Stand & Deliver

by Rhenna Morgan

  Chuckling, he nuzzled the sweet spot just behind her ear. “You pack a gun when you go to work and you put yourself between strangers and bullets all the damned time.” He kissed a trail down the line of her neck and caressed the curve of her hip. “This isn’t dangerous.” Further down he worked, skimming his lips along the neckline of her sundress and teasing her pebbled flesh. “This is off the charts fan-fucking-tastic begging to happen.” He lifted his head. “Say yes.”

  God, she wanted to. So bad. She smoothed her hands across his pecs, down and around his lats, then high on his back, the light whisper of her nails against the cotton loud in the otherwise quiet room.

  He groaned and rolled his shoulders, stretching back for more of her touch. “Please, God, say that’s your way of giving me the go-ahead.”

  I like who you are.

  You’re safe with me.

  She was. Always had been. In that second, the truth stood spotlighted bold and beautiful in front of her. He’d shown her who he was. Not the facade he kept in place for the people they worked with. Not the player all the other guys thought he was, but the real man. The one he was with his family. Opened up and shared his secrets. “You never were good at subtle.”

  His blue eyes flashed, aggression and caution warring behind his narrowed gaze. “Yeah?” He shifted higher, giving her more of his weight and pressing his hard cock firm against her clit. “Since when do you like subtle?”

  Her breath hitched and her hips flexed against his on instinct. “Outside of talking to my momma, never.” She arched her neck to meet his hungry gaze and dug her nails into his shoulders. “So, consider this a definite yes.”

  One second. One freeze-frame moment packed with explosive tension while her words washed over him. And then he was in motion. Growling as he plundered her mouth. Holding her head steady with one hand at the side of her head and devouring all she offered as though afraid she might take it back.

  But that would never happen. She was too lost. Utterly consumed by his kiss and floating on a pliant haze of lust and wonder. His taste. His weight. His heat and raw masculine scent. They all melded together into one powerful weapon that both pinned her in place and left her free to feel.

  Releasing his grip, his hand took a long, leisurely exploration. Down her neck. Over the curve of her shoulder. Down her arm then up along the curve of her hip and in to splay low on her belly. Reverent. Or maybe purposeful. A man taking his time and committing every inch to memory. Learning her and taking his sweet damned time doing it.

  Nowhere near the greedy exploration her own hands had taken on. With the breadth of his torso, there was too much ground to cover. Too much curiosity and need surging to the surface at once and demanding she take action. Frustrated with the cotton impeding her progress, she slipped her hands beneath his shirt.

  His abs flexed beneath her fingertips and he hissed into her mouth, but he lifted his body enough to let her push his tee higher. He nipped her lower lip. “Baby,” he panted against her mouth between kisses, “tryin’ to go slow.”

  “No slow,” she barely managed beneath his assault, her own breath coming just as fast and heated. She shoved the cotton up as far as his otherwise occupied arms would let her and savored the hot, hard slab of his chest. “Shirt. Off.”

  The sound that rumbled up his throat was somewhere between a grunt and a grumble, but he grudgingly relinquished her lips and shoved back to his heels. In one smooth move, he reached one arm over his head, yanked the shirt off and tossed it to the floor. “Givin’ you this because I want your hands on my skin, but I’m not givin’ up slow.” He braced both hands on either side of her head, his bulk making the already defined muscles along his shoulders, chest and forearms flex in masculine perfection. Tattoos done only in black ink but with so much shading and detail they may as well have been full color marked his taut, tanned skin, and the dog tags he and his brothers each wore settled against her sternum, their weight a startling connection she felt well beyond skin-deep. “Get those hands on me, gorgeous. I’m damned sure gettin’ mine on you.”

  Like he’d have to ask her twice. Though, when she lifted her hands from his thighs her fingers trembled, the enormity of where they were headed and the raptness in the way he watched her adding an unfamiliar intimacy to the act. She pressed one hand to his abdomen and traced the gothic-styled H above his heart. Unlike the simplistic letter on his tags, this one was worked into an ominous background, surrounded by a pack of feral wolves.

