He frowned, annoyed for her. “So why not change it if you hate it?”
“To what?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. It was difficult for him to keep his attention on the road with her smirking at him. “Pick a name for me.”
“Cordelia,” he suggested, laughing.
She grimaced. “And how is that any better?”
“Dulcinea.”
“Well,” she said as she raised her brows, “look at you being all cultured.”
They went through names, debating their merits and detractions. By the time they reached the off-ramp to Salt Lake, her eyes had brightened.
“I think Otis is my favorite so far,” she joked.
“Our neighbor had a dog named Otis. If we’re changing your name, we might have to train you not to lick people.”
“Yes, I’m a bad girl. I’m constantly jumping up on people too.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. There was no way she wasn’t flirting—not with her expression so naughty.
He frowned. “Bad dog.”
“The worst,” she agreed. “Be careful if I growl or I’m not wagging my tail.”
“Do you bite?”
When he looked at her, her cheeks were crimson.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Damn it. His cock was getting hard. A bit of teasing banter with a girl shouldn’t have done this to him, but the fact that making vaguely sexy jokes embarrassed her but she was doing it anyway made the game more fun.
“Oh, turn here,” she said, pointing to the right.
He pulled into the parking lot of the sporting-goods store Ophelia had found on her phone, feeling like an ass for almost driving right past it. Too busy talking.
Even if they weren’t camping tonight, they were both overdressed for walking around Glacier, and they needed more practical footwear.
“I picture you more as a princess than as a dog though,” he said, deciding that the dog jokes had gone far enough, especially since his next comeback was about leashes.
“A princess, huh? Should I be flattered or offended? And are you talking royalty, or spoiled brat?”
“Spoiled,” he said decisively. “Full of sass.”
“You think I’m sassy?” She even said it with a sassy look on her face. “Really?”
He parked the vehicle and unbuckled his seat belt, turning in the seat to grab his wallet from the console. She was watching him.
“Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe a little.”
He let a slow, interested smile spread across his face. Her eyes darted to one of his dimples and her lips parted slightly. Some girls were immune to them, but apparently not Ophelia.
Damn. His next line really wasn’t any better than the leash one had been, but it was coming out anyway. “I bet you weren’t spanked as a child.”
“I’ve never been spanked as an adult either,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes rounded, as though the words had been a mistake. Had she thrown in innuendo she hadn’t meant, or admitted something she didn’t want him to know?
“Never?” he said blandly, not wanting to spook her. The tension between them urged him to kiss her, but it felt soon for that. His cock was throbbing insistently, but he ignored it. “Are you vanilla?”
She shrugged. “I—don’t know. The kinkiest thing I’ve done is—” The sentence stopped, and her eyes went even wider, as though she was horrified with herself.
“What?” he coaxed. “I won’t judge you.”
For a long moment she just stared out the window at the storefront. “Oral,” she finally blurted. “And I don’t even know how to do it right.” She fiddled with her hair, braiding a small section, then unbraiding it again, avoiding his gaze.
“That just takes practice and paying attention to your partner.” Drawing together every gentlemanly instinct he could muster, he managed not to offer to teach her.
“Thank you for not laughing. I know it sounds stupid. Especially in this day and age.”
“It’s not stupid. Everyone starts somewhere, if they start at all. And not everyone likes oral.”
She shrugged. “My parents were strict. By the time I was allowed to start dating, everyone else already knew how to . . .” She gestured vaguely. “When my last ex dumped me, he told a bunch of our friends that I was boring in bed.” It had wounded her, he could tell, and no wonder. One of her dainty hands came up to rub her forehead, then she glared at him. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Car trips,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to brush some hair away from her face. The strands were as silky as they looked. “They’re like therapy. I won’t tell anyone what you tell me.”
Before he pulled back his hand, she leaned into the caress, as though unable to help herself. Was she starved for affection, or did she like him? When she realized what she’d done, she drew away, dropping her gaze submissively. It was like a punch in the gut to a man who liked his women submissive in bed.
“Come on,” he said, wanting to touch her again, but restraining himself. He thought of all the handsy men his sister, Macy, had complained about before she’d met Jamie. Ophelia had pulled back, so he’d give her space. “Let’s get some retail therapy in too, while we’re at it.”
Chapter 5
The lighting in the store was bright and harsh. Why would anyone need to see beef jerky in high def? And why were they selling beef jerky in with the clothes and next to the fishing rods and pretzels? Maybe it was normal for everything to be mixed together like this. She’d never been inside a sporting-goods store.
Men, women, and children wandered around the place alone or in small groups. Most had carts, as though the place was a grocery store. Ophelia hadn’t been to many grocery stores in her life, but carts had always held a fascination. She’d never even pushed one, although they looked like fun. Even now as an adult.
“Maybe we should have taken a cart,” she said casually as he walked along a row of sleeping bags.
