Yanking the door of the linen closet, I fish out a washcloth and toss it her way. I can’t take another step toward her or I’ll risk losing all control. A beautiful girl, soaked in beer, standing in a sheer bra, in my bathroom, makes me feel like a junkie facing his demons with zero self-control.
“I’ll grab your conditioner.” I make a beeline for the door, my heart beating in my ears, and retrieve a purple bottle of conditioner out of a cosmetics pouch in the guestroom. Lifting it to my nose, I take a curious whiff and smile when the sweet scents of citrus and lavender fill my lungs.
When I return to the bathroom, she’s leaning against the counter, her naked body wrapped in a towel and the shower running. Steam fills the room.
“Took you long enough.” She reaches for the bottle, winking, her free hand gripping the towel so it doesn’t slip. “Thanks.”
I’m in a daze, trying my hardest not to make the very moves I’m dying to make. I close the bathroom door, tug my shirt off, and step into a pair of pajama pants before crawling under the covers of my bed and flipping the TV to ESPN. Highlight reels are the closest thing I’m going to get to a cold shower.
Ten minutes later, the sound of running water stops. A little while later, she steps out from my bathroom in a cloud of steam, her slick, wet hair combed straight and her towel wrapped tight enough to lift her cleavage into a flattering position.
“Feel better?” I ask, slipping my hands behind my head. I’m shirtless, the covers only pulled up to my waist because two can play this game.
Also, I may or may not have pumped out several dozen push-ups and sit-ups a minute ago.
“Do you always sleep shirtless?” She smirks as her eyes scan my room, and I’m sent into a minor state of panic until I remember that all my ‘toys’ are picked up and in their rightful places. Serena struts past, stopping to give me a second glance.
“Every night.”
“You don’t get cold?”
“What’s the point of this conversation?” I pretend to yawn. “Or are you just looking for an excuse to gawk?”
“That’s presumptive, don’t you think?” Her eyes come alive against the glow of the TV in my dark room. “And arrogant.”
“Not at all.” I sit up, reaching for the remote to mute an untimely Viagra commercial. “I’ve been around enough women to know how you operate. You drop subtle clues, hoping we pick up on them. But deep down, every woman expects every man to read her mind because none of you want to make the first move, and it’s a hell of a lot easier for you to parade around in next to nothing than it is to come out and say you want to be bent over the foot of the bed and railed until you can’t walk straight.”
Serena’s lips curl, and she snorts. “Yes, every woman wants nothing more than to be railed.”
Climbing out of bed, I move toward Serena, and I feel immense satisfaction when I catch her taking quick breaths. She swallows audibly and lifts her chin until her gaze settles on mine.
“You want me, Serena,” I say. “And I’m not going to say I don’t feel the same. But I told you, this is not going to happen.”
The soapy scent of her skin permeates the air around us, filling each inhalation I take. I lick my lips, my tongue aching to explore every perfect inch of Serena Randall and mourning the seconds that pass without so much as a taste.
If she were any other woman, I’d have enjoyed her by now. I’d have experienced all there is to experience. I’d have had my fill of her and left her satisfied and longing for more, and I’d send her packing with an understanding that there could never be more.
“We’re both adults,” she says, her voice a faded whisper. “We can do whatever we want to do.”
“I’m your conservator. I can’t be sleeping with you and managing your trust at the same time. Huge conflict of interest, Serena. Huge.” The frustration in my voice is only matched by the frustration in my throbbing cock. “There are professional ramifications that accompany attorney-client sexual relations.”
Her hand lifts, slowly, tenderly, until her palm cups the underside of my jaw. Our stares hold, and she exhales.
“I don’t want what you think I want,” she says. “That’s what this is really about. Blame your professional ethics all you want, but deep down, you’re terrified that I’m going to expect something from you that you won’t be able to give me. And you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to have fun.” Serena shrugs. “I want to feel desired. I want to forget the last eleven weeks of my life, even if it’s only for an hour. I need a distraction, Derek. A sweet escape.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?” I sneer. “Every woman says she just wants to have fun.”
