A Shot at Love

by Peggy Jaeger

  “No.”

  That one, small word was filled with such authority, such command, she was powerless against it.

  He spread her legs apart with the flick of his hand. Even through the thin material of the shorts covering her, Gemma felt completely exposed.

  And more turned on than she could ever remember.

  He bunched the hem of her short T-shirt and pushed it up over her belly, his mouth following the shirt’s trek, up, until he got to the underside of her breasts, where he stopped. The warm, moist sensation of his breath on her skin was glorious.

  “Still sure?” he asked, looking her square in the eyes.

  “Yup.”

  He lifted the shirt, exposing her breasts, then tugged it over her head and tossed it behind him. He weighed each breast in his hands, holding them as if they were precious jewels. With a quick glance at her, he bent his head, his mouth sucking one nipple to a hardened point, then the other.

  Gemma squirmed against the sheets. Each time his tongue tugged, an invisible beat of desire pulsed to the lower part of her body. It was almost painful. Almost. But among the pain was exquisite pleasure.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her rib cage. “So soft.”

  He plumped her breasts in his hands. “So perfect.”

  Sitting back on his knees, his wove his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, and slunk his gaze up to hers again. Fiery didn’t begin to do justice to the amount of heat staring at her.

  “Still sure?” he asked again in that wicked bedroom voice that he had to know no sane woman could resist.

  Gemma took a breath, loving that he thought enough of her to give her the chance of an out.

  But she didn’t want an out. She wanted an in—as in him. In her.

  “Abso-friggin-lutely.”

  And let’s not forget that sexy leer. He had to know what that little lift of the corners of his mouth did to the pulses of women in the room. Any room.

  Slowly, so slow she grew impatient with the urgent need to feel him inside her, Ky drew her shorts down, exposing her skin inch by inch, while his mouth and tongue trailed after. She felt singed by fire every place he crossed.

  Gemma lifted her hips so he could draw the shorts over her butt, her movement nudging her mound straight into his lips. When she gasped, he simply chuckled, dragged his nose and mouth from one side of her to the other, licking his way across. She closed her eyes and thanked the gods of beauty and timing she’d gone for a waxing the week before. Her shorts hit the floor with a dull thud.

  Her eyes flew open when she realized Ky had stopped his travels.

  He was sitting back on his haunches, his hands fisted on his thighs, just staring down at her. The bottom half of her.

  “What?” she said, growing nervous and unsure. Did he not like a woman to be groomed? What is too much? Not enough?

  She swore he growled, then murmured something low and quick, in Greek.

  “That sounded hot. Tell me what it means.” She pushed up on her elbows.

  He cocked his head and lifted his gaze from her naked crotch to her eyes.

  Good lord, the man invented the smoldering stare. She actually felt the moisture begin to drip between her legs from the look alone.

  “It loses a little something in the translation,” he told her, his voice dark and low as he gripped her thighs between his fingers and squeezed. “It doesn’t sound as…romantic…in English.”

  “I don’t need romantic words. What did you say?”

  He uttered the oath she’d heard come from him before. “Roughly,” he told her, “I said I want to fuck you six ways from Sunday.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, her mouth falling open into the sexiest, most perfect O he’d ever seen.

  She swallowed. Then did it again.

  “Still sure?”

  He watched the question penetrate. A tiny head bob, and then “go for it,” told him everything he needed to know.

  In one swift move, he slid his hands under her butt, lifted her and settled his mouth between her legs, his tongue sliding into all her heat.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus!” she gasped.

  “Baby, you’re drenched.” He dropped a kiss on each thigh, then dragged his mouth to the top of them.

  Little whimpers broke from the back of her throat when he dipped his tongue inside and tasted her, lapping every inch he could reach.

  He found the little button of flesh, hidden at the top, licked it once, then sucked it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, while he pumped two fingers inside her.

  Her body vibrated against him as his fingers curled and gently scraped at her walls, his tongue dedicated to pleasuring her.

  Gemma’s hips bucked off the bed, her insides clenching and squeezing around his fingers. From his vantage point he watched her shove her fist into her mouth to drown the scream of the climax whipping through her. Her breaths came in short, hard spurts, her breasts jumping with each swift intake of air. With his free hand he reached up and rolled one of her nipples between his fingers.

  The muscles in her thighs clenched like a vise around him. One hand braced at the back of his head, holding him in place as he stayed with her until she rode the wave home.

  God, she was beautiful, even more than he’d fantasized she could be. She might not think she needed romantic words, but watching her come, knowing he was the cause of such pleasure, made him want to say them to her.

  When she opened her eyes, polished sapphires shined back at him.

  He slid his fingers from inside her and sucked them into his mouth, smiling as he watched her face react.

  She sat up in a flash and before he could draw breath she had him flat on his own back, her hands pushing his shoulders down against the bed, forcing him there as she straddled him.

