Seducing Allie: Seattle Steam, Book 3

by Shelli Stevens

  She went to sit on the leather couch and grabbed the remote off of the coffee table. After turning on the TV she flipped through the channels until she found a makeover reality show that looked somewhat interesting.

  Five minutes later, she flipped channels again, appalled at the garbage some networks were putting out nowadays.

  She settled on watching the news, mainly because it was boring enough to make her drowsy. Her gaze shifted to the time at the bottom of the news program and she yawned. Eleven.

  Grabbing the fleece throw resting over the back of the couch, she pulled it over her body and snuggled deeper into the cushions of the couch.

  Her eyelids fluttered, once, then twice. Finally she gave up trying to pretend she cared about the latest pop star’s demise and let them stay shut.

  A loud crash woke her. She jerked upright, her heart fluttering in her chest. What the hell had that been?

  From the stairway came a slow groan and she kicked the blanket off her legs, lurching off the couch.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” she scoffed and hurried up the stairs to where Clint sat on his butt.

  “Thirsty.”

  She grasped his elbow with an exasperated sigh. “But I left you tea.”

  “Drank—ouch—” he winced and touched his throat, “—it already.”

  “All right. I’ll get you some water, but for the love of God, please stay in bed, already, will you?”

  He gave the barest hint of a nod.

  After a little more effort than she cared for, she finally got him back into bed.

  “I thought—” he swallowed and winced, “—you’d left me.”

  He stared up at her with mournful eyes that could have been set on a stray dog. Pathetic and pleading. Endearing and adorable in a sexy way.

  “If I were going to leave you, then I would have done it when I took your SUV.” She placed her hands on her hips and blew a strand of hair out of her eye. “But obviously I came back.”

  His chest puffed up and the pathetic puppy look shifted to something hotter and possessive.

  Her pulse sped up and she drew in a quick breath. “I’ll go get that water.”

  Before he could say anything else or give her another look that made her panties melt, she spun on her heels and raced back down the stairs.

  Her hand trembled as she filled a glass full of water. Good Lord this man affected her. No man had ever had this kind of power over her. The power to make her knees weak and her heart race as if she’d run a mile.

  Clint had made love to her in a way no other man past or present would be able to equal. And the idea freaked her out more than a little.

  She clenched her fists and drew in an unsteady breath. Stop thinking about it.

  Spying a box of saltine crackers on the counter, she stopped to grab a handful. He would probably be getting hungry. Had he even eaten since this morning?

  She had. She’d taken out the rest of the granola bars in the backseat when she’d first stolen his car. Then the guilt had kicked it, proved too much to resist, and she’d turned around to go get him.

  After a brief search of the cupboards turned up a tray, she placed the water and crackers on it and set off up the stairs again.

  She half expected him to be passed out in the bed when she arrived. Instead, he laid semi reclined against the pillows, his gaze focused on the stairs as she entered the loft.

  Relief flickered in his gaze and she felt another stab of guilt. He really expected her to run and leave him. But then she really couldn’t blame him. Maybe he figured that since she’d gotten him back to his place, she would have a clear conscience to bail.

  And technically you could.

  She squelched back the voice of reason and walked toward the bed, setting the tray down on the mattress.

  “Thank you,” he whispered and grabbed the glass from her.

  She watched as he tilted the glass back and drank with obvious thirst. Her gaze lowered to his neck and the muscles that moved as he swallowed.

  A drop of water slid past his lips and rolled off his chin, landing with a splat onto his naked chest.

  She swallowed hard, her gaze focused on the brown nipples just beneath the smattering of chest hair. A vision flickered in her head. An image of her straddling him, her hair brushing his chest as she leaned down to flick her tongue over the small nipples.

  Desire stirred low in her belly and she bit back a groan.

  You’re ridiculous, Allison. The man is sick and you’re thinking dirty thoughts.

  She shook her head and bit back a snort.

  The crunching of a cracker snapped her attention back to him. He’d picked up a saltine and eaten half.

  “Don’t go back to the couch.”

  She lifted her gaze to his and saw the determination in them. The words had hurt his throat. It had been evident in the raw tone and tight expression on his face.

  “Clint, you’re sick,” she said softly.

  He ate the last half of the cracker, but didn’t look away from her. After he’d swallowed and taken another sip of water, he patted the bed.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes, even as her heart fluttered like a restrained butterfly in her chest. Damn it. This was getting ridiculous.

  “Clint…”

  He caught her hand and tugged her forward. She stumbled the few steps until her knees bumped into the frame of the bed.

  “Stay.”

  He propped himself up and she suddenly found herself well within easy reach of him.

  Using two fingers, he tugged at the waistband of the jeans he’d bought her. It was a light tug, but had enough momentum to make her surrender and sit down on the mattress.

  He urged her down onto her back and she laid her head on the pillow, while he remained propped up above her.

  “Clint…”

  His fingers moved to her mouth, cutting off her words of protest.

  She obediently pressed her lips together and bit back a sigh at the rough texture of his fingertips.