“Women lie sometimes. But I don’t. I’m as brutally honest as they come.”
I smirk, silently agreeing. At least she’s right about one thing.
Her hand drops from my face, leaving a cold spot in its place.
“I don’t want to fall in love again,” she says with a no-nonsense shrug. “Love hurts. Sex feels good.”
“The very words I live by.”
“All the more reason you should just give in to what you want.” Serena studies me.
“You’re going to regret this,” I say.
“I promise I won’t.”
I move closer, slipping my hand along her neck, my thumb lifting the tender spot below her chin until our mouths are perfectly aligned.
“If this goes to shit . . . if this doesn’t end well,” I say, “I’m holding you responsible.”
“Fair enough.”
“And if you want nothing to do with me by the time we’re finished,” I add, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter 16
Serena
His lips crush mine, and I’m weightless. Electricity radiates from my fingers to my toes, and my fingers lift to his thick, dark hair. Pulling. Tugging. His body presses against mine, and I melt.
Suddenly, I’m freezing, yet my body’s on fire. My towel is gathered at my feet, my bare breasts pressed against Derek’s warm chest.
His lips command mine, his fingertips traveling the nape of my neck and burying in my wet hair.
My sex pulses for him, and I feel a slickness between my thighs. His left hand glides down my naked body, gently caressing my curves and snaking around my hip, cupping my ass. He pulls me against him, harder, his mouth hot and needy against mine.
I drink him in with every inhalation. The smell of his soap wafts off my steamy skin and invades my lungs, and the woodsy smell of his heated skin fills my nostrils.
“Fuck, you know how to kiss a man,” he growls, pressing his hips against mine until the outline of his throbbing cock brushes against me in just the right spot.
My patience wears thin, my breath escapes me, and I can hardly think straight when he hoists me up against him, lifting me and depositing me in the center of his bed.
Surrounded by tangled bed linens, my arms reach for him, my body craving his anchoring weight. He crawls over me, the bed shifting beneath us, and lowers his lips to mine once again. My lips tingle with each kiss, each graze of our tongues and each dance of our mouths. When he moves to my neck, a trail of peppered kisses brings new life with each breath. I’m lifted higher, further away from reality, to a place that only exists in daydreams—a place meant for those brave enough to find it.
My fingers sift through his soft, dark hair as his mouth travels lower. He works his way from my neck to the hollow between my breasts, stopping to give equal, undivided attention to my waking nipples. His tongue flicks my sensitive buds before abandoning them for my belly.
And he goes lower still.
His hands glide along my inner thighs, and my stomach caves with his touch. Teasing kisses inches from my wetness precede the slicking of his finger between my seam.
I swallow a long breath and exhale with the faintest moan, biting away a smile.
It’s only when his t
ongue grazes my folds does my body convulse with the tease of the orgasm to come.
Derek groans against my sex, his tongue lapping and swirling as his hands press my thighs as wide as they’ll go.
“Relax,” he whispers, his breath a sweet heat against my shaking inner thighs.
My head sinks into the center of the bed, and I breathe deeply, my hands cupping my swollen breasts as I try to keep my hips from bucking with each thrust of his tongue.
Derek takes his time, enjoying my taste and refusing to rush. He isn’t in a hurry. He isn’t biding time until his cock is shoved deep down my throat. My pleasure is just as much his.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” he moans between the languid strokes of his tongue, pulling my clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue softly. “I could devour you for days.”
My heart thrums wildly in my chest. I could let him consume me for days. But the ripples overcoming my body threaten to bring this evening to a tragically premature stop.
“Derek,” I whisper, sitting up. I reach for him, my hand hooking around his solid bicep, and pull him away from my pussy. “I want to taste you now . . .”
