Years of pent-up sexual frustration unleashed themselves on her when he bit down on the space between her shoulder and her neck. Her hips tilted toward him, desperate for a release of the tightness that felt like a rubber band about to snap back on her. “Phillip.”
“Too hard?” He kissed the spot he’d bitten. It was all the more tender compared to his bite.
This was it—the last possible moment she could back away from the edge before she went spiraling out of control.
Except she didn’t want to back away. She wanted to throw herself forward without a look back.
“No,” she said, grabbing at his belt buckle. The damned thing was far more complicated than the shirt had been. “Not hard enough.”
He growled against her skin. “Bed?”
“Bed.” Although she didn’t exactly care at this moment where they wound up. Just so long as he kept doing what he was doing.
Then, to her surprise, Phillip picked her up. He held her against his chest as he mounted the last step. One arm around her waist, one under her bottom. The hand under her bottom squeezed her hard, making her squirm.
“You like it a little hard?” he asked.
“A little rough.” Or, at least, she thought she did. A wave of insecurity almost froze her. “It’s been so long....” Not only that, but she’d never done this with the scars. Even though the blinds were down, enough daylight suffused the bedroom that there was no way to hide.
He set her down and cupped her face again. “Then we better make sure it’s worth the wait.” As he kissed her, he unsnapped her shirt. “You about killed me the other night,” he murmured against her skin before biting her shoulder as he pushed off her shirt.
She swallowed. “I did?”
The shirt hit the ground and then his fingers were tracing the swells of her breasts, barely contained by her bra. “Just a glimpse of you....” Then his mouth was moving lower as his hands went around her back. Over her scars. “I wanted a taste.”
The bra gave and mercifully he brought his hands up to cup her breasts again. “Amazing,” he whispered as his tongue lapped against her rock-hard nipple. “Simply amazing.”
“I...”
He scraped his teeth down the side of her breast as he pulled her nipple into his mouth. “Yes?”
There was no mistaking the bulge in his jeans. “More,” she gasped as he sucked hard.
“I love a woman who knows what she wants,” he replied, smoothly undoing her belt and then her jeans.
He sat her down on the bed, where she kicked off her boots and jeans. Then she was in nothing but her panties.
Her pulse was racing so hard that she was having trouble focusing.
Which, admittedly, became a whole lot easier when Phillip undid his stubborn belt and shucked his jeans. His erection strained against the boxer-briefs he wore—red, of course—and those were gone, too.
Jo began to breathe so fast she was in danger of panting. She felt as if she should say something, but the problem was, she didn’t know what. She was no shy, retiring virgin—but she had been celibate for the last decade.
She didn’t know what she was doing.
Phillip stepped toward her. Jo sat up. Maybe he expected her to start with a little oral? Although—honestly—there wasn’t much that was “little” about it.
He was, for lack of a better word, huge. She took him in hand, her fingers barely meeting as she encircled him. Once, twice, she moved her hand up and down.
“Jo,” he groaned as his hands tangled in her hair.
When she leaned forward to take him in her mouth, he stopped her. “Wait.”
“Wait?”
He pushed her back with enough force that she had to lean on her elbows. She watched as he took a deep breath—a man struggling to remain in control. Then he opened his eyes—the green much darker with desire. “Saving the farm,” he said, the strain in his voice unmistakable, “isn’t about you.”
Phillip crouched down to the ground and pulled a condom out of his back pocket. “But this,” he said, dropping the condom on the bed next to her, “this is.”
Before she could process that, he’d kneeled between her legs and was pulling her panties down. “It’s really been ten years?”
She couldn’t even talk as his fingertips slid down her thighs, over her knees, down her ankles. She bit her lip and tried to nod, but her head felt as if it was in danger of floating away.
His hands skimmed up her calves, flushing her with heat as he sat on his heels and looked her over. For a moment, she panicked. He was used to other kinds of women—women with perfect bodies and flat stomachs and smooth, soft skin. She hadn’t even shaved her bikini line recently. She hadn’t planned on things getting this far, this fast.
For a horrific moment, she wished she had a drink. A shot of liquid courage to help her get out of her own head and into the perfect man between her legs. And the moment she thought that, she almost told him to stop.
Like alcohol, men were a drug she’d already quit once.
Phillip leaned down and kissed...her knee. “Do you want to remember this?”
“What?”
He kissed her other knee. “You said you didn’t remember the sex before. Didn’t remember if you wanted it or not.”
Good to know he’d been paying attention and all, but she was pretty sure this wasn’t a normal seduction.
He shifted to place a kiss on her hip bone. It shouldn’t have felt good—just a regular old hip bone—but the tender way he was touching her focused her thoughts. Where would he kiss her next?
“Well?” Another kiss on the top of her thigh.
“I want to remember,” she told him, knowing it was the truth. “I want to remember you.”
Eleven
Yes. “That’s what I want, too.”
