Take a Chance Erotic Romance Box Set

by Caridad Piñeiro

  He chuckled against her breasts, his hot breath almost searing her. “Since you asked so nicely . . .”

  He swooped in and parted her folds with his fingers, moaning himself as he said, “Fuck, you’re so hot and wet. Is that all for me, babe?”

  She bit her nails into his shoulders and rocked against his hand. Leaning forward, she whispered into his ear, “All for you, love. I want to come against your fingers. Your mouth. I want to come with that amazing dick inside me.”

  He groaned out her name and his big body jerked against her. “Babe, I want all those things, too.”

  His hand trembled as he finally found her clit and caressed it with his fingers, sending short hot bursts of pleasure through her.

  She held onto his shoulders and arched her back, giving him greater access to her breasts and he took advantage, greedily moving from one to the other. Tasting her. Almost eating her up as he worked her clit with his fingers and then eased one finger into her and stroked, making her knees wobble.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and gently guided her down onto the bed, her legs draped over the side.

  With unexpected speed for a man of his size, he deftly undid the waistband on her skirt and dragged that and her panties down and off her legs to expose her to his gaze.

  She’s so fucking beautiful everywhere, Trevor thought as he stared down at her.

  A nest of neatly trimmed curls in a darker shade of auburn exposed the moist flushed folds of her sex and he had to touch her there again.

  He parted her with his fingers and stroked her damp lips before finding her clit once more.

  She sucked in a breath and watched him. A deep flush worked all over her creamy skin and up to her full breasts with their deliciously pebbled nipples.

  Fuck, but he had to have a taste of those tits before he explored the rest of her with his mouth.

  Bending, he tongued her nipples and gently bit down, earning a sharp gasp of pleasure that made his cock twitch and slowly harden again. He hadn’t thought it possible that in so short a time he’d be ready for her again, but she was just too damn irresistible. But as much as he wanted to bury his dick in all that wet and warmth, and as much as she wanted it, he needed to do something else first.

  He left her luscious breasts and trailed a path of kisses down her center, pausing to swirl his tongue around her navel. That little hesitation had her mewling and bumping her hips upward.

  “Impatient much?” he teased and gazed up at her.

  “Yes,” she hissed and rose up on one elbow to meet his gaze.

  He made of show of trailing his tongue all along that smooth hot skin before finally dipping down past her curls to the center of her. With one lick against her clit, she arched her hips up to meet his mouth and murmured that one word again.

  “Please.”

  He didn’t make her wait, bringing his mouth full against her to pleasure that responsive nub while he caressed her nether lips and slid one finger into her vagina. She was so slick and hot. Pulsing around his index finger as he pushed inside to stroke the sensitive flesh.

  Her soft cries of pleasure drove him on as did the sight of her, back arched and hands digging into the mattress as she sought her release.

  He buried his head between her legs and sucked hard on that nub. Eased another finger into her pussy and stroked her, sliding his fingers in and out the way he wanted to ease his dick inside her. He could feel her climax building in the pull of her muscles on him and the tremors of her body.

  She shifted her hips and keened with pleasure as he gently raked his teeth along her clit and drove his fingers deep. With another hard stroke inside her and rough suck on her clit, she came, arching her back and calling out his name. Writhing against his hand as he prolonged the release with softer, quicker movements of his fingers inside her and long, warm licks along her clit.

  His cock twitched and his balls became taut as he imagined burying himself inside and he had to just experience even a little bit of her intense release.

  He grabbed hold of his cock and guided it to her center, skimming the sensitive head along the folds, to her clit and then to the slick entrance to her pussy. Her heat warming him and the slick juices of her release wetting the head of his cock.

  “God, you feel so good,” he said roughly and closed his eyes against the sight of her in the final throes of her climax, not sure he could hold on much longer.

  With two sharp powerful strokes along his cock, he came all across the smooth skin of her belly.

  “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, but she sat up and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand.

  “It’s okay, Trevor. Hell, I came all over your hand,” she kidded, her smile sexy. A second later, she hugged him hard and buried her head against his chest, the gesture filled with such compassion, the emotion came close to choking him.

  Hesitantly wrapping his arms around her, he let go and experienced the pleasure of the moment. The satisfaction that went beyond the sexual.

  His brain should have been screaming then about the stupidity of his actions. Of the damage he could do to her emotionally and professionally, but any such thoughts were lost in the sheer comfort of her arms.

  Long moments passed until he finally knew he had to make a move.

  “I’ll be back,” he said and tore away from her to head to the bathroom. Inside, he wet and soaped a washcloth, grabbed a hand towel and his robe, and hurried back out to his bedroom.

  She was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. Her gaze assessing as he approached.

  With tender strokes, he washed away the proof of his climax and dried her creamy skin.

  He handed her his robe and as she examined it, she said, “Does this mean you want me to stay?”

  Chapter 6

  Maggie waited as he stood there, his hand fisted in the bright white terry cloth of the robe.

  She tried not to read too much into it. He’d probably grabbed the first thing that came to mind. Just something she could slip into before she dressed and . . .

