved beneath her pink skirt, his mouth on her skin, his fingers . . .
Oh God . . . his fingers crept up the inside of her thigh. Light, teasing touches as he continued to kiss her belly. It was strangely erotic, seeing his head move under her skirt, feeling his mouth on her skin, his fingers, never really knowing where he would be next.
A low growl escaped him at the precise moment he touched the wet flesh between her legs. She gasped, her entire body going still, eyes falling shut when he stroked her. Back and forth, searching and then finding her clit within seconds, circling it in maddeningly slow circles.
She splayed her hands against the wall, trying to grab hold of something. Any
thing so she wouldn’t slide to the floor. He continued stroking her, one hand lightly gripping her hip, the other between her thighs. She spread her legs wider, the sound of her panting breaths filling the air, accompanied by Tate’s fingers caressing her slick flesh. He suddenly ducked his head out from underneath her skirt, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her.
All the air left her lungs as they stared at each other. His hand stilled, his fingers hovering over her sensitive flesh, and she shifted her hips. Lifted them as subtly as she could, hoping he’d get the message and continue what he was doing.
But he didn’t move, just kept staring at her. Like he was waiting for her to say something.
“You want to come?” he finally asked, the deep tenor of his voice reaching right into her and making her tremble.
She nodded, her throat as dry as sandpaper, making it impossible to speak.
“Say it, Dove. Tell me you want to come.” He touched her clit, a feather-light stroke that made her whimper. The bones in her legs went liquid, and she could feel herself slipping. Her knees buckled, but Tate held her firm, his fingers gripping her hip, his other hand sliding down the inside of her thigh. “I got you, baby. Tell me what you want.”
Wren shook her head. She couldn’t just ask for it, could she? No man had ever made her say it out loud before. Most of the men she’d been with were sexually proficient and pretty much could always get her there, but she’d gone through a serious dry spell lately. Reading romance novels on her iPad mini and occasionally putting her vibrator to work helped, but there was nothing like a real man’s hands. His mouth and tongue on her skin, his gaze devouring her like she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Talk to me.” His voice was soft, his touch equally so as he pushed the skirt of her dress up, over her hips so that it bunched at her waist. He dipped his head, his mouth grazing her right hip bone, making her shiver. “I won’t give you what you want unless you say it.”
Oh God, he was playing dirty.
And she liked it.
Chapter Fifteen
“PLEASE,” WREN FINALLY managed to squeak out, her eyes sliding shut as she turned her head to the side and pressed her cheek against the cool wall. His hands skimmed up and down her thighs, never touching her exactly where she wanted him, and she almost screamed in frustration.
She was so damn close, hovering on that delicious edge of orgasmic oblivion. She wanted to tumble right over it, fall into the climax she just knew would be amazing. That he could bring her so close in such a short time was like a miracle. Either the man was extremely skilled or she was beyond primed for this.
Probably more like a combination of both.
“Please what?” Tate pressed an openmouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh, so close to the spot where she wanted him. What started out as passionate kissing went from reckless to beyond intimate in a matter of minutes. “I want to hear you ask for it, Dove. I liked the please bit, but I need more.”
He was evil. Sexy and evil and devastatingly handsome. When she said nothing, he flashed her a smile full of dimples, his eyes hooded and dark and full of delicious, tantalizing secrets. She parted her lips, trying to work up the courage to tell him what she wanted, when he touched his mouth to her skin once again. Higher this time, close to the crease where her thigh met her pelvis.
“I can smell you,” he whispered, and she whimpered, which only made him smile more. “You’re so wet for me, Wren.”
“Oh God, make me come, Tate.” The words burst from her throat, startling her. “Please.”
The smile faded, his eyes grew heated, and he leaned in once more, his mouth brushing her flesh. “With my mouth or my fingers?”
“Both. Both, please.”
She closed her eyes and sighed with exquisite relief when his mouth pressed there, exactly where she wanted it. His fingers slipped over wet flesh, two pushing inside as his lips worked her, sucking her clit. She braced her knees, cracking her eyes open so she could watch his dark head move between her legs, and that was when the dam broke.
Shudders swept over her as the orgasm hit her hard, making her cry out. He continued his ministrations, his fingers plunging deep, tongue swirling around her clit, his other hand grasping her hip. She trembled and shook as wave after wave swept over her, tugging her under, making her mind go blank. She could focus only on him, the rhythm of his fingers, the pull of his lips, the flick of his tongue.
