Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook

by Robin Kaye

  Bree opened her eyes and stared into his. She saw so much—lust, hope, fear, and something more. Something she couldn’t label, but whatever it was, it attracted her like nothing she’d ever seen. Storm might as well have been at the helm again—he was strong, certain, driven. His mouth was sure on hers, demanding, overpowering her senses as he carried her out of her safe, stifling existence and threw her right into the center of something so wonderful, terrifying, and all-consuming, she could do nothing but hold on. Her heart battered against her ribs, and nerve endings she didn’t even realize she had came to life.

  Storm slid her down his long, hard body until her toes curled into the plush carpet. She opened her eyes, surprised to be in the main stateroom. “What are we doing here?”

  “Breezy, if I have to tell you”—he undid the tie at her waist—“I’m definitely losing my touch.”

  “I think your touch is working just fine.”

  Storm slipped the top button on her bodice through its hole, his knuckles sliding between her breasts and stealing her breath.

  “I thought you didn’t want me.”

  He closed his eyes as if in pain before resting his forehead against hers. “I didn’t want to be your temporary boy toy, but I want you more than I want my next breath. God help me, I always have.” He opened his eyes, looking straight into hers as he slowly slid the short skirt up her legs, his fingers brushing her thighs. “Let me love you, Breezy.”

  God, that was what she’d wanted for most of her life. His fingers slid across her panties, and her hips jerked. “You don’t play fair.” How could she resist him when he looked at her like that? One look at his heat-infused blue-green eyes and she was toast.

  “All’s fair in love and war, and with us, it’s both. It probably always will be. I think it’s a redhead thing.”

  She started to say something, but his fingers slipped under the elastic of her panties.

  * * *

  Storm watched Bree’s face high with color, her eyes glazed and hooded, her lips red and swollen from kissing, and her chest rose and fell with short quick bursts. Visions of that night years ago floated through his mind; tonight seemed the same and different. He didn’t know if they were starting anew or finishing what they’d begun. All he knew was that he had to find out if this connection with Bree was real or imagined. He needed to find out if it was as special as he remembered or if it was something he had built up in his mind all these years. He needed to find out if it would free him or keep him tied up in knots forever. He couldn’t think that far ahead; right now, all he could think about was how much she’d changed and how much she’d stayed the same.

  His lips traveled over her neck, zeroing in on the throbbing pulse point and nipping. He skimmed her skirt up to her waist and speared his leg between hers.

  Her head fell back in invitation. He slid the dress up and over her head, tossing it on the couch behind him. She stood before him in an emerald green bra and panties.

  “What’s wrong with this picture?”

  “Not a damn thing.” Storm couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wasn’t the same girl he dreamed about; she’d matured, and somehow she’d become even more perfect.

  “Wrong.” She slid her hands up his chest. “You have way too many clothes on.” She unbuttoned his shirt but got sidelined when she kissed his neck, nipping his earlobe, sliding her tongue over his collarbone, and reaching down to run a hand over his bulge. If she didn’t hurry, there’d be no reason to take his clothes off.

  “The hell with it.” He tugged his shirt from his pants, pulled it over his head, and sucked in a breath when she yanked on his belt. Finally.

  Bree had no problem getting his pants down in record time, and the moment she slipped her hand in his BVDs, he almost lost it.

  Nerves sparred with excitement, and memories collided with reality. A decade of wanting, waiting, wondering, and now they were either going to be amazed or disappointed. He didn’t know which he wanted. Disappointment would be a real letdown, but that would end it. If they were as amazing as he thought they were going to be, it would seriously complicate his life.

  His hands shook as they skimmed her sides, relieving her of her thong. Bree stared into his eyes, and it was like déjà vu. He slid her bra straps off her shoulders and, with a flick of his fingers, unhooked it, letting it fall along with his uncertainty, sailing straight into a category-six typhoon named Bree.

  Breezy seemed as tentative as she was before, but then what did he expect? He had been down this road twice, only for it to end in disaster.

