Quiver (Revenge Book 1)

by Burns, Trevion

  His eyebrows pulled. He waited for her to release his wrist before burying his fingers in her hair. Stepping forward, he leaned down and parted his lips, gasping for a taste of her.

  Veda pulled her head back, dodging his lips. “No,” she whispered.

  He pressed his forehead to hers, brushing the tips of their noses.

  “You scare me.” He laughed softly.

  A smile split her lips, and she took the bottom of his T-shirt in her hand, yanking at it.

  He swept it over his head without another thought, stepping closer and reclaiming her gaze as he tossed it away. His forehead found hers again, fingers re-submerging in her hair. He leaned closer and kissed the apple of her cheek, the softest brush of his lips.

  Veda’s eyes fluttered closed, but they flew right back open when she felt the warm air of his breath, coming faster each second, on her bottom lip. Her wide eyes explored him just as the tip of his tongue dipped out to sample it.

  She clapped her hands on his shoulders, distantly amazed at their width, pulling her lips away. “I said no.”

  His eyes grew stunned and hooded with rapture, all at once. His eyebrows tightened again, and he studied her face.

  Veda held his gaze for a moment longer before allowing her fingers to trail over his naked skin. She was amazed how something so hard could be so soft and supple at the same time. The unmoving boulders of his shoulders; the rigid curve of his biceps, which tightened under her fingertips; his forearms; his wrists, which she couldn’t even wrap her fingers all the way around.

  Her breathing picked up as she stroked his arms, over and over, until she’d gotten her fill. Her caresses moved to the deep V at the bottom of his stomach and she smiled at his sharp intake of breath, letting her fingers trickle back up over his eight-pack, drinking in his solid beauty, so enamored with every inch of him that she couldn’t get her hands all over him fast enough.

  She took her time appreciating the contrast they made. The way his tanned skin seemed to radiate through her splayed brown fingers like a rising sun as she traveled his heaving pecs, the soft dusting of black hair on his chest, the small valley of freckles lining the edges of his shoulders, and the cross that hung from his neck. She let her fingers linger on the cool metal of that necklace, feeling his pounding heart clearly, as if it lived outside his chest and not in it. Never in her life had she felt a heart pound so hard.

  “You scare me to death.” His admission came deeper, raspier that time.

  She lifted her eyes to his, took his biceps in a tight grip and pulled, turning him toward the bed.

  He let her move him. Even though he was big enough, strong enough, to take control easily, he let her.

  “Take off your clothes,” she whispered.

  He reached out a gentle hand and clutched her waist, lingering on the deep curve that turned into her hip. He traced that delicate valley, his eyes following his greedy hands. Moving back up her dress, the backs of his fingers caressing the soft fabric, he held his breath when he reached the swell of her breasts. He held one and then the other before lifting his other hand and taking them both at once, testing their weight. His breathing grew hoarse. It came faster. Harder.

  “Take off your clothes,” she said again.

  He moved his touch over her collarbones, up her neck, cupping her jaw as his eyes grew soft. “I want to kiss you.”

  She looked at him from under her eyelashes, fighting a smile. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”

  He brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, leaning just close enough to brush their noses again. He angled his nose so he could get closer without kissing her, his eyes fluttering shut. “I thanked the high heavens when that idiot at my party said what he said at the bar. Otherwise I would’ve never had the nerve to start a conversation with you.”

  “Are your clothes still on?”

  He chortled, the kind of laugh that escaped its host unexpectedly. Without another word he took a step back, letting his hands fall from her face. The back of his legs hit her bed and every muscle in his body seemed to flex in surprise, as if he’d forgotten it was there. He toed off each of his shoes.

  Veda watched his fingers move to his undone pants. They trembled. She’d never seen a man shake so much as he pushed his pants down his legs, revealing his thighs and calves, all shapely with his strength. People always made fun of men who went to the gym and only worked on their arms, ignoring their legs. It was clear Gage wasn’t one of those men.

