by Lori Foster
“I’m at your mercy, Sam. If this is you forgetting how, I’m in big trouble if you ever remember your moves.”
“Can we stop talking?”
“I’m in favor of that.”
Sam’s whole body trembled as she leaned in and kissed Jace, her breasts pressed against his chest, her pulse pounding like a horse’s that had just escaped through an open gate. It was too late to go back. He was right. She would always wonder. She would always want.
And their little near miss, well, she hadn’t missed and she was sure he hadn’t, either. They hadn’t fully consummated, but they had pushed things past the point of no return. So maybe if they pushed further, they would do a full circle.
A little bit of sex, and they would be able to reset everything. Go back to how it was, with the mystery solved. Successful experiment done.
Or something like that. Logic was a tricky thing with Jace’s hard cock up against her clit. Yes, yes it was. He even made her think words like that. Made her feel like a totally different person.
So strange that a man she’d known for almost half of her life was able to open up something in her she’d never found before. It made sense in a weird way, though. That sex with him would have a depth to it nothing else did. Because their relationship had depth to it that no other relationships in her life ever had.
She only hoped she survived this. More than that, she hoped they did.
Jace pushed his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater, his skin hot against her belly. His hands skimmed upward, cupping her breasts, not-so-expertly shielded by her lace bra.
“Oh...that feels...”
“Good?” he asked, his thumb sliding over her nipple.
She arched into him, the motion hitting all the right places between her thighs and thrusting her breast into firmer contact with his hand. “Oh...yes. Oh...how do you do that?”
“What?”
“You make me...” She couldn’t say it. She didn’t say things like this. During sex or ever. But this was Jace, and she was always honest with him. When she wasn’t, it blew up in her face like it had earlier today. So she decided on honesty. “You touch me, and I feel like...one more little brush of your hand will make me come. Just like that. I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s not usually like this for you?”
“No. Finding an orgasm is usually like searching for the Holy Grail. Tricky. Hit or miss. Step on the right stones in the right combination. Either I get there or you step on the wrong stone and I throw a spear at your head.”
He laughed, the vibration hitting her between her legs. “I hope to make it out without getting a spear thrown at me.”
“Your laugh just did more for me than my first boyfriend could do with forty minutes and a vibrator.”
“Do you have a vibrator?”
“Not with me.”
“Damn.”
“Jace!”
“What?” he grinned, wicked, sexy. Oh, he was so sexy it hurt. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
“But you’re...straitlaced and tidy.”
“When it comes to cleaning house,” he said. “But I know how to get my hands dirty when I work. And I damn sure know how to get dirty in the bedroom.”
He sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her long and deep. He was the best kisser ever. It was official. She’d never enjoyed kissing so much. Because when it came right down to it, it was a little awkward and someone else’s tongue was in your mouth.
But with Jace...it wasn’t awkward. And she was happy to have his tongue in her mouth. More than happy.
He lowered his hands, gripped her thighs and pulled the heart of her harder against his denim-covered erection, still kissing her.
She pulled her mouth away, leaning back, trying to catch her breath, while he tried to prevent her from breathing by kissing a path from her neck to her collarbone.
He tugged her shirt up over her head and unclipped her bra. “Oh...yes.” He leaned down and drew one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
“Mmm” was the only noise she could make. It sounded sharp and kittenish and she didn’t care. He pinched her other nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger and she made the sound again, kneading his back with her fingernail.
Poppy barked and they both froze.
They looked down at the dog, who was looking at them. “She thinks you’re hurting me,” Sam said, studying Poppy and feeling...embarrassed and somehow guilty for exposing her poor dog to her and Jace’s sexual activity.
Poppy wagged her tail and approached the couch. Jace stood, cupping Sam’s ass and holding her up against him. She flailed and wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to keep herself steady.
“Mine,” Jace said, his voice almost a growl, the word directed very clearly at Poppy. “Stay down here and sleep on the couch if you want. I don’t care. But she is mine tonight, and you don’t get to interrupt.”
Sam squeaked when Jace turned and started walking them toward the stairs, pausing for a moment to kiss her again, quick and hard. “I’m not sharing,” he said, his tone hard.
It was so stupid, but she felt like swooning a little bit. Thank God he was carrying her because her knees had turned to jelly and she wasn’t sure she would be able to support her own weight.
But Jace could. He carried her up the stairs and she was surprised by how much of a turn-on it was. Such a cliché, but it made her so conscious of his strength and size, of how much of a man he was. Of how much of a woman she was.
He carried her down the hall and to his room, and when he opened the door she was assaulted by the strangest sense of familiar and new colliding. She’d been in Jace’s bedroom before. Lots of times. But she’d never been carried into his room and set down on the bed. She’d never been in his room while he was looking at her as if she was dessert and he was a very hungry man.