“Hmm. Yeah. I’ll go grab one.”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I’ll get it.” She hoped he didn’t see her stupid grin before she turned away. When she got to the place where the carts were stacked together, she hesitated, not sure how to take one from the row when it was stuck to the one in front of it. A man walked past her and yanked one free, then offered it to her when he saw her watching him.
“Thanks,” she said. He nodded pleasantly and turned back to pull another one out for himself. Friendly bunch.
Feeling like a kid, she wheeled it back to where she’d left Luke.
“So are we camping or renting a hotel room? This is your last chance to chicken out.”
Chicken? She arched a brow at him. “I’m not scared,” she lied.
“Mm-hmm.” He threw two sleeping bags into the cart and led her farther down the aisle. When they reached the tent section, he picked a tent that said it was for six people. “Do you want your own tent, or are we sharing?”
“We can share,” she said, not meeting his eyes. She wasn’t about to be a baby about it. There was no point in wasting money. Friends camped together all the time, right? No big deal. It didn’t mean anything.
Besides, he’d been a gentleman the night before. He’d made a point of saying he insisted on consent. All the talk about kink had her hot and bothered, though. But how far did she want things to go? “But why do we need one for six people if there are only two of us?”
He chuckled. “The labeling is misleading. Let’s put it this way—the six people would have to be very small, and very, very friendly with each other.”
How friendly would he be with her in this tent?
A minute later he put one air mattress in the cart too. Were they sharing it? Did he think she was going to sleep with him?
She glanced at him sidelong, taking i
n the delicious build, the handsome face. He was easily the hottest guy she’d ever hung out with, making the other guys she knew seem like overgrown choir boys by comparison. But even better, he made her laugh, and it felt like he was interested in what she had to say, rather than just waiting for her to shut up so he could talk about himself. Jason never seemed to care about anything other than having her on his arm, and maybe having a captive audience while he rambled about his various music demos. He’d never once asked her what kind of music she liked. It was the first thing Luke had asked when he’d turned on the radio.
But she’d just met Luke. Did she really want to sleep with him? Already?
A few aisles down from the air mattresses, Luke chose a cast-iron frying pan and a kettle and put them in the cart. The play of muscle in his tattooed arms as he reached for things was very distracting. She was glad he was doing all the work and she wasn’t expected to think because she suddenly couldn’t put two words together. Damn, the man had sexy arms. The thought of him wrapping them around her, or those big hands holding her down while he . . .
Oh my.
Well, that answered that question. And why shouldn’t she sleep with him? Chloe hooked up with different guys all the time. Did they sell condoms at a store like this? Did she have the nerve to throw a box of them into the cart? What would he say? What would he think of her? Was he even interested?
A fishing rod, lures, snacks, and boots were all loaded in the cart before they hit the clothing section. The options there weren’t really her style—all khakis and cotton—but she supposed camping was more about practicality than fashion.
In a small fitting room, buried at the back of the clothing department, she tried things on while he waited patiently nearby.
She slipped on a pair of khaki hiking shorts that Luke had picked out and grunted at her reflection.
“What’s wrong?” Luke said. His voice was so close, almost like he was in the room with her.
She buttoned the top then turned as she looked herself over in the mirror. “There are a million pockets! What could one person need with so many damned pockets?”
“Let me see.”
“What?” She spun around, as if he’d burst through the door.
“Come out and let me see,” he prompted, as though he had every right to give her orders. She obeyed before she gave it much thought.
Slowly, she opened the door. And then he was there, staring down at her with a satisfied smile.
Tension zinged between them, unspoken.
“Turn around.”
Following the harmless command felt bizarrely sexual, but then, his tone when he’d told her to do it had been far from innocent. And his voice? God, the man had a sexy voice.
Maybe she arched her back more than she needed to, and played with her hair too much, but she wasn’t about to just announce her interest. How did a girl tell a guy she was possibly open to having sex in a six-person tent that night? At parties she’d seen Chloe at work, but she’d never tried it herself.
For an insane moment, she thought she heard a hum of appreciation from him. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, pockets can be handy for carrying things. Pocketknife. Protein bar. Camera. Bear spray . . .”
“Bear spray?” She felt her eyes go wide.
He chuckled, making his breath whisper across her forehead. Her eyes drifted shut. He was standing too damn close. She turned to walk back into the fitting room, but he caught the door before she could swing it closed. He backed her into the small space, using his body like a wall to block her from escaping, grinning down at her in a way that made her breath catch. God, this close up he was huge, and so dangerous looking. She didn’t even know him, really. Why was she encouraging this?
He must have spotted her hesitation, because he stepped back. “Are you scared?”
It took a minute for her to find her voice. “Of bears?”
He laughed. “Of me.”
“Oh.” Was she? No. She probably should have been, considering how they’d met, but he really didn’t set off any of her internal creep alarms. “No, I—” She broke off, trying to swallow down the drumming in her ears. “I’m just shy. I don’t know how to flirt very well . . .” She stumbled over what she was trying to say, feeling like a huge idiot.
