by Sabrina York
“It would be weirder in my room,” he murmured, for he had begun nuzzling his way over her cheek toward her neck. She knew when he reached that spot, she’d lose all sense of sanity, so she needed to get through to him quickly.
“Why?”
“Hmm?”
Oh God, he was close. “Why would it be weird in your room?”
He lifted his head and met her curious gaze. “Because right now, Tibby’s probably in my bed.”
“What?”
“Naked.”
She made a face. “You’re ruining the mood, you know.”
“Not me. You’re the one who keeps interrupting.”
“Can I ask why Tibby is naked in your bed?” While he was attempting—very successfully—to seduce her in his sister’s? She had to shudder at the thought—Tibby in his bed. Her in Claire’s.
“I told you. She’s stalking me.”
Seriously? Sidney had to laugh. “You are full of yourself, aren’t you?”
He reared back, a wounded expression on his face. “You don’t believe me?”
“Oh sure. I believe you.”
He leaned back farther. “You don’t sound like you believe me.”
“I totally believe you.” She gestured to her breast, which he had enclosed in his hand. His warmth enrobed her and the roughness of his palm scraped at the tender flesh. “Get back to work.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I do. I swear.” She arched up into him, rubbing against the hardness she found at the crux of his thighs. “We can go look if you want.”
“Now that would ruin the mood.” Besides which, enough of this. With a great heave, she rolled him over and settled herself on top of him.
Oh yes. Much better.
She wiggled around to find a more comfortable spot—there wasn’t one, everything was hard—and he crossed his eyes. “Sid, you’re killing me.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
“What have I ever done to make you want to punish me?”
What hadn’t he done? “All you have to do is draw a breath and I am irritated beyond belief.” As she spoke she undulated on him, like a cowgirl, pretending to ride a big, hard, beautiful pony.
“I don’t understand that,” he said in a wheeze. He grabbed her torso with his hands and tried to direct her movements but she ignored his gentle tutoring and moved the way she damned well pleased. “Maybe we should look at that,” he said through a groan.
“Look at what?” she asked, pulling off her blouse and tossing it into the shadows.
His gaze fixated on her breasts. His mouth went slack. “Huh?” he mumbled.
“We should look at what?”
“What?”
Excellent. She’d scrambled his brain.
She cupped her breasts and switched her angle, rubbing against him in a decidedly suggestive movement. “Mmm, Cody. You’re so hard.”
He tried to lunge up and take the lead, but she wouldn’t allow it. She pushed him back down and hovered over him, staring at his too-handsome face. Anger and hurt and lust battled inside her but when it coalesced, lust won.
“I’m going to fuck you, Cody.”
He opened his mouth to say something, to protest, perhaps, but she didn’t give him a chance. She silenced him with a kiss.
But it wasn’t just a kiss, not a tangling of lips and tongue. It was a ravishment. She took from him, ate of him, and reveled in it. In him.
Her passion incited his and as she pressed her will upon him, they both madly, crazily, stripped off their clothing. His, hers, theirs. It didn’t matter. If it was on them, it had to come off.
All but her shoes. She remembered he’d asked her to wear her shoes that one time they’d done this before.
When she pulled off his jeans—and yeah, she was captivated by the sight of his cock, hard and heavy in the cotton keep of his briefs—he made a noise. The sound a creature long lost to lust might make when an unheralded notion suddenly surprised him. “The pocket,” he whispered.
She didn’t bother to ask, but quickly fished through his jeans and found—
Oh shit.
Thank God he’d remembered.
She tossed him the condom along with a barked “Put it on.”
He hurried to comply, nudging his underwear down only as far as they needed to go.
Sidney could relate. She was on fire, impatient and quivering with need. All she wanted was to lift up and slide down on that long, lean pole and ride him ’til he wept.
Still, she took a moment to study his perfect form, those ripped abs, his flat stomach, his broad shoulders and, of course, the heavy weight of his cock lying on his belly.
This was her one-night stand. As much as she wanted to get to business, it made sense to memorize this picture. It would be all she had of him after this. All she could have.
She shivered with anticipation as he finished fitting the condom, and she lifted a knee to straddle him.
“The bra,” he huffed, and annoyed with herself, she quickly unhooked it.
He stilled, stared. Then he cupped her and gently pulled her down until he could reach her breasts with his lips.
And God, his mouth was hot on her. He sucked on a tender nipple, and she groaned as a bolt of pure lust slashed through her.
She set herself against his warm cock and rubbed. Her clit was slick and the friction of the rubber caused delight to spiral though her.
Oh, it had to be chemistry. Surely that was what it was.
Surely that was why she tumbled so quickly.
Because, unbelievably, just rubbing against his cock made her come again.
Enough. Enough.
She had to have him in her. Now.
She lifted up, fisted him, and fit him in her entrance.
He stilled. His gaze jerked to hers. His eyes widened.
“Are you ready?” she whispered.
“So ready.” His response was a whisper, but it rose into a low howl as she dropped down on him.
