But maybe he wasn’t. Seeing his mom crumple to the floor had taken his fucking breath away. Calming Wren had been near impossible. He’d needed his sister to be strong in that moment and she’d ended up so incredibly weak. He couldn’t worry about his baby sister while their mother lay unconscious on the floor.
Somehow, he’d managed. Somehow, he’d remained calm enough to take care of business and get his mother into an ambulance. It didn’t matter that she was fine and that they all might’ve made a huge deal over nothing. It hadn’t felt like nothing at the time.
It had felt like something huge and unstoppable. His heart had galloped in his chest as if it were running a marathon. He’d wanted to panic. To punch a wall and throw back his head and scream, “Why?” Then he’d realized that he was being an overdramatic fool and behaving just like his crying sister, who actually seemed calmer than he was.
That had been a realization. Seeing his mom, taking her to the hospital, had been a huge realization as well. But hearing his mother’s theory on why he should be with Delilah was the biggest realization of them all. The one that had sent him reeling. The one he couldn’t stop thinking about.
The one he regretted telling Delilah and then dismissing as not true. He didn’t actually regret telling her. She deserved to know. But she’d given him an answer in return—one that made him feel so many things all at once, emotions he couldn’t put his finger on—and he didn’t know what to do next.
He automatically wanted to push her away. Say something stupid or shitty or even polite yet noncommittal and get her out of his house so he could be alone with his thoughts. His sad little depressing thoughts that really didn’t want to be alone—they wanted to be with her. He wanted to be with her. Lane wanted to be with Delilah.
“Come here,” he whispered, going on gut instinct, ignoring the temptation to bolt. He opened his arms, and she walked into them, her arms sliding around his waist, her head resting against his chest. He felt the way she melted into him, her body seeming to fuse with his, the fit so fucking perfect he could do nothing but revel in it.
She felt good in his arms. The scent of her hair, soft and silky as it brushed against his jaw, the feeling of her pressed close, his lips on her forehead, the hitch in her breath when his mouth made contact with her skin. It was undeniable, what they shared. The attraction, the chemistry between them, how it always sizzled, growing bigger and bigger until it became undeniable. He’d been fighting it for so long, denying himself when it was inevitable.
It was time to stop thinking of running away from Delilah and start focusing on giving in to her.
“Thank you for helping me with Wren today,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment but needing to show his gratitude.
“She’s one of my best friends. I wanted to be there for her and for your mom.” Delilah tilted her head back, her gaze meeting his. “But I also did it for you.”
“I know.” He did. Cupping the side of her face, he let his gaze roam over her features, drinking them in. He was baffled why he was so entranced by her. Not because she wasn’t attractive—she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known—but she was so much more than that to him. He’d just never realized it before.
Not until he had her in his arms. Not until what happened earlier today reminded him that he couldn’t do this alone. He didn’t think he wanted to. He wanted someone. He needed someone.
That someone was Delilah.
He drifted his thumb across her bottom lip. It was plump and soft, and she parted her lips, her tongue touching just the tip of his finger. That one tiny touch sent heat shooting through his veins and he removed his thumb from her lips.
Replaced it with his mouth.
They kissed. It was deep and hot and wet. With plenty of tongue and murmured whispers and their hands sliding everywhere, all at once. He grabbed hold of her and lifted, plopping her on the edge of the counter. Her thighs spread invitingly, making room for him to step closer. She pulled him back in for a kiss, never missing a beat, her lips hungry, her hands ravenous, her low whimpers stirring up an answering hunger in him that made him want to rip her clothes off and feast on her.
She broke the kiss first, her breathing accelerated, her eyes hazy as they met his. “Pick me up,” she demanded.
He braced his hands against the edge of the counter, his fingers brushing her thighs. Her skin was so soft. He remembered having his head between her pretty thighs just last night and he wanted another taste. Hell, he wanted to slide in deep and just hold himself there. Savor what it was like to be buried deep inside Delilah’s body. “What do you mean, pick you up?”
“I want you to pick me up.” She ran her hand along his shoulder, down his arm, squeezing his bicep. “And carry me back to your bedroom.”
“You don’t want to mess around right here?” He went in for a kiss and she smiled against his lips. She was in the perfect position where he could kiss and touch her all he wanted and his neck wouldn’t hurt. Though she had a point. It would be a lot more fun if he took her to his bedroom and laid her out on his bed.
“The tile is cold,” she whispered, making him chuckle. He reached for her, sliding his hands beneath her ass and scooping her into his arms. She immediately wound her legs around his hips, her arms circling his neck, and he hefted her into his arms, carrying her back to his bedroom.
He let her down easy so she stood directly before him, and they stared for the briefest moment before they attacked each other. Not a bad attack either. More like fast-moving hands and eager mouths, a sigh escaping her when their bodies made full contact, a groan escaping him when her fingers slipped into the waistband of his jeans and touched his bare stomach.
The girl had no qualms about touching him. She was all bold moves and pure instinct, going after what she wanted with no shyness, no hesitancy.
And what she wanted was him.
