"I told you I could handle Sam myself."
At the mention of her ex-lover, Gerry's frustration shifted into anger. “Yeah, that was going really well. Tell me, do they all act like that when you dump them?"
She pursed her lips, a sure sign she was pissed. And sick fuck that he was, all he could think of was pressing his mouth against hers and tasting her.
"I'm not sure what you're getting at."
Knowing this wasn't the place for this discussion, he pulled away from her, grabbing her hand and tugging her along behind. He nodded to a few acquaintances—which meant about every damn person in the room—but he refused to slow down. He continued walking, right past a chuckling Alison and Chet, out into the parking lot. Annoyance and arousal thrummed in his blood, and he knew when he started talking, his voice would be close to a roar. Plus, there was always the chance he would end up kissing Charlie. Gerry really didn't know how much longer he could resist that.
When they reached his truck, he unlocked it with the keyless entry button. He opened the door and started to shove her into the cab, but she pushed back, and he released her. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The tight stretch-knit fabric revealed a wonderful outline of her nipples each time she drew in a breath.
"Just what the hell is going on, Gerry?"
He looked up at her face and tried to form the words. For the last six months, there had only been one thing on his mind other than recovery. That had been Charlie. He had to have her. He'd been in love with her for most of his life, and he refused to live with the regret of not going after her.
But just now, being the ignorant, knuckle-dragging man that he was, he couldn't come up with a reply. The only thing he could do was act.
He crowded her against his pickup, took her face into his hands, and slammed his mouth on top of hers.
* * * *
Charlie tried her best to figure out just what the hell had happened. One minute she was madder than hell at Gerry, ready to beat the crap out of him. The next, he had her backed up against his truck and was kissing her. And not just any kind of kiss. This was a mind-numbing, out-of-control kiss that was turning her brain to mush. Any second now, she would fight him off like she should. Unfortunately, that would require a brain that worked, and that just wasn't happening at the moment.
What was happening was impossible, unthinkable, and so damn delicious she didn't know if she would ever be able to stop. Her eyes drifted shut as Gerry slipped his tongue between her lips and stepped between her legs. Every hormone hummed as he slid his hands down her body to cup her ass. With a jerk, he pressed his groin against her. There was no mistaking the long, thick ridge of his penis as he ground against her. Hot liquid filled her pussy, her body throbbed, her mind spun. She threaded her fingers through his hair.
Before she was ready, he drew away. Slowly, afraid of what she would see in his expression, she opened her eyes. His hair had been mussed by her hands, his face was flushed, and lust shone in his eyes.
"I don't think we should talk in public.” His rough voice slipped beneath her skin and wound its way to her heart, which was turning over in her chest. All her life—or, at least, since she'd discovered sex and boys—she'd wanted to hear that tone.
"Being in private probably isn't a good idea right now."
He stepped closer again, allowing her to feel the heat of his body and smell the scent on his skin. Bending his head, he nipped at her bottom lip. “I think that if I don't get you alone, there is a very good chance I'll strip you naked and take you in the bed of my pickup."
She shuddered, her sex clenching in reaction to the picture he painted. Judging from the glint in his gaze and the tone of his voice, there was a good chance he would follow through on his threat. And knowing her own feelings, there was also a good chance she wouldn't stop him.
It was a mistake—one she would regret big time—but it would be best if they got away from any prying eyes. By the time they reached the house, they'd both have calmed down.
Against her better judgment, Charlie heard herself say, “Fine."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 4
The moment Gerry put the truck in park and turned off the ignition, he reached for Charlie. But he found himself grabbing air. She'd already scooted to the door and was hopping down from the cab of the pickup. She slammed the door and started toward her house. Frustration—both with her and the situation—had him following suit and grabbing her arm.
When she turned to face him, she used her free arm to take a swing. He ducked and barely missed getting slammed in the jaw. Apparently, she'd rethought her decision.