  She looked her fill and then licked her lips. He groaned, and those lips spread into a seriously sexy, seductive smile. “You want me?” She pressed her palm over the sensitive head of his dick; he sucked in a lungful of air and then let it hiss between clenched teeth.

  “God, yes.” He grabbed her around the waist and laid her on the bed. “What do you want, Bree?”

  “You.” It sounded as if she forced the word out. She swallowed hard. “Naked. On the bed. Now.”

  Shit yeah, he had no problem with that. He ripped off the rest of his clothes, tossed a handful of condoms on the bedside table, and slid over her, feeling as if he were coming back to a home he’d never known but had always dreamed of. He eased onto her, letting her take his weight, seeing how they’d fit, his hands molding her breasts as his mouth ate hers, taking her breath, her taste, her scent, familiar and yet new—just like Breezy. The girl she once was and the woman she was now melded into one in his arms, in his mind, in his heart.

  Fear slammed into him. She raised her hips to his and opened her eyes; he saw his fear reflected in hers.

  He closed his eyes, kissing her and laving at that spot on her neck where her blood thrummed beneath his lips. His heart hammering against hers, he settled between her legs, his erection pressed against her heat. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from moving. One thrust and he’d be home, deep within her. Home, the one place he’d searched for his entire life. Home with Breezy.

  Storm ripped the condom package with his teeth and rolled the rubber on. He kissed her as he’d been dreaming of for years, a full-body kiss, his heart pounding beneath her hands, his tongue stabbing its way into her mouth, hot, hard, demanding, and she gave it back tenfold. Sinking her claws into his shoulders, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he slid into her heat. God, he didn’t think he’d ever been squeezed so tight.

  He stopped and kissed her lips. “Breezy, look at me.”

  When she opened her eyes and stared at him, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing pleasure or pain. The only thing he knew was she wasn’t as experienced as he’d thought. She might not be a virgin, but she sure as hell felt like one. He had to make this right. He couldn’t screw this up. “Relax, baby. Let me in.”

  “It’s been a while.” She sucked in a stuttered breath. Not good.

  Staying stock-still, he kissed her and soothed her until she relaxed around him. “That’s it, Breezy. I’m gonna make it so good for you, for us.” He slid in a little farther and pulled out, and when he heard her sigh and felt her moving beneath him, he finally breathed. He let her set the pace, all the while holding his control by a tenuous thread.

  With every thrust of his hips, she took him in deeper, her muscles gripped him like a vise, and her gasps and moans sent him into overdrive. When her heels dug into his lower back and she rolled her hips, every muscle in his body tensed.

  He’d never had a problem holding back before—he was good for as long as it took, but then he’d never been with Breezy. It was time for emergency measures. He slipped his hand between them, teased her bundle of nerves beneath his thumb, and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard in time with every thrust of his hips. Her moans turned into screams increasing in volume, her back arched off the bed, and her eyes opened wide. Increasing the pressure with his thumb, he worked the nipple between his teeth, his hips pistoning.

  Bree exploded around him, her inner muscles
gripping him and pulling him deeper, and when she screamed his name, he released her breast and rode out her orgasm before joining her. Every move she made amplified his climax until he was wrung out and collapsed on her. He knew he should roll over to take his weight off her, but he was unable to do anything but huff like a four-pack-a-day smoker.

  Damn, he’d had a lot of sex with a lot of different women, but he’d never had sex like this.

  No other woman moved him the way Breezy did.

  No other woman tested his patience and his endurance the way Breezy did.

  No other woman ever scared the hell out of him the way Breezy did.

  When he was with her, she made him feel whole and alive, and when he wasn’t, something seemed to be missing. It had been missing for so long, he’d forgotten he’d ever felt it—whatever it was. Storm had a very bad feeling that Pop was right. That elusive it had another name—love. Storm had fallen in love with Breezy.

