“Damn you, Crosby.”
He bit back laughter and moved to the other side. The painful throbbing in his jeans was almost more than he could take, but so wrapped up with pleasure that he didn’t want it to end. But it would get a whole lot better before that happened.
He stopped his ministrations long enough to lose his pants, and the next time he put his tongue on her, it was a bull’s-eye. She shrieked and grabbed his head as he plunged inside her, sucking and licking until he couldn’t hold on any longer. Finally, dislodged by her hip action, he grabbed the condom. Greater sensitivity, the package read. Just what he needed. He tore open the wrapper, saying a silent thanks to Estelle’s brother that would probably get his ass kicked, and rolled on the latex. A cool, tingly feeling greeted him.
Time to get hot.
He maneuvered to her opening and assumed the position. He glanced at her to make sure she was still on board and found her looking intently at him. Their eyes locked and stayed that way, making the moment he sank into her body one of the most intimate experiences of his life. The intensity startled him so much that he almost looked away, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
He withdrew slightly, then pushed further inside, repeating until he was buried. Her fingernails dug into his biceps. “How do you like it? Easy”—he withdrew then slowly pumped back into her body—“or hard?” This time when he withdrew, he slammed back inside, holding back just enough so he didn’t hurt her.
“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes rolled back in her head and a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. He felt her squeezing him and nearly lost what was left of his sanity.
“How do you want it?” he asked again, grinding hard against her.
He rocked his hips, opening distance between them, and she whimpered at his absence. She whimpered harder when he thrust again. She reached up to grip the metal poles that comprised the headboard, causing her breasts to sit high and round on her rib cage. “Hard,” she whispered.
She didn’t need to tell him twice. He hooked her legs under his arms and drove into her, balls deep. He rocked against her, grinding hard against her clit, but before the scream fully left her lips, he was gone again. She took skin off his arms in her attempt to make him stay, but he left anyway, repeating the whole bump and grind at a punishing pace. The bed rocked, the metal frame slamming against the wall, Estelle coming undone. By some blessed miracle, he held on, but barely as her body trembled. When her cries softened, he took her mouth in a languid kiss—a slow exploration of tangled tongues and heavy breathing as he moved gently inside her, waiting for her to come back around.
He tasted her neck, finding and nipping the tender hollow behind her ear, then worked his way down to suck on her breast. He loved her responsiveness. Loved the feel of her hard nipple stabbing his tongue, reaching for him. Straining. Begging. He took as much in his mouth as he could, rasping his tongue back and forth as he continued to rock his hips. She was so soft inside. So hot. So every damned cliché you ever heard, but so much more. She had him wound tight, strung out, and barely holding on, and he loved it. Had never known anything like it. The more he paced himself, the more dizzied he felt. His entire body craved release. Demanded he plow into her. But she whispered soft sighs and breathed contentment. She wasn’t ready…not until she could scarcely breathe at all.
He reached between them, feeling blindly for her clit as he switched sides, leaving one breast wet to the cool air while burying the other stiff, needy peak under his mouth. When his fingers hit pay dirt, she jolted and arched beneath him, nearly knocking him to the side. And giving him a hell of an idea.
He rolled over, taking her with him without breaking a single point of contact, then reluctantly relinquished his hold on her breast so she could straighten. She straddled him, fully impaled, and with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, started riding him at such a coy, measured speed that he just knew she was fucking with him.
“You think you can do that to me,” she said, “and expect me to take over up here?”
“That’s kind of my point,” he argued. Probably against his best interest. “I did that to you. Figured I earned a moment of respite.”
“If you want respite, I can just…” She moved one leg like she was headed for a dismount.
He closed his hands on her legs and locked her down. Nope. “You can just ride me,” he ordered. “Hard.”
She flattened her hands on his abdomen, then traced a fingertip across his chest. And made no move whatsoever toward speed. He kicked up his hips a little, nudging up the momentum.
She smiled, all smoky blue eyes and flushed skin, as she sweetly braced herself and foiled his efforts. Her blonde, sweat-darkened hair hung in soft waves.
“You look amazing,” he said. “Especially like this.”
“Just like this? Because I thought you wanted a little more action.” She increased her speed just a little, but it was a Richter scale kind of difference, with each uptick of intensity measuring ten times the one before it.
He moved his hands to her hips and plied her into the fast lane. “Until it cripples you,” he said.
“Charming.”
“Will be,” he sputtered. Because she’d kicked it into overdrive, sliding back and forth in short bursts, grinding against him, driving him hard from every angle at once. The explosive friction between their bodies made an unbearable contrast to her heat. He was buried, balls deep, in an inferno. She was wet, her skin hot and slick, her hair flinging all over the place while she worked him like she had a road map to his fucking soul.
The edges of his vision darkened, and for a brief moment, he wondered if the sun had imploded. Then he realized it was him. Radio static crackled in his ears. He was somehow numb and at once blissfully aware of the pleasure that roared through him while he involuntary jerked like a fire hose. He prayed the latex would hold under the force of his orgasm. Prayed he’d survive. And considering her inevitable departure, prayed he was wrong about what she’d done to him.
