Proving His Worth

by Cari Quinn

  Before that happened, he sucked in a harsh breath and yanked himself back.

  She whimpered helplessly. Her lips had gone numb, yet her mouth seemed hollow and empty without him. “I want it,” she whispered, hoping he would understand.

  He stroked his thumb over her cheek, his unsteady breaths keeping time with hers. “Tell me you’re wet.”

  “I am. So wet.”

  He reached back and slid his fingers between her thighs, barely grazing her pussy. She shuddered so hard that he chuckled, low and dark. “You like me on top of you.”

  “Oh God, yes.”

  But he didn’t give her what she craved. Not his fingers or his cock. Instead he rolled on his back beside her and gripped his erection, working it in slow pulls. “I have a confession.”

  “Uh-oh.” She bit her lip, transfixed by his actions. Even the drumbeat down south couldn’t distract her from those broad fingers squeezing that rigid flesh. “Do you like guys? Because, trust me, I think that’s really hot.”

  He only laughed. “No. That’s not my confession.” He licked his sensual lips. “While I was at work today, thinking of you, I looked up sexual positions on the Internet.”

  She pretended to be shocked. “No way.”

  “Yes way. And I decided I had to have you like this. Me on my back, you facing away.” His voice dropped, roughened. “Bent back, legs over my elbows. Spread so far apart so that when I enter you, you’re all the way open for me.”

  The words seduced her, until she realized what they meant. No. She couldn’t. Not on her back, not with the lights on low. Either she turned them off or she distracted him from something she yearned to do with every morally corrupt fiber of her body. She’d lied to him over and over, yet she still thought she had a right to mourn the modified reverse cowgirl he’d planted in her fantasies.

  The silence stretched between them while her mind whirled. She searched desperately for something to say, and then, like a miracle, he leaned over to turn out the light. “Better?” The question seemed tight somehow, as if asking it hurt him.

  “Yes.” Swallowing hard, she rolled on top of him, trapping his hand and his cock between their stomachs as she pressed her mouth to his. “I’m not as much of an exhibitionist as I used to be.” God, oh God, she hated lying. Especially to him. Especially right now.

  He said nothing, just let her mold her lips to his and tease them open. He let out a shuddering sigh at the brush of their tongues before locking his hands on her hips and spinning her to face the other way. She still hadn’t regained her equilibrium when he slid his erection against her pussy, teasing her, causing her to spasm with need.

  Without warning, he drove upward, impaling her in one sure thrust. He didn’t hesitate, moving in and out in rapid strokes that threatened to make her unravel. She leaned back and he shifted to catch her legs, drawing them back in the manner he’d described. Scooping her in close to his body, surrounding her with his own.

  The scent of their lovemaking dominated her senses and she moaned, rubbing her back over his chest in a futile effort to feel more of him. More of that hard cock slamming in and out, slapping his balls against her ass, more of those taut stomach muscles contracting against her spine. She felt well and truly plowed this way, spread so wide that she almost wished they’d left the closet door open again. Except no, they couldn’t, because she might get caught in her lie.

  With any other man, back to front would’ve suited her fine. With Sterling, she hated not being able to look in his eyes. To close her mouth over his as that inevitable peak approached. She wanted it and despised it at the same time. If he loved her and left her again, she didn’t know what she would do.

  “Reach down and finish yourself off.” Breathless, he panted the words against her shoulder.

  She curled her legs tighter around his arms and reached down to do as he asked, flicking her fingers over her clit. Her back arched. She liked this position, but it wouldn’t be long before her growing belly impeded her view. Best to enjoy herself while she could.

  While he was with her, in every possible way.

  As her fingers circled, white-hot pleasure streaked through her and he groaned when she squeezed around him. Tight, tighter. Her body vibrated on the verge of orgasm already. Stretching a little more, she scraped her nails over where he entered her in short, swift strokes, then quickly returned to that needy little bud she couldn’t touch fast enough.

