Romance Me (Boxed Set)

by Susan Hatler

  He stopped a few feet away from her, water dripping from his hair and shoulders in sinuous streaks that she longed to lap up. All thoughts of teasing him into a frenzy vanished. She stumbled forward, wanting only to fall to her knees, drag his sodden suit down, and take him in her mouth. Instead, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “I bought a bikini at Holiday Harbor, but I'm not the bikini type so I thought I'd just—”

  He snorted and moved toward her until he was right in front of her. “You are so the bikini type, Melina.” Gently grasping her wrists, he uncrossed her arms and held them out wide. The sheer appreciation on his face made her thighs clench with need. “But I love your lingerie. God, your skin looks so soft. Like cream. And your breasts…” He groaned.

  She glanced down at her chest, where her breasts were cupped and lifted by her demi-bra. Her curves were average in size, but her nipples were hard and visibly straining beneath the fabric. Dropping her wrists, he reached out, cupped her breasts in both hands, then pinched her nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently before releasing her.

  “Rhys,” she whimpered as he dipped his head, suckling first one nipple and then the other. He sucked them hard, as if he wanted to swallow her whole, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, ready to offer her entire self to him. With a groan, he moved to kiss her cleavage, nipping at her skin in a way she knew would leave her bruised. Marked in the best way possible. But then he was backing away from her. Again.

  No, no, no.

  “The only thing that would be more beautiful than you like this is you like this and wet. Emphasis on the wet part.”

  Before she could respond, he turned and jumped back in the water.

  “You coming in?” His question sounded strangled. As if he'd had to force the words out.

  Despite the frustrating ache that he'd caused to buzz through her body again, she smiled. The ache was so much better than the nerves had been. Plus, she was starting to see what Rhys meant about unpredictability and sex being fun even when you were just playing at it. Granted, he had more experience, but that just gave her more to work with.

  With a quick movement, she dived in after him.

  ***

  Under the relative safety of the water, Rhys cupped his straining dick through his swim shorts. Frantically, he tried to think of something, anything, that would give him a modicum of control as he watched Melina start a lazy crawl toward him. Unfortunately, even thinking of his favorite Seinfeld episode couldn't prompt the shrinkage that had caused George Costanza such embarrassment. He was primed and ready to go, especially after her creative alphabetizing and the feel of her fingers feeding him, her eyes transfixed on his mouth the whole time. Seeing her in her sheer bra and underwear had almost driven him over the edge. So what the hell was he waiting for?

  When Melina squealed and giggled, then dived under the water to see what had brushed against her, he thought, This.

  He was waiting for this. Hell, yes, he wanted to enjoy her body, but he wanted so much more than that. The opportunity to play with her. Learn about her. Enjoy her. Once this weekend was over, he'd lose that chance. Melina was letting her guard down because she had an excuse, but once that excuse was gone, the awkwardness and shyness and differences would be back on her radar. In fact, they'd probably be worse.

  He'd be Rhys, Max's brother, again. But he'd also be the guy who'd seen her vulnerable and, once she was back in her real world, Melina would remember that.

  He had to pack a lifetime of loving Melina in two short days.

  When she came back up for air, she was grinning. “You should've warned me we had company.”

  He shrugged. “You're a nature girl. Fish. Bugs. What's the difference?”

  She sniffed. “Surely you jest. Insects are higher on the evolutionary chain than fish, you know.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” He knew a few random facts about insects simply because Melina would occasionally throw them into conversation. He'd even done some independent research because learning more about bugs was one pathetic step closer to learning more about Melina. This, however, he'd never heard before.

  She floated on her back, closing her eyes, a contented smile on her lips that made him think of the expression she'd worn when she'd said his name and fallen asleep in his arms. “Mmm. Hmm.”

  He paddled closer, watching the water hover shallowly above her soft, rounded belly and lush thighs. “And what do you base that theory on?” he asked absently, unable to tear his gaze away from her belly button. He wanted to dip his tongue into it and then work his way downward. “Darwin or Genesis?”

  She yawned. “Both, actually. But you don't want to hear about that.”

  Silently, he caught her by the waist and swung her around to face him. With a startled shriek, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he urged her legs around his waist. Her eyes rounded as his hardness settled into the cradle of her thighs. Unable to help himself, he pressed her body closer to his and leaned his forehead against hers.

  “Right now, I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.”

  She leaned back and her mouth opened, but then she hesitated. They stared at one another, so close he could see the golden flecks in her warm eyes. Cream and syrup, he thought, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her shoulder. He lingered, kissed her other shoulder, nipped at it, then laved the small sting with his tongue. “You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Ladybug.”

  She gasped, bit her lip, and blinked her eyes several times. Just as he leaned down to kiss her, she forced out a laugh, shook her head, and pushed away, looking back at him from over her shoulder. “According to creationism, fish were created on day five, insects on day six, along with man and woman. For evolutionists, life originates in primeval oceans. It's one of the few things the two can agree on. Fish first. Insects after.”

  “Hmm. I'll be sure to remember that little fact. Come here.”

