by Addison Fox
Had she ever experienced anything like this?
The urgency to take—to consume—was a palpable thing, but it was only a part of what they shared. What they gave to each other.
Along with pure, unadulterated joy in the moment.
She lifted her lips to his, their breaths mingling on a lilting sigh. His shoulders were thick with muscle and she ran her hands over that warm flesh, enjoying the hard strength underneath as their mouths joined and rejoined, lazy even as urgency built moment by moment.
When he pressed his lips to her throat, she let her head tilt back, another soft sigh rising to her lips. The warmth of his mouth set off a fresh wave of need, cratering low in her belly.
Was this what it felt like to be cherished? To be treated as if you were something precious?
His mouth drifted from her neck as he pressed kisses in a line across her collarbone. With increasingly clever hands, he worked his way down her torso before his fingers skimmed over the sensitive skin of her stomach. Another wave of sparks lit her skin, a potent reminder of what was still to come.
Lilah tried to keep up—wanted to savor each and every sensation—but they were fast rolling up into one overarching conflagration. His hands were seemingly everywhere at once, a gentle caress followed by more insistent strokes against her flesh, teasing her.
Tempting her.
But it was his whispered words against her skin that engaged her mind as fully in the moment as her body.
Murmured words like beautiful and amazing and entrancing fell from his lips as he pressed kiss after kiss and Lilah felt herself fall a little harder—a little swifter—into the moment.
Into him.
Oh, how she wanted this man.
Reed Graystone, who had swooped into her life at one of its worst moments and who’d managed to turn those moments into something precious and fine.
Overwhelmed by the moment and anxious to show him the same pleasure, Lilah settled her hands on his lower back and pulled him toward her, walking them toward her bed.
The mattress hit her midthigh and Reed let out a slight oof as they hit the barrier of the bed. “I nearly squashed you.”
“Give it your best shot, Ace.”
She tugged once more, tumbling him just enough so he fell onto her, his hard body nestled firmly against hers.
“Lilah. I’m too heavy.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She wiggled underneath him, pleased when the evidence of his arousal only grew more...evidential. “Why, Detective. That’s quite a weapon you have there.”
As jokes went, it was pretty lame, but the goofy, lopsided grin that greeted her at the words did something funny to her heart.
“Any cop worth his weight knows how to use his weapon.”
Brushing off the altogether gooey sensation that filled her stomach, sending a sharp wave of nerves streaming through her system, she hunted for a pithy response.
And avoided frowning when her voice came out slightly strangled and hoarse, her words anything but breezy. “Well, I certainly hope so.”
He pressed another kiss to her lips before murmuring, “Me, too.”
As the butterflies in her stomach eased, Lilah was satisfied they’d returned to common ground. She ran a hand over his chest, one lazy finger shifting lower between their joined bodies. “But just to be sure, I should probably check things out.”
“Leaving no stone unturned?”
“Just like a good detective I know taught me.”
His eyebrows lifted, amusement sparking deep in his gray eyes. “If that’s the case, then you surely know the importance of strong interrogation tactics.”
“I suppo—” A hard cry of pleasure interrupted her words as his fingers brushed the most sensitive of flesh. On a hard moan, she tried desperately to focus on his words, but was lost as his thumb pressed down on a particularly sensitive spot.
“What was that you were saying?” He whispered the words, his fingers flicking once more against her core, the amusement in his gaze turning decidedly wicked. “You were complimenting my interrogation tactics?”
“Wh—”
Lilah tried to focus—she knew there was some response required—but all she managed was a hard, dark moan, drawn from what felt like the depths of her soul. She could barely contain a coherent thought as his hands continued their magnificent torture.
And as those eyes continued to devour her, hot with need and desire and...expectation?
Of her? Of them? Of what could be between them? The questions swirled, fading in the face of the increasing demands of her body.
“Reed!”
His name tore from her lips on another hard exhalation as her world shattered into a million tiny fragments, one more beautiful than the next. His hands never left her body, but they did slow, his ministrations soft as he pressed her to the full depths of her orgasm.
And then she heard it, as she slowly came back to herself. Her name—just her name—whispered over and over. “Lilah.”
“I. Um.” She gripped his shoulders, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
She hadn’t lied before. She’d had sex since her divorce—not a ton of it, but not exactly a full-on dry spell, either—but nothing had prepared her for this.
Nothing in her entire life had prepared her for this.
For him.
And as her thoughts still jumbled, flitting here and there, unable to settle, one rose to the forefront.
“You.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, the softness she saw there nearly her undoing. “You gave that to me.”
“Yes.”
“It was beautiful. Amazing.”
“It was breathtaking to watch.”
“But you’re—” Lilah broke off, not sure of what she wanted to say. There was nothing to be embarrassed by and she wasn’t embarrassed.
But she was unnerved.
“You’ve given me a bit of a head start on the evening.”
