A Shot of Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  “You left home?” That explained the suitcase. “But I thought—”

  “Answer my question!” His shout silenced even the crickets.

  She stalled, unable to admit the truth—that she’d needed to make him unavailable because she wasn’t strong enough to keep her legs closed when he was around. “Which one?”

  He opened his mouth to yell again but snapped it shut, along with his eyes. Gripping his hips, Trey hung his head and sucked in several deep breaths, obviously struggling to contain his anger. When he glanced up, the look on his face—blue eyes wide, lips pressed together—stung even worse than his rage. He was hurt.

  Oh god, she’d hurt him. A dull ache pulsed inside her chest with each second he remained silent, wounded, and waiting. “Trey,” she stammered, unsure of how to make this better, “I didn’t mean to—”

  “You had no right.” When he folded his muscled arms across his chest, Bobbi noticed goose bumps puckering his tanned skin. She quickly pulled both arms out of her wearable blanket and handed it to him, an admittedly weak peace offering. He snatched the fabric and tossed it onto a nearby rocking chair. “No right to play God, and no right to lead Mindy on like that.”

  “I thought if you could be friends, then maybe—”

  “I’ve got enough friends,” he interrupted. “Besides, you and I both know that’s not what Mindy wants, and it was cruel of you to let her think she had a chance. You should’ve seen the look in her eyes when I shut her down.” He squeezed his temples between two fingers as if to expel the memory. “If you’d’ve just talked to me, I would’ve told you I don’t want her in my life. There’s a reason I haven’t kept in touch with her.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Bobbi whispered, meaning every word. “I thought you might still love her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she was your first, and it’s really hard to get over—”

  “No.” He closed the distance between them, moving so close she could make out the faint, golden stubble along his jaw, his white-blond lower lashes contrasted against eyes so blue they didn’t seem real. Bracing both palms against the door, he trapped her between two walls, much like he’d done the first time he’d kissed her. “Why’d you do it?”

  The warmth from his body, his delicious scent of sandalwood, overwhelmed her senses and made it impossible to think. She wanted to save herself, but she didn’t know how. From deep within, her lockbox of emotions began to rise from the ocean floor where she’d buried it. She closed her eyes, struggling to imagine its chains secured to a ten-ton anchor.

  “Hey.” Trey sighed, stirring the hair at her temple. She sensed him hesitate, then he brought his hand to her face and brushed one rough thumb over her cheek. “Don’t cry; just talk to me.”

  Bobbi opened her eyes. “I’m not crying.” But one glance at the glistening bead of moisture on his thumb made her a liar. Using her own fingers, she dabbed at her face, finding it wet with leaking tears.

  “Look at me.” He cupped her chin, tilting her face until their eyes met. “Why?”

  Though still smoldering, his gaze moved over her face with tender care, the touch of his hand a reassuring promise to protect her from anything—even herself. It gave her the strength to confess what she’d done.

  “Because,” she whispered, then paused to swallow her fear. “I can’t stay away from you.”

  He didn’t respond at first. Tipping their foreheads together, he cradled her face between his rugged palms and breathed long and deep. Eventually, she matched her breaths to his, and the lockbox sank slowly until it came to rest again on the ocean’s sandy floor.

  “That was selfish,” he said, still not looking at her. “And stupid.”

  “I know.” She tried to nod, but his grasp kept her immobile. “I’m sorry.”

  “Bobbi,” he spoke into her hair, “you don’t have to go digging up my old girlfriends. I’ll find a way to leave you alone if that’s what you want.” Caressing her cheeks, he moved his mouth to her ear, where he whispered, “It won’t be easy, but I’ll do it for you.” He placed one gentle kiss on the side of her neck before nuzzling her with his nose. “Is that what you want?”

  A soft whimper bubbled up from Bobbi’s throat. She tilted her head to give him free rein, using one hand to pull his face harder against her neck, and when he sank his teeth into the erogenous patch of skin at the base of her shoulder, her soft whimper turned into a groan.