That was the real difference. She’d never been in his room when she was quite so conscious of the fact that he was a man and she was a woman.
A woman who wanted him. Very much.
There was something extra terrifying about the desire tearing through her because it was directed at Jace. And something comforting about it, too.
The entire experience was an exercise in extremes. Good and bad. Terrifying and...well, terrifying. Because she’d never wanted a man like she wanted Jace right now. She’d never trembled with it, had never been so close to the edge from just kissing and a little touching.
He moved away from the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, his hands going to the buckle on his belt. She wanted to stop him. She wanted him to go faster.
Jace was a contradiction, like everything else about this situation. So familiar, yet a stranger. The lines on his face, a face she’d know anywhere, looked sharper, more drawn, his expression much more...dangerous than she’d ever seen it before.
And it was that combination, that contradiction, that thrilled her, that made her feel as if she was going to die if he didn’t hurry up and take those jeans off. And a little like she might die when he did.
And then he was pushing them down his lean hips, along with his underwear. And she was looking at her best friend, naked and aroused. For her.
And good Lord, he was the biggest man she’d ever seen.
“You’d think,” she said, her voice scratchy thanks to her suddenly dry throat, “that after fourteen years of friendship, you might have mentioned that you were in possession of what must be record-breaking equipment.” She tried to swallow and couldn’t. All the moisture in her body had clearly migrated elsewhere.
“I doubt it breaks any records. But I didn’t mention it for the same reason you never told me that you have the world’s most perfect nipples.”
“I might have mentioned it if I’d known I had th
e world’s most perfect nipples.”
“What assholes have you been flashing your breasts at, Sam? They should have told you.” He got down on the bed with her, lying next to her, pulling her tight up against him, his erection hard and hot against her stomach.
He cupped one breast in his large, rough hand, squeezing her gently. “You are perfect.”
She wanted to cry. And she didn’t know why. Except that she was excited, and scared, and no one had ever looked at her like Jace was looking at her right now. No one had ever given her a compliment like that before. One so sincere and so deep.
It made her feel as if she was being turned inside out. And in the theme of contradictions, made her want to run from him and cling to him all at the same time.
He moved his hands to the snap on her jeans and undid it, then pulled the zipper down slowly. He closed his eyes and paused, his expression pained.
“What?” she asked.
“I have to catch my breath,” he said. “I... You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this, Sam. What it means to be this close to touching you. I tried not to put you in the middle of my dirty fantasies, but baby, I failed miserably. And this? This is a big fantasy of mine about to come true.”
Her heart felt swollen, achey. Jace had wanted her like this? He’d thought about it? She felt...honored by the realization. And strange, too.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she said, her voice a choked whisper.
“Never,” he said, his hand sliding beneath her panties. “Oh...damn, baby,” he whispered as he slid his finger over her clit, down to the entrance of her body.
“Jace.” She lowered her head, rested it against his shoulder as his hands created a path of white fire over her flesh, the pleasure so deep, so all-consuming she didn’t know if she would survive it.
She shifted to give him easier access and he slid one finger deep inside her. She bit her lip to keep from making that kitten sound again, but she wasn’t successful.
He moved his hand away from her, cupping the back of her head and kissing her deep. She pushed her jeans down her legs, suddenly unable to take any more barriers between them. No more rough denim. Nothing. She just needed him. Now.
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “And I’m...clean. I haven’t been with anyone in more than two years.”
He nodded slowly. “You don’t want to use a condom? I have them.”
She shook her head. “I know you.”
He let out a long breath, a pained expression on his face. “Sam...” He lowered his head and kissed her neck, her shoulder, her breast, down to her belly, below her belly button.
She jumped at the hot swipe of his tongue over the sensitive skin there. He eased her thighs apart and moved lower, his hands digging into her hips. He pulled her closer, his eyes intent on her.
Now, no man had ever, ever looked at her quite so intently. Quite so closely. It was a little intense, a little embarrassing. But she didn’t have time to worry about the embarrassment because suddenly he was kissing her there, licking her, sucking her gently.
And all she could do was grab on to his shoulders and hold on tight. She was shaking, her entire body on fire with pleasure, too hot, too much, but she couldn’t stop him. She didn’t want to stop him, even though she wasn’t sure she could take any more.
“Like eating a cupcake,” he said, his tone rough. “You have to start by licking all the sweet stuff.”
And he did. Long and slow with the flat of his tongue, as if he was savoring her. As if he was having her for dessert. He pushed two fingers deep inside of her while he continued to taste her.
She couldn’t breathe now, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but surrender to the violent need that was racing through her.
“Jace...I’m...I’m going to...” And before she could even say it, her orgasm broke over her, her internal muscles tightening around his fingers, her entire body shuddering with the force of her release.