“Lilah.” His humor vanished, replaced with something richer yet darker. A subtle anger that he couldn’t quite suppress. “We’re sharing pleasure with each other. There’s no score. No timekeeper. And I’m not in any rush.”
“I know. I know.” And she did know. So why was she suddenly so clumsy with what she wanted to say?
It wasn’t Steven. He’d been churned up in her thoughts lately, but he wasn’t the reason for her hesitation.
“So what’s wrong?” Reed asked.
How did she explain it? This strange sense that she was going to mess everything up.
“Lilah?”
Her body still hummed with the aftereffects of Reed’s touch, yet here she was, thinking about her bad marriage anyway.
Her failure.
Would it ever go away? Especially at moments of great joy or triumph or accomplishment, it was always there. Taunting from the background, chewing away bits of her happiness.
“Look. I’m sorry. It’s great. Better than great.”
“Nope.” He shifted them to their sides, his hands firm on her hip to keep her from moving. As if he was calming a frightened animal, he held her still yet never made her feel trapped. “That’s not an answer.”
“Sounded like one to me.”
Despite the gentle concern that skimmed his brow in light lines, she again saw the subtle amusement in his gaze, as well. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
When had he come to matter so much? And how had she even let him in? And how the hell was she going to make room for him to stay?
That was if he even wanted to stay.
It was sex. Just sex.
Her body still tingled with the just sex and they hadn’t even fully gotten to the just sex.
Although she knew she still n
eeded to do a lot of work on her emotions, she had moved on from Steven. She’d built a life and a business she was proud of.
So why couldn’t she shake the inner sense that she’d somehow walked into a trap? That all this time she’d spent avoiding entanglements and commitment had led her here anyway?
Straight to Reed.
The desire to run was strong—too strong—even as the rational part of her mind screamed at her not to screw this up.
She’d never find another man as good as Reed. None as wonderful as him, either.
So why was she so insistent on messing this up?
His hand caressed her hip with the same swift strokes he’d used to bring her to orgasm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“What if I asked you to?”
He hesitated a moment and she saw surprise replace amusement before his eyes narrowed deliberately. For a man who wore a damn solid poker face, she was shocked to realize how much he usually veiled in those pools of gray.
And maybe even more shocked to realize he let her see behind that veil.
“If you asked me to leave, I would.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“I want—” She broke off when his fingers ran the length of her hip, over her ribs before coming to rest on her breast.
His hand stilled, but stayed firm against her flesh. “You were saying?”
“Right.” Lilah fought the urge to grit her teeth and kept her voice perfectly normal. “Where would you go?”
“Downstairs.” His thumb rubbed lightly against one taut nipple, the sensation shooting a renewed wave of need rocketing through her body. “That’s a comfortable bed you have in your spare room.”
She actually gritted her teeth and focused on her point. On the point.
She had a point, didn’t she?
“Is it? I’ve never slept on it.”
His thumb teased her flesh once more, even as his expression remained somber.
“It’s soft.” He added his forefinger to the exquisite torture, the thick, roughened pad of his fingertip tracing the underside of her breast. “Lush.”
Lilah nearly gasped at the subtle contact. His touch was a torment and the infernal man damn well knew it.
So why wasn’t she asking him to leave?
“You know what else is soft?”
His whisper floated toward her, pulling her from the abyss of her dark thoughts. “The pillows?”
“You.”
The same hand tormenting her moved to her face, and as he cupped her cheek, Lilah knew the first moments of real panic.
Even as her fears calmed at his gentle touch.
“You’re with me. Right here with me. And if you don’t want to go any further, we won’t. But I won’t have another man in this bed with us.”
“It’s not like that.” When she sensed his skepticism, she rushed on, “It’s really not that. It’s just that... I mean—” Stopping, she forced her thoughts to coalesce into something remotely coherent.
“I don’t want to mess this up. And I’m horribly afraid I might do just that.”
“It’s not possible.”
She knew it was possible, but the reassurance he didn’t believe her was oh, so seductive. “How do you know?”
“Because being with you is better than anything I could have ever imagined.”
“You haven’t been with me yet.” She laid her palm over his hand, where it still lay pressed to her cheek. “I mean, the opening act isn’t a full performance.”
“You really are something.” He shook his head before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“No, I’m not. I’m damaged.”
“No.” He pressed one more kiss to her lips before lifting his head. “You’re perfect. You just don’t believe it.”
* * *
The words seemed to float on the air above them, hovering like wispy clouds that drifted in lazy arcs across the sky.
“I’m not perfect.”
“You are to me. Isn’t that really all that matters?”
A soft sigh escaped her lips and Reed gave her a moment. He wanted her—desperately—but he wanted her to come to him even more.
“I didn’t bring anyone else into this room. Not intentionally. But those feelings—” She broke off and he gave her the space to gather herself. “Those feelings don’t just go away. Of not being enough. Or wondering what you did wrong. Intimacy only heightens that piece.”
