“Wow.” Erin blinked at him. “I can’t believe you remember me saying that.”
“I remember a lot of things,” Zander said, his smile serious. He did, too. He remembered Erin’s face the moment after he’d kissed her for the first time. She’d been surprised—he’d been surprised. They’d been walking down the trail toward the lighthouse and she’d stepped up on a rock so she was almost his height, and he’d just stopped and pulled her to him. When he’d lifted his lips from her mouth, she’d stayed there a moment longer—her eyes still shut, her lips still parted—as if she were trying to preserve the moment, to mold her memory into perfect form the way she would a lump of clay.
He also remembered when they’d made love for the first time, Erin nervous and awkward but so trusting, so deeply in love with him that he felt as if he could carry the whole world on his back. She’d been all arms and legs back then, it had seemed, her energy scattered and unfocused, half-girl, half-woman, half-lightning bolt…but now everything felt more…right. Like her bones were finally finding their place inside her skin, her brain inside her skull.
But the one thing that didn’t fit was her not painting. Really painting the way she was meant to paint, the way he’d seen her do it those days back in her gran’s studio, with her eyes wild and her heart on the canvas, her face flushed with emotion. That’s the Erin he remembered, and he could tell from her expression that she could see that memory in his eyes, too.
“You went off to conquer the world,” she said quietly. “And I…didn’t. I had my degree to consider, requirements to fulfill. I knew that my most technically proficient work was my most controlled stuff, so that’s what I focused on, driving for my degree as quickly as possible, especially after Gran died.” She shrugged. “I guess I got a little lost along the way.”
Her voice was so sad that he reached out and grazed his fingers across her chin. “Getting lost’ll happen,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean you have to stay lost.”
Erin smiled, shaking her head. “And that sounds like the Zander I remember,” she said, her words little more than a sigh. “You really aren’t afraid of anything, are you?”
“Other than questions like that?”
She gave that short, heartbreaking laugh again. “I’m serious. It seems like I spent most of my childhood afraid of screwing up—and then I screwed up big time, with you. Maybe that’s part of why I shifted focus with my painting, too. I couldn’t afford to screw that up. Only maybe in the process of not screwing it up, I controlled it to death.”
“I have noticed control is kind of a big thing with you,” Zander said dryly, and Erin snorted.
“Yeah, well. I never had a say in anything when I was growing up, never had control. I always seemed forced into doing something crazy I didn’t want to do. But how much has really changed?” She waved her hand around the room. “I’m out here in the middle of nowhere, still about to do something crazy I don’t want to do.”
“Well, hell, sweetheart,” Zander said, the words coming out of him before he really understood what he was saying. “Maybe you should start doing the crazy kind of things you do want to do.”
That caught her. Her gaze swung around to meet his again. “What are you talking about?”
And then he did understand what he was saying. Understood it and welcomed every inch of it. “I mean, sometimes, in the face of no control, you have to take control back. To do something—anything—that’s just on your terms. Something you do for the hell of it, just to remind yourself that you’ve got more power than you think you do, even when it seems like you don’t have any power at all.” He leaned forward, pinning her eyes with his gaze. “So, you tell me, Erin,” he murmured. “What do you really want to do, right this second?”
Chapter 20
Erin didn’t move for a moment. Instead, she held Zander’s gaze. His open, interested, even challenging gaze that told her that all she had to do was ease forward, just the tiniest bit, and he would be there to catch her. Zander, who could write the book on stupid, dangerous, reckless moves, would be there to help Erin take her own first, unstable steps on her very own path to adventure.
“I want you, Zander,” she said. And she closed her eyes so fast she almost got dizzy, still unreasonably worried that he’d say no. “That’s what I want. I want to really feel you—every inch of you, wrapped around me tight.”
She felt the pressure on the bed change as Zander rocked toward her, felt his lips brush hers, so light and sure that she almost sighed. Then his mouth moved, his tongue slipping out to lick her lips. “Open your eyes, Erin,” he said.