  She flattened her hand.

  His heart thrummed against her palm. A demanding beat that belied his hunter’s demeanor. And yet, he didn’t hide it. Didn’t try to layer on another wallop of macho. Just lowered himself closer, keeping himself propped up on one arm while the other stroked her from wrist to shoulder. “More.”

  She could do more. A lot more. For as long as he wanted. She circled her hands around his waist, dipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans. And good Lord, wasn’t that a temptation. In faded jeans, Beckett’s ass was a thing to behold, but if the curve teasing her fingertips was any indication, seeing it naked would be an eighth wonder.

  He inhaled deep and skimmed his lips along her jawline, his hot breath fanning out against her skin. “My turn.”

  His turn?

  Before her mind could summon a theory as to what he meant, Beckett eased back just enough to hook his fingers in the straps of her sundress and started to peel them off her shoulders.

  Oh, damn.

  Fast and frantic she could do, but him taking his time? To watch him touch her the way she’d touched him? It was too much. Too exposed. A desire too hot to grab onto.

  She moved quick, using surprise to her advantage and wrestling him to his back. Legs straddling his hips, she blanketed his chest with hers and kissed him. Devoured his mouth with the same eagerness he’d taken hers.

  He groaned into the kiss, clamped one hand on her hip and fisted the other in her hair. But rather than take the cue she’d hoped for, he used his hold in her hair and tugged her mouth away from his. He frowned up at her, eyes narrowed and way too sharp.

  Shit. Thoughtful Beckett was bad enough. Shrewd and observant Beckett wasn’t anyone she wanted to deal with under present circumstances. She stroked her hands down his chest, her lungs and heart doing overtime. “Beckett—”

  “What just happened?”

  She tried to lean into him, if for nothing else but to calm the rising storm she sensed building, but with the relentless grip he kept on her hair, she barely budged. “Nothing, I just—”

  “Don’t bullshit me, G. Not here. Hell, not anywhere. What the fuck just happened?”

  Every muscle from her toes to her fingertips quivered, adrenaline from the looming truth poised on her tongue and raw lust from the way he held her immobile whipping through her bloodstream. Admitting her flaws to anyone had never been a strong suit, but lowering her defenses in this particular arena was a completely foreign concept. She sucked in a bracing breath and held his promise of safe close. “You scared me.”

  Leveraging the same technique she’d used on him against her, he rolled her to her back and pinned her on her back, her wrists manacled in his hands on either side of her head.

  Too overloaded on sensations to hide her response, she sucked in a sharp gasp and arched her back, the sheer rush of him overpowering her, leaving her laid bare. Eyes closed and lost to the moment, it was all too easy to imagine more. Naked and vulnerable to whatever he wanted. However he wanted it.

  “Gia, baby. Look at me.”

  The concern in his low voice broke through the haze and she forced her eyelids open.

  He studied her, his gaze roving over her face, her chest, then flicking to where he held her wrists. His attention had barely latched onto the point of contact when it shot back to her. That thoughtful and annoyingly perceptive look she’d grown to know all too well mov
ed across his face. Slowly, he eased his grip on her wrists and guided them to her sides as he sat back on his heels, but did it with eyes locked to her. Watchful. Categorizing every second. “What scared you?”

  Everything.

  Not that she’d ever admit that to him. At least not yet. But after her yo-yo behavior the last few days, she at least owed him this. “You were watching me.”

  “You’re fucking gorgeous. An amazing woman I’ve wanted in my bed for years. So, hell yeah, I was watching.”

  She swallowed huge and splayed her hands atop his hard thighs. “I felt... I don’t know. Exposed. Vulnerable. Like a dumbass who’d dropped their guard with Floyd Mayweather.”

  She’d hoped that last one would make him laugh. Or at least sideswipe him with a chuckle to break the tension. Instead, he gripped her hips and dragged her so her ass touched his bent knees. “What were you afraid I’d see?”

  Yep. That was Beckett. Always cutting to the chase and pinpointing the root of anything. The real question was how well he’d take the answer. She braced and voiced the one truth she’d never thought she’d utter. “That I liked it.”