“You have condoms?” she asked, her fingers busy as they worked his fly.
He nodded, his stomach muscles constricting when her hands brushed against his abdomen. She licked her lips, her concentration evident as she tugged on the button fly, spreading it wide open before she pushed her hand inside his jeans, her fingers curving around his already hard cock. “Wow,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to meet his.
Lane couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve never had a woman say ‘wow’ after she grabbed hold of me like that,” he admitted.
Her smile was sultry. Knowing. “Well then, you haven’t been with the right women.”
Wasn’t that the damn truth?
Chapter Twelve
THEY WERE WRAPPED around each other on Lane’s bed, the dark comforter pushed onto the floor in a forgotten heap, along with the top sheet and most of the pillows. His hips nudged hers, his heavy body pinning her to the mattress as their mouths remained fused together. He lay between her legs, her thighs spread wide, his erection nudging against her belly, hot and thick and fiercely insistent.
But Lane took his time, kissing her like he never wanted to stop. He ran that precious mouth of his down her neck and along her chest, his lips and tongue busy as they drifted across her breasts, her nipples. Only moments ago his fingers were between her legs, rubbing her, his low, raspy voice marveling at how wet she was.
She’d always thought that sort of line was corny, even a myth. Who talked like that? None of the guys she’d ever been with. She figured it was some sort of romance-novel thing and wrote it off as unreal. But the way he said it, all growly with his hot eyes eating her up and his fingers working their magic, how could she not become even more aroused?
Arching into him, she whimpered, seeking more, wishing he would just get inside her. But his mouth shifted lower as he kissed her stomach, then even lower . . .
She yanked on his hair, and he muttered an irritated “ow” before he lifted his head, his heated stare searing her from the inside out. “What?” he asked. “You weren’t complaining last night.”
“I don’
t want that.” She shook her head, tugged a little more on his soft hair, and he jerked his head away from her seeking fingers.
His frown deepened. “But I thought we should finish what we started.”
“I want you inside me.” Her voice was small, a little hesitant. She wasn’t used to asking for what she wanted sexually. This was a new thing for her. But she told herself it was just Lane. He would understand. He’d probably want her to ask for what she wanted and she’d bet a million bucks he’d have no problem asking her.
“If that’s what you want . . . ” His voice drifted and that dark frown disappeared, replaced by a slow, sexy grin that melted all the bones in her body. Though they were pretty much liquefied already from being pinned beneath Lane’s big, muscular body. His shoulders were as broad as a mountain, his skin smooth over firm, defined muscle. She couldn’t stop touching him, grabbing at those mountainous shoulders and trying to pull him up so their mouths were close and their bodies were aligned.
He followed her up, his mouth finding hers, their tongues seeking, hands wandering. All the foreplay was going to kill her, she was sure of it, and she reached for his erection, squeezing his length and making him go tense.
“Keep that up and I’ll blow,” he warned with a rasp.
“I’m pretty certain you said the same thing last night,” she teased as she stroked him.
“I didn’t have enough time to blow last night.” He hissed out a breath through his clenched teeth and closed his eyes. She kept her gaze locked on his handsome face, fascinated as she continued to touch him, increasing her pace. His expression turned pained, his breathing increased, and when his eyes finally opened, they were so dark and stormy her breath lodged in her throat and she could only gape at him.
“Let go of me, Dee,” he demanded.
Her fingers sprang away from his cock, and he shifted onto his knees, reaching over to grab the condom package that sat on the bedside table. He tore into it and rested the rubber ring over the tip of his erection, lifting his head to look at her. She watched him, fascinated by the way he handled himself. Most of her sexual experiences had consisted of some quick fumbling in the dark, quiet moans, and hardly any words spoken. She had a good body—she worked hard for that body, damn it—but she didn’t often show it off when it came to sex.
Now all she wanted to do was prance around Lane’s bedroom naked and see if she could drive him crazy with lust. She was half tempted to shove off the bed and do just that. Heck, she even started to roll away from him but Lane reached out, grabbing hold of her arm and keeping her from escaping.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine and she parted her lips, ready to tell him her plans when he leaned over her and kissed her, swallowing her words, her sighs. His hands went to her hips and lifted her up, his cock probing at her entrance just before he slipped the barest inch inside her.
“Oh God,” she murmured against his mouth, her eyes falling closed as she arched her body beneath his, trying to capture him and send him deeper. But he lifted away from her, in complete control of the situation, entering her inch by exquisite inch, as if he wanted to savor the moment that they first became physically connected.
“So beautiful,” he whispered as he sank farther. She opened her eyes to find him staring at the spot where their bodies were joined, his brows furrowed, his jaw tight with concentration. “Want to make this last as long as I can. Don’t want to rush it.”
All she wanted to do was rush it, wanted to feel him move inside her body, and she closed her eyes once again, desperate to focus on the way he felt inside her. Her skin felt tight, like she might burst, and she swore she was already close to coming. But he was still on his knees, her legs draped around each side of him, his hands at her hips as he pulled her body down onto his cock. He was thick, and she winced as he slid deeper, her body not used to his invasion. Not really used to anyone’s invasion since it had been a while.