His lips twitch into a smile, and my gaze travels to the outline bulging from his pants. Greedy with lust, I dip a hand under his waistband and retrieve his throbbing cock. Moving to my knees, I pump his length and bring my mouth to his tip, tracing my lips with his hardness.
I wrap my mouth around him, his girth filling everything I have. A bead of pre-cum salts my tongue, and I swallow it with a satisfied smile. With my mouth wetting his shaft and my tongue swirling his head, he delivers a throaty moan.
Derek’s hand gathers my wet hair into a ponytail, pulling it away from my face and controlling our rhythm. His hips rock as he pumps himself into my hot mouth, and the faint sound of my name leaves his lips by way of moaned whispers.
When he pulls himself from my lips, he climbs over top of me, his cock slick and wet and pressed against my thighs.
So close.
I widen my hips, an invitation of sorts, and slip my arms beneath his. My hands rest on his lower back and I hastily press him into me.
Derek moves lower, taking a nipple between his teeth and letting it go before climbing off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He returns seconds later, a gold foil packet resting between his fingers, and climbs over me again.
Pumping his cock with one hand, he tears the packet between his teeth, spitting the foil aside and sheathing himself.
His eyes never leave mine as his fingers plunge between my folds.
“God, I love what I do to you,” he sighs. His body hovers inches over mine, and my breath hitches in anticipation. With his cock in his grip, he drags the head between my folds. “And look what you do to me.”
I smile, my bottom lip half-bitten.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.
My grin fades.
Now he’s just screwing with me. Torturing me. Dragging this out on purpose.
“Shut up and fuck me already, counselor.” My hands press against his angled jaw, and I lift my mouth to his, silencing whatever smart-alecky remark he was planning to give me. My hips wiggle beneath him, and I purposely brush myself against his protruding cock.
My words are crass. Impatient. Needy.
And I don’t care.
Derek slips inside me with one owning thrust, aided by my arousal. His body weighs over mine, pressing me down. I’m pinned beneath him. Warm. Safe. Excited.
His pace is slow at first, but within seconds, it becomes hurried. Merciless.
I’m in trouble for wanting him, for lusting over the one man I shouldn’t, and this is my delicious punishment.
Slick thrusts layer with friction, his cock filling me, the pressure just right. His smooth, muscled chest glides over mine, inviting my fingers to trace the ripples of his abs. I can’t get enough of touching Derek. His body is a dream. His gaze makes me melt. His resolve and determination not to fuck me were merely a minor obstacle.
I always knew it would be worth it. I knew it would be this amazing.
Our eyes lock in the dark, his thrusts demanding and relentless. If this is being “railed,” I’ll let him rail me any day of the week.
There’s no love or tenderness in the way Derek fucks. But that’s the way it should be. This is sex and only sex.
It’s exactly what I wanted.
I can’t complain. And I won’t.
I never asked for hearts and flowers.
All I asked for was his body over mine.
A sweet distraction from a brutal reality.
Derek grips my hips and rolls us over. Straddling his cock, my knees buried in the bed sheets, I rock and grind, watching his eyes claim every inch of my body. His hands travel to my breasts, cupping, teasing and toying as I bounce. I relax my neck, letting my hair fall down my shoulders in a slow cascade, the small of my back arching with each grind.
His left hand trails down my side, slipping around my hip until his thumb is pressed against my clit. Quick circles with just enough pressure bring me closer to the edge, to the point of no return.
To the end of this night.
I buck harder, my hair whipping across my shoulders with each move, and his hips meet mine thrust for thrust until we’re both enveloped in our own sweet releases.
I collapse on him, barely able to move and greedily not wanting to.
My hair is half-dry now, a wavy, sticky mess along my neck and shoulders. I lift my gaze to Derek’s, our mouths in limbo mere inches apart. We both smile, drunk off sex, and he sweeps the hair from my face.
His cock rests inside me still, throbbing and pulsing, keeping us connected for a few final moments.
“That was so worth it.” I sit up once we catch our breaths, lifting myself off him.