  He stepped out of his pants and dipped his fingers, shaking even more now, into the waistband of his underwear. His gaze never left hers as he bent forward and pushed them down his legs as well. He stayed that way, bent at the waist, his hooded eyes devouring hers, as he pulled his pants and underwear off his legs, one after the other.

  Veda paid no mind to the passion in his eyes, taken prisoner by the hardness bobbing between his legs. Long, thick, and at full attention, it seemed to reach out into the small place between them, clawing for her. Her fingers itched to touch it, taste it, use it to expel whatever beast was claiming her and making her own hands shake.

  He stood tall, fully naked before her, every muscle in his body contracting with the fervor of his breath as he gave her ample time to appreciate the view. His smiles came and went with a new depth each time, a new sort of shyness, but he didn’t shift. He didn’t move to cover up. When Veda’s eyes remained riveted on the evidence of his desire, he rubbed the head gently.

  Veda licked her lips at the sight of him touching himself. “Lie down,” she whispered.

  “I want to see you.”

  She finally lifted her eyes to his and didn’t respond.

  Gage looked back, as if he somehow wasn’t sure if the bed was still behind him, and then plopped down. Her foam mattress sank under his weight, so deep Veda worried it might not bounce back once he was gone.

  And if she had anything to do with it, he would be gone very soon.

  He lay on his back with his calves hanging over the edge, dick slapping against his hard stomach, moving with a life of its own as the head—which had grown purple with need, a dot of precum glistening from the tip—pulsed for any touch, any stroke, any release.

  “Let me make myself abundantly clear,” she said, hearing the waver in her voice.

  He cradled his hands behind his head, waiting.

  She attempted to deepen her tone, to put more authority in it, but that only made the fact that it was shaking more apparent. “This is not going anywhere. This is a one-time thing. This is two people who have no business being attracted to each other addressing that attraction and squashing it like a roach before it destroys both of their lives.”

  He pushed up on his forearms, his eyes appearing twice their normal size now that he was forced to look up at her. His smile seemed almost childish, as if he were seconds from refuting her, but something in his mind stopped him, and his smile grew. “I understand.”

  Veda held his gaze for a moment longer. He said he understood, but she couldn’t help doubting him. When his boyish smirk began to piss her off, she leaned over to her bedside table, fighting a grin of her own while pulling open the drawer. The crinkle of a condom wrapper filled the bedroom as she took it between her fingers.

  She stood tall and returned to him, moving between his splayed legs. He closed his thighs when she did, brushing his legs against hers, expressing his hunger for any touch.

  She hadn’t known what he was doing to her until she had the condom wrapper in her hand, foil crinkling under her fingers, shaking so badly that she nearly dropped it. Her heart sped up when she realized he could see it—her tremble, the evidence of her own desire. She lifted her eyes to his and released a hushed laugh as she tried to rip the package open. She couldn’t, and with every second that passed with her unable to do something so simple as open a damn condom package, her heart slammed a little faster, sending blood surging to every part of her body, including her throbbing pussy, a sensation that only exacerbated the problem and
made her hands shake more.

  Gage pushed off his forearms, sitting tall and cupping her waist in a tight hold, looking up at her like a puppy waiting for a treat.

  He covered her unsteady hands with his.

  Veda stilled, pushing her eyes closed. “I can do it…”

  He removed the package from her hands before she could finish, opening it with ease. He rolled it on in seconds, drawing a slow tug on his hardness, looking up at her as he did. He abandoned his heat, leaving it bobbing between his thighs, and reclaimed her waist. His fingers went to the side zipper of her dress and tried to pull it down.

  Veda grabbed his wrists, giving them a gentle nudge. He was twice her size. She certainly couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do, but still he yielded, lying back down.

  But not before he stole one more touch, the gentlest brush of his fingers against her stomach, as he went.

  Veda lifted the hem of her dress with one hand and braced the other on his shoulder, climbing onto the bed, holding his dark eyes as she straddled him.