Her hips bucked against him, and he pulled his face away from her, his fingers still buried inside her body, his lips shiny. Their gazes met, locked, and she watched in mute fascination as he licked his lips as if he savored the very taste of her. Slowly, without a word, he rose to his feet until he towered over her. His hand curled around her nape, and he lowered his head, his mouth brushing hers. She could taste herself, but it didn’t bother her. She deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling, his other arm coming around her and pulling her away from the wall.
“My bed,” he growled against her lips. “Now.”
Wren let him walk her backward into his bedroom, trusting that he wouldn’t steer her wrong. He pulled her dress up and over her head, tossing it on the floor. His eyes heated when he caught sight of her breasts—she wore no bra. She thrust her chest out, thrilled at his perusal. She stood in front of him completely naked while he was still fully dressed.
Courage filling her, she told him, “Sit on the bed.”
He did as she asked, his legs spread wide in that way men had, his erection thrusting against the front of his black basketball shorts. Slowly she approached, letting him look his fill, and oh, how he did. His gaze seemed to bounce everywhere, from her face to her breasts to her stomach to her legs. Smiling, she swung her leg over both of his and straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, her breasts in his face. His thighs were hard and thick with muscle, and before she could settle her butt on them, his hands were there, clutching her cheeks, pulling her so close she sucked in a breath.
“You’re trying to drive me crazy,” he muttered against her chest before he nuzzled her breasts with his face. The stubble on his cheeks abraded her skin, her nipples, and she wrapped her hand around the back of his head, pulling him into her chest.
“Keep doing that,” she said, proud that she was able to ask. Demand. Whatever he wanted to call it.
Tate chuckled, the huff of warm breath tickling her skin. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered just before he drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked.
She tipped her head back, every pull of his mouth on her nipple sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. He lavished attention on her other breast, nipping and licking her skin, sucking her nipple, trailing his tongue in the valley between her breasts. His hands were still on her backside, pulling her close, closer, until she was rubbing against the hard ridge beneath his shorts, up and down, working herself closer to her second orgasm of the night.
“Could I make you come like this?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur against her skin.
She gazed down at him, running her fingers through his thick, soft hair. “Probably.”
He grinned, though it faded quickly when she ground herself against his cock. “Fuck, keep that up and you’re going to make me come,” he said with a groan.
The laugh that escaped surprised her, and she circled her hips again, slower this time, her fingers tightening in his hair. His eyes slid closed, and he made a satisfied noise low in his throat, his hands moving to her hips as he lifted her up and suddenly tossed her on the bed.
And then he was on top of her, shedding his shirt before his mouth attached to hers. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, her hands at the waistband of his shorts, shoving them down. Until he was gloriously naked, his skin pressed against hers.
It all happened too fast yet not fast enough. Hands wandered; mouths connected and came apart, exploring those secret spots no one else knows. He kissed her just beneath her breast, making her shiver. She kissed him along his ribs, making hi
m tremble. Somehow he found a condom, and somehow she opened the foil package, ready to slip it over his very thick, very erect cock. She gripped the base, intent on stroking him straight into oblivion, but he grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her.
“I’ll come all over your fingers,” he warned her, his mouth tight, his eyes narrowed. He was hanging on by a thread, and the power that rippled through her at the realization left her breathless.
She did that to him. She was the one who pushed him so close to the edge he was afraid he’d fall over it with a couple of quick strokes.
Unbelievable.
“Maybe I want you to come all over my fingers,” she said, the sound of her husky voice shocking her. She never sounded like that. Never said things like that.
There were a lot of things she’d never experienced before she met Tate.
“Damn, you’re sexy as fuck,” he said, his hand sliding down over hers as he kissed her. They stroked his cock together, Tate showing her the rhythm that he preferred, squeezing her hand tight around his base. She increased the pace, her thumb gathering liquid from the tip and slicking her grasp. She wanted him to come like this, was desperate to make him lose control, but he wouldn’t give in.
Instead he batted her hand away, rolled the condom on himself, and pushed her onto the mattress so he could climb over her. His cock rubbed against her belly, and she scooted up, aligning their bodies better, incredibly eager to feel him push inside her.
“Hurry,” she encouraged impatiently, and he did as she asked, his cock poised at her body’s entrance just before he thrust his hips up, the head of his cock penetrating her.
He paused, took a deep breath, and then carefully pushed in inch by inch, driving her slowly out of her mind. He was so thick and hard, and she held her breath, clutching at his shoulders as he seemed to take forever before he was fully seated inside her.
She popped her eyes open to find him watching her, sweat dotting his forehead, his lips thin, his jaw tight. She reached up and stroked his cheek, her heart fluttering wildly when he closed his eyes and turned his head so he could kiss her palm. “Are we really doing this?” she asked incredulously.
Torch: The Wildwood Series Page 14