  “If you want to stay, you can,” he said, and then stammered out. “I mean, I made dinner and it’s way too much for me to eat. And you were hungry before, so – ”

  “I’d like to stay. For dinner,” she tacked on, although she was hopeful for a repeat of what had just happened.

  Maybe lots of repeats, she thought, even as the little logical voice in her head, the one she normally listened to, warned her that she was setting herself up for a world of hurt.

  Samuel Mason would likely fire her ass and take away her scholarship if he found out she’d made love to his son.

  And Trevor was leaving tomorrow. That thought hurt far more than the idea of what Samuel Mason could do to her. She could always find another job and figure out a way to pay for her last year of school.

  But finding another man like Trevor . . .

  She suspected that would be far more difficult.

  He jiggled the robe in her face and said, “Please make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get dinner ready.”

  As she took hold of the robe, he became all action guy, snagging his jeans and t-shirt from the floor, and hopping and tugging them on as he raced out of his bedroom.

  She stood and slipped on the robe. It smelled like him and as she wrapped it around her, she imagined the nubby fabric was the soft hairs on his arms. Her body instantly responded, but she tamped down the desire.

  She was hungry and the tantalizing smells from the kitchen were totally tempting.

  After a quick visit to the bathroom to wash up, she headed to the kitchen were Trevor was puttering around, stirring whatever was in the assorted pots and rushing out to another room. The dining room she suspected.

  As he snagged a long aluminum-wrapped roll from the oven and cursed and dropped it onto the counter, she hurried over. “Let me help.”

  “I can manage,” he said, even as he stirred something and a big glop of sauce flew out of the pot and landed on th
e top of the stainless steel stove.

  “Not a problem, Trevor. I’m not a princess who can’t lift a finger to help.”

  He stopped in his mad dash then, and leaned his hands on the counter to face her. “I get it, Maggie. You’re liberated. Independent. What if I just want to make tonight special? It is my one last night at home.”

  One last night at home.

  The words sliced into her. Deeply. And he deserved special, too, after what his dick of a father had done. “How about this. We follow the Sullivan rule for meals.”

  He arched a sandy-colored brow. “And what’s that?”

  “Whoever cooks, the other one cleans,” she said although judging from the state of the kitchen, cleaning was going to be much more of a chore than the cooking.

  As Trevor eyeballed the kitchen, he must have realized the same thing. “How about I help you clean. A little.”

  She took the few steps to reach him and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

  He took hold of her hand, but instead of shaking, he applied subtle pressure to bring her close. “I’d like to seal this deal with a kiss.”

  She didn’t hesitate, leaning into him and rising on tiptoes. Opening her mouth against his. He tasted of Trevor and the spicy goodness of spaghetti sauce. He must have just sampled a bit before she came into the kitchen.

  He bracketed his hands on her waist and held her to him as the kiss went on and on, tongues dancing together. Bodies straining as arousal jumped alive again.

  She wanted him. Badly and she had no doubt he wanted her also. The proof was rising up against her belly, long and hard and oh so delicious.

  Until the hiss of the pasta water boiling over onto the stove drove them apart and into action.

  Maggie stepped away, but not before passing her thumb across his lips in a gesture as potent as any kiss.

  Fuck, but he wanted her again and was already hard for her. But Trevor wanted to make tonight special, and not just sexually. In the short time they’d become reacquainted, he wanted to get to know more about Maggie. Wanted to know how she’d become this sleek elegant woman and whether the old Maggie he’d known was still there. Although he suspected she was from her hints of spunk and the fact that she was here with him tonight, defying his father.

  At another angry hiss of hot water, he turned and got to work on finishing dinner. He grabbed a strand of spaghetti from the pot and it was perfectly al dente. Spilling the pasta and water out onto the colander, the scolapasta as his Italian mother had called it, he drained it, plopped the spaghetti back into the pot and then added enough sauce that the strands wouldn’t stick. Grabbing the two pasta bowls he’d set aside earlier, he heaped a big pile of spaghetti onto them, drowned the pasta in sauce and added a trio of golf ball-sized meatballs to the plates.

  Maggie was already moving from the kitchen to the dining room with a bowl filled with the garlic bread he’d yanked from the oven earlier. The sharp aroma of the garlic wafted over to him and his stomach growled.

  He was far hungrier than he would have imagined he’d be after the disappointment of his father’s no show.

  Maggie had settled on a chair caddy corner to the one at the head of the table and served them both a dish of the salad he had prepared.

  He set the bowls of spaghetti and meatballs at each of their places and then grabbed the bottle of wine he’d had breathing on the sideboard. He poured healthy portions of the wine for both of them, sat and raised his wine glass.

  “To friends,” he said and meant it. He hadn’t known her long, but he sensed Maggie would be a friend and more.

  Maggie smiled and clinked her glass against his. “To tonight together.”

  To all of tonight together, he thought, but didn’t say. With it being Friday, he hoped she could stay and maybe spend more time with him before he had to go.

  After a sip, Maggie set her glass down and picked up the small dish with grated cheese from the table top. “Would you like some?”

  He nodded and she spooned a generous portion of parmesan over his bowl and then hers.

