by Stacy Gail
He wanted. And it was killing him.
That was why he’d pushed her into a corner. Now that he was calm and hating himself for it, he could admit that he’d been testing her. Daring her to let him walk out the door had been his way of seeing if she not only felt the same desire he did, but he’d been hoping to see if she needed him. Needed him, like he needed her.
What a fucking moron he was to walk away from casual sex, simply because he was having a hard time feeling casual about it. And worse, she’d given him the answer he hadn’t wanted to hear. She hadn’t needed him. Even as he’d suffered the result of his actions by lying in bed alone in the wee hours of the morning stroking himself into frustrated and dissatisfied exhaustion, that thought lingered. She hadn’t needed him.
Not like he needed her.
“When I was in college, I studied Carl Junker. That explains why the photos of Thorne Mansion snagged my attention. Some part of my subconscious brain must have recognized his style.” Flipping on lights as she went, she tossed aside her satchel and wrestled off her work boots to throw them to a place near the door. “Ah, relief. I can’t believe how hot my feet get in those things. I think I’ll switch to my sneakers now that demolition is almost over. Do you want something to drink? I’ve got water and some kind of soda, I can’t remember what.”
“I’m good.” He could throttle her for being so goddamn casual. It was like she had already forgotten they’d been a thin hair away from mind-blowing sex in this very room. “I take it Thorne Mansion has a Carl Junker look to it?”
“When he built your ancestral house, Junker basically created a miniature version of Miramare Castle in Trieste, Italy. Thorne Mansion does have a few more Gothic touches in its spires and overhangs, so that’s what threw me off. What’s great about this, though, is that even if I can’t locate a copy of the mansion’s blueprints in Junker’s archives, I now believe I can fill in whatever blanks I had about the interior layout. This project is in the bag.” Clearly thrilled and flushed with either victory or too much sun, she practically bounced over to where he was. “What about you? Have you looked into that tin you pulled out?”
“It’s just a piece of Edwardian-era trash.” Distracted, he held up the tin he’d fished out while his mind snagged on a faint, rhythmic sound from next door. “I’m much more interested in why the cornerstone had an edifice built over it in the first place. If that secondary wall wasn’t there for a structural purpose, then it was there to hide the cornerstone. But why go to all that trouble when you could just chisel the name and date off the edifice and erase it forever from history?”
“Beats me, but I doubt Junker was around when the cornerstone was bricked over. He wasn’t known to be overly modest.” With a bright smile, she held her hand out. “Could I take a peek at that tin?”
“You can keep it, for all I care.” His tone was surlier than he’d intended. But he figured he couldn’t be blamed, as it finally dawned on him what he was hearing. They were the sounds of sex. Pure, heavy-breathing, wall-thumping, bed-creaking, synchronized-moaning sex.
If he didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to lose it.
“Thanks, I’m an avid collector of quirky souvenirs from the projects I’ve had around the world. This one’s right up there with the voodoo doll I found in an old plantation in Haiti. I had to have it spiritually cleansed before I took it home, though. I was told it would probably make the plane crash on the way home if—”
“Stop.” His head thudded in time with the sounds from next door, and her babbling didn’t help. He pressed his fingers to her mouth, and when her eyes dilated before skittering in the direction of the noises, it dawned on him why she’d been talking so much. She’d heard what was happening next door, and if the awareness flushing her porcelain-pale skin like a fever was any indication, it affected her just as deeply as it did him.
Enough.
“Last night I came all over myself because of you, Parker. Then I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t there when my hands needed to be filled with you. I find excuses to be where you are, when I’ve never made excuses for any damn thing in my life. I see you, and in my mind I’m ripping your clothes off because it kills me to see your body covered by something other than me. I’m the only thing that should cover you. I knew it from the moment I saw you. And whether you’ll admit it or not, I know you knew it too.”
Chandler didn’t know who made the move to close the distance between them. He didn’t care. He just knew her mouth was where it should be—under his and greedy for the hot fusion of lips and tongue and taste. The way she kissed blew his mind. It was like having sex with her mouth alone, and the wild thrill of it blistered through him with the mind-bending kick of a hard-core drug. His body burned from the inside out with the heated friction of her tongue against his, and with a ragged groan he hauled her up by that sweet little ass of hers and pressed her hard against the nearest wall so that the rising swell of his dick pressed at the cradle of her thighs. Nothing could have pleased him more when he felt her legs clamp around his waist so that her ankles hooked behind his back.
“You’re going to have to put up with this,” he ground out against her mouth and rocked his hips against her. The heat coming from her scorched him until he wanted to writhe with the lush agony of it, and the heaviness in his groin grew so fast it took all his strength not to double over with the achy pleasure. “I want to punish you for not letting me be inside you last night. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be happy unless you’re feeling me inside you.”
“Not my fault you were too damn polite.” Her breathing was shallow, disturbed. But disturbed wasn’t good enough. Nothing would satisfy him until each breath came out like a moan, so he rubbed against her without mercy while struggling to ignore the burgeoning need in his swelling flesh. When he felt a tremor flutter her lower abdomen and a small cry erupted from her parted lips, he almost lost it. God help him, when she was aroused, Parker was the most beautiful being that had ever drawn breath. And if he couldn’t make that sound come out of her again, he didn’t deserve the label of “man.”
