“Over your parents, you mean.”
“No.” She met his eyes defiantly. “I mean ever.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.” She tapped her fingers on her thigh. “It’s been a long, long time since I succumbed to that particular weakness.”
As a matter of fact, the last time she’d cried had been after he left her in Mexico. But he didn’t need to know that, now did he?
He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, no one’s crying now, and we need to turn around and go back before that changes.”
“I’m not going because you demanded I do so.”
He fisted his hands and glowered. She had a feeling he was giving her his best “I’m a fellow and you’re an intern” glare…but it wouldn’t work on her. “Christine, I swear to God—”
She cocked her head to the side. Time to go for the kill. “You look tired. I’m guessing you didn’t sleep well last night? Was something bothering you? Something…hard…perhaps? Tell me. Were you able to lay on your stomach at all?”
His backpack hit the ground and he stalked across the clearing, closing in on her. There it was. The anger she’d wanted. When he was angry…he kissed her. She needed him to kiss her more than she needed air right now. She lifted her chin at the fabulous show of anger in those green eyes that haunted her, her breathing heavy and triumphant.
When he pinned her body between his and the tree, it took all of her control not to praise the Lord at the top of her lungs. Hallelujah, amen.
She was finally getting what she wanted.
He gripped her hard. “No, I did not fucking sleep well last night. Is that what you want to hear? I had to jerk off while picturing you going down on me. It still didn’t help. I still need you.”
Her lips parted and she made a tiny sound she didn’t even recognize. “I can make it better.”
“And how will you do that, exactly?” He lifted her leg and insinuated himself between her thighs, pressing his cock against her heat. She moaned and dragged her nails down his back. “Because I can’t fucking keep track of what the hell you want from me.”
“I want you to stop talking” —she grabbed his hair and yanked hard—“and kiss me.”
He closed in on her mouth, but didn’t touch her. Instead he stopped just short of her lips. “Say it. Say you want me.”
Damn it. He was trying to take control, and she didn’t have enough strength to keep it out of his hands. Screw it. He could take the lead if it made him feel better—as long as he took her, too. She nodded frantically. “I don’t want you. I need you. Please.”
He buried his hands in her hair and tugged her head back. “This time? I’m not fucking stopping. And no running away.”
“No running away.” She yanked harder. “I won’t stop you this time. I’m yours, Tyler.”
Possession flashed over his eyes. Pure, hot, and archaic. Her nipples tightened, begging for his touch. “Damn right you are,” he growled.
And he kissed her. Thank God.
Chapter Nine
Christine collapsed back against the tree, inviting the pain of the bark digging into her shoulders. For once, she wasn’t thinking about her list.
It was just them. Him. Now.
She broke the kiss and yanked his shirt over his head. He lifted his arms to help her and let it hit the ground at his feet. He pulled her shirt over her head, then propelled her against the tree. The bark hurt her back even more without the protection of the cotton, but she didn’t give a damn.
When his lips closed over hers again, she ran her hands over his hard pecs. Over the years, she’d kind of hoped he’d let himself go soft and maybe had the decency to grow a beer belly or something. But he hadn’t. If anything, he was even harder than he’d been back in Mexico.
And now she wanted him even more than she’d wanted him then.
This whole thing had “mistake” written all over it in bright neon marker. But with his mouth on hers and his hands on her…oh my God. He closed his hands over her breasts and squeezed her nipples through her bra. She whimpered into his mouth and reached down, unclasping her bra with a simple flick of her wrist.
He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes on his fingers. His fingers…oh my God, his fingers moved over her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger with expert precision. She arched her back and urged his head back down. He took the hint and lifted her higher up on the tree, his hips supporting her weight. He scraped his teeth over her nipple, and she cried out.
He repeated the movement, harder this time. She shuddered and tossed her head back. When she dug her heel into his butt, he rolled his hips against her and dropped his hold on her nipple. He met her eyes, his own hot and smoky and oh-so-irresistible. “I’m going to make you scream so fucking loud, Red.”
“I’m not a screamer anymore,” she panted, thighs tightening around him.
He gave her a cocky grin and bit down on her neck, where it met with her shoulder. At the same time, he rolled her nipples and rocked his hips into hers, his erection brushing against her clit. She moaned and arched her neck, drawing in a breath of air. The world spun around her so rapidly she had no idea which way was up anymore.
He released one of her nipples and melded his mouth to hers. When he let his hand drift lower, over her stomach and to the waistband of her shorts, she shifted her weight so he could move even lower. She needed him to touch her. To bring her to the edge again, and hold her tight as she crashed over it.
He traced his hand up her thigh, but didn’t give her what she wanted. No, needed. She broke the kiss off and pushed at his shoulders. “Put me down. My shorts have to go.”
“No.” He shook his head and nibbled on her lower lip. “Not yet.”
“But—”
He nibbled on the side of her neck and cupped her mound. “But what?”
“Oh my God.”
He ran his thumb over her aching clit, his touch not even close to hard enough. “You like that?” He repeated the movement, this time a little harder. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You want it harder, though.” He massaged her clit through her jean shorts, in big sweeping circles. He was going to freaking kill her with his not-quite-there touches. “You want me to fuck you hard, right against this tree.”