  “What do you want?” he whispered in her ear, coaxing chills to the surface of her skin.

  “You,” she replied without another moment’s hesitation. “I want you.” She wrapped both arms around his strong back and tugged him forward, eliminating the sliver of air between them.

  Keeping her face within his grasp, Trey pulled back just enough to bring them eye-level. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He darted a glance through the kitchen window. “When’s your brother coming home?”

  “Around three.” Luke and June were scheduled to close Shooters together. “But if—”

  Before Bobbi had a chance to offer an alternative, Trey bent low, leaned into her midsection, and tossed her over one shoulder, exactly like the day they’d met. He threw open the front door and carried her into the house and up the stairs like the caveman she’d once mistaken him for…only this time, she didn’t fight back.

  This time, she was his.

  Chapter 15

  Trey wasn’t gentle when he undressed her, and that suited Bobbi just fine. A thrill tingled along her spine as he unzipped her dress and forced the rayon fabric to the floor in one rough motion that stung the skin on the outsides of her hips. Just as quickly, he reached behind her back, easily unlatched her strapless bra, and tossed it aside before turning his attention to her black satin panties. It was then that he slowed things down, kneeling at her bare feet and pressing her back against her cool bedroom wall. He smoothed his palms up and down the length of her legs, gazing at them in worship and murmuring, “Christ, I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  Nudging her apart, he curled his fingers around the backs of her thighs, kneading deeply while he kissed a trail up the inside of each one. The hallway light sliced through the open door, illuminating the darkness. Bobbi wished she’d had a chance to turn it off. She hated that Trey had an up-close and personal view of the fattest part of her body. Everyone was thin and perfect in the dark.

  “Let me get the light,” she breathed, squirming as he nibbled the skin just beneath the crotch of her undies.

  “Good idea.” He rose high enough to flip on the bedroom switch, flooding her eyes with brightness. She squinted and quickly shut it off again.

  He glanced up in confusion. “What’d you do that for?”

  “I meant the hall light.”

  Lowering one brow, he considered a moment. “But then I won’t be able to see you.”

  “That’s kind of the point.” She tried blocking his view with her hands, but she couldn’t hide fifteen pounds of flab with ten bony fingers. The hip-hugging shorts and high heels she usually wore had elongated her legs, making her seem slender, but now there wasn’t a scrap of fabric concealing her flesh. Damn it, why couldn’t he fixate on her boobs instead? She had great boobs.

  “Listen to me.” He pushed her hands away and resumed kneading with those strong, rough hands. “You’ve got the most gorgeous thighs I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Bobbi shook her head, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

  “Yes, you do,” he insisted. “It was the first thing I noticed the day you walked into Shooters in those hot-ass shorty-shorts, and I’ve been dreaming about you ever since.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Don’t believe me?” He pulled her down to the floor until she knelt beside him, then he pressed her hand against the enormous bulge straining the front of his Le
vis. “Think I’d be this hard if I wasn’t turned on by your body?”

  “Maybe?”

  “No.” He moved her hand to his mouth and kissed her open palm. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  While chewing her bottom lip, Bobbi replayed the last several weeks, realizing that while she’d hidden like a thief from Trey, refusing to trust him with her feelings or the details of her past, he’d never once misled her or kept secrets. It was disbelief that had her shaking her head.

  “Then believe me when I say you’re perfect. Let me look at you.”

  She met his gentle blue gaze. “Just the hall light, okay? The other one’s too bright.”

  “Deal.” He trailed one fingertip down her cheek. “Now come here.”

  She straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt as Trey tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her in for a slow, sweet kiss, just a brush of lips and a taste of warmth that turned carnal when their tongues found each other. Each moist sweep, each deep probe sent blood pulsing between Bobbi’s legs. She fitted herself to Trey’s hips and rocked against his steely length while sliding his shirt over his shoulders. A deep groan rumbled his chest, and she felt the vibration through their fused skin. She ran both hands over his back—God, he had the strongest back of any man she’d ever seen, let alone had the privilege to touch. A rush of desire overtook her, and she couldn’t wait for Trey’s weight to anchor her to the wood floor, to feel those powerful muscles flex beneath her fingers as he pumped in and out of her aching center. Now. She wanted him right now.

