She continued her explorations, running her hands over his chest and back, and Chris found it more and more difficult to remain motionless. Everywhere she touched, his flesh burned. When she leaned down and kissed his chest, he swore softly, and when her tongue flicked over his nipple he growled low in his throat.
He fisted his hands to keep them at his sides and gritted his teeth in an agony of anticipation when she unzipped his fly. Dipping her hands beneath his waistband, she lowered his shorts and boxers down his hips in one smooth motion. He kicked them off and stood before her, completely naked and painfully aroused.
He watched her gaze wander over him. Desire flared in her eyes, and her cheeks flushed crimson. She stretched out her hand and brushed her fingertips over the tip of his arousal.
His eyes slammed shut and he sucked in a harsh breath. Good thing this exercise in torture was helping her because it was absolutely killing him.
She continued to explore, each stroke bolder than the last, each one pushing him closer to the end of his endurance. When she wrapped her fingers around his erection and gently squeezed, he was done.
“No more,” he managed to say, grabbing her wrist, “or this will be over before it’s begun. And besides, it’s my turn.”
Melanie wanted say something along the lines of okey-dokey, but it seemed she’d simply forgotten how to speak. The sight of Chris standing before her, naked, aroused, every muscle tense as he clearly fought to remain still while she explored his body had robbed her of words. He looked incredible— like something straight out of an ad for Your Ultimate Fantasy Man. And the way he was looking at her… with enough heat to fry an egg and as if he wanted to devour her in one big bite. And the feel of him… warm skin over hard muscles that rippled with her every touch… it was enough to make a girl’s knees weak. And speaking of knees, hers were once again MIA. No surprise as that happened with alarming frequency when he was fully clothed. Naked? Buh-bye knees.
He gripped the ends of her tank top, and since she wanted nothing more than to be rid of her pesky clothes that stood between her skin and his, she lifted her arms.
“You’re beautiful, Melanie,” he murmured, trailing his fingertips over her breasts. A breath shuddered from her, and her nipples hardened into tight peaks at his feathery touch. Bending his head, he brushed his tongue over one distended peak, then the other.
She gasped, and then her world turned into a blur of sensations as his hands and lips roamed over her, setting her skin on fire. She felt her rapid heartbeat everywhere. Behind her closed eyes. Thudding in her ears. Her stomach. Between her thighs. Impatience scraped at her, but clearly he was determined to seduce her slowly. By the time he slid her shorts and panties down her legs, she was ready to explode. Which is exactly what she did when he dropped to his knees in front of her, settled her thigh over his shoulder and ran his tongue over her wet folds. Her head dropped back and in an embarrassingly short time (like, oh, five seconds) an intense orgasm throbbed through her. Aftershocks were still shaking her when he scooped her up in a show of pure brawn that she’d definitely compliment him on as soon as she remembered how to speak English, and carried her the few feet to the bed. Determined to say something, if for no other reason than to assure herself she hadn’t gone mute, she cleared her throat and managed, “Thanks. I needed that.”
The heated look he gave her surely could have melted bricks. “The pleasure was all mine.”
“Actually, it was all mine. I definitely owe you one.”
“Happy to be owed.” He set on the center of his bed and followed her down, lying on his side next to her. She looked into his eyes and her heart nearly stopped at the intensity of his gaze. No man, including the man she’d almost married, had ever looked at her like that. Like he would die if he didn’t have her.
Yet instead of pouncing on her— which actually would have been fine with her— he instead brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers one by one. When he lowered his mouth to hers, Melanie sighed his name and arched against him. While their lips and tongues played lazily, she reveled in the long-forgotten feel of a man’s hands on her, and the unfamiliar, mind-blowing sensation of him arousing every inch of her. It had been so long since a man had touched her, and her ex’s idea of foreplay usually had consisted of thirty seconds of petting.
Not so with this man.
He lavished attention on every inch of her, starting with her lips then working his way slowly down her body, touching her everywhere, his incredibly talented fingers and mouth making her crazy, pushing her to the brink of another orgasm. Which just wasn’t fair.
In a move that would have made any wrestling coach proud, she swiftly sat up and pinned Chris’s shoulders to the bed. Then she straddled him and shot him her sauciest grin. “My turn. Be prepared to get as good as you give.”
She then made good on her words by slowly exploring his body with her hands and mouth, reveling in his deep groans, touching him everywhere except the one place she knew he ached most to be touched. When she sensed his anticipation had built to a crisis level, she ran her tongue up the length of his erection.
A long moan escaped him, one that ended in a quick intake of breath when she drew him into her mouth. “That’s it,” he said in a harsh rasp, easing her back. “Can’t take anymore.” He snatched a condom from the bedside table and quickly sheathed himself. Then he rolled them until she was beneath him and he was settled between her splayed thighs. The most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen stared down at her, filled with a combination of fire and tenderness that stole her breath.
Without taking his gaze off her, he entered her with one long, heartfelt stroke. He remained perfectly still for several heartbeats, his weight braced on his forearms, his hands tangled in her hair.