“Am I hurting you?”
His question caused her eyes to snap open only to find him watching her, his expression full of concern. For her. Her heart felt like it wanted to crack, and she reached for his wrists, pulling on them. She wanted his body on top of hers, skin on skin, heart to heart. She not only wanted the physical connection but the emotional one too. He’d always tied up her emotions and made her feel too much. From anger to lust to friendship to something more, he’d always been an expert at making her feel.
Even when he didn’t realize what he was doing.
“You’re not hurting me,” she whispered, pulling on his wrists again, her hands seeking his. “Kiss me.”
Without hesitation, he leaned over her, his mouth on hers, his body pushing until he was fully seated inside of her. They moaned in unison, and she ran her hands down his rib cage until they rested on his backside, pulling him closer, somehow sending him deeper.
“Tell me if I hurt you, okay? I never want to do that.” He touched her face, his fingers gentle, his voice low as he whispered against her lips. “You mean too much to me, Dee.”
His softly spoken words sent her head—and her heart—reeling.
LANE SHOULD’VE NEVER said those words out loud, but they were the truth. He didn’t want to hurt Delilah. He was trying his best to keep his baser needs under control, but it was so damn hard. Entering her for the first time had felt like heaven. She was hot and wet and tight, wrapped perfectly around his cock. He was sorely tempted to let loose and ram her until he came, but he restrained himself.
Just barely.
“I know you’d never hurt me—” she started to say but he cut her off with his lips, afraid she might say something she’d regret. Or he’d regret. Like how much she cared for him. Or that she . . . loved him.
Not that he expected that, hell no. But his feelings for her confused him. He didn’t know what to think or how to feel, or worse, what to say. He’d never been good with words. Most of the time he said the wrong thing and pissed her off.
He didn’t want to make her mad, not now. He wanted to make this good for her. For the both of them. So he kept on kissing her as he started to move, withdrawing almost completely from her body before he pushed back in. Christ, that felt good. She felt good in his arms, her legs wrapped around him, her body anchored to his.
She was greedy in the way she touched him, her hands clutching his ass, her warm mouth pressed against his neck. He liked it, especially since he felt just as greedy. He wanted to consume her, fuck her into oblivion, rock both their worlds until they collapsed in each other’s arms, too spent to move.
That sounded good and all, but first he had to make sure she came.
“Tell me what you like,” he whispered against her cheek as he began to move in earnest. “Do you like it when I go extra deep?” He pushed as far as he could, making her moan. “Or do you like it when I go faster?” He increased his pace, their hips slapping together, though he immediately slowed down because hell, that would send him straight to orgasm in about two seconds flat.
Delilah said nothing, could only nod or shake her head as if she were too overcome to speak actual words. He almost wanted to laugh and found that strange because he’d never laughed during sex before. It was an act that he used for a single purpose—well, two purposes: to give and receive satisfaction. And once he was satisfied, he was ready to move on. Not that he’d had a lot of sex lately. Pickings were slim around Wildwood. There weren’t a lot of available single women who weren’t looking for more. In his eyes, they were all looking for more, and he didn’t want a one of them.
With the exception of Delilah. She was half the reason he didn’t want to mess around with anyone else. He was too far gone over this woman.
He focused on the very woman beneath him who was now gasping and moaning as he drove himself deep inside her. Rising above her, he reached between them, lightly touching her clit. “Speak up, Dee. Do you like it when I touch you like this?”
Another whimper escaped he
r, and she opened her eyes, nodding furiously as she stared up at him. “Yes, yes.”
Smiling, he circled her clit with his thumb as he flexed his hips, maintaining a slow, even rhythm that he hoped would get her off. She moved with him, her eyes closing, lush lips parting on a sexy moan. She made the best sounds: whispery sighs and heartfelt whimpers, shuddery moans and another murmured yes when he rubbed her clit faster, pinching it with his fingers, making her gasp. She liked that. Lane didn’t bother asking her either, just continued touching her, fucking her until she went tense beneath him, her body bowed, her muscles tight. He swore she held her breath until he whispered an encouraging, “Let go for me, Dee.”
And the woman came beautifully too. She said his name as she clung to him, her entire body shivering, her inner walls clutching around his dick and just about making his eyes cross. He was close. So damn close but he fought off the wave that wanted to consume him, focusing on Delilah’s pleasure instead. He leaned down and kissed her—gentle, sweet kisses to help bring her down—and she snuck her arms around his neck, holding him close, whispering his name again just before she smiled.
“That was so good,” she said, making him smile in return.
“You gotta tell me what you want,” he said, shifting up so he could look down at her. He smoothed the sweat-dampened hair away from her face, overwhelmed at the foreign feelings threatening to overtake him.
This girl made him want to be tender, and he’d never had a tender feeling in his entire life with the exception of his mother and sister, and they didn’t count because they were family. He protected family, no questions asked. But he also wanted to protect Delilah. Wanted to keep her safe.
Smolder: The Wildwood Series Page 12