  He reached for her, but she swam away again, prompting him to growl in frustration. She'd never teased this way with him. Max, yes. He'd watched her and his brother flirt and touch each other with affection while he did nothing but stand apart, wishing things were different. He liked her teasing far more than he'd ever thought possible.

  “I find it interesting, you know—the theory that man and insects were created on the same day. Just like men, male insects are quite willing to perform certain mating rituals in order to get what they want from a female.”

  Eyes narrowing, he got the distinct feeling she was trying to rebuild a wall between them. He swam closer and, sure enough, she paddled backward. What had he done to scare her? Testing her, he treaded water but let himself float imperceptibly closer. “You make it sound so calculated. Women—and I'm assuming female bugs—have their agenda, their needs, too.”

  “Tell that to the female bedbug. When she lets a male get close to her, it pierces her body cavity with its penis to deposit sperm. Seems pretty calculated to me.”

  He frowned. “What are you saying, Melina? You're afraid I'm going to hurt you? Male insects don't exactly have it easy, you know. Everyone knows what happens to a male praying mantis when he mates.”

  Confusion swept over her expression, making her look like the little girl he'd met when her parents had first come to help his parents. Again, she seemed to force out a little laugh. “The female only occasionally bites off his head. Only when it's well deserved, I'm sure.” She shook her head, her expression growing somber. “Seriously, of course I don't think you're going to hurt me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know how things go. That's why I want to learn all I can about physically pleasing a man. The flowers. Chocolates. Deep conversation that a man puts out when he's interested in a woman? It's all part of the mating ritual. A man puts forth great effort to catch a woman's attention so he can get what he wants.”

  Not liking what he was hearing, he circled her like a shark, noting the increased color in her cheeks and the rapidness of her breaths. �
�I'm still not getting your point.”

  “My point is…you don't need to do it. The teasing. The picnic. The compliments.” She waved the air separating them. “The little lessons on trust and submission. All this. I don't need to be wooed, Rhys. I'll give you what you want. I'll give you anything you want this weekend.”

  Her message was implied but clear. This weekend, but not longer. He lunged for her and she squealed, barely managing to elude his grasp this time.

  Despite the slow build of anger inside him, he tried grinning wolfishly. “I'm the teacher here, remember, baby? Or have you decided there's a thing or two you can teach me? If so, I'll spread myself out on that picnic blanket right now so you can show me your stuff. You'll get my point loud and clear.”

  Her eyes widened, and he could see her thinking. What she said, however, nearly blew him out of the water. “What about spreading yourself out on a bed and letting me tie you down? Would that be unpredictable enough for you?”

  Chapter Eight

  Dalton's Magic Rule #9: Tie someone up and use a little mood music.

  After her bold declaration, Melina heard nothing but the gentle lapping of the water. Unable to stand it, she looked down, straining her eyesight as if she could see one of the fish that had brushed against her. Maybe she'd been too bold? Crossed the line? Hadn't he said they'd play by his methods or not at all?

  “Look at me.” Shivering at his hoarse command, she reluctantly raised her head. She gasped at the intense desire reflected in his hooded eyes, which blazed at her like ice-hot gems, but she didn't miss the edge of temper surrounding them either. “It depends what's driving you. Are you scared of me? Because if that's it, then this whole thing—”

  “I'm not scared,” she rushed out. “I told you I trust you, and I do. It's just something I've never done before. All my other lovers, I would've felt silly asking them. But with you—” She shook her head. “Never mind. It was another stupid idea—”

  “Come here, Melina.”

  The way he said it, with more than a hint of a dare, made her heart leap out of control. To counter it, she cocked a brow, but she didn't move any closer to him. “Why?”

  In response, he glided slowly toward her until they were treading water next to each other, his legs occasionally bumping against hers. What had he said about seeing her wet? Because if he touched her in the right place—she almost whimpered at the thought—he'd feel she was far wetter than mere water could make her. She was also so hot she was surprised the water around them hadn't started to boil.

  Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, soothing his thumb across her brow in a tender gesture that still managed to make her think of that big bed in his bedroom and him tied down and spread out for pleasure. His and hers. He smirked as if he could read her mind. “Because I'm going to kiss you. And then we're going to get out of this lake, pack up my stuff, drive back to my house, hopefully without crashing, and you're going to tie me up. But on one condition.”

  He floated closer, until her nipples brushed against his chest in a teasing dance choreographed by the water surrounding them. Desire coursed through her, a heavy ache that made her want to wrap her arms around him and sink into the liquid depths below, like a siren whisking her sailor away from his duties in favor of decadent sensation.

  Unable to help herself, she reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders, cupping the balls of muscle there even as she reestablished her position with her legs around his waist. “What's that?”

  Anticipation, an exhilarating mix of fear and lust, clawed at her. With sure hands, Rhys cupped the cheeks of her bottom and arched into her, indicating loud and clear that playtime was over. He waited until her low moan faded before answering her. “I get to return the favor.”