"Fucking hell, Charlie."
He spun her around, slipped his arms around her, and captured her arms beneath his.
"Let me go.” The low, angry growl of her voice didn't bother him. The truth was, sparring with Charlie had always felt like foreplay. They'd start in on each other—didn't matter what the subject was—and he always ended up pissed off and frustrated.
"No. I said—oof."
She caught him in the midsection with her elbow.
"That's enough, dammit.” With deft moves, he released her long enough to turn her so she faced him. Bending at the waist, he slung her over his shoulder, using his arm to anchor her legs. Given the chance, she would definitely do some damage with those red ropers.
She bucked against him and pounded his back with her fists, all the while calling him names. “Son of a maggot” was his favorite.
"If you want your father and all the hands out here, keep it up. I'll be happy to explain to them how and why you are in your present position."
With a huff, Charlie stopped beating the living hell out of his back. She said nothing as he strode to the guest house, doing his best to keep his steps as silent as possible. Even though he'd dared her, he definitely didn't want to explain to her father what was going on. Jonathon Freemont would stick his nose into his business and mess everything up. The one person he didn't want involved in this was her father.
By the time Gerry reached his door, his shoulder hurt. Charlie wasn't the smallest woman. He shut the door with a kick of his foot and didn't slow down on his way to the bedroom. This wasn't what he'd always planned—he'd hoped to woo her, romance her. But she'd ignored him.
He dropped her on his bed. Like he'd expected, she came up off the mattress ready to fight. But as irritated as she was, he wouldn't give her the chance. He quickly covered her with his body, pinning her to the bed. She bucked against him twice, almost pushing him off her. Then encircling each of her wrists, he slipped between her legs. Even through the stiff jean fabric, he could feel the softness of her sex. His cock jerked in reaction, in anticipation.
"Let me up, you oaf."
"I would if you'd at least talk about it."
Green fire blazed in her eyes. “We have nothing to talk about."
"Really?"
"Nothing happened—nothing important."
That was a challenge he couldn't resist. Something of his intentions must have shown in his expression, because Charlie's eyes widened as he bent his head and kissed her. Just as before, the taste of her wound its way through him, heating his blood and dissolving all his thoughts. He stole inside of her mouth, savoring the true flavor of her. Hot, spicy, and completely untamed. He slanted his mouth over hers, barely registering the fact she was now fully participating. All he knew was that in this moment, right at this time, he knew he wanted—no, needed—to have her. Not since his teenage years had he felt so out of control. He was sure he'd come in his pants just from kissing her.
He deepened the kiss, angling his head just right. Her moans had him releasing her arms and cupping her face. Flexing his hips, he enjoyed the jolt of heat that shifted through him.
By the time he pulled away, they were both breathing heavily again. Keeping his face within inches of hers, he waited for her to open her eyes.
"Tell me now. Tell me you don't want thi
s, and I'll let you go. But I know you, Charlie. I can feel your heat through my pants."
She didn't blush, didn't even try to deny it. Her clear gaze softened as she entwined her arms around his neck. “It's stupid and probably the worst thing for me to do, but I want you. And for once, I'm taking what I want."
He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed in satisfaction. He'd hoped she wouldn't deny him, because he didn't think a pack of mustangs could've kept him from her, especially after that kiss. He had only tonight to prove to her that she was his.
Slamming his mouth down on hers again, he took what she'd offered and returned in kind. For years he had wanted her, had lusted after her. For five months he'd waited, plotted, and damn near gone insane trying to recover from his injuries. Now he finally had her beneath him, and he had to make sure she understood.
But he couldn't take his time—not this first time. He sat up, straddling her hips, and in one quick move, he grabbed her knit shirt and yanked it up and over her head.