“Yes!” she shrieked, not even realizing how loud she sounded until he chuckled. She smacked his arm. “Just do it already.”
“I thought you didn’t scream.”
“You’re right. I don’t, not for anyone else. Only for you.” She smacked his shoulder harder. “Now do it.”
His smile slipped away, and he let her legs hit the ground. With trembling hands, he undid her shorts and yanked them down her hips. Her underwear came next, and she was left standing naked in the freaking woods, wearing nothing but hiking sneakers. Even worse? She didn’t even care.
All she cared about was getting him inside of her, and making him as desperate for her as she was for him. He reached down, grabbed his backpack, and removed a condom. Did the Boy Scouts teach him that, too? Doubtful.
She dropped to her knees, ignoring the sharp rocks and twigs digging into her skin. They didn’t matter right now. Nothing did but this. She undid his belt and tugged his shorts down. He wore a pair of navy-blue boxers underneath, and his cock strained against the soft cotton. She held her hand up, and he took the hint. When he placed the condom in her palm, she removed his boxers and leaned in close, her eyes on his straining erection.
She looked up at him and closed a hand around the base of his penis. He groaned and tensed, his muscles strained and hard. “Fuck, Red.”
“Time to make that dream a reality,” she murmured.
Without looking away from him, she flicked her tongue over the head of his shaft. He moaned and buried his hands in her hair. She half expected him to put up some sort of feeble protest like men always did. The “oh, you don’t have to,” followed by the gentle push of the h
ead so she moved closer. But not him.
He urged her closer and grunted out, “More now.”
She swirled her tongue around the head of his erection and closed her lips around him. Sucking gently, she took more of him in her mouth, moving deeper and deeper until her lips met her hand at the base of his shaft. He groaned and leaned back against the tree, his hands pulling on her hair so hard it hurt. But it hurt so good.
He moved his hips, urging her to take him in and out of her mouth, and his muscles tightened. When his hard abs flinched, she tasted the salty tang of his pleasure, and she braced herself for him to come.
But he grunted and yanked her off before she could so much as blink. “I’m not coming in that pretty little mouth of yours. Not tonight.”
He lifted her to her feet and picked the condom up off the ground. She didn’t even remember dropping it. He ripped it open and rolled it on without hesitation. She watched him, his hands on his shaft, and her mouth dried out. The sight of him touching himself where she’d just been almost made her whimper, but she swallowed it back.
When he dropped to his knees at her feet, she hissed in a deep breath. Within seconds he was on her, his tongue circling her clit and his fingers spreading her wide. She barely had time to react to the change in position before his fingers were inside her, his tongue moving faster. When he scraped his teeth against her and sucked, she screamed.
She actually screamed.
And then she exploded in pleasure, and the whole world faded away except for him. When she came back down from the clouds, he flicked his tongue over her one last time, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her come again. She clung to his biceps and collapsed against the tree. Luckily for her, he held on to her.
He stood up and positioned himself between her legs. When he brushed his cock against her clit, she somehow, someway, came again. An unintelligible cry escaped her lips, and he swallowed it with his mouth. With one hard, sure thrust, he was inside her, buried completely to the hilt.
Thank freaking God.
His own cry melded with hers, and she closed her legs around his waist. He lifted her even higher and slammed into her again. The bark of the tree scraped her back, blending the pain with the pleasure, and she cried out into his mouth. His fingers found her hair, entwined in her locks, and pulled.
She dug her teeth into his lip, deepening the kiss even more. This is what she’d been missing for all these years. What she’d failed to find with other men—no matter how hard she tried. He moaned and moved so he wasn’t supporting her weight anymore. The new position made it so he rubbed against her clit with each thrust. She almost begged him to stop, it felt that good, but he kissed her before a word could escape.
He wouldn’t have stopped, anyway. He was obviously determined to kill her with pleasure, and damn if she didn’t want him to.
His mouth worked over hers, and the tension built higher and higher as he trailed his fingers over her skin. Everywhere. When he closed his hands over her breasts again, she arched her back, ignoring the sting of the bark on her shoulder blades. He hissed when she tightened her hold on him and bit down on his shoulder, thrusting harder. Faster.
The increased momentum sent her spiraling over the edge, and she miraculously came again. This time, he joined her. He cried out her name and stiffened, his entire body going rock-hard. Then he sort of collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck. For a while they remained that way, their harsh breathing filling the silence of the forest surrounding them.
He was the first one to move. He stepped out of her embrace and lowered her to the ground. He nibbled at her neck. “I thought you didn’t scream anymore, Red.”
She shivered. “I don’t.”
He smirked and stepped back. This is what they’d needed. Sex, sex, and more sex. Maybe, if she had any luck left, when this week was over she’d be free of this crazy-strong attraction. This was the way to get over him.
If she said it enough times, she might even believe it.
He examined her face, maybe looking for signs of her nonexistent regret or something, then bent down to gather her clothes. He handed the pile to her and went about collecting his own clothing. Maybe he didn’t need to do that yet. Maybe they could have another go. Work him out of her system a little quicker.