  ***

  They didn't crash on the drive back to Rhys's house, but it was touch and go—literally—the entire time. Mainly, she did the touching, teasing Rhys from the passenger seat, her hands smoothing across his chest, stroking his thighs, cupping the spectacular package in between while he gritted his teeth and tried to focus on the road, his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel for dear life. During that wild five-minute ride, she savored the now-familiar intoxicating rush of power, the sure knowledge that she was the reason he was barely holding on to his control. The power shifted, however, when she began to kiss him.

  She started at his neck, at the corners of his mouth, and was working her way downward when he suddenly braked and tugged her head away. With his ragged breaths filling the small confines of her car, he subdued her attempts to pull away from him, shaking his head warningly. “We're almost there.” The rough tenor of his voice slid across her skin like nubby silk, rich and smooth but with enough texture to tease rather than satisfy.

  “Then why'd you stop?” she whispered even as she craned her neck in a desperate bid to kiss his lips.

  The hand on her hair tightened, and the bite of pleasure-pain made her eyes widen. The deep clench of need between her thighs made it more than clear that she just might like things rougher than she'd ever imagined.

  “Because your hands on me are one thing, but if your lips get any closer to my dick, then we're not going to make it to my bed. I'm going to pull over and take you right here, and that's not what you asked for—”

  “I changed my mind,” she breathed, silently cursing her stupidity. She forgot why she'd ever come up with the idea of tying him down. If he was tied down, he couldn't use his hands on her, and she wanted his hands on her. So much that she was about to beg for it, but he gave a sharp shake of his head.

  “Kiss me. One kiss. And then sit back like a good little girl until we get there.”

  She dug her nails into his shoulders, giving him a taste of the hunger rolling through her. “But I don't want to be a good little girl. Not anymore.”

  He growled and took the kiss he'd asked for. His lips surrounded hers, his tongue sank deep, and the whole time he kept his hands on her skull, in her hair, guiding her mouth, tilting it this way and that, demanding that she give him what he wanted. Then he pushed her away.

  “Don't move,” he said as he released her and then turned back to the road, starting to drive with a jerky lurch. It was a hard order to obey, but she dug her fingernails into her palms, consoling herself that they'd be there soon. As she stared at him, however, a devilish urge to push him even closer to the edge took control of her. She'd always been reluctant to talk dirty in bed, but now the urge was driving her hard.

  “The first thing I'm going to do when you're tied down is take you in my mouth,” she said softly.

  He jerked in surprise and looked at her, then clenched his jaw as he focused on the road again.

  “I-I haven't had a lot of experience with it,” she confessed, “because I've never really liked it. But with you, I want to taste every inch of you. Lock you in my mouth. In my throat, so you can never get away.”

  He flinched. Groaned. Lowered his hand to cup himself. But just for a second. When he had both hands on the wheel again, he glared at her, the glint in his eyes promising retribution. “And when I'm in your throat and can't get away, what are you going to do?”

  “I-I—” She struggled for something clever to say. Something nasty and hot and depraved. But all she could manage was the truth. “I'm going to suck you until you come.”

  He hissed out a breath and took a sharp turn. “Unless you come first.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked dumbly.

  The car stopped. She barely noticed that they'd made it back to the house. “I mean I don't just lay back when a woman is pleasuring me with her mouth, Melina. I give it right back to her.”

  Stunned, she could do no more than gape at him while he rounded the car, pulled open her door, then swept her into his arms, carrying her up the steps into the house with a rushed agility that took her breath away. Maneuvering into his bedroom, he deposited her gently on the bed. He gave her another one of those intense, dominating kisses and started to strip h
er. Her hands raced to follow his lead, but somehow he managed to get her naked before she could do more than push his shirt from his shoulders.

  He pinned her hands next to her head, his cheeks flushed, his breathing rough, and a decidedly dazed look in his eyes. “I can't do it.”

  She jerked in surprise and shame filled her fast. “What?” This is it, she thought. I was wrong before. This is where he hurts me.

  “I can't wait. I'm sorry, Melina, I thought I could but—” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, just as he had at the lake. With his touch, she realized he was shaking. “If I can't have you now, I think I'm going to die.”

  His blatant honesty stunned her. He was as wet as she, their hair damp, his trunks hiked up the muscled thigh that pressed between her legs so that her bare flesh met his. Instead of being embarrassed by the wetness there, as she normally would have been, she reveled in it. Instinctively, she pressed herself toward him, wanting more pressure on the tiny bundle of nerves that was swelling for his touch. It wasn't close enough, so she struggled to get her hands free. When he wouldn't release her wrists, she leaned up and kissed him gently, then followed the tender touch with a nip to his bottom lip. “It's okay, Rhys. I don't want to wait either.”

  “But you said you wanted to play—”

  “Playing can wait.” She swallowed and forced herself to say it. “I've wanted you for so long. On top of me. Inside me. If that's what you want—”

  He took one of her hands and slid it inside his trunks, covering her fingers with his until she was grasping him tightly. Moving her hand, he started a smooth, steady friction that made his eyes close and his head fall back. “I want.”

  “Then take me,” she whispered.

  With a rough groan, he stood, pushed down his swimsuit, and lunged for the bedside table where he removed a small square packet. Ripping it open, he slipped the condom over himself and then came on top of her. She welcomed him, arms and thighs opened wide, and he sank onto her.