She did, pulling back just a little to meet his gaze, and he smiled and nodded. “That’s my girl. So we’ve got something to work with here. You want to touch me, wrap yourself up with me. Have you given any thought to what in particular you have in mind?”
“What?” She blushed furiously. Was he insane? She’d spent most of the past few years imagining what it would be like to have Zander back in her arms—to explore his body, how much he’d changed, how much he’d stayed the same. She’d fantasized about tear-stung apologies and hopeful reconciliations and even angry shout-downs that had all ended the same way, their bodies a tangle of arms and legs, mouths and tongues and skin…
“Interesting,” Zander said, his voice barely more than a purr. “You gonna tell me what those thoughts are?”
She wanted to speak, she truly did. But too many years of stuffing down her emotions and three days of nonstop adrenaline were taking their toll. His chuckle let her off the hook, but only slightly. “That’s okay, darling,” he drawled. “I’ve got more than enough ideas for the both of us. You just let me know when I hit one of yours.”
—
Zander took Erin’s long, throaty sigh as all of the encouragement he needed—for now. Because he couldn’t deny what his body wanted, any more than he could catch a bullet in his hand and toss it back. But later, Erin would have some explaining to do. Some deep and intense explaining, about her past, about her relationship with him, about her painting—and about all the subtle lies she’d told him, pretty much from the moment he’d first met her. And he wouldn’t let her off the hook then, just like he wasn’t about to stop what they’d started, now.
“I need you out of these clothes, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she nodded, her movements jerky, uncertain, as if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of her, but instead was dying to learn something new and different about the landscape of her body. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, fumbling for the bra clasp at the center of her breasts even as he pushed her hands away. “Let me look at you first,” he said.
Her eyes fluttered closed, as if, again, she couldn’t bear the thought of what she saw on his face. “Nah, babe, eyes up here.” He reached out and tilted her chin up until she opened her eyes, and he found himself staring into that dark, haunting gaze once more, as bright and intense as he’d always remembered it, every time he’d thought of her over the course of four long years.
With Erin now staring at him, transfixed, Zander took his time. He dropped his gaze to her trembling mouth as he stroked her lower lip with his thumb, marveling at how sweet and soft it was. Then he curved both hands over her shoulders, his wide, sun-darkened paws looking oddly out of place against her pale skin. “You don’t even have any tan lines. I just noticed that,” he murmured, marveling at the perfection of her skin, even as Erin laughed shakily.
“I’m in the studio or the gallery all the time, I—oh!” Her breath cut off short as he traced the delicate lace-edged straps of her bra down to the cups, cradling her small, perfect breasts in his palms while his thumbs edged up over the lip of the satin, teasing at the sweet, pink edge of her nipples as he dragged the material away and exposed her.
He rumbled something low in his throat and then was leaning forward, nuzzling her right breast and taking her nipple in his mouth, sucking gently. Erin sighed, her back arching instinctively as her body sought to press closer to hi
m. Some things did remain the same between them, would always remain the same, it seemed. He still loved her body, wanted it so badly it hurt. And it still wanted him back. Zander moved to the other breast as his fingers found and unhooked the center of Erin’s bra, his right hand cupping the soft fullness of her as he suckled and kissed, and absorbed her shudders. Vaguely, he was aware of her hands on his shoulders, his arms, trailing over his biceps, following the road map of his myriad fading scars. Then he dipped his head down further, tracing a line of kisses to her stomach, leaning her back on the bed as he felt the heat between him, his mind going sideways as he imagined her tight heat surrounding him once more. God, they’d been together mere hours earlier, but he still couldn’t shake how much he’d missed her body while he’d been deployed—more than he’d ever realized. More than he would have believed possible. All the women he’d seen, touched, fantasized over—never once had he gone for Erin’s type during the four years he’d been away from her. Because he hadn’t wanted anyone but her, in the end. She was the original, the one perfectly right for him.
She was his.