  Oh, she needed to come. Maybe then she could forget that she was so afraid of the moments after this, when reality descended and he most likely walked right out the door. As soon as the haze of lust cleared, he’d return to all business and she’d be back to being the fickle pregnant girl who couldn’t have landed classy Sterling Vance even if she wanted to.

  Luckily she didn’t. She’d never been more footloose and fancy fucking free.

  She cried out as his teeth latched on to the nape of her neck. That whisper of pain rocketed her climax through her so hard that she jolted upward and would’ve kept flying if his strong hold on her twitching legs hadn’t tethered her to earth. Spasms consumed her, deep and mind-erasing, and with a long groan of his own, he joined her.

  “God, Ang. Ang.”

  Her name shattered something inside her, spurring her contractions on and on. She twisted in his hold, lost to his incredible fullness and the heartbeat stampeding against her back. His skin sealed to hers, damp and hot with sweat, and he gripped her legs in a rigid hold.

  As if he’d never let her go.

  Sterling woke up with a wad of hair in his mouth. Dark, silky hair attached to equally silky skin. He smiled, struck as always by the beauty of the woman curled up in his arms. Naked. Happy.

  Deceitful.

  His chest constricted. Yes, mustn’t forget that part.

  Lightly, he blew away her hair and gave in to the urge to stroke it back into place. The pale morning glow softened her features to the delicacy of glass. Long, dark eyelashes rested on nearly translucent skin. Her rose lips curved even in sleep. And that proud, slightly pointy chin never gave an inch.

  His chest locked up again, his heart racing until his bones seemed insufficient to keep it from pounding out of his body. Dear God, he was falling in love with her.

  If the mental poetry he was spouting didn’t prove it, the fact that he’d gone to sleep cupping her belly probably did. Which meant he wasn’t only falling for her, but for her unborn child as well.

  That was…crazy. Insane. What the hell was wrong with him? They were friends. Only friends. Marcus would kill him. Who fell in love with their buddy’s daughter? That just wasn’t done. Not until he was in his midseventies and too stuck in his ways to give two figs, at any rate. Then again, her father probably wouldn’t prefer for him to have sex with her and return to business as usual, either.

  He’d only slept with her twice. Then there were the online chats. And the pictures. Oh, the pictures. Still, those were hardly enough encounters to judge long-term compatibility. For as long as he’d known her, he never would’ve guessed she was a liar. Yet she was. Even if he acknowledged the likelihood that his behavior had driven her to that point, he refused to take all the blame. Ultimately, the culpability was hers, despite the reasons behind her actions. He needed to assess all known information and come up with a definitive mission statement for their relationship, whether as friends or more.

  More was such an arousing word.

  Too bad he was having trouble viewing her coolly and dispassionately enough to decide if she was a viable love candidate. At least not while his already hardening dick was approximately three inches from the perky swells of her ass.

  Her stomach rumbled and she cuddled in closer, turning her face against his arm. His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he was leaning over to press his lips to her forehead. He didn’t want to get up, but he had to. He was due at Deuces Wild in a few hours, and before that he had one of his martial arts classes. Blowing off either commitment wasn’t a
good idea.

  Staying in bed with her for the rest of his life absolutely wasn’t.

  Gently, he transferred her to the pillows and rolled out of bed. She was hungry, so he should go make her something to eat. That was more important than handling his erection or trying to puzzle out his feelings. Better to stick them back in the box they came in and focus on the task at hand. He was exceedingly good at that.

  “Sterling?”

  That voice, soft and husky with sleep. He couldn’t resist turning to give her a smile, though he had an attack plan already in place. Smile, bid her good morning, escape to make her a healthy breakfast. With lots of magnesium and Vitamin A, along with—

  She had her hand between her thighs. Just stroking idly, as if she were fingering a guitar. No hurry at all. She parted her legs while she toyed with her clit, allowing him to see her wet, pink flesh.