  He cupped her elbow, letting his body serve as an anchor, keeping her steady until she’d settled herself on top of him. Then his hands circled her waist and palmed her ass. His fingers splayed wide against its softness, squeezing tight.

  She released her hold on the dress and the draped fabric floated down over his stomach, hiding her pussy from his view. Even the cool whoosh of air the dress created made her body hum when it found her swollen pussy. She wondered if she was on the verge of a heart attack, because her chest was full-on convulsing, with a ferocity she’d never experienced. Her center screamed for the column pressing against her slick lips, and she listened to that cry, reaching under her dress.

  He gasped when she touched him, encircling his shaft with delicate fingers, letting them play over the throbbing veins filled with his need. His hips flexed involuntarily, thrusting into the vise of her hand.

  Lips parted and swollen, Veda came up to her knees, just high enough to give her room to nestle his swollen head at her entry.

  “Yes, Veda,” Gage croaked, his hands moving from her ass and sneaking under the slit of her dress, fingers digging into her thighs.

  Veda claimed his wrists, removing his hands. His arms seemed to flex in preparation for a fight, but he let her lock them over his head, the hot air of their gasps meeting between their heaving lips as she sank down.

  A moan tore through Veda’s throat at the breathtaking sensation—her body spreading for him, new ripples of pleasure coming to life with every inch of her body he claimed, so rife with the desperation for release it was almost unbearable. The head of his dick tapped at her G-spot as he filled her to the hilt, and she sat up, stroking a torrid path down his arms before she rested her hands on his pecs, using them to steady herself. She dug her fingers into the wisps of hair on his chest, leaving red marks as she rose, high enough so just the tip of his dick remained before sinking back down, her ass slapping against his thighs.

  “Jesus, it’s incredible. You feel incredible.” His voice broke and he reached up to cup her breasts, squeezing desperately in time with her bouncing hips. He tried to sit up and untie the strap at the back of her neck, his hoarse breath matching hers, but Veda pushed at his shoulders, never breaking the rhythm of her strokes.

  He returned to his back, chuckling when she snatched his wrists and locked them back over his head, increasing her pace.

  His eyes went to another place as she bounced on his cock, a deeper depth, a level where control became all but lost and a man was no longer in charge of what his body chose to do.

  Veda’s eyes searched his, listening to his gasps come harder and faster. She watched that change happen on his face, tightening her hold on his wrists.

  He lifted his head, his panting lips begging for hers.

  She moved her head back. “No.”

  And it happened. A shift—a movement in his hooded gaze, just as powerful as the one creating a tornado in her belly. His eyes fluttered shut, hiding his own storm, but he was on her in an instant, sitting up and claiming her waist in a grip so ferocious she didn’t even have time to think of stopping it. A scream ripped through his throat and warmed her breasts as he buried his parted lips between them, sealing their chests together while bracing his feet on the floor and slamming his hips up into hers with a ferocity that took her breath away.

  Veda’s eyes rolled into the top of her head and then fluttered shut when his savage stroke found her G-spot, striking it over and over. Her eyes popped open when she felt that familiar, hot rumbling in her center, spreading over her belly, entering her veins and racing through every inch of her, so succinct and powerful that she didn’t even recognize the carnal sound splitting her lips.

  Gage gripped the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to his, holding her eyes as she came, slow and then fast. One wave after another tightened her walls around his column. Just when she thought she had nothing left, his dick unearthed a new toe-curling dimension inside her, making her screams go gravelly and her hips convulse.

  “Oh… God….” Veda frowned at him, unable to stop that involuntary reaction when another orgasm immediately followed the first.

  Gage never broke their gaze, tightening the arm he had around her waist while bracing the other behind him, slamming his hips into hers in time with her hoarse cries, only letting his own moan escape when she’d released every last one of hers.

  Veda’s eyes fluttered shut, her screams moving to amazed pants when he submitted to his own peak deep inside her walls, still slick with her precipice.