“Zander, if I’m the one taking control here, you…you need to be undressed,” Erin said as he reached for the placket of her shorts. He paused, blinking up at her, to find her cheeks had flushed flame red. The idea of her ordering him around served to fan his need higher—and with one movement he pulled his shirt off over his head…only to see Erin’s eyes flare wide with heat so intense, it scorched him from three feet away. Looks like someone had been missing his body, too.
He watched, hard as a board, as Erin pressed her delicate long fingers to the broad planes of his chest. “You know, you’d think I’d be getting used to this by now,” she murmured. “And yet…”
“You like what you see?”
“I sincerely do.” Erin blinked her eyes rapidly, slanting her glance away. She would have pulled her hands away from him, too, but Zander caught them, held them against his now-taut muscles, his entire body hanging on what she would say next. Her mouth was trembling as she licked her bottom lip. The woman was going to flat-out kill him, that was the only way this could end if she kept that up.
Then she spoke again. “Zander, I keep forgetting…you’re like a freaking god now,” she murmured, dismay edging into her voice. “I need to get to the gym more.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He slid her hand down the length of his abs and over the worn material of his cargo shorts to where he was straining hard enough to burst a seam. When her fingers connected with the heaviness of his erection, she gave him a lopsided grin. “Yeah,” he grunted. “I don’t think you have to worry about hitting the gym.” He lifted his hand away from hers and pulled at the front of her khaki shorts. “Now if you don’t mind, looks like we’re both a little overdressed for this.”
Her hand on his bicep made him shudder, jerking him to a stop the way a mountain stopped a runaway train. He’d thought he’d mastered the art of self-control in the military, but apparently he still had a thing or two to learn. Then Erin’s words made it through the white noise in his brain. “Zander,” she whispered. “Let me?”
“Let you—” But she was already moving, her fingers trailing up the hard length of him to where the snap and zipper of his shorts barely restrained him. He pressed his hands into the mattress, feeling the sweat on his brow, until she unzipped his shorts and his cock practically thudded into her hand, nothing but the soft jersey of his boxer briefs between them.
“Ohh,” Erin said. “I think we’ve just hit on one of my ideas.”
—
Erin gave herself over to the moment as she pushed Zander fully upright, so that he stood at the edge of the bed while she knelt on the mattress, his body even more on display to her now that she’d pushed his shorts down and snagged the edge of his briefs with her thumbs. She drew the soft cotton down his legs, smiling as he kicked them off, even while she marveled at the sharp definition of his calves. Her gaze raked up again, and she reached out to place her hands on either side of his thighs. They were heavier than she’d realized, thick with corded muscle, and she pressed her palms against the heat of them as she leaned in, her mouth perilously close to where his shaft quivered in the air.
“Erin,” Zander growled, and because he couldn’t see her, she allowed herself a smile. Bracing herself against the tree trunk of his left leg, she drew her right hand in and played her fingers under the heaviness of his balls, barely flinching when Zander’s own hand dropped to her shoulders, half in warning, half in desperation.
“Shhh,” she said, snaking her tongue out. She’d already explored every inch of his body, but it was terrain she didn’t think she could ever get tired of. She licked the soft underside of his cock all the way to the tip, tasting him all over again, teasing him, before trailing her mouth down the side in small kisses. His shaft seemed impossibly heavy, and when she moved her mouth upward once more, this time slipping the tip of him into her mouth and sucking lightly, the delicate weight of his balls tightened in her loose grasp, drawing up as if they were about to explode. She allowed herself a pure, low, feminine moan of pleasure.
And that was apparently all the control Zander was going to be able to give up in this little exercise.
With a firm and decidedly purposeful move, Erin found herself wrenched away from Zander’s body and flipped onto her back, her shorts whisked off of her body without even seeming to be unsnapped.
“Zander!” she gasped, instinctively trying to get the upper position again, but he was suddenly right there, pinning her arms down, his body taut as a bowstring over her shaking form as he stared hard into her eyes.