  He moved his hand downward, over the swell of her breast then onto the plane of her stomach. His fingers stopped at the waistband of her jeans and this time she was unable to stop the ragged breath that escaped. Her entire body sizzled with hot awareness.

  He lifted his gaze to hers as his fingers slid the button through the hole in the denim before tugging the tab of her zipper down.

  She bit her lip and watched the flare of desire in his eyes.

  “Off,” he whispered and gave her now undone jeans another tug, leaving no doubt in her mind what he intended.

  And this was why she would have been a terrible nurse. The man wasn’t feeling well and needed his rest, and yet she had no intention of stopping him from pursuing whatever naughty intentions he had.

  Hell no. In fact, she decided, kicking off her jeans, she had every intention of encouraging him.

  Now, clothed only in the tiny thong he’d bought her and the short sleeve T-shirt, she lay back down and watched him watch her.

  His murmur of approval was barely audible as he moved to lie beside her. He rolled onto his side, his lips seeking the hollow of her throat while his hand moved confidently to cup between her legs.

  Her back arched and she tilted her head to allow his lips to graze the spot between her neck and shoulder.

  Moisture gathered hot between her legs, the sweet ache increasing when he ground the heel of his palm against her mound.

  His mouth opened over her neck and he sucked, each pull sending stabs of pleasure straight between her legs. She squirmed against him almost dizzy with desire now.

  He slipped a finger beneath the silk thong and deep into her.

  “Mmm.” He lifted his mouth from the rapid beating pulse on her neck to claim her lips. His tongue thrust deep and he added a second finger inside her.

  She matched the taunting flicks of his tongue, angling her head to deepen the kiss as he pressed her harder against the pillow.

  The slick sou
nds of him moving his fingers in and out of her channel made her flush self-consciously. God, she was turned on. So damn hot for him. She’d never responded to another man like this.

  He slipped his thumb beneath her thong as well to find her sensitized nub, the two fingers inside her still penetrating her with maddening slowness.

  He rolled her own moisture over the sensitive ball of flesh and her hips jerked against him.

  “Like that?” he murmured hoarsely, lifting his mouth from hers.

  “Please. Oh God.” She gripped his forearms, her eyes almost rolling into the back of her head as her nails dug into his skin.

  He added more pressure with his thumb and stroked his fingers along the wall of her channel.

  Allison panted, bucking against his hand as incoherent pleas spilled from her lips.

  His mouth descended to capture hers again, just as he hit all the right spots at once.

  Her body went taut, her calves tightened and her toes curled. The choked gasp she made was caught up in the kiss, swept away with his tongue.

  Nearly a minute must have passed before the trembling subsided from her weak muscles. Several minutes before coherent thought entered her head again.

  Clint fell back on the bed, looking as weak and out of breath as she felt.

  Guilt twisted in her gut and she pressed a hand against her own hot forehead. Only hers was hot because he’d made her hot, not because she was fighting off some God-awful virus.

  “Clint?” She sat upright, smoothed the hair back from his forehead.

  He groaned and made a weak effort to push her hand away.

  “What? What’s wrong? Do you feel sicker?”

  He reached for the sheet and pulled it up over his waist, but not before she’d spotted the sizeable erection he sported.

  She grinned and ran a hand over his chest. “We can do something about that you know.”

  He grimaced and shook his head. “Can’t,” he whispered. “I can barely move.”

  Her smile turned mischievous and she laughed softly. “You don’t have to move, Clint. You just need to sit there and let me take you in my mouth.”

  His chest rose visibly and held. When she lifted her gaze to his, his pupils were dilated and his mouth had tightened.

  He’d just given her the most delicious orgasm and now was going to try to fall asleep with a raging hard-on? Wasn’t that a form of torture in some countries?

  She tugged the sheet down, even as he reached out to try and stop her.

  “Really, Clint.” She ran her finger over his erection, straining against the fabric of his boxers and said softly, “It’s my turn.”

  “You don’t—”

  “I want to.” She looked at him again and ran her tongue over her lips. “Just lie back and think of England.”

  He gave a weak laugh that turned into a cough, but made no further effort to push her away.

  Not that she’d really expected him to. The man was in some serious discomfort.

  Turning her focus back to her mission, she hooked her fingers into the elastic of his boxers and pulled them down.

  His flesh slid free, proud and hard into the air, a tiny drop of moisture on the tip.

  Her lips curled upward and her pulse fluttered. She hadn’t tasted him yet. Hadn’t gone down on him. But then the times they’d been intimate before had been a completely different ambiance. Had been hot and passionate. It was still those things, but the desperate edge was gone.

  This felt softer, more sensual. Almost…loving. She didn’t want to think about loving.

  “Allie?” Her name was hesitant and hoarse on his lips.

  She blinked and forced a slight smile. “Sorry. I was just thinking…”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  Instead of going into depth about her don’t-even-want-to-go-there thoughts, she settled for a more seductive response. “About how you taste.”

  He drew in a swift breath as she leaned over him, her hair sweeping down across his stomach.

