“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she whispered, her throat tight with emotion. “No doubt.”
Chapter Eight
Sten dropped to a crouch and unlaced his boots.
Kicking them off as he rose again, he got rid of his socks, unzipped his pants and shoved them down along with his boxer briefs. The whole time, he held her gaze. The cream-colored cable-knit sweater he wore came off last.
And that was it. He was naked.
Madison scraped her teeth across her lower lip and sighed. He was so easy to look at, that handsome face, all those lean, hard muscles. His penis was half erect, the sight of it causing a stab of uneasiness as to what would actually happen here tonight.
“I’m nervous.” There. She’d confessed it.
“Change your mind?” He asked it quietly, and the way his gaze held hers was reassuring, even soothing. “You only need to say so.”
She drew in a shuddery breath as she shook her head. “No way. I’m, um, in.”
He came down to her and gathered her close, pulling her onto his lap as his lips covered hers.
She could feel him growing harder and bigger against her hip. Her anxiousness ratcheted up again. But he just kept on kissing and caressing her in a way that was somehow an end in itself. His body said he wanted her. But still, he wasn’t pushing her. He kissed her like it was enough for him—more than enough. Like it was everything.
Her nerves slowly settled. It was better, easier, with him wrapped all around her, holding her, skin to skin.
He pulled away enough to kiss the tip of her nose and each of her cheeks. And then his mouth touched hers again, lightly and then going deeper. He lay back on the pillows, pulling her with him. She ended up on top of him, kind of draped all over him. The long, drugging kiss continued. At the same time, he lavished her with long, slow caresses, down her back, over her shoulders, along her arms.
He took her bra away and then pushed down her panties—which got hung up around her knees. She wiggled to kick them off, but they hardly budged and that made her feel awkward and bumbling.
Because really, how it could possibly work, the mechanics of this thing called sex, if her panties were keeping her knees from opening?
But then he swept a confident hand down the outside of her thigh, turning her on top of him as he guided both of her legs to one side of him. In a slow caress, he brought that same hand beneath her other thigh and then lower, until his fingers touched the soft undercurves of her knees—and the unbudgeable panties. Just like that, the swatch of lace and elastic glided down over her shins. With a silly little giggle, she kicked them off at last.
Things got kind of hazy after that. She felt loose and easy, at home in her skin, with him all around her, stroking her, those wonderful fingers sliding down to cup her mound. She moaned when he did that. It felt so natural, so right.
He rolled them, so she was lying on her back. And he touched her some more. Her legs just fell open, kind of by themselves. He eased a finger in and then another. She was very wet and it felt really good and she kind of wished he would just keep doing what he was doing and never stop.
She moaned, rolling her head away from his drugging kiss, murmuring, “Sten. That. Right there. Never stop...”
He caught her lips again, kissed the words right off her mouth, his tongue sweeping behind her parted lips, arousing her almost as powerfully as the things his fingers were doing down below.
She came without a hint of warning, rising and hitting the crest on a cry of surprised delight. It wasn’t her first orgasm. She might be a virgin, but she was intimately acquainted with her own body. It wasn’t her first, but oh, it was glorious. It felt good to be with him, to let go in his arms—so very good.
Sten kissed her some more. Really, he was a master at this. He kissed her as though kissing her could never get old for him, and as for those hands of his...
The guy had mad skills, no question about it.
She lay there in afterglow, thinking that it couldn’t get any better than what had just happened.
But then he kissed the curve of her jaw. He dropped a string of hot, lovely kisses along the column of her throat.
And lower.
Down and down and down he went, now and then pausing to nip at her with his teeth, bringing a gasp of excited surprise followed by a low hum of pure pleasure when those velvety lips of his were on her again.
She closed her eyes in lazy delight—only to lift her head and stare down the length of her naked body. “Oh!” she cried at the sight of her thighs draped over his broad shoulders, his mouth right there where his fingers had been before.