  “Where are you going?” she purred.

  An answer. She expected an answer. Right. He swallowed and waited for his synapses to start firing. Any time now would be wonderful. “I wanted to make you breakfast. Your stomach growled.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet.” She boosted herself against the pillows and moved her legs farther apart. Cocking her knee so that he got a bird’s-eye view of her index finger darting inside her slit. “But another part of me’s even hungrier. My pussy wants your cock.”

  “Jesus.” He rubbed his hand over his head. His hair was standing up in all directions, mostly from her hands the night before. “You get that I’m not the kind of guy women say those things to, right? I’m not the ideal dirty-talking audience. I’m likely to say that a pussy technically can’t want anything as it’s not an independent object, which means that it’s really you who is doing the wanting—”

  “Please shut up, Sterling.” She smiled, full and beautiful. “And get over here already.”

  Trying to stay resolute in the face of that much temptation was futile. He wasn’t that strong.

  He crawled across the bed and placed his hands on either side of her hips, leaning down to catch her lips with his. “I thought men were the ones who woke up insatiable,” he murmured, chuckling.

  She cast a quick look between them, lifting a brow at the erection wedged against her belly. “Looks like we both showed up to play ball.” She wrapped her free hand loosely around the bedpost and seductively flexed her pelvis. “Speaking of balls, I want yours hitting my ass.”

  Yes, his strength vanished in the face of that kind of talk. He moved forward, kneeling between her splayed legs, and brushed the crown of his length over her slick heat. “You forgot to say your beautiful ass.”

  The corner of her mouth rose and she trailed her toes up the back of his thigh. “You want it?” She licked her lips with a long, slow roll of tongue. “You can have that too.”

  For a moment, he had no clue what she meant. When the realization dawned, he shot his gaze up to hers. “What? No. The baby.”

  Her low laughter rippled over his skin. “You can’t use that excuse for everything. Though in case you intended to go somewhere sexytime conversations should never go, yes, I have a short window for the wilder stuff before…well, let’s just say some aspects of pregnancy aren’t as fun as things progress.”

  “That’s what I meant. In my reading, I found—”

  “Uh-uh. No talk like that.” Grinning, she pressed her finger over his lips. “Have you ever?”

  Yet again his mind fuzzed. He’d never spent much time thinking about anal sex, but good Lord, now that she’d planted the seed, he’d grown a whole tree below the waist. “Will I lose street cred if I say no?”

  “Nope. I haven’t either.”

  “But you’re interested?”

  “Sure. A wise friend told me to give it a try, so what the hell, right?”

  “What the hell,” he echoed, wondering if he’d soon wake up alone in his bed.

  None of this could be real. The gorgeous woman lying beneath him couldn’t be touching herself and offering him everything he hadn’t even thought to want.

  He couldn’t be wanting everything she had, in every possible way.

  “Plus, I’m so fucking horny for you the idea has definite merit.” She blinked up at him, all gray-eyed innocence. “It’s up to you. I’m game.”

  He started to shake his head. The standard reply even formed in his throat. I don’t want to hurt you. Then his gaze drifted over her lush, languorous body. She was still flicking her clit, and her breathing sped up to match the movements of her fingers. She liked him watching her. Liked pushing the limits.

  She was lovely and perfect and so sexy his balls ached. And God, she wanted to explore something brand-new, with him. How could he say no?

  But there were practical considerations. “I don’t have any lube.” He couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved.

  Fine, disappointed. No sense in lying to himself any more than he already was.

  “No worries. I do.” She started to roll off the bed, then stopped and shot him a look under her lashes. “Don’t suppose you’d mind going to get it for me? It’s in the top nightstand drawer.” She wiggled the hand between her legs. “I’m kinda busy here, you know?”

  For a second, he believed her. Then he realized why she wouldn’t want to leave the bed at that moment, especially when the room was bathed in sunlight, and the constriction returned to his chest. “Sure.” He got up before he called her on the lie.

