by Julie Kenner
“Delilah, I have to go now, but you stay away from the roads, okay? If your ball goes there again, wait for your mom to get it.”
She nodded solemnly. “’Kay.” She then toddled off to her mother, promptly forgetting him. Jarod returned to where Lacey stood, packing her camera away.
“Done for the day?”
When she looked up, he was caught for a minute by the bare emotion in her eyes. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might have shed a few tears, too.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and her eyes widened, drawing attention to his shirt. “You did get hit. Let me see. Why didn’t you say something?”
To be honest, he hadn’t even realized it. The shirt hadn’t torn but apparently he had picked up a scrape from the bike’s handles and there was a small bloody patch on the expensive silk.
“Lacey, I’m sorry—” he started, and then sucked in a breath as she lifted the edge of the material and ran her fingers over the spot where he was injured.
“You should clean this up. It’s not deep, but it’s bruising.”
“Can’t even feel it,” he said hoarsely, telling the truth, because all he could feel were the cool tips of her fingers on his hot skin. Damn.
She was obviously concerned. So worried about a little scrape, it made him smile.
“Yeah, I’m fine. The shirt’s probably ruined, though.”
“Who cares about the shirt?”
The vibe between them had changed tangibly as she straightened and they found themselves standing very close. Her expression went from worried to sultry as her eyes drifted to his mouth. The look shot desire through him, and his cock swelled in response—pure male reaction. And if she could do that with just a look, what else could happen between them?
“That was the most amazing thing I ever saw,” she said.
“It was just—”
She put a finger to his lips, and the softness of the touch stopped him cold.
“Not ‘just’ anything. You reacted so fast, without thought. And then playing with that young girl… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so brave or so kind in my whole life, Jarod.” Her hand moved from where it had been poised on his lips to rub her thumb along his cheek. “You’re the real deal, a real hero.”
“Lacey,” he tried to object again, not wanting her to put him on too high a pedestal, especially with the erection from her touch straining at his jeans. Thank goodness the shirt hung over the front of his pants.
She pushed up on tiptoe and pulled him down as she wrapped her arms around his neck, taking his mouth in a hot and desperate kiss. He responded on instinct, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her up against him.
Her kiss was intense, and her passion equaled his, her tongue rubbing on his invitingly, her hands gripping his back as they strained to be closer than was physically possible.
When giggling cut through the lusty haze of his thoughts, he remembered they were out in the open. As he pulled gently away, he spied a group of teenage girls with knowing eyes, still giggling. He smiled, tilting his forehead against Lacey’s, both of them catching their breath.
“That was some kiss,” was all he could say.
She laughed, and pressed her lips to his one more time before slipping her hands away to put a few inches between them.
He hadn’t seen her glow, not really, until this moment. It was as if a light had turned on inside of her—the sun and the moon and stars all shining through her at once.
“We should go back to your room and wash up that scrape,” she said, her voice hitching slightly, her eyes unsure.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his own heart hammering hard as he realized what she was really saying. She didn’t have to be unsure with him. He was certain enough for both of them.
“It does sting a bit, now that you mention it.”
They walked quickly toward the subway station, their hands mingling, his thumb rubbing the center of her palm.
He let his eyes travel over her body as she stretched upward to grip the handrail. Hanging on, jostling against each other every few seconds, they moved with the sway of the train until it screeched to a halt. He wished he’d brought his handcuffs, imagining her stretched out on a bed like that, her arms secured above her head, while he enjoyed her any way he pleased.
They just about made it inside the apartment before desire exploded between them.
5
LACEY WAS PRETTY SURE she was going to lose her mind by the time he was sliding the small white card into the lock, though she’d been ready for him since they left the park. It had been the longest subway ride of her life. Who knew that a man pressing his thumb to the center of her palm could have her wet and ready so easily?
Jarod was all lean, hard male animal. Pressed up against him, she wound her arms around him, pulling him in, opening her lips and letting him explore to his, and her, delight. She didn’t want to think or talk; she wanted to burn the slate of her memories clean and start new right here, right now, with this man.
To move things along, she slid her hands down and around, pressing her palm along the hard ridge between his legs. He moaned his approval, and she reached to undo his belt. She was surprised when he gently nudged her hands away.
“What are you doing?” she asked on a gulp of breath.
“Just slowing us down a little, sweetheart.” His gaze burned into hers as he trailed a finger from her cheek to the line of her jaw and shoulder, finally brushing over her left nipple in a touch that made her catch her breath. “I plan to take my time and enjoy you.”
She shook her head. “Fast the first time. Then slow after that. Please, just fuck me,” she said on a quivering breath, holding his gaze.
She didn’t want to tell him that slow would give her too much time to think. Even now, she was afraid that if she stopped looking at him, if he stopped touching her for too long, the chill would settle in when all she wanted was his heat.
She held her breath as they shared a silent look for several heartbeats, and when he moved his hands down to his belt, loosening it, she almost thanked the heavens aloud.