A bone-deep anger flashed through him, stunning him with all the swiftness of a battle-ax. “Did he—”
“No.” Her hand tightened over his and she squeezed, before taking his hand in hers, linking their fingers. “Steven never raped me. He was an ass and an abuser, but he never did that. I’m lucky.”
Reed wasn’t sure that was quite the term he’d select, but the proof she hadn’t suffered through a violation of that sort went a long way toward calming him.
She squeezed his hand once more, the gesture one of sweet reassurance.
“So I can say I’m lucky I got out and moved on with my life, but there’s also a sense of failure. A feeling I should have known better. That doesn’t just go away, Reed.” Her voice lowered. “How I wish it did.”
With sudden clarity, he remembered stray comments his mother would make every now and again. Even after meeting and marrying Tripp, she’d carried memories of her time years before. “A big part of me would like to brush it off. Tell you it’s not your fault and then because of that, poof, it goes away. I know it doesn’t. I saw my mother live with it and I see it in my work.”
“Your mom?”
“Sure. She made a bad choice with my father and got me in the bargain. That’s an awfully large consequence.”
“She’s crazy about you!”
The ready defense was sweet and Reed marveled at her immediate leap. “And I’m crazy about her. It doesn’t change the fact that she spent nearly a decade and a half as a single mother. My father was never in the picture. He beat it and ran the moment he found out the girl he’d been seeing a few weeks was pregnant.”
“She loves you.”
“Of course she does.” Images of his mother through the years—even her use of “Reed Edward” when she was riled—filled his mind’s eye and he knew he was lucky. Knew they were both lucky in how things had worked out. “And I love her. But that doesn’t mean pain and hurt simply vanish.”
“No, I guess they don’t.” Her lids lowered, shuttering the rich dark depths of her eyes.
The soft light in the room was low, a small lamp on the corner of her dresser obviously left on from one of her timers, and Reed enjoyed the soft glow as it painted her face. With gentle motions, he laid a fingertip beneath her chin, tilting her face toward his.
“You know, for people who haven’t known each other long, we’ve certainly shared quite a few moments. Why do you think that is?”
She swallowed hard, her gaze never wavering. “Gabriella would be fanciful enough to call it fate.”
“What would you call it?”
“Right. Just right.”
“Me, too.”
A small smile lit the corners of her lips, matched by a lilt of her eyebrow. “You know, it’s all well and good to put names on things, but I prefer to think of myself as a woman of action.”
“Oh?”
“Oh yes.” Her hand slid between their bodies, quick as a whip, and Reed felt the jolt down to his soul.
He pressed his lips to hers, murmuring against that witchy smile. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”
“Maybe I can show you instead.”
Reed knew there were still things to discuss. The big things that couples who cared about each other discussed and worked through and man
aged.
Together.
But for now they were together. And it was enough.
Lilah pressed on his shoulders, pushing him onto his back with gentle pressure. He moved with her, more than willing to let her set the pace.
Her hands roamed over his skin, her touch strong. Not for the first time, he admired the simple strength in her hands—a strength earned through hard work and effort. With questing fingers of his own, he ran lazy strokes down her rib cage, the slender bones in contrast to her soft skin.
For several long moments, they stayed that way, enjoying the moment, alive with the simple pleasure of the other’s touch.
So it was with no small shock to his system when she changed the game, running her hands down his chest and quickly following with her mouth. The soft, tender flesh of her lips laid a trail of kisses, followed by a torturous lap of her tongue. Over his chest and down his rib cage before she ran her tongue along the line of muscle over his hips.
And then he was helpless to her as she moved even lower. His breath exploded as she took him into her mouth, that glorious, wet heat enveloping him fully.
“Lilah.” Her name whispered from his lips on another hard exhale.
Rather than respond, she simply used his reaction to fuel her own, amping up the exquisite torture another level. The moment was the most erotic of his life—a true giving of pleasure—and as that thought pierced the veil of sheer, unadulterated enjoyment, it was also the one that kept him from fully going over the edge.
With trembling fingers, he reached for her shoulders, willing her to join him to completion.
“With me—” The words ripped from his throat as she sinuously slid up his body. “Here with me.”
“One minute.”
That same sinuous glide of her body had her draping over him, the press of her breasts against his stomach muscles tightening his body to the point of pain. He dimly registered the echo of her end-table drawer as she pulled it out and the light crinkle of a packet.
The realization that she’d grabbed a condom did little to calm the fire in his blood, even as it dimly registered that he’d nearly forgotten any protection at all. As she slid her way toward him, he closed his fingers over hers. “Let me.”
“Be quick.” She nipped his ear as she handed over the packet and he did his best to oblige around the light tremor of his fingers. She continued to tease with her hands and lips as he worked the condom over straining flesh, her touch making it that much harder to focus on his task.