The only light in the bedroom came from a living room lamp he'd left on. But even in the dim glow, he could see enough of her. His breath stalled in his chest at the sight before him. Creamy skin, with a hint of honey, spilled over a red bra. It wasn't anything fancy—just plain, smooth knit with no lace—but he'd never seen anything so seductive in his life. He slid the backs of his fingers over the skin, enjoying her sharp inhalations. She shivered as he dipped his finger in the crevice between her breasts.
He grinned at her. “Cold?"
She frowned, then gasped when he drew his thumb across her nipple. It pebbled instantly, standing erect and straining against the cloth. Bending at the waist, he dragged the flat of his tongue over her nipples through the fabric. First one, then the other. She shifted restlessly beneath him. Drawing back, he unclasped the front hook of the bra.
The cups separated, falling to her sides, leaving her breasts bared for his greedy gaze. Full, bottom-heavy, and topped with the prettiest pink nipples. His mouth dried up just thinking about how they would taste. He brushed the tips of her nipples with his palms, and they tightened further.
"Gerry.” Her low, sensual voice swept through him, through his blood, all the way down to the bottom of his soul. There was such want, such need, in her tone, it almost undid him.
He bent his head again, taking a turgid tip in his mouth and simultaneously pinching the other nipple. Her moans grew louder as her hands slipped up his back to his head, holding him closer to her. With one last lick, he kissed a path up her neck to her mouth. That sweet, sexy mouth. Her hardened nipples bit into his chest, and her body grew hot under his ministrations.
The need to feel her flesh next to his took over every thought. He wanted no barriers to his touch. Practically jumping off the bed, he tore at his clothes, throwing them carelessly behind him. Charlie had followed his lead. She stepped up to him, slipping her hands over his shoulders and behind his head. Without hesitation, she slid her tongue between his lips, tangling it with his. Her lack of inhibitions, not to mention the way she rubbed up against him, pushed him almost past the point of control.
He took her by the hips, pulling her tight against him. The sweet, soft skin of her sex brushed against his shaft. In response, his balls drew up tight, and a drop of pre-cum escaped. Charlie circled his waist with her legs, pressing her pussy tighter against him. Liquid heat fairly poured out of his cock, and his control snapped instantly when he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Without ceremony, he tumbled them back on the bed, neither of them noticing as they landed on the mattress. All he wanted was to be inside her, to feel her clench around his sex, and to pull him deeper into her channel. But first he had to have a taste. Tearing himself away from her, he slid down her body, then dropped to his knees on the floor. Gerry dragged her forward until her legs dangled over the edge. Placing a hand on each of her thighs, he pushed her legs further apart.
Her golden-brown curls, neatly trimmed in the shape of a triangle, were wet with arousal. With his thumbs, he spread her skin, his heart thumping as he uncovered her pretty pink lips amidst the tangle of hair. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “Damn, woman, you even smell like sin."
He looked up to find Chalie watching him as she leaned back on her elbows. Without breaking eye contact with her, he licked her slit from top to bottom. Her juices poured out of her. Humming, he pressed his mouth against her, stealing between her folds for a taste. She closed her eyes and dropped to the mattress.
If he'd thought kissing her was erotic, tasting the essence of her desire went beyond anything he'd imagined. Just like the woman, her juices were a contradiction in tastes. Sweet, but tart at the same time, and just as irresistible as the woman herself. As he savored her, he pressed his thumb against her clit, pushing her up and over a peak as she bucked against his mouth.
With one last swipe of his tongue, he moved away and pulled the nightstand drawer open. As he retrieved and opened a condom, he noticed his hands were shaking. He quickly donned the rubber and stepped back to bed. Charlie had scooted up the mattress, and he joined her. Grabbing her hips, he rose to his knees, raising her to the right level. He plunged into her with one hard thrust.
"Oh, Lord.” She felt like heaven. As he began to move, she worked in rhythm with him, but soon that wasn't enough. He shoved her legs in front of him, holding them close together as he continued to pump in and out of her. With his free hand, he pressed her clit—once, twice, three times. She came, screaming his name, her body convulsing so violently he almost slipped completely out of her. Two more thrusts and he followed her, his balls drawing up tight, his body jerking with his own orgasm.