Or maybe the howl was hers. Tough to say. Because as his thick cock entered her, filled her, stroked her tender nerves, something took her. Something savage and feral and raw.
It was, perhaps, the most perfect moment of her life. She wanted to freeze there, stay there, live there.
Apparently, he did not share the inclination.
He arched up, trying to make her move with him, trying to increase the tension between them. When she didn’t respond, he took charge, flipping her over and covering her.
She couldn’t complain, because as deliriously amazing as holding him deep inside her had been, having him fuck her like a jackhammer was better.
And God, oh God. Did he fuck her like a jackhammer.
He held her still with a tight grip on her waist and he stared into her eyes and he power fucked her, slamming in again and again, lifting her leg and taking her from this angle and that. She was mindless of course, a bowl of Jell-O he could arrange as he pleased . . . as long as he kept moving.
When he stilled, she cracked open a lid and glared at him. “What?” she snapped.
He ran his palm up her calf to her foot, which he held suspended over his head. “You have them on,” he said in something like a growl.
She wiggled her foot. “I remembered you liked heels.”
His cock, inside her, surged.
“Fuck.” He let her leg drop and then hooked his arms around her knees, pulling her higher against him. “Fuck.” He thrust. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
She nearly laughed because it was so cute the way he was explaining what he was doing while he was doing it, but she figured if she laughed, it might throw him off his game. And she didn’t want him thrown off his game . . . because she was nearly there. So she joined in his chant. It proved to be the wise course of actio
n when her fucks, twined with his, urged him on to greater effort.
Like the Little Engine That Could, they chugged their way closer and closer to the top of the hill.
She tumbled first, but only—she suspected—because he was holding back, waiting for her.
It was worth the wait, worth the struggle.
When she began to shiver and shake, when the sparkly lights began to flicker on her closed lids, when she began to lose all control of body and soul, his cock seemed to swell inside her, making each hard thrust more agonizing and delightful still.
And then, she snapped.
It came upon her like a warm summer rain, slow at first, but heart-wrenchingly sweet, but then the wind rose, the waves crashed, the tempest swirled around her. And he was right there with her, there in the center of the storm, staring into her eyes and coming into her and giving her everything he had.
And she remembered the last time they’d been joined like this. She remembered the amazing sense of perfection and well-being and the hope for the future she’d held in her heart.
It was a strange, sweet reminiscence. One that bore no resemblance to . . . whatever this was. But it left her with a sense of peace. Of closure. A vindication, perhaps.
Because she’d had him again.
And she’d survived it.
***
She was gone when he awoke. The bed was empty and cold.
And damn, but it gutted him.
Because he wasn’t near done with her.
Sure, she’d insisted on a one-night stand, but what woman actually wanted a one-night stand? He knew he could seduce her again.
It wouldn’t be the end of them. It couldn’t be.
He wasn’t done with her.
Chapter Six
It was one of the hardest things Sidney had ever done, rising quietly from the bed, finding her clothes, and slipping away into the night. She made it to her room without incident, which was a blessing because she was only wearing her blouse—she couldn’t dare take the chance of waking him by dressing in Claire’s room.
She needed some time, some space. An opportunity to process what had just happened and how she felt about it.
Fortunately, Hanna wasn’t in their room, so Sidney curled up in her bed and replayed the interaction with Cody over and over again.
It was her hope that by reliving it again and again she could become inured to the emotions he roused, but it didn’t work out that way. It just made her want more. To kiss him again, make love with him again, have him again . . .
She didn’t expect to fall asleep but she must have because when she opened her eyes, light was streaming into the room.
She glanced at Hanna’s bed and was shocked to see it hadn’t been slept in. Her sister had never come home last night.
On the one hand, she was instantly worried, because it was absolutely not in Hanna’s nature to . . . frolic. On the other hand, there was hope that she was frolicking . . . with Logan.
Sidney threw off her covers and pulled on her clothes and rushed to the window. She wasn’t sure why she went to the window—surely Hanna wouldn’t be loitering in the yard . . . but she was.
She stood, leaning against the paddock fence, staring at the horses ripping out tufts of grass in the field. She looked peaceful, reflective. But Hanna couldn’t be aware that a storm was heading her way . . . in the form of Tibby, who was charging toward her from the side of the house. Her posture and her pace made clear Hanna’s quiet moment was about to be shattered.
Sidney dressed quickly, grabbed her hat, and tore out the door and down the stairs. Huffing like a grandma with emphysema who lived on the top floor of a New York walk-up, she came upon them just as Tibby spoke.
“I went by your room. I knocked,” Tibby snapped. The words were threaded with accusation.
Hanna turned to her and blinked. “When?”
“Last night.”
Oh hell no.
Sidney stepped into the fray with a carefree laugh. “My sis has always been a heavy sleeper,” she said, wrapping an arm around Hanna’s shoulders.
Tibby glowered at her. “I knocked and knocked.”