He pressed his mouth against the side of her neck and tasted the flesh there, delighting in the slight salty taste of a woman who had been out in the sun and fresh air. His head swam when her fingers plowed into his hair as if she couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. The motion of her hips, moving fluidly against his, hurt him in a way he never wanted to end. The center of his attention was where their bodies made the most intimate contact, and determinedly putting his own need aside, he surged against her as if already buried in her depths. What he wanted wasn’t important now; all that mattered was that he had to make her crazy. To turn her inside-out with the need for his touch. To fill her so completely she couldn’t think or feel or taste anything but him, and wherever she went from this moment forward it would be his face she’d see whenever she felt pleasure.
A ripple tore through her body, loosing another cry of helplessness. Rapt, he watched her head strain back against the wall, her eyes squeezing shut as she gave herself over to voluptuous sensation, and felt it balloon inside him as if it were his own.
“I never knew watching a woman climax could be so mind-blowing.” With her body still shuddering, he turned and in a few strides he lowered onto the edge of the zebra-striped bed. She flowed from his hands like a liquid, a fantasy come to life as she pulled her simple T-shirt over her head like the material was burning her skin. As her dark-fire hair tumbled around her face, her eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks rosy-hued, he fought the compulsion to sink to his knees in quiet, simple worship.
She was so beautiful it nearly killed him.
“Don’t.”
The whispered word almost passed by without his notice, he was so wrapped up the devastating beauty of her. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t even think about getting out of here now.”
&n
bsp; A low breath of laugh huffed out of him, and he at last gave in to the need to smooth back her curling hair. God, he’d wanted to touch her hair from the very beginning. “Don’t worry. I’m here to stay.”
Chapter Nine
When he reached for the button of her jeans, Parker very nearly came again out of sheer excitement.
When had she ever climaxed with all her clothes on? She would have laughed, albeit self-consciously, if she could find a way to get enough air into her lungs. But her body was not her own at the moment; somehow it had become Chandler’s too-responsive instrument, and his mastery at playing all the right notes left her helpless. Every nerve ending still shivered with an overload of sensation, as if she again trembled on ecstasy’s edge after already falling over. God help her, she couldn’t wait to take that tumble.
By simply touching her, he made her want, in a way she didn’t know existed.
He pushed her back onto the bed, bending to capture her mouth in a hotly invasive kiss as he followed her down. A knee came to support his weight between her legs, one hand still in her hair while the other skimmed along the line of her bra. With a flick of his wrist he knocked the strap aside before delving beneath the cup to coax the rounded flesh from its covering.
“When I first laid eyes on you, all I could think about was seeing just how freckled you are. You’re even sexier than I’d imagined, Parker.” A satisfied smile lit his face before he lowered his head to the exposed flesh. A sharp intake of breath escaped her as his lips, hot enough to scald an invisible path wherever they touched, closed in on the sensitized peak. She bit her lip to stifle a moan at the hard suction, and when she could do nothing more than arch her back in a blind search for more, he removed the wisp of lace veiling her breasts entirely. Wet heat pumped from her most intimate place, a feverish, insistent throb that made it impossible to hold still. The muscles in her buttocks tightened to curl her hips up to his, and they both jolted when she came into contact with his granite-like hardness.
Oh yes.
“I don’t like your clothes, Chandler.” She was amazed she spoke the words aloud.
“Got a problem with my clothes, babe? Take them off. That’s what I’m doing with you.” To demonstrate, he pulled the top of her jeans along with her panties over the subtle flare of her hips. Then, impatient when the slide of material stalled out, his hand invaded the fragile barrier of her panties.
Any hope of stifling her cries fled when his fingers plunged boldly into the satiny, slick folds of her sex. Her bones liquefied even as the heavy pulse between her thighs increased until it bordered on painful. She wriggled against his touch, against the chafing of her remaining clothes, against the tension twining tighter and tighter in the pit of her stomach yet again. Everything inside her clamored for something more, something greater, and the drive to find it pushed her to the limits of sanity.
“Chandler.” Her teeth gritted down on his name, begging him. Pleading. She gripped his hips to pull him deeper into the cradle of her thighs. Restlessly she tugged at his shirt, unbuttoning it and yanking it from him without conscious thought before going for his belt. She couldn’t think properly, couldn’t put a coherent plan of action together—not when the masterfully knowing stroke of his fingers explored her until he hit on the hard nub of nerves and teased it without mercy. Sensation piled on sensation, so piercingly pure in pleasure that tears poured from the corners of her eyes. The ultra-sensitive point he tormented swelled to bursting as her body writhed in time with his touch.
It was a damn wonder she was still conscious.