  He buried his face in her neck and moved his fingers in her curls, pulling her as he collapsed back onto the bed. Whimpering incomprehensible, ecstasy-laden words to her as he held her chest to his and thrust blindly, the slapping of their skin bounced off the walls until he had nothing left to give, gasping his release into her skin, her hair, any part of her he could get until every tremor had left him too.

  He laughed into her hair, something between a chuckle and a heave, his strong arm holding her so tightly to him she could hardly breathe. “God, Veda, I needed that….”

  She kissed his shoulder but didn’t respond, waiting for her heart to finally slow, her stomach to finally relax, her being to finally right itself.

  She waited for that ‘itchy thing’ to pass.

  Any minute now….

  “I really needed that,” he whispered.

  Still waiting, even as he pulled her in tight, shielding her as their breathing relaxed. She let her stunned eyes flutter closed, unaware of how much his warm breath on her ear was relaxing her until she fell into a deep sleep.

  5

  Veda’s eyes fluttered open and slammed shut again, not because subtle shards of the rising sun were sneaking in through her damask curtains, but because it was still there.

  That rumble in her stomach. That skip in her heart. That feeling of being perpetually off balance. If she weren’t crazy, these foreign sensations felt even stronger now, with sleep boogers stuck to her eyelashes, than they had been the night before.

  She moaned into her pillow, slamming her fists into the mattress and pushing herself up. She tried to straighten her dress, which had contorted into several impossible angles on her body while she slept. It made her feel trapped. Why hadn’t she taken the damn thing off?

  Then she froze.

  She gasped.

  Her sleepy eyes flew to the other side of her bed.

  Empty.

  Wider now, her gaze scanned her bedroom, head spinning a little more with every new item she found.

  The gray slacks still rumpled on her floor. The black T-shirt cloaked the top of her flat-screen. The belt swinging from the footboard. The black boxers hanging halfway off her rumbled red sheets.

  And that scent. Musky. Spicy. How had that maddening aroma lingered overnight? How was it still in her room, when he wasn’t?

  Her mind shot back to hours earlier, when her eyes had blinked open in
the middle of the night to Gage warming her shoulder blade with kisses, believing she was still asleep.

  She dug her fingers into the sheets and tried to swallow, but her dry throat wouldn’t allow it. Kicking her legs over the bed, she told herself to remain calm.

  But before she could make her thoughts a reality….

  Bacon.

  She smelled bacon. And syrup.

  The snap-crackle-pop of oil. The clatter of pots and pans.

  Her stomach hit her feet.

  She crossed her bedroom in a flash, tripping over her Anesthetic Pharmacology book, a mammoth text that had saved her life at work on too many different occasions, bigger than an encyclopedia. She caught her fall on the dresser and snatched up the book, cursing under her breath. She always read it before bed and wasn’t surprised that, after the previous night’s events, it had somehow ended up on the floor.

  She lifted the toe she’d stubbed on the book, biting back a scream when pain shot through it. Dropping the tome on her dresser, she hopped to the door of her bedroom, grabbed hold of the frame, and peeked around the corner.

  He was even spit-shined in the morning, naked as a jaybird, moving back and forth in her upgraded kitchen with a determined bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

  Spit-shined as he foraged through her Tuscany white cabinets and drawers.

  Spit-shined as hot bacon oil popped at him, making him hiss.

  Still infuriatingly spit-shined as he threw open her stainless steel fridge and came out with a bottle of orange juice, filling two glasses he’d set up on the island. His tousled bed head fell into his sleepy eyes.

  The feeling that shot through Veda, so soft and effortless—like cotton candy—zapped the air clear from her lungs, and she turned away from the sight of that rich boy traversing her kitchen, cooking her breakfast.

  She ran into the middle of her bedroom, stopped, looked around, and wondered what the hell she was doing. The adult thing to do would be to strut into that kitchen, join that man for their first and last breakfast, and call it all a day.