Moments later, he released her legs and pulled out. As they lay together, he pulled her into his arms, his body finally satisfied, his mind numb, and his heart whole.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 5
Charlie skimmed her fingers up Gerry's chest, trying to imagine what he'd looked like after the riding accident. Although everyone thought differently, she'd watched all his rides when they were on TV. It had been her dirty little secret. So, of course, she'd been watching that day. The memory of witnessing him thrown off that red bull, flipping and landing hard on the ground, then being stomped on by Stampede—it still made her sick to her stomach. As she'd watched a near-lifeless Gerry on the dirt floor at the National PBR Finals, she'd sworn her heart had stopped. She was certain that, for at least two minutes, she hadn't drawn a breath.
To think that all this glorious, golden skin had been so marred. Reports said that he'd suffered a compound fracture in his leg, as well as several broken ribs. Not to mention the concussion that had kept him completely out of it for at least a week. She'd used every bit of control not to hop the first flight to Vegas and rush to his bedside. The point had been moot, since her father had done just that, not even saying goodbye before he left.
For days, she'd waited for information regarding Gerry's condition. Both on TV and online. Most diehard PBR fans were devastated, and much of his recovery had been publicized for the whole world to see. Charlie had waited with them for word, praying every night that she wouldn't wake to the news of his death.
Her father had never called.
Charlie shook away those thoughts and trailed her fingers up Gerry's torso, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles. They'd been in such a rush the first time—not to mention the second time—that she hadn't had the chance to savor his body.
He stirred beneath her hands, and she looked up at his face. Talk about stopping a girl's heart. His dark hair was rumpled from their time in bed, and his eyes were barely open, but focused on her. The intensity in his gaze had her breath backing up in her throat.
To hide her reaction, she slipped her fingers over one of his nipples, smiling when he shuddered.
"You're a wicked woman, Charlise.” Dark and heavy with sleep, his voice rumpled over her senses, tripping over her heart in the process.
S
he settled her head on his stomach and frowned up at him. A slice of white in the darkness told her he was smiling at her. “I don't like that name."
He snorted. “You don't have to remind me. I believe I still have a scar on my ass from the beebee you shot at me when I told Jack Brenen your real name."
She chuckled. “And I bet it didn't teach you a damned thing."
Gerry didn't say anything for a second or two. His amused expression slipped away, replaced by one that was much more serious. Charlie's nerves jumped in response, as did her heart. She'd known years ago that when Gerry concentrated on a woman, she lost a little of her sanity. That was the only explanation for the way some of his girlfriends had acted through the years. She'd known that, even in high school, he'd had all of the girls dropping their pants as fast as they could. From the rumors she'd heard, Gerry hadn't lost his popularity with the ladies over the years.
But, in her heart, Charlie couldn't blame them. For the first time ever, Gerry had tried to get her into bed—and she'd barely put up a fight. What the hell was she thinking? She hadn't tried to resist him at all. And that just made her the latest in a long line of women Gerry would leave in the morning.
She tried to brush away the thought, and the hurt that clawed at her heart because of it, but something must have shown on her face. Gerry reached out and brushed his thumb over her mouth.
"What's going on in that crazy head of yours?"
Her lips tingled where he touched, so she curled them in and rubbed them together. She avoided looking at him until he curved his large, callused hand around her jaw and forced her head toward him.
"Charlie.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. But his tone warned her that he wouldn't let it go.
"It's nothing."
He cocked his head to one side as he slipped his fingers through her hair. Then, without warning, he grabbed her beneath her arms and hauled her up and over his body. Damn, the man was hot. Not just in looks, but in temperature too. He let off enough body heat to keep a mansion warm in the middle of winter.
A Torrid Celebration! Page 2