  She nuzzled his shaft, inhaling the salty muskiness of him before letting her tongue dart out to catch the drop of liquid on his tip.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At the first touch of her tongue, Clint was sure he would explode. His hips bucked and the air seethed out from between clenched teeth.

  “Mmm. You taste good.” Her breathy laughter feathered over his thigh before her tongue swept across the head of his dick again.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body’s response to slow down. The blood thundered through his veins, rushing south to give him the biggest damn hard-on he’d probably ever had.

  Her tongue dragged up the length of his cock, before circling the head again. She paid extra attention to the tiny crease below.

  “Do you want me to take you in my mouth?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with a husky naughtiness. “Take you so deep that you’re stroking the back of my throat?”

  Jesus. And now she was pulling out the dirty talk. As if it weren’t already a guarantee he would come. But she’d figured out how much he liked it.

  He opened his eyes and met her heated gaze with a slow nod.

  “You do?” She didn’t look away as she lowered her head and closed her mouth around the tip. She drew hard on him once, then released him with a popping sound.

  His balls tightened and he bit back a groan of frustration.

  Her lips curved slightly. “Do you want me to suck you until you come?”

  He nodded again. Hell yeah he did. He wanted to thoroughly fuck that pretty mouth of hers, have her swallow everything when he finally exploded.

  She lifted an eyebrow, almost as if to taunt him. As if she knew his thoughts.

  Needing her mouth on him and unable to take any more of her teasing, he reached out and wove his fingers into her silky hair.

  “How bad do you want it, Clint?”

  With a growl that irritated his already sore throat, he urged her mouth back down.

  She smiled and let him slide past her moist lips. Her tongue moved over his length as he slid deep into her mouth before finally brushing against the back of her throat.

  He closed his eyes, his breathing uneven as he savored the feel of her mouth around him. Hot and wet, the texture of her tongue maddening against his flesh.

  Still holding her hair, he pulled his hips back, drawing out slightly. Only for a moment did he tease the head of his dick against her lips before moving back into her mouth.

  She found her own rhythm, following the movements of his hips and sliding her mouth up and down on him. Her soft hands reached down to fondle his balls and she started to suck harder on him.

  Clint eased his fingers from her hair and relaxed against the mattress, giving her control.

  She adjusted her body and the new angle brought him deeper into her mouth, down her throat.

  He pressed his lips together and the air locked in his lungs with the impending climax. His balls clenched and the muscles in his body went rigid.

  “Allie,” he choked out her name, trying to give her a moment’s warning before he came.

  She didn’t move away, just slowed the pace of her mouth. Then it was too late.

  The guttural groan he made set his throat on fire, but the pain barely registered as he climaxed. His mind went blank as pleasure roared through his body.

  He spilled himself into her willing mouth, encouraged by her moan of approval. She drew on him, sucking every last drop from him until he was empty and weak on the bed.

  The soft strands of her hair trailed across his stomach as she lifted her head from him.

  “See?” she murmured, drowsily. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

  Clint opened his eyes slowly, his breathing still heavy. That had been amazing. So damn incredible. One night with her would never be enough. Somehow he knew one year wouldn’t even be.

  In her gaze he read satisfaction and yet the faintest hint of doubt.

  “Come here,” he whispered an
d held out his hand.

  She didn’t hesitate, just climbed up the bed and lay next to him.

  He tugged the covers up over them and slid his arm around her, drawing her into the curve of his body.

  The rapid pounding of his heart began to slow and the tenderness for Allison he’d been trying to deny existed swelled up in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

  He brushed his lips against her forehead, squelching back the possibility he was falling for her—really falling for her. Like, ditch any pretense of just being friends, because he wanted so much more.

  She snuggled closer and pressed a kiss against his chest in response.

  His brows drew together as drowsiness threatened to pull him into slumber. Then again maybe he wasn’t the only one falling.

  Clint woke from a heavy sleep, disoriented and hurting like hell.

  If he’d thought yesterday was the peak of this sickness, then he’d been ridiculously wrong. Swallowing was damn near impossible, his head pounded like there was a teenager inside it with a drum set, and every muscle in his body felt like Jell-O.

  He blinked a few times, trying to focus. He was home. The night before rushed back to him at the same moment he realized the soft weight pressed against his side.

  Twisting his head, he noted Allison curled up against him. Her head tucked into the crook of his arm and one of her legs thrown across his.

  Memories of the erotic way she’d gone down on him—the way she’d been determined to take care of him flickered through his head.

  Lord, she was lovely. So innocent and sweet looking in her sleep. And the way she’d stayed snug against him all night, he’d wager she hadn’t moved from his side once.

  Guilt pricked in his gut and he gave a silent sigh. He’d been selfish enough to bring her to bed with him last night, but had he even taken a moment to consider he’d probably gotten her sick now?

  The poor girl. She’d be miserable when it hit her.

  As if sensing he’d wakened, she stirred against him and gave a soft little moan, her breast brushed against his ribcage.

  If he weren’t so damn miserable, he’d probably be rock hard from the contact. But as it was he was lucky to go half-mast.