It only took her a minute to catch up, stripping off her clothes, and then they were both naked and wrapped around each other, just as she’d hoped they would be.
The branding of his hot flesh on hers was a welcome mark she’d never forget. She pressed in, wanting it all, touching gently, cupping his balls in her hand, squeezing in a way that pulled a moan from deep inside of him.
She smiled into the kiss as she stroked his rock-hard shaft, rolling her thumb over the head and feeling him shudder. He filled her hand, and she wanted him filling her. The thought of him inside her had her muscles aching and clenching, begging for contact after having been empty for so long.
His hands palmed her breasts, alternately rubbing and pinching her nipples.
She levered herself up to slide her legs around his hips, and in turn he slid his hands around her backside to lift her as he carried her, never breaking their kiss until he had to speak.
“Protection,” he said, nodding toward his suitcase on the chair and setting her down long enough to search inside.
She drank the sight of him in, all taut muscle and golden skin. Later, she’d have to ask him why, exactly, he didn’t show any tan lines. He leaned down and grabbed a box from the suitcase. A big box.
She smiled. “You thought ahead. Figured a cowboy might get lucky in the big city?”
The look he shot her direction was pure sex. “I never could have imagined getting this lucky,” he said, sweeping a look down over her body and back to her face. “You’re perfect,” he said roughly.
She blushed from the intensity of his inspection, watching him as he slipped the transparent latex over a very lovely, thick erection. She might have licked her lips.
“I need you,” she whispered, walking to him, needing to finish what they started. “Now.”
“You’ve got me.” He pulled her into his arms. Wasting
no time finding her core, he slid deep inside, one sure thrust linking them together, chasing her demons away. He swallowed her gasp and moved them to a spot where nothing hung on the wall, pushing her up against it.
“Hang on, honey,” he warned on a raspy breath, making her laugh even as her entire body seemed to clutch in ecstasy.
Oh, how she’d missed this. She tried to hold on to all the sensations assaulting her, to the feeling of being completely connected to someone, to all this raw male power throbbing inside of her. Soon, though, there was too much, and she gave herself over. Jarod braced her against the wall and thrust into her, hard and fast, just as she’d asked for. Her mind blanked completely.
Yes.
“More, more, more, harder, please.” She wasn’t sure if she was begging or demanding as she chanted in time with the staccato rhythm of his thrusts. Her body stretched and expanded to accommodate him as he seemed to push even deeper, touching her where no one had ever touched, taking her places she hadn’t been.
Big, sure hands cupped her bottom, holding her in place firmly, and she cried out when his fingertips brushed over the sensitive bud between her cheeks, igniting a hard climax so unexpected that she felt tears on her cheeks as the sweetness of it claimed her.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find him watching her, his face close to hers, features taut, irises dilated. He was wild and yet completely in control. She could probably ask him to stop right now, and somehow, she knew he would.
Her muscles tightened around him as he seemed to get even thicker and heavier inside of her, and she knew he was probably close. His breath was labored, his back turning rock-hard under her fingers.
“I want you to come with me, darlin’.”
“I don’t know if I can again. That was so good,” she said on a half gasp, half laugh.
Something primal and deliberate gleamed in his eyes, and she knew her admission had been received as a challenge. It made her shiver.
“I think we can do better,” he said, teasing, but sounding completely serious all the same.
She squeaked as he pushed her legs up higher, his hips widening the space between her legs. He opened her completely and pushed the velvety hardness of his pelvis fully against the soft folds of her sex.
He literally touched her everywhere, inside and out, and she dug her nails into his shoulder blades reflexively. Her head fell forward from the onslaught of pleasure, seeking more. She couldn’t move, literally pinned against the wall, but he was moving in all the right ways.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned as his chest rubbed against her breasts, as the hard muscle of his abdomen ground against her clit relentlessly. She took her hands from his shoulders and pushed her breasts together, letting him suck both nipples simultaneously, a move that had her spiraling out of control.
Within seconds, she felt him shudder and buck against her while she melted in his arms, coming apart so completely she lost all sense of where she was. For several long moments there was nothing except for heat, waves of pulsating pleasure and Jarod.
They stayed together against the wall, catching their breath and coming back down. When she felt him move, felt his body leave hers, he didn’t put her down on the floor. Instead, he flipped her around easily and carried her with him to the bed. Laying her down and moving over her, he stretched out beside her and pulled her onto his chest.
The protective, gentle gesture moved her and tears threatened again for very different reasons. When one slipped down and splashed on his chest, he pulled back, looking at her in concern.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, studying her intently. But the panic or discomfort she was accustomed to seeing when men were faced with women’s tears was absent. He was too much man to be scared by tears.
She nodded, smiling, crying, and feeling like a complete, naked idiot.
“I’m good…better than good. It’s just that was so good, and you’re so…nice,” she said lamely. The emotions she was experiencing defied words.
“It was good,” he agreed easily, still watching her. “And you’re pretty easy to be nice to, Lacey.”
She didn’t know what to say and buried her face in his chest again, loving the texture of his skin, how he smelled and how fantastic he felt, too.