  * * *

  Bree had no words to describe how exceptional sex was with Storm. No wonder people became sex addicts: If sex with Storm was always this good, addiction to him was a real and present danger.

  She hadn’t expected the avalanche of emotions. She wasn’t prepared and wasn’t sure she knew how to handle them.

  Storm was supposed to be that wild-boy-toy-hot-spring-break kind of entertainment, not the oh-my-God-rock-my-emotional-world-and-tilt-everything-I-thought-I-knew-about-sex-so-far-off-its-axis-I’ll-never-be-the-same-again love of a lifetime kind of man.

  The way he touched her, the way he tasted her, the way he focused all of his attention on her, making her feel cherished, fragile, adored, scared the crap out of her. But it also made her realize that she wanted to do the same for him. The biggest shocker was that she didn’t just want him for the moment. She wanted him forever—and Storm wasn’t a forever man.

  She held on to him, afraid if she let go, he’d disappear, just as he always had in her dreams. She really didn’t want to wake up clutching a pillow to her chest. Still, this was different. In her dreams, their stomachs never imitated suction cups stuck together with sweat; she’d never before felt as if her limbs weren’t receiving signals from her brain; and in her dreams Storm never wormed his way into her soul as well as her body.

  The connection she felt with Storm scared her more than anything in her life. Maybe it was better that they never had sex before; she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to handle it then. Hell, she wasn’t sure she could handle it now.

  Storm groaned and flipped over onto his back, pulling her on top of him. She slid farther down on his erection—and it was still an erection, which shocked her. She thought that after a guy came, it deflated.

  The movement sparked a cluster of little aftershocks. She caught her breath and tried not to moan. Maybe he hadn’t come. Maybe he wasn’t done. Maybe he was taking a breather. She thought he’d come, his neck and face muscles delineated, his whole body tensed. He said something like “Fuck yeah, Breezy.” But then what the hell did she know? The three times she’d had sex lasted maybe five minutes if she added them together.

  Emotions ricocheted through her like the balls in a pinball game. She hadn’t been prepared for his size—he wasn’t quite porn-star material, but he was close. She hadn’t been prepared for how long sex lasted, and she sure as hell hadn’t been prepared to come like a freight train barreling out of control down the side of a mountain. She’d made herself come before, plenty of times—it had been…pleasant. Comparing those orgasms to one with Storm was like comparing putting Mentos in a bottle of Coke to an eruption of Mount St. Helens. Pleasant certainly didn’t fit the bill and, when added to her mental state, mind-blowing didn’t cut it either.

  “You keep moving around like that and I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Storm appeared to be in pain.

  She hadn’t realized she’d been rocking her hips. Storm’s big hands gripped her, holding her still as he thrust one more time, setting off a new set of zingers a hell of a lot stronger than the last. She rocked forward, and her pelvis pressed against his, hitting that perfect spot. Rocking back and forth, she rolled her hips and grabbed his shoulders to keep from flying apart. She was so wanting to please him.

  “Go for it, baby; make yourself come.”

  All that came from her mouth was a keening moan, as strong hands gripped her hips, pounding into her while she rocked. “Oh God!” She looked into his eyes, and the connection hit her again, leaving her emotionally drained and limp like a rag doll strewn across his chest.

  When Bree’s mind began functioning, she realized three things. First, Storm was peppering her shoulders and neck with kisses. Second, his hand was lazily tracing her spine, up and back, soothing, hypnotic, and, the way he slid his fingers to dip into the crack of her ass, just a little naughty. Third, he was still inside her and still not deflated. If anything, he was bigger than during round two.

  What the hell had she done wrong? She was a failure at sex—even primates were better than she was. God, could a person die of embarrassment?

  “Breezy? What’s wrong? Your body is tighter than a drum all of a sudden.”

  “Nothing.” She just had a soul-stirring, emotional life-altering experience, and he hadn’t even been physically satisfied. She kept her head against his chest to avoid looking at him and tried to disengage herself, but his hands held her hips, making movement impossible.