Sidney shrugged. She glanced at Hanna. “Did you take a sleeping pill? Yeah, I totally get it. That party went on for hours. I couldn’t sleep at all until it quieted down. Must have been, oh, two or three in the morning. Did you have fun last night, Tibbs?” Tibby winced. She hated being called Tibbs. “I noticed you and Mr. Gray cuddling up in the corner.”
Tibby wrinkled her nose. “He was all right. But I really wanted Purple. But he disappeared.” Her gaze narrowed in on Hanna. “About the same time you left . . .”
Crap. “Oh, Purple was hot all right.” Sidney forced a shudder. “I enjoyed myself with him.”
When Hanna’s gaze snapped to her, Sidney winked. “All right. I admit it. I was naughty.” She waggled a finger at Hanna. “And you should be naughty too. It’s your party.” Before Tibby could respond or anything, Sidney hooked her arm in Hanna’s and tugged her away. “Come on,” she said. “There’s a wonderful spread in the dining hall. Have you eaten?”
It was a relief that Tibby didn’t follow.
Hanna shot her a grateful glance as they entered the dining hall, which was nearly deserted. The long table against the wall was covered with chafing dishes. Scents of bacon and French toast wafted around her.
Sidney handed her sister a plate, but Hanna handed it back. “I’m not hungry.”
“Hanna. You need to eat,” she said as she piled some scrambled eggs and bacon onto the plates, then added toast and potatoes.
Hanna stared at the mountain of food. She looked a little green. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Maybe she’d overdone it. “Sit. I’ll get you some water.” She glanced around the table and was annoyed to find all the pitchers empty.
“I don’t want water.”
“Of course you do. Water makes everything better.”
Hanna frowned at her. “No. It doesn’t.”
“I’ll be right back. Sit. Relax.” Without another word, Sidney headed off to the kitchen to refill the empty pitcher.
Hanna looked far too pale for her liking. She was known to have a tender stomach in the mornings sometimes, so coffee was out. Maybe some dry toast?
As she filled the pitcher from the tap, a familiar heat swelled behind her. A shiver of prescience took her.
Or maybe it wasn’t prescience. Maybe it was just his cologne. It made her mouth water.
That was probably the only reason she didn’t lose her hold on the pitcher when he spoke. “Why did you leave?” His voice was low, wounded and danced on the air around her.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Um . . . It was over?”
His face went a little red. “It wasn’t over.”
“Yeah, it kind of was.” She turned away, heading for the dining hall, but he whipped her around.
“Was it?” He yanked her closer and took her lips. He kissed her with a raging passion. She willed herself not to respond.
When he realized she was motionless in his arms, he lifted his head and frowned at her as though he could not understand why. She could hardly blame him. Hell, she could barely understand herself.
It took everything in her to pull away and affect a playful tone. “Now, now, Cody. You’ve already had your kiss.”
“I find I want more.” There was a delicious growl to his voice.
“An agreement is an agreement.”
He leaned back, his perfect features arranged in an alluring pout. “Didn’t you like it? It seemed like you liked it.”
She’d loved it. “That is hardly the point.” She scooped some ice into the pitcher.
“It’s exactly the point.”
“No, Cody.” She set her palm on his warm chest and attempted
to hold him off. Her will was weakening. Alarm bells rang in her head. “It’s not.”
“Then what is the point?”
She stared at him for a long moment, searching for the words, contemplating which truth to tell him. Before she could choose between the dismal options, he spoke.
“We should, you know, explore this thing.”
Thing? Was that what it was? What it had been? A thing? “We don’t have a thing.”
A flush rose on his cheeks. “We did.”
She pushed away. She had to. “Seriously, Cody? You screwed me once in the backseat of my Mustang—”
“I see you still have it.”
Seriously? Fucking seriously? Did he imagine she kept the car because it reminded her of him? Of the night they’d both had too much to drink and she gave herself to him in a besotted stupor?
Hardly.
She couldn’t afford a new car. That was all.
He smirked at her, and her fury escalated.
“You screwed me in the backseat of my Mustang, and a day later, you were dating Tibby Pucey.”
“I—”
“Tibby Pucey!”
“I—”
“The very next day. Couldn’t you even wait, I dunno, a week?”
“Look—”
“Whatja do? Hitch up your britches and head straight over to her place?”
“Sidney, please.” His sharp tone stalled her rant, but only a little. “I only dated her because—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Everyone knew. Tibby’s father was the richest man in town. Sidney’s stomach heaved. Bile tickled at the back of her throat. “And I couldn’t give a shit why you date who you date. Just keep away from me.”
“Sidney—”
“Just drop it, Cody. The fact is, you use women and then just throw them away.”
“I absolutely do not—”
“And I refuse to be one of them.”
He leaned back and studied her for a long, long moment. “You’re punishing me, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“For what I did back then.”
She sucked in a breath and tipped her head to the side. Perhaps a little offense was warranted. “Do you think you deserve punishment?”