  Before he had to admit to himself that he wasn’t much better than she was. After all, he was lying too, wasn’t he? He’d uncovered her deception and hadn’t told her, so that made him untruthful as well. All so he could experience his first round of mildly kinky sex.

  He walked down the hall, fisting his hands at his sides and receiving the usual protest from his injured knuckles for his trouble. No, that wasn’t it. The idea she’d presented intrigued him, sure. But what he wanted from her was so much more elemental than that. He wanted her laughter and her kisses and the contented way she cuddled up against him in sleep like a happy kitten. He wanted her to trust him, to know he’d never let her or her child down like that bastard Pete Lamont had.

  Instead of saying any of that, what was he doing? Getting the lube. The lube, for God’s sake.

  She wasn’t any better. Unless he’d read her all wrong, he’d gleaned that she had a tendency to use sex as a distraction from her emotions. She’d probably been concerned when she’d awakened to find him walking away from the bed. Maybe she’d believed he was having second thoughts, so she’d decided to use her body as a lure. If only she knew the thing he was second-guessing was falling irrevocably in love.

  But he couldn’t. Not until he knew why she’d lied. And getting the lube wasn’t going to bring him one iota closer to the answer. He needed to be honest with her and demand the same. Perhaps she’d have a good explanation and then they could—

  What? Play house? Have crazy sex until her baby was born, at which time he’d give it—and her—his last name and they’d all live happily ever after?

  He rubbed his temple and opened her bedroom door. This was all going too fast. He should turn around and insist they talk. She’d tell him that she was hot for his cock or something along those lines but just didn’t see him as anything beyond a lover. Surely that would cool his ardor. He didn’t chase women who didn’t want him. Ever. Talking would be the best move all the way around.

  Instead he went to her nightstand and took out the small tube of lube—raspberry flavored, of course, to match her shampoo—from where it was so nicely nestled next to a pink, curved item that was not a motorized toothbrush, despite the fact it had little bristly-looking things on one end. Beside that was a loop of something silky that she probably didn’t use as a hair tie.

  Quickly, he closed the drawer. He was so out of his depth in this arena. That didn’t mean he couldn’t learn to swim, right? Motivation and desire were as important as inherent skill. And he’d always been a fast learner.

&nb
sp; Even so, it took him a couple of minutes to get his wits about him enough to return to his bedroom. Stupid to be nervous. He’d always managed to pleasure her so far. Well, minus that unfortunate first time when she’d most likely faked her orgasm. Since then everything had been good. More than. This would be too.

  He inhaled deeply and headed down the hall to his room. On the threshold, he stopped and smiled.

  Ang had curled up in the center of the bed, the covers huddled over her back and nearly covering her head. She must’ve just shut her eyes for a second and boom, out like a light. Either that or she’d decided to fake sleeping to get out of having anal sex with the uptight dude who wasn’t quite sure about taking control on every level yet.

  Then she let out a soft snore and his smile widened. Guess she wasn’t faking.

  He set the lube on the nightstand and sat down beside her on the bed to stroke her hair. Her lips curved, but she didn’t open her eyes. Another moment later, she was quietly snoring again. So cute.

  Watching her sleep was addictive. He spent half an hour doing just that, then rose to make her breakfast.

  Taking care of her felt too natural. Right. Just like everything else he was trying hard as hell not to get used to.

  When he returned with a tray containing bacon, eggs, fresh grapefruit, wheat toast and orange juice, she was still sound asleep. He set the tray on the nightstand and eased in beside her before stroking her cheek. “Baby, there’s bacon.”

  Nothing.

  He rubbed his thumb over her lips. “Ang. Time to eat.”

  Her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes, stifling a yawn. “Morning already?” She blinked, her gaze narrowing on his as her cheeks pinkened. “Oh shit. I totally wigged on you.”