He glanced up. Their eyes met, but he just went on kissing her most private place.
With a sigh of surrender, she let her head drop back to the pillow. It was all too hot and urgent and wonderful. She felt the edges of her control fraying.
Control of what? she asked herself with another breathless little moan.
She had no control. She was flesh and bone and pure sensation and Sten played her like he knew every inch of her, like all of her—body, mind and heart—was his and his alone.
She let it happen, let another climax shudder through her, leaving her limp, utterly satisfied.
He eased out from between her thighs and wrapped her close in his arms again. She settled into his embrace with a sigh.
Paradise. Really. She’d gone to bed with this man who somehow spoke to her heart—and ended up in paradise. She rested her head against his hard chest, listened to his heartbeat and thought how she really ought to show some initiative. She might be inexperienced, but she could take the lead at least a little.
Then he tipped up her chin and kissed her again. She tasted herself on his tongue and all her good intentions to give him at least a fraction of the delight he’d given her faded like morning mist in the light of the sun. For this time, her first time, she would be totally selfish, let him show her the way.
He reached for the tube on the nightstand and squeezed some on his fingers. She watched him, thinking that she trusted him, and how easy that was for her—to trust this particular man. She’d been wondering, in recent years, if there was something wrong with her that she couldn’t take a chance on a guy. She’d been lonely, in LA, where it just seemed safer not to give her trust at all.
Like breathing, to trust him. As natural as taking in air.
The lube was cool. At first.
But it quickly turned warm. The wonder started all over again, her pleasure rising as he worked his special magic on her willing flesh. She felt that lovely, building urgency and shut her eyes in surrender, knowing he would take her over the edge yet again.
When he pulled away before that happened, she moaned in protest and let her eyes drift open.
He had a condom in his hand. She watched as he rolled it down over his thick length and then spread some of the lube on it. His big hand looked so naughty to her, stroking himself.
She probably should have been worried. It was most likely going to hurt.
But her body was so loose, so easy and willing. Her heart beat with a deep, slow, hungry rhythm. She was much too turned on to be worried. This was exactly what she wanted—her first birthday goal, realized.
And best of all, with him.
She reached for him. He came to her and she opened to him. He guided himself to her core and began to ease himself into her ready heat.
It did hurt. But he went so slowly, lifting up on his forearms, his eyes commanding her, holding her, calming her. A muscle in his jaw flexed and he groaned her name as he held himself in check.
“So tight,” he whispered, dipping his forehead down to hers, letting out a heavy sigh. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple onto hers, cooling as it slid back into her hair. “Maddy, you have to tell me. You have to say if you want me to stop.”
She
framed his face between her hands and locked her gaze with his. “No. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare.”
He pushed in a tiny bit more. She must have winced because he went still again. He waited for her body to relax around him—and then he pushed in some more.
It took forever. But finally, it did happen. At last they were fully joined. Pressed deep within her, he held himself still and claimed her mouth with slow, drugging intent, kissing her endlessly as he gave her body time to fully accept him.
Only then did he begin to rock, but cautiously, withdrawing barely a fraction each time, coming back to her with measured care. The pain slowly turned to mere discomfort and from there to warmth and a good kind of fullness.
She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him down hard and tight to her.
That did it. “Maddy, I...” Whatever he’d meant to say turned into a groan.
He began to rock into her in steady, forceful strokes. It felt...not painful. But he was stretching her to the limit each time he filled her. She made herself breathe deep, go with it.
And it worked. Her body adjusted, opening around him. It still felt like a lot, like the very edge of too much.
But now it had also begun to feel good.
A moan escaped her.
That seemed to drive him onward. He came into her harder, increasing the pace.
After that, it was all she could do just to go with what was happening, to hold him and breathe into each stroke and keep herself willing, there in the moment, free in her body, fearless.
Open to him.
“I can’t hold out,” he growled down at her as his body rolled into her. “Maddy. I wanted this to be for you.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m letting you down...”