  He felt all her wet heat tantalizingly close, just nuzzling the erection poking through his boxers. He let out a ragged breath so deep his abdomen went concave with the effort.

  Sitting on top of him, her weight balanced on her knees, he throbbed against her, wanting, needing, release.

  Like a hunter finding prey, Gemma smiled down at him as she ground herself against him, then quickly pulled back.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Her smile turned wicked and playful as she gave his words back to him. “Be sure you want this to happen between us. I’ve been walking around wet and wanting for days”—she bent to lick his nipple—“so be sure, because”—she licked the other one—“I know I won’t be able to stop if we keep going.”

  He lifted his shoulders and pushed against her hold to grab the back of her neck and yank her in close.

  “Still sure?” she asked and then swiped her tongue across his chin.

  “Abso-frigging-lutely.”

  He reversed their positions before she could blink and nestled himself between her thighs, nudging them apart with his knees.

  If it was physically possible he went harder when she giggled.

  Gemma slid her hands along his back until they were inside his boxers. “Take these off,” she commanded, pushing them off his waist and down over his butt. “Now.”

  “Bossy, much?” He shifted back on his knees and yanked them down and off, tossing them carelessly to the floor.

  He kept a watchful look on her eyes. His heart stopped for a few beats when they drifted down to see him, naked and pulsing, and turned the color of ripe blueberries after a rainfall: shiny, moist, rich.

  Gemma reached out and fisted her hand around his shaft.

  “Talk about someone being perfect,” she whispered. She ran her thumb along the top edge of him and massaged the silky drop of fluid she found around its head.

  Ky threw back his head, stretching his neck and digging deep for control. The precise,
smooth friction of her hand as it moved up and down the length of him was tortuous ecstasy. When her hand dipped down to cup his balls, he covered it with his own.

  “Baby, you need to stop that or this will be over way too soon.”

  Smiling, she slid her hands around his back and pulled him down on top of her. “We wouldn’t want that,” she said against his lips.

  Kissing her was an experience all in itself. From the back of his mind the notion bloomed that he could be happy for the rest of his life just kissing Gemma Laine.

  Soon, too soon, he needed to do more than just kiss her.

  Tucked between her legs, his erection pressed against her stomach and throbbing for release, her legs wrapped around his waist, he broke from her lips, touched his forehead to hers and inhaled deeply.

  Gemma opened her eyes. While her nails raked gently up and down his back and across his shoulders, she said, “Okay. My turn to ask. What’s wrong?”

  He dropped a soft kiss to her nose. “I want to be inside you.” His lips dragged to her neck, kissed the sweet spot behind her ear. When her entire body shuddered against him, he had to count to ten so he wouldn’t embarrass himself and spill all over her. “I want to pound into you hard and fast, over and over, until I make you scream when you come.”

  Gemma moaned and tightened her legs around him.

  “And then I want to do it all again.”

  An oath whispered through her lips. “Okay.” She swallowed. “Are you asking permission? Because if you are then, hell yeah. Go for it.”

  How could a woman make him so hard he could drill through concrete and laugh at the same time?

  He kissed her lips again and smiled. “I was pretty confident you were already on board,” he told her, moving to kiss her cheek, then up to her brows.

  “Okay, so? What are you waiting for?” She wiggled her hips again, making him blind for a second.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her face, pinched now in confusion.

  “I don’t have anything to protect you with.”

  “Oh.” Her expression cleared. “Oh!”

  “I didn’t plan on this…happening between us. I’m not prepared the way I should be. I don’t want to take a chance on you getting pregnant.”

  Her eyes shifted, softened. She lifted a hand to his cheek. He kissed her palm and swore he heard her sigh.

  “Move back.” She lifted herself and shoved against him. He sat back on his knees.

  “Lay down,” she commanded.

  His lips twisted. “You like giving orders.”

  “Trust me, this time you’ll be glad you obeyed,” she said, while settling next to him.

  “Now,” she molded her hand against his erection and tugged. “While I’d simply love to have you inside me,” she licked him from bottom to top on the underside of his shaft, “pounding hard and fast until I came screaming,” she trailed her tongue down the other side, “it’ll be more fun for me to watch while I make you come, screaming.” She took him, all of him, in her mouth.

  Ky almost shot off the bed. Christ, she was gonna kill him. He was just about to tell her that when all logical, sentient, conscious, thought flew from his head. Her hand followed her mouth as she pumped him up and down, her tongue doing wild and imaginative things to his tip.

  No amount of counting, conjugating Greek verbs, or reciting geometry theorems could calm him. He felt a sharp twist in his lower back coil deeper and speed to his groin as Gemma’s pace quickened.

  When he came, just quick enough to clamp his lips together before he really did scream her name, she stayed with him until the end, as he had her, her lips cuddled around him with every thrust and explosion until he was empty.

  The bed shifted, then the sound of the water running in the adjoining bathroom met his ears. Next time, he’d make sure to have a condom. No, several.

  His eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling.

  Next time.

