She blew out a breath and blinked a few times, as if coming back from a trance. “Why don’t you wear them?”
He returned his arms to the back of the couch and slumped lower. He could lie to himself and pretend to be getting more comfortable, but the truth was he wanted to make himself as open as possible. Waiting and ready whenever she was.
“I lived in a tent for six months, remember? I didn’t have a washer and a dryer, so wearing flip-flops—I didn’t have to worry about socks—and going without underwear became a matter of convenience. Less laundry to deal with.” He shrugged. “I got used to going without and didn’t see a need to go buy some just because I was suddenly able to wash them.”
Her eyes narrowed and she studied him sharply while chewing on the side of her fingernail. “My friends, especially Jen, can never know that.”
This spunky, spirited side of her was cute as hell and spread his face wide with a big, fat smile. The pleasure he took from her possessiveness was dangerous as hell and another clear indicator of just how much trouble he was in. He should be tossing her off his lap and bolting for the door. Instead, he sank lower into the couch and said, “They won’t hear it from me. Guaranteed.”
She nodded, almost thoughtlessly, and her eyes began a slow, leisurely stroll down his body. As the silence grew, he thought she might be having a moment of clarity and common sense would finally stop the madness, but then she grabbed hold of his T-shirt and tugged it free of his jeans.
He sucked in a breath as her palms flattened against his stomach and then slid upward, dragging the hem of his shirt to his chest. Watching her tongue flick across her lip was torture. Her sweet mouth, slowly easing closer until her lips were pressed against his chest, was like being hit with a defibrillator, and he nearly jumped off the couch at the contact.
He dropped his head back and groaned with pleasure and in defeat as she licked and kissed a slow, burning path down the center of his chest to the top of his jeans.
When her mouth couldn’t go any farther because of his pants, she eased back and set to work on the zipper. Her fingers shook like an alcoholic’s in the depths of withdrawals, which should’ve made him nervous as hell, but her concentration was so intense as she lowered the clasp and slowly worked the teeth apart that he didn’t have any concerns. He was more worried about her gnawing her lip off than taking a hunk out of him.
He curved his stomach inward to make extra room for her to finish her task, then hissed when her tiny hand wrapped around him and tightened. Christ, if she exhaled sharply enough to send a gust of hot breath over him, he’d explode.
“Oh, wow.” Awe filled her voice and eyes and stoked his fire even more. “I want these down more.”
He damned near whimpered when she let go of him to use both hands to tug at the fabric of his jeans.
“All the way. I want them gone.” Her words spilled out in an excited rush as she shifted her weight onto one knee and gave him room to lift his hips to slide off his pants. When he didn’t move fast enough, because he was still trying to get enough blood flow circulating to his brain, arms, and legs, her eyes turned dark with hunger and she said, “I need to see all of you. I need to touch all of you.”
He was ninety percent sure she wasn’t a virgin, but he was also ninety-nine percent sure she wasn’t normally the aggressor. Her willingness to put herself out there, when it went against everything in her nature, sent another massive heat wave to his chest and heightened his alarm.
He liked Callie. He wasn’t just attracted to her physically; he liked her as a person. She was fun and thoughtful, and—oh hell, he’d admit it—she was sweet.
Which made him all kinds of wrong for her.
But with her big brown eyes pleading her case and her hand poised, ready to grip him again, he couldn’t tell her no. He was just a man and, apparently, not a very strong-willed one. He didn’t see any way possible, but he found himself holding out hope there might, just maybe, be a chance this could actually go somewhere for them.
With a silent prayer he wasn’t making a huge mistake, which could easily end up being the second biggest mistake of his life, he lifted his hips and slid his jeans down to his thighs, fully aware of not just exposing his cock and balls, but his soul as well.
Her bright, beautiful smile eased the cold sweats that had begun to build with the realization this wasn’t just sex for him any more than it was for her. This was different than every other relationship—if they could be called that—that he’d experienced over the past year. This was a body and mind experience. And it was terrifying.
“Thank you.”
He half laughed, half choked as she resettled onto his knees. “I’m the one who should be giving thanks.”
Capturing the silky strand of hair that had fallen over her face, he re-tucked it behind her ear, then cupped her face in his palms. Tilting his head to the side, he notched his chin in a come-here motion and said, “Kiss me, Callie. Kiss me like you mean it.”
Chapter Ten
Kiss me like you mean it.
Wade’s tilted head along with the pressure he applied to her cheeks as he tried to draw her close made his intention clear. However, rather than closing the gap between them and granting his wish, Callie’s gaze slid from his full, tempting lips to his thick erection.
Kiss me like you mean it.
For the first time in her life, she wanted to kiss a man… there… and she meant it with every fiber of her being.
In all of her previous relationships, she’d maintained a strict no-oral-sex policy—give or take—but as she stared at Wade, her body and brain forgot the usual rules of engagement. Water pooled in her mouth, her breasts grew heavy, and her sex ached, making it impossible to sit still without squirming and fidgeting.