  Silence.

  No visible physical response to help her gauge his reaction save a slew of what looked like rapid-fire thoughts moving behind his eyes. Releasing her hips, he slid his hands to cover hers, picked them both up and rubbed his thumbs along her pulse in a soothing caress. “Should have taken Axel up on his offer for supplies,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  His lips quirked. “Nothing.” He trailed his gaze along her body in a leisurely glide and sucked in a long, slow, sexy breath. “Put your hands by your sides.”

  Oh, hell.

  She was so screwed. As in fifty different ways to Sunday with no way to wrangle herself free. Even bolting for the front door was a crapshoot with the glint in his eyes. Not that her body would cooperate with an escape. Between the goo her muscles had turned into at the deep rumble in his command and the building pulse between her legs she doubted she’d make it two steps past the bed without stumbling. “Beckett—”

  He stopped her with a look.

  A fucking look.

  And her sex practically rejoiced. A damned hallelujah shiver that made her wonder if he’d even have to touch her to make her come at this point.

  “Now, Gia. Hands to your sides and eyes on me.” Not once did his back-and-forth glide at her pulse hesitate. Though, at this point, she couldn’t tell if the touch was to soothe her, or to keep his own rioting thoughts under control. Maybe a little of both.

  Shaking more than she cared to show, she tugged her hands free of his grip and rested her arms at her sides.

  His gaze warmed and gentled in an instant. “That’s my girl.”

  A shudder moved through her, the simple, praising statement and the approval in his eyes eliciting warring responses she didn’t have a clue how to process. No one talked to her that way. She couldn’t let them. Couldn’t risk ceding control to anyone. And yet the delicious, deep velvet of his voice whispered across her skin. Pushed her physical response higher and dared her to try.

  “I don’t know how to do this.” It was barely more than a whisper, but the plea was plain even to her own ears.

  “Do what, baby?” He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her sundress at her shins and languidly stroked her skin, inch by inch working his way up and over her knees and dragging the fabric higher with it. “Relax? Enjoy yourself? Take your time and just be for a little while?”

  By the time he reached her thighs cocked and splayed on either side of his, she could barely think. Could barely hear over the incessant pounding of her heart. Let alone have the capacity to censor her words. “To not be in control.”

  His gaze snapped to hers and his fingers tightened near the apex of her thighs and hips. Her skirt pooled heavy over her sex, leaving only her legs and a hint of her panties open to his view, but in that second, she felt utterly defenseless. Laid bare at the most primal level.

  Never taking his eyes off of hers, he cupped her hips over her dress. “Then it’s time for you to learn, gorgeous.” Up they went, dipping to her waist and along the sides of her breasts. “Because I can guaran-fucking-tee you aren’t going to be in charge tonight.” He hooked his fingers in the straps at her shoulders and tugged them down.

  Her heart thrashed, fight-or-flight bunching every muscle tight even as goose bumps fanned in all directions. She fisted the soft chambray comforter in her fists and fought the need to squirm. To push away and run.

  “Easy.” He peeled the fabric lower, leaving only her bra in place. As daring selections went, it wasn’t extreme, but the deep teal color had always been a favorite, its lacy edges and silk cups making her feel girly and sexy. With Beckett staring down at her though, she felt more like a sex goddess newly born.

  “You’re safe with me.” Leaving the top half of her dress loose at her waist with her skirt, he bent and kissed her stomach. “Just breathe through it. Let me take you there.”

  Breathe? Her throat was too tight. Her lungs too constricted by tension and stark need. And the way he was looking at her—hungry and possessive—he wasn’t taking her anywhere. More like slingshotting her through the stratosphere.

  His tongue dipped for a quick taste just below her belly button and pleasure spiraled straight between her legs, the mere thought of feeling that same stroke much, much lower ramping the slow and steady ache to a demanding throb. “Beckett.”

  “I know, gorgeous.” More kisses. Each one painting an indolent path higher and higher. He smoothed his hands up her sides and under her shoulder blades, lifting her so her back was bowed for his questing mouth. “Just give in. Give it all to me. I’ll take it.”

  Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one being unwound from the inside out. Unlearning years of brutally exercised control. She squeezed her hands tighter, her grip on his comforter so fierce her fingertips ached. “Please, let me touch you.”

  His lips skimmed the swell of one breast, his hot breath as he spoke a tantalizing caress. “Almost.” He licked just beneath the lace, a hit-and-run tease that speared fast and deep toward her sex.

  She moaned and clenched her thighs against his, her back arching deeper, eager for more of his mouth.

  “That’s it.” One shift and a muted snick, and the clasp on her bra came loose. “Just like that.” Hands still behind her back, he shifted just enough to meet her eyes and guided the straps over her shoulders. “Want your eyes on me, Gia. Want you to see me drink you in for the first time the same way I watched you.”

  “You’re killing me.” As much as her heart had been through tonight and the amount of endorphins pumping through her system, she was sure of it.

  A wolfish grin tilted his lips. “Hardly that.” Slowly, he straightened, pulling her bra along with him and deliciously torturing her sensitized flesh in the processes. “Though, by the time I’m done, you’ll come hard enough you think you’ve kicked it.”

  The lace slipped past her tightly beaded nipples and her lungs seized.

  The room’s cool air whispered against her breasts and shivers danced down her spine.

  One heartbeat and the patient hunter was gone. Replaced with a voracious beast. One barely tethered and fighting against its restraints.

  For her.

  Warmth on par with the slow burn of a pricey Scotch blossomed in her belly and the fear that had battered and clawed along the edges of desire fizzled in its intoxicating wake. She’d created that response. Brought a man to the edge of control, not by driving things to completion, or performing at the top of her game, but with her surrender. Pausing long enough to really connect, to take a chance and set her own desires free, trusting someone else to lead the way. It was heady. A drugging power in its own way.

  He tossed her bra to the floor and hooked his fingers in her dress gathered around he
r waist. “Wanted you right here—just like this—since the day I met you.” He tugged the fabric over her hips, snagging her panties as he went, and threw the bundle well out of reach. “Just. Like. This.” He snatched her ankles, guided them back so her thighs straddled his and prowled over her. “Put your hands on me.”

  The low and hungry command vibrated through her, every bit as thrilling as his intense focus. For once, she didn’t hesitate, eagerly wrapping her arms around his waist and savoring the tight, hot skin along his back. His shoulders. Arms and chest.

  Beckett did the same, skimming his big hands everywhere. Kissing her. Tasting her. Hips. Belly. Shoulders. Thighs. And thank freaking God, finally her breasts. He plumped them. Pushed them together and licked and sucked her aching nipples until her sex was drenched and swollen. There was no calculation to any of it. No expected destination. None of the Man 101 road map so many encounters seemed to follow. Just pure pleasure and exploration.

  The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he shifted lower, the now warmed metal from his dog tags an odd but erotic glide along her stomach. Dazed from sensation overload, it took the rasp of his stubble just above her mound before her mind engaged and tracked his intent.

  Forcing her eyelids open, her heart punched almost painfully at the site that greeted her. Countless times she’d imagined every scenario possible with this man, but nothing came close to the reality of Beckett’s broad shoulders forcing her thighs wider or his devious mouth just inches from her sex. “Oh my God. Beckett.”

  He growled and slipped his hands beneath her ass. “Too early for you to say that yet, gorgeous.” His gaze lifted to hers just as his breath wafted against her drenched sex. “But we’re gettin’ there. Fast.”

  And then his mouth was on her. Feasting from her with the same patient yet thorough approach he’d wielded all night. Licking through her folds. Circling and suckling her clit while his hungry groans resonated against her flesh.

  She fisted her fingers in his hair and dug her heels into his back, hips flexing in time with his ministrations. She wasn’t a prude. Had had other men give her the same pleasure, but never once had she responded like this. Never laid herself open and simply accepted the pleasure given. Never shut her mind off and turned a blind eye to what came next. But with Beckett, she couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to be anywhere except right here. Right now. Lost in the feel of his mouth. In the sounds of his labored breaths. In the mingled scents they created.