He leaned forward, letting his erection brush against her as he kissed the spot where he’d lost his head and bit down earlier. “Do you still want it a little rough? Or a little gentle?” Then he flicked his tongue over her earlobe.
She squirmed underneath him, which about drove him insane. “Both? Is that even an answer?” She tried to laugh it off as a joke, but he heard something else.
She was nervous. Well, he couldn’t blame her. Ten years was a long time.
He grabbed her hands and pinned her down. Much more of her body moving under his and they wouldn’t even make it to the memorable sex.
His arms began to shake under the strain of not plunging into her warm body. But he had to do this right for her.
“Both it is.” Soft and tough—just like she was.
He bit down on the spot that had nearly broken her earlier. She sucked in a hot breath against his ear, her hips thrusting up against him. Yes, he thought again.
He moved to the other side—the side where she wore her scars like tattoos. She tried to tilt her head to hide herself but he had her pinned.
He kissed down her shoulder until he switched to her breast—full and heavy.
He licked her nipple, blowing air on the wet skin to see it tighten up. Her hips shimmied beneath his. Not yet. Too soon. He had to kneel back to break the contact.
He kissed the space between her breasts and then used his teeth to leave a mark on the inside of the left one. She sucked air again as her body strained against his hands. “Okay?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yes.” She nodded, but her eyes were closed.
“Then look at me,” he ordered. When she didn’t immediately open her eyes, he bit her again, his teeth skimming her nipple. “Jo. Look at what I’m doing to you.”
Then he fastened onto her nipple and sucked hard until her eyes flew open. There—the anxiety that had lurked there earlier was gone, leaving nothing but need and want in its place.
&nb
sp; He let his teeth scrape over her, putting a hint of pressure on her skin. Not enough to hurt her, but more than enough that she wouldn’t forget this.
“Oh—Phillip,” she gasped out, tilting her hips up—begging for his touch.
He didn’t let go of her hands as he moved his mouth lower and lower. He pulled her with him until she was nearly sitting up. No way he was going to let her lie back.
“Keep your eyes open,” he told her before he pressed a kiss against her sex.
“Why,” she ground out through clenched teeth as he licked her, “why do you get to do this to me and I didn’t get to do it to you?”
It was a fair enough question. “You’ve been a very good girl,” he told her, keeping his mouth against her so she’d feel his voice more than she heard it. It worked, given the way she bucked against him, her body asking for more even if her mouth couldn’t. He looked up the length of her body—she was watching him. Good. “You deserve a reward.”
He filled his mouth with her, savoring her taste the way he’d savor a fine wine. Nothing was clouded by the haze of a wild night. This was just him and her and nothing in between them.
He was not gentle. It paid off. After only a few agonizing minutes of teasing her, Jo’s back arched off the bed. She made a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat before collapsing back against the bed, panting hard.
He kissed her inner thigh, then turned his head and bit the other one. His dick throbbed, but in a good way. “Memorable?”
“Unforgettable,” she said and this time, there was no hesitation in her voice at all. Nothing but a dreamy tone that spoke volumes about satisfaction.
“Good.” He swallowed, the taste of her desire still on his lips. “Now roll over.”
* * *
Jo froze. “What?”
She couldn’t roll over. She absolutely could not have sex with a man—especially a man as physically perfect at Phillip Beaumont—where the only thing he could see would be the burn marks on her back.
He covered her body with his, the weight of his erection pressing hard against her. Her mind was in a state of confusion, but her body? Nothing confused there. That first orgasm had primed her pump, just as she knew it would. She needed more. She couldn’t get enough of him.
He leaned over her and placed his teeth against her neck. His hips flexed, putting him right against her. “Do you want this?”
She nodded.
He moved to the other side of her neck. The side with the scars that usually hid behind the collar of her shirts and her hair.
But she couldn’t hide from him now. He wouldn’t allow it.
“You can have it if you roll over,” he whispered against her skin. He flexed again, his tip pushing against her. “Roll over for me, Jo. Don’t hide who you really are.”
“But I’m—it’s—so ugly.”
“Not to me.” He let go of her and propped himself up on his hands so he could look her fully in the eyes. “It wasn’t ugly when you stripped for me the other night. It was real and honest and true. That’s what you are to me, Jo—the truth. No one else gives me a hard time like you do. No one else expects me to do anything—be anything. But you expect better of me. You make me want to be a better man.”
They weren’t the words of seduction, not even close. But that didn’t change the fact that it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her.
She took his face in her hands. “I can’t be the reason.” She wasn’t fooling herself. When Sun was manageable, she and Betty would be gone and Phillip would be on his own again. The changes in his life couldn’t be because of her.
That wicked grin would be her undoing. “You can be one of them. And a far more beautiful one than Richard’s wrinkly old mug.”
He leaned down to kiss her. The taste of coffee gone now; nothing but her and him mingled together. Her skin burned in the best possible way where he’d left marks on her body—pulling her into the here and now by brute force.
He flexed again, insistent in his need. “Let me see you, Jo. All of you.”
She rolled, careful not to kick him.