  Storm flipped them over, grabbing her hands and pulling them up beside her head. He held his weight on his elbows and stared straight into her eyes. “Don’t do this. Don’t pull away from me now. Don’t shut me out, dammit.” He didn’t let up; he didn’t blink; he just stared, demanding, hard, irascible.

  Her face heated, and she blinked back tears burning her eyes. “I’m just no good at this. I’m sorry. I thought maybe it was everyone else, but no, it’s me.” She tried to move away from him.

  “I’ve got you good and trapped. That’s not going to change until you tell me what exactly it is you think you’re not good at. Be specific, Breezy. I’m a guy, not a mind reader, and I need to know what the hell you’re talking about. We’ve got all night.”

  God, he was so damn annoying. Couldn’t he just let her die of embarrassment in peace? No, he had to twist the knife. “Sex. I’m a sexual pariah.”

  “Who the hell told you that? I’ll kill him.” And he looked mad enough to.

  “No one. I have a brain, Storm. You didn’t come. If you had, you’d have…Well, it would have deflated and it didn’t; it hasn’t, and it’s still pretty hard.”

  Storm laughed, a deep belly laugh.

  This was just getting better and better. He must have noticed her expression, because he stopped and pasted on a serious face. It took a while.

  “Breezy, if you didn’t notice me coming, it was only because you were having such a good time yourself. It was all I could do not to come the second I got inside you. You seriously tested my control. I came so hard, I thought my head was going to blow off from the pressure.”

  “You did?” She stared into his eyes, searching for the truth. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Breezy, you’re amazing. Hell, we’re amazing together.”

  “Well, how come…I mean, is it normal for you to stay that way?”

  “What way is that?” He couldn’t stifle his cocky grin.

  She had a feeling she would be perpetually red faced around Storm. She didn’t talk about sex to anyone. Hell, she hadn’t had sex in over eight years, and the few times she had, there was nothing worth discussing. “Hard, engorged, turgid, tumescent.”

  Storm chuckled and nuzzled her neck, nipping her ear, which seemed to be hot-wired to her nipples. “God, Breezy, I love it when you talk dirty.”

  She smacked him on the shoulder. “Answer the question.”

  Storm pushed himself up on his elbows, which pressed his pelvis against hers. She sucked in a breath as more heat speared her nether regions. Shit, she
didn’t even know what to call it.

  He shot her a satisfied look, knowing full well what he was doing to her. Thank God someone did, because she was clueless. It would have been like the blind leading the blind—which might have been why her past sexual encounters were so disastrous.

  Storm was fighting to keep a straight face, but his eyes were laughing. “No. It’s not normal, but I have a feeling that with you, normal doesn’t exist. I’ve been a walking hard-on since you cracked me over the head with your frying pan.”

  “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “If you had, you’d have made sure you did more damage.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “There’s something about you, Breezy. I wasn’t this bad when I was a horny teenager—and believe me, I was bad then. With you, everything is different.”

  “Right, I know I’m not very—”

  He kissed her, stopping her from pulling the lack-of-experience card.

  “Listen to me. It’s never been like this before.”

  She didn’t want a line and started to say so, but he covered her lips with a finger.

  “Not like this. With you everything is better, more intense, more beautiful, more fulfilling. I’ve had a lot of sex, Breezy, but I’ve never made love to anyone but you.”

  Bree didn’t know what to say to that. He made love to her? He’d felt it too?

  Storm’s face fell; he must have expected a reaction. A blank stare obviously wasn’t cutting it. He grabbed the edge of the condom and slid out and off her, gave her a quick kiss, and walked naked to the bathroom.

  She took a deep breath and wondered what to do now. A whole list of possibilities presented themselves, beginning with getting dressed real quick and running, and ending with following him into the bathroom. She settled on curling up and closing her eyes. Could he be thinking of staying? She was too afraid to even go there. It would be better to be happily surprised if he wanted to stay. Still she did her best not to picture Storm leaving and taking her heart with him.