“Hey, we forgot to fix up your scrape,” she said softly.
“We can do that later. I think it’s okay,” he replied and she could hear the smile in his voice.
He mindlessly stroked her arm, and then brought her fingers up to his mouth for a kiss, and she sighed in bliss. Anxiety and tears disappeared in a relaxed afterglow that she hadn’t felt for ages. Though really, had she ever felt this? This exact combination of satisfaction, warmth and ease? It was as close to heaven as she could imagine.
“What’s this?” he asked, and she realized he’d been inspecting the arm he’d been kissing. She’d completely forgotten the scars there. Reality crashed in hard, and she yanked her arm back.
“Nothing. Just an old injury.”
“Not that old.”
She looked at him apprehensively. He read the question in her eyes and answered simply, “I have a few scars of my own, and I’ve seen plenty more. Those seem pretty recent. How does a photographer end up with that many stitches?”
She had to think fast, and shrugged, hoping she sounded casual. “I fell in my bathtub about a year ago. Broke my arm, and sliced that part below the elbow on the faucet.”
“Sounds bad.”
“It wasn’t fun, but it’s healed now,” she said easily, amazed at how the lie fell out, and not liking that she’d become used to hiding the truth. But it was about survival and privacy. She was entitled.
She certainly didn’t feel threatened by Jarod. She wouldn’t be here with him if she did, but no way would she tell him the truth. Especially now—he’d never look at her the same way if he knew. She’d found out quickly that once you admitted to being a victim, people changed how they saw you, and not for the better. So she simply wouldn’t admit it.
“Good thing, since you’re going to need every bit of strength you have,” he said, kissing her hair. He then moved out from beneath her, letting her slip onto the pile of pillows. He was, truly, the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, and even more so here in his naked, tousled, sleepy-eyed state. She pushed up on one elbow when he shifted from the mattress, and leaned over to pick up her camera bag.
“What are you doing?”
“How complicated is this camera to operate?”
“Not bad. I mean, it’s up to the photographer to know how to take a good picture. The camera is just a tool.”
His eyes remained on hers steadily. “Could I handle it?”
It took her a minute before what he was suggesting landed in her mind, and she felt herself physically pull back.
“I’m sure you could, but we’re not going there,” she said definitively.
His eyebrows quirked up. “Why not? You’ve had this thing trained on me all day, even when I wasn’t aware of it. Don’t you think turnaround is fair play?”
“You weren’t naked. It wasn’t sex.”
“I felt more exposed than that, at some points,” he confessed.
She blinked. “Why?”
“I’m not used to being watched like that. I don’t know what you’re homing in on. What you’re seeing. You’re in complete control.”
Settling into the pillows, she had to admit that she’d never thought about it that way. Most of the subjects she’d shot were models, and were used to being in the limelight. She hadn’t considered how vulnerable it could make someone, like Jarod, feel—a man who was always used to being in control.
“Okay, I get that, but this is different.”
“How? It’s another way I can get to know you…and it’s your camera, your film. You can just destroy it later if you want to. Though I’d love to see the photos first,” he added in a voice like warm honey.
Like many photographers, Lacey preferred being
on the working end of the camera for a reason, but she had to admit, the look on Jarod’s face was compelling. And the idea of giving him that gift was seductive.
She smiled. “What if you don’t like what you see?”
He shook his head resolutely. “No chance of that,” he promised, his eyes drifting over her as she lounged on the bed.
She paused, considering. He’d let her demand what she wanted earlier, given her what she needed without holding back. He had only showed her passion, consideration, kindness. She knew if she told him no, he’d listen.
So maybe it was a moment for her to give him something.
“Okay, there’s only a dozen or so pictures left on there anyway, but let me show you what to do.”
Heat and something else—admiration?—flared in his eyes when she agreed. Her own breath became a little short at the thought of what they were about to do.
After a few quick instructions, she wasn’t sure if she was more nervous about being photographed nude or him handling her expensive camera. But his hands were sure, and he took a position at the end of the bed.
As he lifted the camera to his eye, she froze for a second, wondering what to do. The barrel of the lens seemed to zero in on her, tagging her to the spot. She’d never realized how it felt to be so tightly zoomed in on, explored—exposed.
But her frozen posture gave way to heat as he spoke.
“Relax on those pillows…think about what we did a few minutes ago. Think about me inside of you, fucking you up against the wall.”
How did he know so easily what to say, what turned her on? She loved sex talk, hard, raw and honest. It was how she liked sex, as well, and Jarod seemed of a like mind.
“Open up your legs…let me see what you’re hiding there,” he continued playfully, his tone light and teasing, and she did as he asked.
She dealt with her nerves by hamming it up at first, mocking a sexy pose against the pillows, letting her thighs fall only so far apart, teasing, and lifting her arms up to jut her breasts out for his view. She imagined she looked ridiculous. She was confident in her body, but wasn’t built to pull off the sexy poses her more voluptuous models could. She was more…made for modeling running clothes or sports equipment.