  Christ, his pulse hadn’t even calmed yet and he was already thinking of next time. He closed his eyes again.

  Yeah, there was gonna be a next time with Gemma. Many next times. They’d started something he wanted, needed to explore further. She was such a dichotomy of independence and need; physically tough, yet he sensed she was emotionally fragile. The hard exterior she showed the world, he knew hid the heart of a softie. She was an awful lot like the women in his own family. More times than he could remember his father had claimed the true head of the family was the woman because she had the strength of a lion and the heart of a dove.

  Yeah, there were going to be many, many more next times with Gemma Laine.

  His breathing hadn’t calmed, his heart still hammering against his ribs when she came back into the room.

  Flat on his back, his arms splayed at his sides, he didn’t want to move; couldn’t if he had to.

  He opened his eyes again and found her standing next to the bed twisting her T-shirt and shorts in her hands, looking down at him. The corner of her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth.

  He reached out a hand to her, and, when she slipped hers into it, he tugged her back down on the bed. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  Her gaze dropped to the clothes in her hands and he realized she was nervous. Gone was the bravado and cockiness of just a few minutes before. He squeezed the hand he held. “Gemma, look at me.”

  When she did, he worried his thumb across her knuckles. “Stay?”

  Surprise rose to her eyes first then traveled down to her mouth. He thought she was going to refuse, so before she could he added, “please?”

  This time, when the surprise grew, she grinned. “I don’t usually do sleepovers.”

  He understood since he didn’t make a habit of them either.

  But.

  “Well,” he shifted his head on the pillow and kept her hand in his, “it’s not like a real sleepover. You room is just a few yards away, not in another location. It’s really you’re just sleeping in a different bed in the same house. Trying a new one on for size.”

  That glorious giggle was back and Ky swore he could live off just the sound of it and the expression on her face when she made it.

  Her pajamas were tossed unceremoniously back onto the floor. Ky shifted, dragged the sheets down and then pulled her under with him.

  Spooning, he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her in place and smiled when she grabbed his wrist.

  “Get some sleep,” he said into her hair, inhaling the fragrance of cherries lingering there. For the rest of his life he knew he’d associate the scent with Gemma.

  “I’m really glad we…talked,” she whispered sleepily a few minutes later.

  Ky fell asleep with a smile.

  * * *

  With extreme care so she wouldn’t disturb him, Gemma unwrapped Ky’s hand from around her waist. One finger, then the next, and then the next until, finally, he stirred, shifted, and fell to his back, still sound asleep.

  The medallion at his neck slipped to the side of the pillow. Gemma smoothed its raised edges and regarded the man lying next to her, the first and only man she’d ever spent an entire night with.

  His hair looked like he’d just combed it, even though she’d almost pulled it bald the times he’d had his head between her legs during the night. After their first…talk…he’d woken her twice more, taking his time to wring any number of orgasms from her—she’d stopped counting at four—to the two more she brought from him.

  In sleep his features were comfortable and relaxed. Gone was the coiled tension he’d been filled with since she’d first met him. She’d been able to give him a few hours of escape, as he’d done for her.

  But now it was morning.

  Watching him, she slid to the side of the bed, dropped one foot, then the other, onto the floor and eased up to stand. She crept
to where she’d thrown her clothes, grabbed them and then went into the adjoining bathroom. When she was dressed, she exited through the hallway door.

  The house was silent as she made her way back to her own room to ready for the day.

  The connecting bathroom door was open and when she peeked in, Rick’s room was empty, the bed made.

  She hadn’t known he was an early riser.

  After washing and dressing in fresh yoga pants and a T-shirt, the majority of the clothing style Kandy had packed for her, she went downstairs to see what she could make them all for breakfast.

  From the kitchen, she heard the water from the downstairs’ shower go on.

  So. He was awake.

  Would he act any different toward her this morning? Would she? Gemma didn’t do mornings after for a reason. All the speculation, the overthinking, the analyzing of what had been shared the night before; what did it mean, if anything other than a slaking of a physical need. What it could mean if continued.

  Ky was such a professional Gemma worried he’d be filled with regrets at sleeping with the person he was responsible for protecting. Knowing how seriously he took his job and having seen it for herself, she didn’t want him to feel sorry for what they’d shared during the night. She certainly didn’t.

  And they had shared something, some…connection. She could admit she’d never been so free and uninhibited with a man as she had been with Ky. Forget that he had the kind of body a woman, any woman, would want to run her hands and tongue over. Forget that just hearing the raspy, seductive bedroom timbre in his voice made her want to get naked and busy in a heartbeat. And forget the way he’d been considerate enough to give her multiple outs before they got too hot and heavy. Forgetting all those things, she actually liked him.

  She’d been more intimate with him than with any other man she’d ever been with, and, in reality, they hadn’t even slept together. They’d done everything but, and she’d felt more fulfilled, more satisfied, more just plain wanted than she could remember ever feeling.