Then she was exposed. Totally, utterly exposed to him. It left her feeling raw.
She didn’t realize how tense she was until the first touch came. When his hands traced her shoulders, she jumped. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He smoothed her hair away and kissed the scar. His hands moved over her ribs, his fingertips tracing the sides of her breasts.
Then he was moving lower—kissing the surgical scars that ran alongside where her back had been broken. She’d been so broken.
She didn’t feel broken right now. How could she, with Phillip lavishing such tender caresses on her?
He kissed the base of her back, just above her bottom. “You are so beautiful,” he groaned—and then bit one of her cheeks.
Jo started against the bed. It felt good. It felt...as though she was alive. She grabbed the sheets and closed her eyes, letting her skin feel what she couldn’t see—Phillip. She memorized every touch.
His hand grabbed her other cheek and squeezed, then a finger slipped inside of her. She clenched down. “More.” She needed all of him.
His warmth left her. She turned her head to see him ripping open the condom wrapper, then rolling on the protection. Then he grabbed her hips, pulling her back to him with anything but gentleness.
Both. She’d asked for both because she didn’t know what she wanted, not anymore. Just him.
Make it worth ten years of waiting, she thought.
He touched her again. “You’re so ready for me.” His tone was almost reverent. Then he was against her and, with a thrust, buried inside of her.
Jo’s back arched as she groaned. “Oh, yes, please.”
But he didn’t. He stopped. The seconds dragged on for years before he grabbed her by the hips again, tilting her backside up. Then he grabbed her hair and wrapped it around his fist. “If this pulls at your back, you tell me, okay?”
Then he tugged her head back. Her neck lengthened and suddenly, his mouth was on her throat, biting at just the right spot.
Then he thrust. All Jo could do was groan at the wonderful agony of it all.
“Okay?”
“More.” He tugged at her hair, popping her head up. “More, please.”
He fell into a rhythm—long, steady strokes punctuated only by his teeth against her skin. Every bite, every thrust kept her in the here and now. Just her and Phillip.
It was freeing. She was free.
Jo came with a cry that she muffled against the mattress. Leaning back, Phillip let go of her hair and dug his fingertips into the flesh of her bottom, thrusting harder and harder until he let go with a low roar of pure satisfaction. Then he fell forward on her.
“Jo,” he whispered in her ear in a voice that made him sound vulnerable.
She rolled again—not to hide her skin from him, but to face him.
Phillip smoothed her hair away from her cheeks and kissed her softly. “Beautiful,” he sighed against her lips before he pulled her into a strong hug.
This was so much better than waking up with a sense of horror at feeling used and alone and knowing it was her own damned fault.
Her skin was still warm from Phillip’s touch, her body weak from the orgasms. She wouldn’t forget this. She wouldn’t forget him.
And now that she had this moment, how was she supposed to not want it more? Already, she wanted him again.
Oh, no.
She couldn’t believe she’d done this. She’d thrown away ten years of sticking to the straight and narrow and for what? For thirty minutes of sweet, heady freedom with Phillip Beaumont, a world-renowned womanizer with all of five days of sobriety under his belt?
How could she have been so stupid?
>
Then his phone rang.
Twelve
“Is that...the Darth Vader theme music?”
Phillip tensed at the sound of Chadwick’s ring tone. “The ‘Imperial March,’ yes.”
He pulled Jo into his arms and kissed her forehead. He didn’t want to get up. He wanted to stay here and explore Jo some more. Yeah, he’d wanted to make that memorable but the truth was, he wasn’t going to forget her.
It was a weird feeling to realize that he couldn’t remember the face, much less the name, of the last woman he’d been with. It all ran together.
Everything about Jo stood out. The way her body had closed around his, the way she’d responded to his touch, his commands—he wanted to do that again, just to make sure it hadn’t been some one-off fluke.
But Chadwick was calling. He’d gotten wind of what Phillip had been up to.
This was about to get ugly.
He forced himself to let go of her and sat up. “I need to leave.”
“Oh.”
He didn’t like her quiet note. But before he could say anything else, his phone started singing again. He grabbed his pants off the floor.
She tried to slip past him, but he hadn’t forgotten that vulnerable Oh. “Tonight,” he said as he grabbed her arm.
“Tonight?” Anything vulnerable about her was gone and the tough cowgirl was back in place.
“Have dinner with me.” His phone stopped marching, only to pick up the beat two seconds later. “Come up to the house.”
She tilted her head toward him and waited. The power had shifted between them. She’d given him control over the sex, but she’d taken that back now.
“Please,” he added as he curled his arm around her waist. He put his lips against the curve of her neck and whispered, “Please,” against her skin.
She pulled away from him. “No.”
Then she was gone, striding down the hall and out the trailer before he could process what she’d just said. No?
He stared at the empty hallway, then the bed they’d only just vacated. What happened? One minute they were having electric sex—her pleading for more, for the release he knew she couldn’t have been faking. The best sex he could remember. And the next, she was done with him?
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