  Reaching a hand between them, she tore at the button of his jeans, whispering, “Hurry.”

  “No.” He stilled her hand, then swept his gaze over her breasts before taking one in his hot palm. “I’m in no rush tonight.” He brushed his knuckles over her nipple, puckering it with pleasure and bringing a sigh to her lips. “We’ve got hours, and I’m gonna need each one for what I’ve got in mind.”

  “What’s that?”

  He glanced around the room for a moment, his eyes eventually settling on something over her shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” The word escaped without conscious thought. She trusted this man completely.

  Pushing her off his lap, he ordered, “Then go lie down on the bed.”

  She obeyed, standing first and hooking her thumbs around the waistband of her panties.

  “Don’t,” he said in a husky voice. “I wanna take those off myself.”

  His fevered gaze sent Bobbi’s heart stumbling over its own beats. She walked to the bed on shaky knees, threw back the comforter, and positioned herself on the center of the mattress, eagerly awaiting the heat from his broad chest against her skin. She reclined, flat on her back, fisting the starched, white sheets to keep from trembling in anticipation.

  “That’s good.” When she looked up, Trey was kicking off his boots. He held her black silk scarf—the one she’d left on the dresser a few days ago. Nodding at the headboard, he commanded, “Now grab that bedpost with both hands.”

  Wait, wait, wait. He wanted to tie her up? Bobbi had never experimented with bondage—hated the idea of being helpless. Besides, she wanted to use her hands, feel his burning, sun-kissed skin. She wasn’t so sure she could do this.

  “I won’t hurt you.” He sat on the edge of the bed, shaking the mattress with his added weight. “If I do something you don’t like, just tell me to stop.” Trailing his index finger from her throat to her navel, he added, “But I don’t think you will, darlin’.”

  His seductive promise gave her the courage to lift both trembling arms above her head, where Trey secured them to the headboard at the wrists, snugly, but not tight enough to cause her any pain. Face-up in the vulnerable position, she’d never felt so exposed, and she needed him to cover her with his body.

  “Trey…” she pleaded.

  He seemed to understand, moving over her and supporting his weight on his elbows. Starting at her temple, he kissed his way down the side of her face to her ear, where he grazed her tender lobe with his teeth. All the while, his left hand explored her curves, grasping her bottom, massaging over her panties, while his warm breath panted in her ear.

  With jean-clad legs, he parted her, holding his hips barely out of reach. Bobbi dug her heels into the mattress and arched against him. Her reward was light friction where she needed it most, just a feather graze that served to multiply her hunger instead of sate it.

  “More,” she whispered, straining harder against him.

  He indulged her—grinding in small circles, the taut muscles of his abdomen bunching against her flesh, his hard length stroking her into a luscious stupor—but instead of taking her all the way, he abruptly withdrew, rising to his knees and leaving her writhing on the bed and gasping, “No, don’t stop.”

  “Be still,” he murmured, pinning her hips to the bed with his firm grip. “Calm down a little first.” Once she’d pulled a few deep breaths through her nose, he released her, turning his attention to her breasts.

  Leaning over her on all fours, he dipped his head and flicked his tongue over her nipple, then teased, circling the hardened tip again and again, until she bowed her back, willing him to take more. When he cupped one breast and drew her into his blazing, wet mouth, her lips parted in a silent scream, her hips vainly seeking the solid ridge of his erection, which he’d held far beyond her reach. He moved to the other breast, suckling greedily, and she felt each deep pull right between her legs, where she’d grown wet and aching and unfulfilled.

  A desperate noise, half whine, half moan, escaped her throat, and it was then that he sat back on his heels and gave her momentary relief, rubbing his hand over the dampened fabric of her panties just long enough to silence her.