And then he began to move, slowly at first, then more powerfully, watching her face, his expression intense. Melanie arched against him, running her hands over his back, down to his buttocks, urging him deeper. The force built inside her again, growing, growing, until she felt as if she were dynamite and he’d lit the match to detonate her.
When the explosion came, she moaned his name, falling over the edge into a sensual oblivion that for an endless moment erased everything from her mind but the liquid throbbing of her body and the man inside her. She was still quivering when Chris groaned and thrust into her one last time, his big body shuddering, his face buried in her hair. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tight, listening to him whisper her name over and over like a prayer.
Chris wasn’t certain how much time passed before he gathered the strength to lift his head. When he did, he found himself looking down into languid, dreamy, chocolate eyes. Her mess of wild curls fanned over his pillow and a satisfied smile lurked around the corners of her kiss-swollen lips. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Mine, a deep, primitive inner-man voice claimed. This woman is mine. He half expected to feel panic at the thought, but only deep contentment washed through him.
And I am hers, continued his inner voice. Chris braced himself for bachelor panic, but none came. Again, only warmth and happiness flowed through him. I am hers, she is mine.
God, that felt good. And right. Utterly, profoundly right. He wasn’t quite sure how love had managed to sneak up on him, but it had. There was no point denying that he’d fallen, and fallen hard. Fallen? Hell, he was splattered all over the sidewalk. His bachelor days had sunk below the horizon like the setting sun.
He shook his head in amazement. Done in by a set of big brown eyes, a tangle of curls, and the sweetest smile ever created. Not to mention the gentlest— and most talented— hands, and the kindest heart. All wrapped up in a gorgeous, sexy, adorable package.
Just then, one of those gentle hands brushed his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm.
“You were right,” she said in a breathy voice that sparked interest in his recovering private parts.
“Of course I was,” he replied with exagge
rated male smugness. “What was I right about?”
“You said we’d have great sex.” She closed her eyes and stretched like a contented cat. “We did.”
A frown tugged between his brows. Sex? Like hell. Irritation bubbled up inside him. He said nothing, just waited until she opened her eyes. When she did, he watched her expression grow wary as she read the discontent he knew showed on his face.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Maybe the sex wasn’t as good as I thought.”
“We need to get something straight right now, Melanie. I never said we would have great sex. I said we would make beautiful love together. And we did. What we just shared was not sex. We just made love. There’s a big difference.”
Her eyes grew round; then to his chagrin, they filled with tears. His annoyance instantly evaporated, replaced by that panicky sensation only female tears could induce. Rolling them onto their sides, he gathered her into his arms and held her close.
“Hey, don’t cry. Really. Please don’t cry.”
She sniffled against his chest. “I’m not crying.”
Wet tears dampened his skin and he groaned. “Don’t do that, Melanie. Stop. I mean it. Tears kill me.” He tried to pry her chin up, but she just burrowed deeper into his chest and proceeded to “not cry” even more. Giving up, he patted her back and stroked her hair, alternately cursing himself for hurting her and praying she’d turn off the waterworks soon. He didn’t know what the hell he’d said or done to bring on the flood, but he was damn sorry about it.
Finally her sobs tapered off into juicy hiccups. When she finally lifted her tear-streaked face, he cupped her face in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Whatever I said or did to make you feel so bad, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it.”
Her damp eyes widened, and to his amazement, she laughed.
Utterly bewildered, he shook his head. “Now you’re laughing? Women! If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand them. Groaning in passion one minute, crying their eyes out the next, then laughing.” He eyed her warily. “I think I know what made you groan. Care to fill me in on what made you cry and why you’re laughing now?”
She reached out and stroked his face, her eyes filled with tenderness. “You,” she whispered. “You made me groan by the incredible way you touched me— like I’ve never been touched before. You made me cry— but they were happy tears. Emotional tears. Because of how you made me feel. So… wanted.
“And you,” she continued, “made me laugh because you were so sweet and concerned that you’d done something wrong, when you’d done everything so right. So wonderfully, totally, completely, perfectly right.”
Relief swept through him. He brushed back her tangled hair. “I have one request, okay?”
She bumped her pelvis against his. “Only one? Bummer, dude.”
He chuckled. “All right, maybe two. Hmmm. Maybe two dozen. But definitely one.”
Tickling her fingers over his butt, she whispered, “Your wish is my command.”
Chris sucked in a breath. “No more tears,” he said, his concentration deteriorating at an alarming rate. “Next time you’re happy, please smile. Don’t cry.”
“That sounds simple enough. Is that your only request?” she asked, arching a single brow.
“Absolutely not.” He rolled them until she sat astride him. Fisting his hand in her hair, he dragged her head down and kissed her hard. “You ready for request number two?” he asked against her lips.
“Are you kidding?” She moved against him and his eyes glazed over. “I can’t wait for request number two. Or three or four.”
Excellent. He couldn’t wait to see what she thought of requests five and six.
CHAPTER TWELVE
*
MELANIE LAY BACK on the rumpled sheets and covered her eyes with a limp forearm. Chris lay next to her, equally breathless.