Ruined.
Even though he knew damn well it was the truth.
And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Chapter Nine
Estelle woke in the middle of the night to the sublime feeling of being the little spoon, all enveloped in the heat that was Crosby. But the heat stopped there. The room was frigid. Skiing-in-Tahoe frigid.
“Crosby.” The stage whisper didn’t rouse him, so she jabbed backward with her elbow. “Crosby!”
“Ow,” he muttered through sleep. “What?”
“It’s freezing in here.” She tugged uselessly at the comforter that was twisted beneath them.
“I feel nothing but heat.”
“You’re going to feel my elbow again if you don’t let go so I can go turn that thing off.”
He released her, but before she could get up he climbed over her and punched one of the buttons about ten times. “It occurs to me I forgot the remote.”
“It has a remote?” Like she cared. She was too busy staring at him. Naked. Utterly naked. Could not have been more delectable if he’d been carved from cheesecake. Or maybe chocolate. Chocolate and wine and—
“Would have been handy, no?” He reached to grab his jeans from the floor and pulled them on. Then he found and tossed her his T-shirt.
“Clothes?” She was no expert, but she was pretty sure his bones had melted right alongside hers. The fact that he was opting to cover the fun parts didn’t bode well to that point.
“Just so I can tear it off you later,” he said. “I want to show you something outside while we defrost.”
She pulled on the shirt and lived a few lifetimes in the way he watched her as she moved toward him. When she shivered, she wasn’t sure if it was him or the cold. “I don’t think you can see anything through that nasty glass.”
“Don’t need to.” He unlocked the window and slid it open, then stepped outside onto the fire escape and turned to offer her his hand. “It’s nice and warm out here.”
Her h
esitance evaporated. “Sold. But if that cat shows up and shuts the window, I’m moving out.”
“If the cat shuts the window, you won’t have to. You’ll be out.”
“Funny.” She straightened and cast an uneasy look toward the ground a good thirty feet below. “What are we doing?”
“C’mere.” He leaned against the building and held out his arms. He didn’t have to ask twice. Even before they’d had sex, she’d loved the strength of his arms. She had no business relishing their protection, but no woman alive could resist that kind of warmth. When he wasn’t blowing her mind with carnal exploits, he made her feel adored. Cherished. And while Estelle had never before had a one-night stand, she’d been in a relationship or two that left her feeling a hell of a lot more empty after sex than did this relative stranger.
She nestled back against him, enjoying the easy way his arms fit around her.
“What do you see?” he asked.
She looked down. Way down. And hoped no one was looking up. “An alley. Hopefully an empty one, considering my lack of undergarments. Although I think that might a homeless guy over there.” She pointed to a still form near the corner of the building. “Unless he’s dead.”
“That’s a garbage bag. You really don’t like the city, do you?”
“It’s dirty. It’s crowded. There’s no space. No sky.”
“Look up.”
She did as he asked. Murky gray stared back, a shadow that never seemed to end. Mottling suggested clouds interceded in the distance, but overhead a single point of light attempted to break through. “I see the sky. Maybe a star.”
“Probably a planet. We kind of suck at stars here.”
“Is this supposed to help your case?”
He leaned down and nuzzled her ear. “Stay with me, Estelle,” he said with a soft laugh. “What else do you see?”
He was doing something to her ear that made heat pool low in her belly. She was still tender. Still primed. Still needy—not because he hadn’t satisfied her, but because he’d done it a little too well. She felt a bit drunk, and the dim ambient lighting did nothing to kill the mood. “Tall buildings with ridiculous electric bills,” she managed. “And employees who don’t know how to turn off the lights.”
“Probably cleaning crews. All those lights out there. All those people, they all have a story. It’s not green, I’ll give you that. But it’s humanity. People hanging out. Hanging on. Some fight for survival. Others fight for more. But this whole damned place is full of life.”
His passion left her taken aback. “You really love it here, don’t you?”
“I do.” His words were soft. Reverent, almost. “My grandfather founded Fusion Air in 1939, training my father and then me in the business. When I look out there, I see possibilities. I wonder what he must have thought seventy-five years ago when he decided to make a go of it, or what he’d think of us now. That man single-handedly started something that has given purpose to three generations.”
“That’s an incredible responsibility.”
“Crushing sometimes,” he admitted. “Pretty well ties you down. Especially as the oldest son.”
“Did you ever want to do anything else?”
“I was never unhappy doing this, especially with all the time it gave me with my grandfather. He taught me everything he knew. I swear that man had the patience of a saint, but he wanted me to carry on his life’s work, and I’ve always been honored to do that for him.” His laugh reverberated through her. “I mean, hell. Look where it got me today.”
She was glad he couldn’t see the stupid grin she knew stretched her face. “I thought we blamed that on your shopping cart maneuvering skills.”
“Nah. That didn’t get me into your apartment.”
“It would have.”
“Good to know.”
“So you can’t go. And I can’t stay,” she murmured.