She wanted to experience him in every way—hands, mouth, and body, locked together as close as two humans could get. She wanted more from him than she’d ever cared about receiving from her previous partners, and the sensations rocketing through her body were as foreign as the strange glow lighting up her heart.
This was more than a spark of attraction. This all-consuming need surpassed her wildest dreams of what true passion would be like, and for the first time in her life, reality surpassed her fantasies. She was torn between taking the time to explore every inch of his incredible body and ripping off the rest of his clothes, along with hers, and letting the beast in both of them take over.
“I’m still waiting.” His thick, husky voice was strained, and one of his hands slid around to the back of her neck, then tightened and relaxed. He seemed to be struggling with patience, rather than simply taking what he wanted, and she was torn between her old patterns and going through with her strong desire to try something new.
While sorting through the traps in her mind, she wrapped her hand around him and enjoyed the low, guttural moan that accompanied the forward roll of his hips as his patience gave way. He sifted his fingers through her hair, then wrapped it around his fist to hold her in place as his mouth crushed hers. His tongue was hot and demanding in a wild, plundering dance, while his free hand slid up her side and cupped her breast.
Desperate to take the edge off the raging need building within her, she scooted forward on his lap and rocked the center of her sex against her hand and his erection. God, she wanted so much more that would lead to total release, but she stopped herself before she humped him like an animal in heat, then broke the kiss and gasped for air.
“Not so fast.” She tried to sound convincing as the words tumbled from her mouth, but she failed miserably. “I have a new favorite toy”—this truth was spoken with conviction—“and I want to play first.”
His jaw clenched and his gaze practically burned a hole through her, but he released her hair from his tight grip and relaxed into the couch cushions, relinquishing control and giving her room to do as she pleased.
In a slow, measured stroke, she worked her hand up to the ruddy tip, where she gathered the glistening drops in
her palm before sliding down the length of him again. She’d touched a man before, but she’d never had a raw, burning need to watch his face change as he neared climax or hear his breath turn choppy and ragged as she pleasured him.
She studied his reactions and paid particular attention to the things that made his chest rise and fall more rapidly and his jaw tighten as his teeth ground against each other. The surge of power that came from controlling his pleasure surprised her, and the adrenaline pumping through her system made her lightheaded and delirious with anticipation. She wanted his head thrown back, his face strained by the force of the orgasm gripping him… and then she wanted to hold him as he relaxed in the aftermath.
When she squeezed and circled over the tip again, his entire body tensed and he clamped his hand over hers. “Stop. Now.” He gasped for a breath and added, “I can’t take any more.”
“That means you’re right where I want you.”
His breathing grew harsher and his eyes fluttered shut a few times as he struggled to keep them locked on her. “That would be the point of no return, baby.” He spoke through clenched teeth, like it required every ounce of strength he possessed to hold on to his control and not let go.
But she was a woman on a mission, and she refused to be denied.
“Let me make you come.” She used her eyes to plead her case. “Please. Give me this.”
Without waiting for a response or for him to move his hand, she resumed her pace, paying special attention to his most sensitive spots. Having his hand over hers so they stroked him together was the most erotic moment of her life—a snapshot for her mental memory book that would never be forgotten. When she continued to caress him, he squeezed his eyes shut and kicked his head back, causing the muscles in his neck to jump and strain.
The thrill of victory coursed through her as he released her hand, and she increased the speed of her stroke and the pressure of her grip. His hands latched onto the sides of her waist and dug into her flesh as he drilled the back of his head into the sofa and pistoned his hips up and down in rapid-fire motion.
And then there was a brief second of nothingness—the calm before the storm.
He ground his teeth so hard she feared they’d crack and growled as jets of hot fluid landed on her hand and all over his stomach and chest.
He was even more magnificent than she’d imagined, and she couldn’t break the magical spell wrapping her up, keeping her gaze locked on his face. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.” Her quiet words were filled with awe and wonder at the power of his virility, and in his current state, she doubted he even heard them.
Which was probably good, because a man like Wade wouldn’t appreciate being called beautiful.
*
Wade felt like a twisted, knotted dishrag that had been wrung out and hung on a hook to dry. As Callie continued to stroke him, milking the last drops from him, he jerked at the overstimulation and blinked, trying to clear his vision and regain a few ounces of coherent thought.
Shit, the first order of business was prying his fingers off her waist where he’d probably left deep imprints in her perfect skin. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t be sporting bruises tomorrow. Those would be difficult to explain to her friends.
When he thought he might be able to make his voice work and string together enough words to form a complete sentence, he said, “Hey, let me go clean up so I can return the favor.”
She stiffened and her eyes turned from soft and dreamy to hard and angry. “I didn’t do that because I was doing you a favor. It was something I wanted, and I don’t expect payback.”
He froze with his hand halfway to her face and tried to sort out why an innocent comment, something he’d probably said to… well, way too many women… hit Callie wrong.
He’d been nervous about coming inside for fear of things spiraling out of control—like they had—but she’d been so damned cute standing there with her lip stuck out and petulance pouring off her that his resolve had cracked. Then she turned into a sexy siren, luring him in with her bedroom eyes, and he couldn’t tell her no.