“I read somewhere,” she said when she could speak again, “that every time you make love, you burn about a hundred and fifty calories.” Turning her head, she looked at him, sprawled out in satiated, naked male glory. “There’re about three thousand calories in a pound. You’re the math whiz. How much weight have we lost?”
He didn’t move. “About forty-two pounds each.”
Melanie would have laughed if she’d had the strength. She peeked at the clock. Seven forty-five A.M. They’d been at it the entire night.
“Good grief,” she said. “I thought making love all night long was something that only happened in the movies.”
“Clearly that is a misconception.”
“Clearly,” she agreed. “Well, one of us is going to have to get up and find us something to eat and drink before we shrivel up and die of starvation and dehydration.”
He still didn’t move. “Yeah, I guess one of us is going to have to do that.”
Her lips twitched at the husky note of utter exhaustion in his voice. Summoning up what little energy she had left, Melanie rolled onto her side, propped her head up on her palm, and gazed down at her lover.
Her lover.
Those two simple words echoed in her mind, inundating her with a kaleidoscope of feelings she’d never before experienced. She’d spent the night with Chris, her lover, doing things she’d never done before. But they hadn’t only made love. They’d talked and laughed, explored and discovered. Until last night she’d honestly thought sex consisted of thirty seconds of optional foreplay, several minutes of moaning, followed by eight hours of sleep. Chris had certainly disabused her of that notion.
By the time they’d reached “request number three,” all Melanie’s previous inhibitions had faded into oblivion. The words shy and retiring no longer resided in her vocabulary.
Her gaze drifted over him and she heaved a sigh of pure appreciation. Christopher Bishop was seriously, ridiculously sexy. Lying next to her, naked, one arm flung over his eyes, the other upraised to pillow his head, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. And in the lover department— well, he was definitely a ten. More like an eleven. Okay, he was a 2,435.
Now here was a candidate for cloning, she decided, her gaze drifting down, over his muscle-ridged abdomen, lingering momentarily on his relaxed but still impressive manhood, then continuing down over his long, strong legs. Why the hell waste time cloning sheep when there were guys like Chris around? What a misuse of medical science.
Her emotions had bubbled to the surface several times during the night, but she’d ruthlessly beaten them back. This was an affair. A temporary arrangement with no regrets. Yet one emotion had refused to be bludgeoned into submission. This man, her lover, who was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside, had made her feel something she’d never thought she’d feel again toward any man.
Trust.
She trusted him. Completely. How could she not, given the tenderness and care he’d shown her? When their affair ended, she could at least thank him for restoring her faith in the male species. He’d proven beyond all doubt that not all men were like her scumbag ex.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, but his deep, even breathing suggested that he’d dozed off. Besides, the mundane— mainly the need for food and drink— was intruding. Moving carefully so as not to wake him, Melanie scooted to the edge of the bed. She stood and stretched, noting the tingle in muscles she hadn’t used in a long time. A warm tenderness throbbed between her legs, and a blush washed over her entire body as images of the previous night flashed through her mind. It amazed her that she still could blush. Heaven knew she didn’t have any modesty left.
Instead of bothering with the wrinkled, lumpy mess that constituted her clothes, she opened Chris’s closet and pulled out one of his dress shirts. Slipping it on, she made her way to the kitchen. The first thing she did was send Nana a text to let her know she wouldn’t be home until later in the day or maybe even late that night. She’d texted Nana around midnight to let her know she was spending the night at Chris’s place. Nana had responde
d with a text that read: Yee-ha! Have fun with the hunk! Don’t you dare rush home!
After sending the text, she opened the refrigerator. True to bachelor form, there wasn’t a whole lot on the shelves, but at least nothing appeared to fall into the science-experiment category. Humming softly, she set about preparing breakfast, her hands automatically chopping peppers and whisking eggs while her mind and her heart commenced a heated argument with each other.
Well, that was certainly a great night, her mind commented. Great idea, using him for sex. Couldn’t have picked a better lover. Hey, heart! You stayed in the other room, right’?
Her heart pumped with indignation. No, I did not stay in the other room. I was right there, the whole time. Falling more and more in l—
Whoa! Hold it right there! Mind interrupted. Don’t even think of saying the “L” word. We had a deal. This is my gig. You ‘re not supposed to be involved.
Too bad, said Heart. I’m involved. Big time.
Mind rolled its eyes. Oh, that’s just great. Well, I suggest you UN-involve yourself. Right now. Before you get hurt. Chris is a great guy, but you know he’s not looking to settle down. He wants to lead the bachelor life. Besides, look what happened the last time you got all mushy. You broke into a thousand pieces. Why don’t you just take a nice, relaxing vacation and leave Chris to me?
Heart shook its head. It’s too late.
No! Mind yelled. It’s never too late. You don’t want a serious relationship anyway. I’m not going to let you ruin my fun! Go away!
I wish I could, said Heart. Dear God, I wish I could.
Pull yourself together and just do it.
I’ll try.
‘Atta girl.
Strong arms encircled her waist from behind, jerking her from her reverie.
“It sure smells good in here,” Chris said, nuzzling the back of her neck with warm lips. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 113