  He jammed his fork into the pasta, twirled up a perfect forkful, and shoved it into his mouth. The spicy flavors of the sauce exploded in his mouth and brought memories of his mom and better times.

  Smiling, he watched as Maggie tried to duplicate his feat, but she twirled and twirled and twirled and still had trouble getting that perfect forkful.

  “I’ll tell you a family secret,” he said as he picked up her knife and held it out to her. “Even though it made my mother crazy, she always put up with my father when he cut his spaghetti.”

  Maggie laughed, took the knife and slashed the pasta into manageable lengths. “Thank you.”

  She forked up a mouthful and ate it, playfully moaning after she swallowed. “This is absolutely delicious sauce.”

  His grin broadened at her unrestrained zeal. “It’s my mom’s recipe. She always let me help her in the kitchen. It’s comfort food, you know,” he said, picked up some more and ate it.

  “I know. You’re mom sounds like a very special lady,” she said.

  “She was. She had to deal with a lot, but she never let it get her down.” He jabbed his fork into the pasta and shied away from meeting Maggie’s half-glance.

  “You miss her,” she said simply and covered his hand with hers. It was so much smaller against his, and yet he knew that like his mother, Maggie was made of steel.

  “Yeah, I do. After she died . . . things just seemed to go to shit,” he admitted out loud. He’d never done that before and it felt good to say it. Get it out there instead of carrying that burden alone for so many years.

  She squeezed his hand, offering comfort and he took it, turning his hand to hold onto hers. Feeling peace for the first time in way too long.

  “It must have been hard on the both of you to lose her,” she said.

  He nodded. “It was. She was the glue, you know. She held us together and after . . . My father buried himself in work.”

  She shifted her seat closer and rubbed her hand up and down his arm. “It was lonely for you.”

  It had been, not that he wanted to admit it much less discuss it. “We should finish up the food before it gets too cold.”

  Maggie got the message loud and clear. He didn’t want any boo-hooing for him or the scared and lonely kid he must have been back then. He was a M-A-N man and he didn’t need the sympathy. Or at least he didn’t think he did, only Maggie suspected otherwise.

  Still, better not to push too hard too soon. Rome wasn’t built in a day and a man as complex and intriguing as Trevor had layers that needed to be peeled away slowly. As impatient as she normally was, she wasn’t going to spoil whatever was happening between them by rushing.

  She dug into her meal, enjoying the amazing sauce and equally tasty meatballs. She had a small bowl of the salad, green stuff not being high on her list of favorites, although the dressing she was sure was homemade was delicious. And as much as she wanted a taste of the garlic bread, she passed it up and so did he, dragging a smile to her face.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked as he devoured the last meatball on his plate with one bite.

  She motioned in the direction of the forlorn garlic bread. “That. It looks so lonesome.”

  He chuckled and grinned. That warm unrestrained smile that lit up the crystalline blue of his eyes. “Yeah, it does.”

  He snatched up a piece and took a big bite, smiling as he chewed. The grin growing even more mischievous as she coughed out a laugh and glommed a piece. With big noisy bites, she ate it down and then they both grabbed a second.

  “I like you, Maggie. You’ve got chutzpah,” he said and topped off her wine glass.

  “I like you, too, Trevor,” she said and took a sip of the wine. It was wonderful, but she didn’t recognize the name of the vineyard. Probably something well above her pay grade unlike the simple and wonderful meal he had prepared.

  The meal had been special to him, she could tell, which m
ade it all the more special for her.

  As they polished off most of the garlic bread and the bottle of wine, they chatted about how he would make it back to Afghanistan. A long trip to get there and an even longer break before he would be back.

  “It’s a lot of time away from home,” she said as she piled up their dirty plates and cutlery to take into the kitchen and he grabbed the rest of the dishes and glasses.

  From the corner of her eye she caught the sadness that flitted over his features at her words. But then he quickly covered it with, “Yeah, but it’s also rough to be away from your team. I feel like . . . I’m leaving them shorthanded.”

  Nothing about being away from his loved ones. It was almost as if he didn’t have any and it made her wonder even more about his family. Made her wish that she could ease that loneliness for more than one night.

  She placed her items in the sink and took the ones he carried. Turning on the water, she started rinsing and loading the dishwasher. “Have you been away from your team for long?”

  He leaned against the counter again and gave an uneasy shrug. “Almost three months. A few of us were wounded during our last mission and had to take medical and convalescent leave.”

  Her hand shook a little as she grabbed a plate. She’d seen him bare assed naked and had noticed the scars along his side, but hadn’t realized the injuries were so new. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  Another shrug followed and his gaze grew shuttered. “I was lucky. Some of my other team members were more badly hurt. Luckily no one was killed.”

  Luckily, she thought, but hated that in a couple of days, he’d be back on duty and at risk again.

  “Why do you do it?” she blurted out as she put the last dirty glass in the dishwasher and closed it.

  “I made dessert, too. I hope you have a sweet tooth,” he said, obviously not interested in continuing the conversation.

  “So not smooth, Trevor. But I’ll let it slide for now.” It wasn’t just a case of wanting to know, she needed to know why he did what he did and if his service was part of the reason for the distance between father and son.