She turned her back on him, knowing it was the only way she’d ever move. If she watched him walk around fabulously naked, they might never get out of these woods. His muscles begged to be touched, and boy did she want to do exactly that.
Have sex in public? Check.
Get over Tyler? Um…pending.
He cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we need to head home or set up camp. You decide.”
Camp in the woods? Ha. She grinned. “Home it is, then.”
She heard the sound of his zipper and he shuffled behind her. “No more arguing with me?” he asked, his voice light with laughter.
Laughter—not guilt. Thank freaking God. Some small part of her had been expecting him to freak out or something. To run away, just like he had in Mexico. Or even worse? To apologize again. It was nice to find out that her fear had been for nothing. He hadn’t run or apologized. He didn’t look as if he regretted touching her.
And she didn’t regret it, either.
She grinned. “Nah. I’m all argued out.”
When he hissed, she whirled and looked at him. He’d gone completely white, and yet somehow looked green at the same time. “Fuck.”
“What?” she asked suspiciously. “What’s wrong?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes slamming into hers. “I’m so fucking sorry. Come over here and sit down.”
Déjà vu. He’d gone and apologized again. Un-freaking-believable.
“No. No, no, no.” She shook her head, her stomach hollowing out with dread. What the heck did he have to apologize for now? She wasn’t a virgin, and she’d obviously been a willing participant. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she glowered at him. “You are not doing to me this again.”
Chapter Ten
Tyler blinked at her, trying to make sense of her anger. “Not doing what, exactly?”
“Apologizing,” she spat, her eyes slits. “You’re freaking apologizing to me again. What’s next? Are you going to run away with your pants off again?”
He stiffened. “Hell no. I hurt your back, so I said sorry. I’m not fucking apologizing for the sex. Now sit your ass down so I can fix it,” Tyler said before heading away from her.
He couldn’t even look at her. She was bleeding because of him. He should have thought of that before he’d taken her up against a tree, damn it. Should have thought of her. Tyler headed for the backpack, cursing his stupidity over and over again. He should have known fucking her against a tree wouldn’t be the best of ideas. But Jesus, there hadn’t been much thought involved in it at all. One second they were arguing, and the next she’d asked him to kiss her.
So he had.
He never lost control like that. Never forgot about everything but the pleasure. Except with her. He’d lost control with Christine all those years ago, and it had scared the shit out of him. Now? It had happened again. After grabbing the first aid kit, he took a deep breath. He faced her again, his eyes scanning her for signs of pain. But she didn’t look as if she was in pain. She looked pissed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped. She picked up her shirt and started to turn it the right way out. “I’m not broken or hurt or weak. I’m fine.”
“I never said you were.” He yanked the shirt out of her hand before she could put it on. “But I need to clean those wounds so they don’t get infected.”
“Oh my God.” She threw her hands up. “It’s a sex injury. You don’t have to go all Dr. McDreamy on me, for the love of God.”
His lips quirked. “You can call me that while I fuck you if you want,” he said, his voice heavy despite his amusement. “But we’re not moving on until I treat you.”
&n
bsp; She crossed her arms. “Maybe I should call you Dr. McStubborn. Or Dr. McAss.” She pressed her lips together. “Or Dr. McCo—”
He rubbed his jaw. “I think I get the point. I’m a stubborn ass. Now let me look at your back.”
“Yeah? Well…” She lifted her chin. “I’m refusing treatment.”
He stiffened. “I’m refusing your refusal.”
“I’m refusing your refusal of my refusal.”
“I’m refusing—” He broke off and shook his head, looking up at the sky. “You know what? We’re wasting time. Sit down.”
“No.” She stomped away, bending down and picking up his shirt as she passed it. She spun on him but didn’t stop walking. “I’m fine and I don’t need you fawning—” Her eyes went wide, and next thing he knew she was gone.
Just…gone.
He sprang into action, bolting toward where she’d just been. He skidded to a halt and looked down the hill. She lay at the bottom of it, not moving. “Fuck.”
He made his way down the hill, the branches scratching him as he hurried by. One smacked him right underneath his eye, stinging like a motherfucker, but he ignored it. He made it down the steep hill within ten seconds, and dropped to his knees at her side. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, her eyes on the sky. “No. I’m not okay, Dr. McAss.”
He ignored the insult. “Shit. Let me see.” He brushed her hair off her face gently and leaned in, examining her pupils. For once, her blue eyes didn’t distract him. “Did you hit your head?”
“No.”
He ran his hands over her arms. “Can you move your toes and fingers?”
Her lips twitched. Oh, hell. Was she about to cry? He couldn’t handle her tears. Never could. “Yes, I-I think so.”
“Good, then we don’t have to worry about concussions or paralysis.” He swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his ears. “I’m going to check you for injuries. I promise to be gentle so I don’t—”
“I-I—”
Oh no. She was going to cry. He wrapped his arms around her, his heart thudding in his ears. “Shh. I’m here. Don’t cry. Please. I can’t stand to see you sad.”
Falling for the Groomsman Page 8