It was Jace’s cue.
He moved up her body, taking her mouth in a hard kiss while he thrust deep inside of her. She let out a hoarse cry and arched against him, the penetration on the heels of her orgasm so intense she could have wept.
And then she looked up at his face, into his eyes, and she really did shed a tear. Jace’s eyes. His face. His lips.
Jace.
He started to move, thrusting hard, his motion matching the desperate light in those familiar eyes. And every time he entered her, she heard his name again, echoing inside of her.
Jace. Her Jace.
Making love to her like a god. Making her feel things, want things, no other man had ever made her feel or want before.
It was too much. Too intense. The well it opened up inside of her, deep, too deep to be filled.
“Samantha,” he growled, looking at her so intently, as if he saw that need in her, as if he was trying to fill it. With his body. With himself.
She had to close her eyes. Had to turn her head to the side and focus on how good he made her body feel, on the climax that was starting to build in her. Impossible because of the strength of the one she’d had only a moment ago.
But no. There it was, close, so close.
Jace let out a harsh groan, stiffening above her, emptying himself inside of her. And it pushed her over the edge. Into that deep, never-ending well inside of her. She was falling, but warm, suffused with ecstasy, surrounded by Jace.
And she never wanted it to end. Because when it did, reality would hit. And she hated reality right now.
She clung to him as she fell, and when she landed, the mattress was beneath her, soft and warm, and Jace was above her, hard and hot.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and he rolled onto his side, holding her against his chest. She buried her face in the curve of his neck.
“Let’s not talk,” she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.
He tightened his hold on her, and she felt him nod his head.
They could talk later. Right now, she just needed to be held. She needed to crawl back out of that abyss and get the cover back on it.
There was no way she could live like this, not forever. Exposed and needy.
Jace had exposed her. And now Jace would hold her until she recovered. Because Jace was her rock. He was her comfort.
A cold feeling entered her chest and she burrowed deeper into Jace’s embrace, trying to escape the chill. Trying to shut out the destructive thought that she might have just put a crack in her foundation. One that she might never be able to repair.
Chapter Eight
Jace was awake the entire night, with Sam’s naked body nestled against his, her breasts snuggled into his side—a serious distraction from sleep.
Unfortunately, he still did a lot of thinking.
About what she meant to him. About the fact that he was pretty sure he loved her.
Dammit.
Love. Had he always loved her? Probably. It was likely why there had never been a woman in his life that he’d wanted to keep more than Sam. Because when push came to shove with relationships, Sam had always been an issue.
No, he’d never said anything to her about it because, in his opinion, it wasn’t her problem. But at some point, his girlfriends started getting touchy about her. Her place in his life, him going to her house to watch movies until midnight.
And some part of him knew that their jealousy was normal for the situation. But mainly, the conversation always ended with him getting pissed and telling them that if they wanted to mark their territory, he was the wrong guy for them.
Not one of them had enticed him to change his situation with Sam. Ever.
Because Samantha was always the most important. Samantha made his world spin. He was so attracted to her it hurt. He thought about her all
the time—his first thought when he got up, his last before he went to sleep.
Yeah. So that was probably love.
Dammit again.
He got out of bed, leaving Sam there, soft and sleepy and so sexy. If he didn’t move away from her he was going to jump her, and until they talked he didn’t feel comfortable doing that.
He crossed the gray room, the sun still not up over the mountains, and went into the bathroom, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up before stepping under the shower head.
Love.
How had it come to this? He wanted to tell her. And he wanted to hide it forever. Or at least until he figured out what he could do with it. What it meant for him. For them.
He pushed water back from his face, sliding his hands over his hair, leaning back against the hard tile. Love was elating and terrifying. Like a roller coaster. The climb to the peak was incredible, the free fall after...in Sam’s arms...amazing.
It was the blind corners that were killing him. They’d survived everything behind them, sure, but he had no idea what was up ahead.
The door to the shower opened and he turned. Sam was standing there, naked and biting her lip, looking nervous and beautiful, so damn perfect it hurt.
“Mind if I come in?” she asked.
“Please,” he said, his voice rough, not like his own at all.
She did, closing the door behind her, the moisture in the air clinging to her hair, which was completely wrecked after their activities last night. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, the action pushing her breasts up and together.
And he could only stare.
Had she always been this beautiful? How the hell had he survived looking at her for the past fourteen years without his head, or other parts, exploding?
Not the most romantic thought. But honest.
Right now though, it wasn’t just his cock that was on the verge of serious injury. It was his heart. It felt as if a fist was squeezing it so tight that his chest might cave in due to the pressure.
She didn’t make a move to touch him, but she was here, in the shower with him, so that had to mean something.