He takes his time crawling from his bed and makes his way to the bathroom to clean up. I fish my towel off the ground, but he snatches it from my hand when he returns.
“Hey,” I say.
“I’m not done looking at you yet.” There’s an owning arrogance in his tone.
“Oh?” I place a hand on my hip and pull my shoulders back. My cousin, Araminta, once told me there’s nothing that turns men on more than confidence. Nothing. You could be the most raggedy girl in the universe, but if you can own a room like you’re the sexiest thing ever to walk this earth, you’ll command a man’s attention. And then they won’t be able to get enough of you.
“I want to see what I’ve done to you.” His hands slip around my waist, and he pulls me closer. He lifts a hand to my flushed cheek, dragging it between my breasts before depositing a soft kiss on my waiting lips. His free hand dips between my thighs, plunging through my slickness and slipping inside. A delicious invasion. “Just because we’re finished, doesn’t mean you need to run off so quickly. I’m insulted. Makes a man feel used.”
My hips grind against his fingers, my sex sensitive and tender, my body wanting more.
“I never took you for the cuddling type.” I’m breathless all over again.
“Who said anything about cuddling?” Derek falls back onto the bed, taking me with him. I climb over him, my thighs straddling his hips and our fingers interlaced.
I don’t know what this is.
I don’t know what it means.
I only know it’s fun, and that’s all I want from this.
His determined hands hook onto my hips, and he sits up. We’re face to face, our mouths drawn into ridiculously satisfied grins, and the smell of sex lingers in the air.
“I can’t stop touching you.” He presses his lips on mine, his fingers trailing up my back until they’re lost in my hair once more. His hand gathers my tangled mane, tugging until the flesh of my neck is exposed to the night air. His breath is warm against my skin, and every part of me knows I could do this one more time if only he’d ask. “I want you, Serena. I want you all over again.”
My core pulses with his words, and I tuck my chin, my eyes find
ing his in the dark.
“And that doesn’t happen,” he says. “Because I don’t let it happen.”
“You don’t do repeats?” I hope he can’t hear the tinge of disappointment in my voice.
Derek grazes his teeth along his lower lip, shaking his head. “Never.”
“But you want to. With me.”
He nods. “You’re fucking delicious, Serena. Your taste. Your touch. But you have to understand, it wouldn’t mean anything. Not to me.”
I clamp my hands along his jaw and roll my eyes. “Derek. Enough already.”
I silence him with a kiss. A deep, dark kiss that summons all the resolve I have. I feel him breathe me in as our tongues slip and graze.
“Look.” I sigh, pulling away. “I can kiss you, just like that, and not feel a thing. I can sleep with you and not see hearts and butterflies. I’m not going to fall in love with you because we had sex. I wish you’d believe me when I say I don’t want anything from you. Not like that.”
He says nothing, just watches me, his studying eyes his silent rebuttal.
“I’m starting to think you’re the one with the attachment issues. Your constant need to remind me that you’re some kind of career bachelor is concerning, Derek. I mean, who are you trying to convince?” I climb off his lap. “Let’s just . . . not talk about it, okay? Let’s just do what feels good and forget the rest.”
“Fine.” He sighs, his back hunched and his hands resting on his muscled thighs. I could so crawl back onto his lap if I weren’t trying to prove a point right now.
“Anyway. Tonight was the first time I’ve felt halfway human in months.” I pick my towel off the floor, wrapping it around my body and gathering it under my arms with a tight grip. “So, thank you for setting aside your professional ethics and living a little.”
I wink, opting to leave this evening on a better note. Derek acts like he’s the only one with trust issues, the only one with an aversion to anything that makes the heart squeeze a little too tightly.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
Derek watches me leave, not trying to stop me this time, and I tiptoe back to my room and relax my tired muscles in a sea of cold pillows and sheets, dying to know if he’s replaying our night in his mind as much as I am.
Bachelor (Rixton Falls #2) Page 11