“You want me, Erin?” he said, and her eyes went wide.
“Are you kidding?” she asked, staring at him, though under the intensity of his gaze she couldn’t seem to move very far. “Is there anything about anything I was doing that made it seem like I didn’t want you? That I don’t? You drive me crazy just by breathing.”
“Yeah?” he said, his words too tight, too intense. His body swayed forward. Somehow Erin’s silk underwear had remained more or less in place, but she didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing as Zander’s heavy cock settled against the vee of her thighs. He nudged against her, and her breath faltered despite herself. “You ready for a little more of that crazy, then?”
Oh, yes. Erin felt suddenly detached, her mind spiraling into one of a thousand fantasies, only to be caught up short as Zander’s hard, insistent mouth covered hers, his tongue forcing its way into her parted lips, pushing insistently inside her mouth. He pulled away just that quickly, leaving her gasping. “Stay with me, Erin,” he growled, and she blinked at him, trying to focus on his glare even as the pressure returned between her legs. “I can feel how wet you are, babe. You wanna tell me what you want me to do about that?”
He couldn’t be serious. Erin’s cheeks heated with the rush of blood, her body squirming beneath Zander’s weight, her breasts aching to feel his hands against them, though he still held her arms pinned. Still, as she writhed, his gaze did drop to her breasts, and his chuckle was low and masculine. “That’s a good start, I’ll admit,” he murmured. He maneuvered back on his knees, then bent down and took the very tip of her breast into his mouth, really only the nipple, tugging it, drawing his rough tongue over the sensitized surface. Erin moaned and arched up into his body, embarrassed at the urgency of her sigh.
“Zander,” she managed to say as he shifted direction, his mouth now on her right breast, his hands still locked on her wrists, his legs still between hers, but the delicious pressure of his shaft no longer where she needed it, no longer soothing the ache building in her core. “I really, really need you back where you were.”
“You think?” he asked, his lips still at her breast for another moment. Then in one smooth movement he performed a sort of tuck and roll, and his back was flat on the bed and she was above him, her hands on his chest, her legs straddling him, his hard shaft pressing against her so i
ntimately she almost passed out with need.
“Such a sweet ass,” he murmured, and she felt his rough palms against her backside, seating her more firmly against him. “I always did love your ass. Look at me, Erin.”
Her eyes flew open. When had she closed them? And she found herself gazing into Zander’s uncompromising eyes. He scooted her back, somehow able to move her body around like she was some kind of doll, and she felt his hands sliding forward, peeling the delicate lace strap of her thong away from her body. He didn’t give her time to think, however, as suddenly the fingers of his right hand dipped beneath the overheated fabric, tracing the slick folds beneath.
“Look at me,” Zander ordered again, and Erin realized she’d half-closed her eyes. She refocused just as Zander dipped his finger into her, the movement so intimate, shocking, and needed that she swayed, bracing herself on his chest and trying to simultaneously endure the intense pleasure and lift away before she exploded.
“No you don’t, sweetheart,” he said, and his left hand cupped her bottom and urged her forward even as his fingers explored her. “God, you’re ready for me, aren’t you,” he said, and she heard it then, the rawness of his voice, the ragged desire. A strange sort of power surged through her, and she stopped her resistance for just a second and sank forward, allowing his fingers to stretch up, impossibly deep inside her, the feel of him shockingly intimate.
Zander instantly stilled beneath her, then picked up the rhythm again, stroking her more firmly as the pressure suddenly increased, a second finger now stretching her wide. “You’re so goddamned tight, babe.” His fingers sure and steady, Zander had found the nub of her clit with unerring precision and was now swirling his thumb on it, and she couldn’t escape the movement. Erin felt herself spiraling sharply upward, already hurtling toward release, and she gasped in protest. “God, Zander, no,” she cried, and she sensed more than saw the hard set to his mouth, the fierce smile as he watched her hungrily. “I want…I want you inside me.”
Want It Page 17