“If you want me to stop, say ‘red.’” He stepped closer. The resonance of his deep voice tickled something low in her belly. “The word ‘red’ will work every single time, no matter what we’re doing.”
Of course. Why hadn’t she realized he was one of those?
A few months ago there’d been a giggling discussion between Chloe and Priya about safewords, so she knew exactly what kind of guy gave a girl the “red” talk. She’d tried not to think about it afterward, but the titillating details of what one of Chloe’s dates had done to her had been replaying in Ophelia’s mind. She’d imagined being bossed around and tied up, and maybe, just maybe, she’d gone to look at a porn site. The one she’d seen had been too extreme for her, though, and it had scared her enough to make her stick to her imagination after that.
How much of the rough stuff was he into? How much could she handle? For a moment her heart beat erratically. She should have run screaming, but all she could manage was to blink up at him and try not to panic. Chloe had said all the power was actually with the one submitting, since they had the safeword. They could veto anything and they could walk away anytime.
“Okay,” she said, her voice shaking.
Oh god, he was so . . . muscle-y. He was going to break her if he was into anything too crazy.
He slid the lock shut behind him, then turned back to her.
Here?
“Um . . . what are you doing?”
“Just kissing you,” he murmured, his voice turning her knees to rubber. “Tell me to stop anytime.”
“Okay.” Her cheeks felt like they were going to burn the particleboard cubicle to the ground.
He pressed her against the back wall, narrowly avoiding the metal hook her jeans hung on.
“You’re a very pretty girl, Ophelia,” he said, one of his hands coming up to cup her jaw. His thumb grazed her cheek, and she worked hard at not melting into his hand again like she had in the SUV. Was she so hard up for affection that she was willing to accept it from a stranger?
This one? Fuck, yes.
“You think so?” She knew she was pretty enough, but compared to most of her friends who’d had work done, all she saw in the mirror were her flaws.
“Yes.”
Just like that. Simple. Not some sort of line to get into her pants. A man like Luke didn’t need glibness and tricks to get a girl into bed. He probably had a gaggle of Snapchat stalkers begging him to screw their brains out.
His lips hovered over hers for a long moment and with every passing second the heavy ache between her legs got worse. By the time he got around to kissing her, she was going to go off in her pants.
She leaned in, trying to hurry him, but he pulled back and slid his fingers into the back of her hair, making a fist close to her scalp. Heat rushed through her body, like a sudden fever, and her eyes drooped half closed. More turned on than afraid, she moaned, then felt ridiculous for doing it.
“You like a man to take charge of you?” he whispered, his lips barely grazing hers.
Gasping for breath, trying to slow her galloping heart, she focused on his words. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, I think you like this, pretty girl.” His mouth brushed hers, teasing. He flicked his tongue over her lips and her lips parted, ready for whatever he wanted to do.
“I do?”
He kissed her then, holding her in place, trapping her with his body and his mouth. He kissed like a man who had all the time in the world. His lips teased at hers, and gradually his tongue insinuated its way into her mouth, coaxing hers to reciprocate, patient and sexy,
making her head spin. Her hands were trapped between them against his chest, and she longed to slide them up under his shirt. So she did. Why the hell not?
He let go of her hair, but his lips held her in place, kissing, teasing, stealing her air. One of his hands rested gently on the side of her neck, the thumb creeping toward the front to band casually over her throat, holding but not squeezing. Making her belly flutter. With his other hand, he unbuttoned the khaki shorts she’d just tried on. His palm flattened against her belly, then slipped down into the waistband of her panties. The shorts fell to the floor and pooled around her ankles.
Fuck. They were in a fitting room. She had to tell him to stop.
In a minute.
His mouth on hers felt too good for her to interrupt, and his hands were making her shivery and needy.
Lower his hand slid, and rather than stopping him, she spread her legs farther apart, giving him access to whatever he wanted.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured, the words trilling excitement through her as he slid his hand down between her legs. One finger rubbed back and forth, insinuating itself between her labia. She gasped in pleasure although her cheeks burned with embarrassment about how slick she was. He coaxed a finger up inside her, then a second, his thumb finding and circling her clit. Gasping, she grabbed his arm and went up on her toes, but his mouth came down on hers again, swallowing her moan before someone heard.
God, he was going to get her off right here. She couldn’t be quiet enough for that!
But she couldn’t stop him either. To stop him she had to say a word. A color. She didn’t care what color it was, really. She forgot there were colors, focused on the feel of his mouth on hers, his firm grip on her throat, the fingers touching her, moving inside her, making her whimper and wriggle. His little finger strayed and slid across her anus and her whole body tensed, like she’d been given a pleasurable shock. She was embarrassed by his mistake, but it had felt so wrong and so good.
He toyed with her and she dug her fingernails into his forearm, shaking, trying hard not to come, and knowing she’d never be quiet enough.
Fueling His Hunger Page 4