They both grew quiet, unable to come up with a way to get over that impasse between them. In the end, he broke the silence, his voice resonating close to her ear, drawing chills to her flesh. “You still cold?”
“No.”
He flattened his palms on her belly, dragging the shirt up, exposing her lady bits to the night air. Despite the fact that she was four floors up on a rusty fire escape overlooking a filthy concrete hell, pinpoints of desire studded her vison, filling the night sky with tiny bursts of light. Heat flooded her V-zone. She needed his touch, but he denied her. Work-roughened hands edged higher, palming her breasts. They ached, the tips sore but begging anyway. He refused all but the slightest brush of his calloused fingertips. “When you think of this city you hate so much,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “Think of this.”
He released one breast, sliding his fingertips down her side, tracing the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips before settling between her legs. The slightest touch against her clit made her tremble, the height without solid ground dizzying her. “I can’t hate anything when I think of this.”
“That would be my point.”
She playfully ground her butt against him. “That’s not your only point.”
He spun her with a growl. The murky, tepid darkness didn’t dilute the intensity of his gaze. Or his eyes. Those damned eyes.
For a long tense in a toe-curling kind of way moment, neither of them moved. Then his mouth touched hers, and the sanctity of the kiss shook her to her core. He wound his fingers through her hair, his tongue tangling with hers. He stole her breath. Stole her heart. Made her want to love the city. It didn’t matter that she’d known him less than two days. She just wanted this feeling, over and over again.
But it would end.
She nearly sobbed at the thought. Then he slipped his fingers deep inside her, immediately finding and stroking her G-spot, and she almost sobbed at that. She whimpered and clutched his shoulders, but he didn’t relent. He circled her clit with this thumb, not quite hitting the sweet spot but not giving her any breathing room, either, and she clamored for a way to wrap herself around him. She wanted him between her thighs—not just his very talented fingers, but all of him. She wanted to ride him.
Again.
As if he’d read her growing urgency, he maneuvered so she had her back to the ladder that stretched skyward. Unlike the staircase type that stretched from floor to floor, this was just a flat, stationary set of rungs that went to the roof. She grabbed onto the metal and held on for dear life as his fingers explored her. Weakened her. When she lost the warmth of his touch, she peered through half-lidded eyes to see him opening his jeans. He didn’t take them off. Just shoved them down enough to work himself free, then dug in his pocket.
“When did you put that in there?” she asked when he came up with a condom, which he immediately tore into.
“Earlier, while your eyes were rolled back in your head.” He punctuated the words with a boyish grin, then sheathed himself while she stared hungrily. She had no idea how he fit inside her, let alone so perfectly. She needed to brush up on her anatomy, but right now she’d rather brush up on his.
“Hang on,” he said, lifting her legs.
She gripped the rungs and watched, almost dumbstruck, as he entered her. Stand up sex. On the fire escape. “What if people are watching?”
“As the man buried inside you right now, I’d like to think you don’t care. As a decent citizen, I can assure you we aren’t any more interesting than a pair of shadows.” He rocked his hips against her and whispered against her lips, “Very naughty shadows.”
“My absolute favorite kind.”
He reached around her on both sides and grasped the ladder while she gripped him with her legs. With the new angle, he pistoned deep. Impossibly deep. Her body clenched around him from the inside out. In the electrically-tingled fallout, she barely managed to hook her ankles around him before he rocked his hips, relenting the exquisite pressure only to drive back in, thicker, fuller, harder. She hung by her grip on the ladder, head thrown back between rungs, her
body buoyed by his hips as he pumped dizzying waves of pleasure through her body with every thrust. Metal clanged and rattled a serenade to the tune of her being thoroughly fucked.
On a fire escape.
There was no build. No warning. Just wreckage. He sensed it, or she squeezed the holy mother out of him when she came, because his arms were around her, holding her, catching her before she could fall. As the world droned distantly around her, she had but one focus, and that was the thickness of him pulsing, buried to the hilt as he climaxed inside her. Everything else stilled, at least until he swayed. She held on as he staggered and made a grab for the ladder. Slowly, gravity shifted and settled around them. Once she no longer blinked a thousand pinpoints of light, she pulled herself up by the rungs.
“That’s three,” she managed. “Definitely number three.”
He grinned, his gaze an inexplicable mashup of world thoroughly rocked and Imma eat you alive. Not-so-little Crosby swayed as he withdrew. Or maybe she swayed. Or maybe it was the damned rickety fire escape.
She was still staring at him, marveling over the thick, perfect arc, when he spoke.
“Come over Sunday,” he said.
She blinked. “For sex?”
“No, for dinner. Actually, my mom’s house. My parents’ I mean.”
“You want me to meet your mother?”
“And also to eat. She found out I was bringing the A/C over and wanted to know why.”
“Did you tell her it was because I was drenched?”
“No. But my brother told her you were a woman, and that’s pretty much all it takes.”
She took a deep, unfocused breath. He wanted her to meet his family? Before gravity set in? “This happens often?”
“To my brothers. Not so much to me.”
“I don’t know. I’m not…I’m not going to be around long.”
Five Things I Love About You Page 7