“You’re so hot, Parker. Hot enough to melt me. I can’t wait to feel you burning me up.” His breath feathered like a caress over her breasts a moment before he moved downward, and for a moment frustration burned molten in her blood. As he moved he put himself out of her reach, but all too soon her upset was forgotten as she realized he’d taken a kneeling position between her knees and was intent on ridding her of the last of her clothes. Eagerly she helped him, her heart pounding to the point that she was dizzy with an excitement so pure it blocked out every thought but him. No one had ever pulled such profound responses from her like this. She didn’t know what it was about this man that affected her, but part of her had been captivated almost from the beginning. As each day passed and she grew to know and understand the man he was, the more completely he commanded her attention. Touching him now was nothing more than a realization of a dream that started when she first saw him. More than her next breath, she wanted to at last give herself over to pure sensation and let it take her to wherever he wanted to go. She trusted in their mutual desire enough to know their final destination would be unforgettable.
The remainder of their clothing was cast aside, and he left her just long enough to retrieve a condom from the bedside basket before positioning himself between her knees. She tried to scoot farther back onto the mattress but he held her firmly in place, his eyes almost savage as they burned with tightly restrained passion.
“You’re exactly where I want you.” He spread his hands wide on her inner thighs and pushed them as far apart as they would go, sliding his palms all the way to her knees to position them until they pointed toward her shoulders. She was utterly exposed to his gaze, and her hands gripped the zebra-print in dizzying anticipation. “Chandler...please.”
“What lovely manners you have. I have to reward you for that.”
The weight of the promise held in those words danced heady anticipation through her body to center on her slickly throbbing cleft. She wanted whatever reward he had in mind, just as long as it made her cry and scream and wish there really was such a thing as forever...
Parting her inner flesh, Chandler circled her most sensitive point with his thumb before lowering his head. He sucked the nub into his mouth, carefully clamping down on it to lave it with his tongue with such driven intent it was clear he wanted to show her no mercy.
It was a mercilessness she was destined to never forget, as it flirted with the realms of all-out torture. Maddening. Inescapable. Breathless cries, unheard by her, poured from her as she writhed with it, her body not her own as rapture became the one and only element in her universe. With frenzied abandon she dived into the center of the ecstasy clenching tighter inside in the blind hope of forever losing herself in it. The intensity folded in on itself, an infinite deepening of sensation that clenched with a tension sure to shatter her mind and soul...
When it broke, the spasm of pleasure was so exquisite it jerked her hips and lower back completely off the bed. Then he was plunging inside her, his thick, swollen sex filling her convulsing depths so completely a new wave of mindless bliss pushed her into a world she half-feared would change her world down to its very foundation.
* * *
“I don’t know why I never noticed before, but there are mirrors on the ceiling.”
Drifting somewhere in the weightless place between sleep and wakefulness, Chandler cracked his eyes open. Parker was right; there were mirrors on the ceiling. Tiled mirrors, to be precise, so the effect wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Thanks to the lines in the tiles and their bow-chica wow-wow surroundings, they looked like a jigsaw puzzle made from the still of a porno movie. He saw himself, relaxed and naked on the acres of eye-bleeding zebra-print now rumpled and well-used. Beside him, Parker lay on her side, her back to him with her head using his upper arm as a pillow. Her milky paleness appeared infinitely fragile next to him, and a fierce wave of protectiveness hit from out of nowhere. Though maybe he did know where such a feeling came from—it probably had something to do with his mind being turned inside-out by her passion. Like everything else she did, Parker threw herself into sex. No inhibitions. No doubts. Nothing held back.
Without a doubt, she was the most open woman he’d ever slept with when it came to showing her pleasure.
But he didn’t like how com
fortable she was in turning her back on him once all was said and done.
Curling the arm on which she rested her head, he guided her face back toward his for a kiss, then casually turned her so that she settled against his side. “I think I like it, watching us together like this. Maybe there’s something to Earl’s unusual tastes in interior decorating.”
“He’s inventive, I’ll give him that.”
“I’ve never seen skin like yours. So pale. Fragile.” He skimmed a hand down the length of her arm before fitting the curve of her ass into his palm. “I look too rough and leathery to handle such fine, freckled porcelain.”
“You can handle me any way you want to. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I don’t know about that. Redheads are supposed to have a lower threshold for pain.”
She made a sound of amusement. “Where’d you get that?”
“I looked it up after meeting you. I also learned there’s an upside to that sensitivity thing. You’re also far more sensitive to sexual stimulation than normal people.”
“Did you just say normal people?” She bit his shoulder just hard enough to sting. “Why were you looking up trivia on redheads anyway?”
“I’m a details-oriented man. I like to investigate my subject as thoroughly as possible.” He cupped a breast, his thumb rubbing the dark mauve nipple until it was a hardened nub and she arched like a happy cat. “If there was any edge to be found in getting you naked and under me, I was going to find it. And you have to admit—there must be something to that sensitivity research. This fantastic body of yours responds in a way that sets my brain on fire.”
“That’s not all that catches fire with you.” With a smile that had enough sex in it to turn his spine into mush, she curled her fingers around the relaxed flesh of his dick and squeezed until he stopped breathing, then danced her fingertips along the sensitive underside to the ridge at the crown. Loose, pliant muscles tightened with pleasure, and the heaviness that tightened his nether region made him groan in a drugged kind of pleasure. Damn, she knew how to make him want to beg. “I just hope we didn’t disturb the neighbors.”