  “I think these can go now.” He slipped his fingers beneath the satin and peeled the garment down over her thighs, past her knees and ankles, eventually tossing them over his shoulder. “And if I remember correctly,” he said, scooting toward the foot of the bed, “I made some lofty promises.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, shamelessly spreading her legs and tensing for the touch of his mouth, needing his tongue to extinguish the flames he’d stoked inside her.

  Of course he took his sweet time, toying with her, blowing cool air over her swollen folds before placing a chaste kiss there. But then he began in earnest, and oh god, that first lazy lick tore an almost painful gasp from her lungs. He followed with another, harder stroke of his tongue, lapping at her vulnerably parted flesh like a child with an ice cream cone, moaning with enjoyment, savoring her taste. The vibration from his lips melted her bones, and when he isolated her most sensitive spot and drew it into his mouth with firm suction, her legs trembled with pleasure. White spots danced before her eyes, obscuring her vision, and she realized with disbelief that he’d made good on one of his claims: I can make you see stars.

  Propping both hands beneath her bottom, he angled her toward his face and deepened his erotic kiss, delving deep inside with quick thrusts of his tongue, driving her half mad with need. She moved with him, so close to climax that her inner muscles coiled, preparing to spring in tantalizing release. Trey seemed to sense the change in her, because he withdrew, once again leaving her crying out and pleading for more.

  “Don’t stop,” she growled, lifting her hips and clawing at the bedpost. “Damn it, don’t stop!”

  “Shhh.” Forcing her legs together, he straddled the outsides of her thighs and held her immobile, then bent low to rain kisses on her eyelids, nose, cheeks. “It’s too soon.”

  “Just let me come,” she begged. “Then we can keep going.”

  “Not yet.” He skimmed both palms over her nipples, forcing her to bite her lip to contain another sharp cry. “Be still, and let me take you further.”

  She couldn’t lie still, not even within the confines of his powerful legs. She tugged at her restraints, convinced the only reaso
n he’d tied her to the bed was so he could tease her into insanity.

  “Trust me,” he said, and she opened her eyes to his heavy-lidded gaze, so filled with concern that she couldn’t doubt his intentions. His face shone with beauty and lust, wheat-colored strands falling over his forehead as he fought for oxygen, clearly every bit as aroused as she was. “Let me make you forget how to breathe.”

  Licking her lips, she took a cleansing breath, trying to steady her pounding heart. When she’d found her voice again, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

  He didn’t object, and he didn’t hold back. Claiming her mouth, he gave her a kiss so passionate it made her heart swell. He cradled her face as if she were crafted from the frailest, hand-spun glass, his mouth urgent and possessive, his tongue sliding again and again between her bruised lips to mate with hers. He used his body to cherish her, to claim her, making her feel like the only woman alive.

  Over the next hour, he used his fingers and tongue to drive her nearly to the brink before bringing her down again, an endless cycle of titillation that had her shaking with desire and pleading for release. Each time he denied her, she felt her control crack, her long-buried emotions bubbling to the surface as unbidden moisture leaked from the corners of her eyes. It was too much—her body could no longer handle the sensations; her mind couldn’t focus beyond her most basic, carnal needs. Her nerve endings were on fire, the flames relentlessly licking the throbbing apex between her thighs. She was so engorged she feared she’d burst. Thrashing her head from side to side, she openly begged without shame.

  “Please,” she groaned, “please, I can’t take any more.”

  Trey’s warm breath shuddered against her throat, his chest heaving, body trembling with his own desire. “Now,” he promised. “I have to be inside you right now.”

  Relief flooded through her until she wanted to cry from it. Beneath lids so heavy she could barely see, she watched him sink back on his heels and lower his zipper. He forced his jeans and briefs past his thighs, freeing his jutting erection, long and thick and so huge it would have worried her had she been capable of coherent thought. Without bothering to undress any further, he tugged her into his lap, stretching her arms taut above her head, wrists straining against their silk binding. Letting her lids close, she held her breath and spread herself wide for him.