He didn’t have a clue where they were headed or what tomorrow or next week would bring, but he was positive of one thing: he wasn’t finished with tonight. She’d had her chance to play, and now he wanted a turn.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He brushed a hair away from her face and ran his thumb over her red and swollen lip. “C’mere.” He coaxed her closer with his own bedroom eyes and a slow, seductive smile. This time, his kiss was less about marking her and more about tempting her into wanting more.
He kept up the assault until the tension eased from her body and she melted against him. He still didn’t understand why his comment upset her, but he obviously needed a different approach. What better way to start than by getting naked? “Do you mind if I take a shower to clean up?”
“Not at all.” She jumped off his lap and reached out to help him up, then laughed and withdrew her hand. “I guess I better clean up too. C’mon, follow me. You can use the shower in my bathroom.”
Callie’s condo was sparsely decorated without any over-the-top amenities, except the master bath. He’d noticed it briefly when he’d been in her room earlier, but this was the first time he’d gotten a good, long look.
How in the hell did a woman who had to brown bag her lunch to save for a pair of shoes afford a place like this? The bathroom was huge, with a shower large enough to accommodate at least six people. Eight oiled brass showerheads jutted out from the dark tile walls, and it took him several minutes to figure out how to adjust the water flow to each head. “Shit, a guy needs a degree in engineering to operate this shower.”
She laughed and turned on the single sink faucet. “I’d lived here about six months before I realized I could turn them on and off. I usually stick with the main one, but if I’ve had a hard day at work, I turn them all on and call it a massage.”
The image of Callie standing in her shower, back arched, using her hands to sweep her hair off her face while water cascaded off her breasts and ass had him hardening again and even more determined to get her under the spray with him.
She seemed to enjoy his body and had admitted to watching him at work, so why not use what God gave him? He worked the flannel shirt off and tossed it to the side before slowly rolling his T-shirt up and over his head. While tossing it on top of the flannel shirt, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
Her bottom lip was snagged between her teeth and she worked it at the same frantic pace as she dried her hands. She seemed to be trying to keep her gaze diverted to give him privacy—which was funny considering what she just washed off her hands—but after a moment, she gave up the fight and openly stared.
If he were a peacock, his feathers would’ve been on full display. It was crazy how she could make him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof just by the way she looked at him or with a simple, whispered word.
He toed off his boots and slid them out of the way before bending over to remove his socks. He’d never survive as a male dancer, but he didn’t have to be good enough for tips; he just needed to be enticing enough to capture Callie’s attention and make her want a little more of what she’d already had. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his barely-hanging-onto-his-hips jeans and worked them over his growing erection, then down his thighs and calves and off his feet.
Allowing his eyes to fill with heat and all the desire he felt for Callie, he looked at her over his shoulder and stepped into the open shower. “I’d love to have you join me.” The smoky door was more aesthetics than function, so he left it open to give her a full view as he stepped under the spray, then grabbed the bar of soap and worked it into a lather.
The sexy siren who invited him in had turned into a shy kitten, but she didn’t leave the room. She kept a firm grip on her lip while her gaze captured every move he made. He ran a soapy hand over his shoulder blade, across his chest, and down to his stomach. Ensuring he kept her visually captive, he
palmed his erection and stroked himself, slowly and deliberately, to remind her of the intimacy they’d just shared.
Her red, slick lip slipped free of her teeth as she parted her mouth, and she drew in a shuddering breath. He struggled to keep his heavy lids open and his gaze locked on hers as he used his free hand to cup his balls and continued to stroke himself, imagining her hands on him again. She shuffled her feet and played with the hem of his sweatshirt, but something kept her from stripping off the clothes and joining him.
And then it hit him. He was comfortable with his nudity, but Callie probably wasn’t. As long as he watched her, she’d never get the courage to strip and join him. Reiterating his desire to have her join him, he said, “I need someone to wash my back,” then let go of himself and turned to face the wall.
He pretended to lose himself to the relaxing spray pounding against his chest and sides, but as the soapsuds slid off his body and puddled at his feet, he concentrated on the sounds in the room. He listened as she moved around and tried to figure out if she would join him or leave him standing there alone.
The room went dark and he looked at the ceiling—like a dumbass who needed confirmation the lights had been cut off—but he didn’t turn around. God knows he wanted to, but he forced himself to stare at the decorative mosaic strip circling the shower wall, counting first the brown and then the white tiles, even after the scent of vanilla reached his nose and the first flickers of candlelight bounced off the wall.
The sound of a sliding zipper slipped a few extra beats into his heart’s normal rhythm, and the steam building around his head might have come from his hot and heavy breathing. The second zipper had him clamping down on his jaw while he pressed a palm against the shower wall, locking himself in place while praying she wasn’t getting rid of her boots just to get more comfortable. The sound of rustling clothes cranked him a little tighter and the blessed sound of a third zipper, which had to be her jeans, had him palming himself again, and not solely for the purpose of keeping himself occupied so he wouldn’t turn around and ruin his plan.
Going All In Page 12