“No. You aren’t.”
“I have to...”
“It’s okay, I promise you,” she whispered, stroking his shoulders. “It’s good.” She gathered him closer.
“Maddy,” he said. And nothing more.
He surged into her hard, bringing a guttural sound from her, a sound of shock at how deep he was—and of submission, too.
Submission to him, to her feelings for him that were so strong, so real to her. She was lost to him, all his.
How had he done it? He’d busted through everything, torn down the walls she’d so carefully constructed so that no one could hurt her the way her mom had hurt her dad.
He had claimed not only her willing body.
He owned her heart.
Going utterly still in her arms, pressing himself so very deep, he came. She felt him pulsing within her.
She felt him everywhere.
“Maddy,” he whispered on a final, deep sigh.
Chapter Nine
There was a knock on the slider as Madison, in sleep pants, a tank top and a stretched-out cardigan sweater, was choosing a pod for her morning coffee. Her phone, on the end of the counter, gave a buzz with an incoming text.
Paying no attention to the phone, she glanced over her shoulder toward the door to the deck. It was Coco, looking totally pulled-together in pink jeans, pink tennies and a pink-and-white-striped sweater. Really, the cuteness factor was off the charts with that kid.
Madison left the pod on the counter and went to open the door. Outside, it was foggy. She breathed in the moist coolness of it. Somewhere in the mist that obscured the water, a gull gave a long, fading cry.
“You and Uncle Sten had another sleepover without me, dincha?” the little girl accused. At Madison’s easy shrug, Coco gave up on the attitude. “It’s okay. Did you have fun?”
Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea... “Yes, we did, thank you.”
Sten appeared from the short hall to the bedroom, his hair sleep-scrambled, barefoot and without his sweater. At least he’d pulled on his pants. Madison’s belly got all fluttery just at the sight of him. They shared a long look, a lover’s look full of intimate secrets. It was all new to her, to have a morning-after with a man, with this man. She could definitely get used to waking up in bed with him.
“Uncle Sten,” said Coco sternly.
His bare feet whispered across the hardwood floor as he came and stood next to Madison. He draped one of those lean-muscled arms across her shoulders, so casually, as though putting his arm around her was something he did every day. She loved that he did that—loved it almost as much as the morning-after look they’d just shared.
“What’s up, Coco-Puff?” he asked.
Frowning a little, her big blue eyes straying kind of nervously toward the other house and then back, Coco said, “Come over for breakfast—and hurry. We have to get ready for school, you know.”
“Colleen!” It was Karin’s voice from down between the houses.
“Uh-oh.” Coco scrunched up her face.
“Up here!” Sten called to his sister as he gazed down at Coco, shaking his head.
“Well,” Coco said, as if in answer to words he hadn’t spoken. “You have to eat breakfast. Breakfast is good for you.”
About then, Karin materialized out of the fog as she sprinted up the stairs on the far side of the cottage. “Okay, young lady. What did I say?”
Coco let out a long, exhausted-sounding sigh. “That Madison and Uncle Sten prob’ly wanted to fix their own breakfast.” She parroted her answer as if by rote and then added hopefully, “But you didn’t ’zackly say no.”
“You didn’t give me a chance.” Karin glanced up from her daughter. “Sorry, you guys. She snuck over here while I was busy frying eggs.”
“No problem.” Madison tried to keep her expression serious, though everything Coco did just seemed completely adorable to her.
“So can they just come over, then?” Coco asked, raising her arms out to the side and then dropping them so hard her palms made twin slapping sounds against her pink jeans.
“Not this time. Your food’s on the table. Go on back to the house and eat. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“But, Mom...” Coco whined.
“Now.”
Dragging her feet, Coco trudged to the stairs and started down.
Karin said to her brother, “When you didn’t come down for breakfast, she just knew you were over here. She started in on me to let her invite you both to join us. I put her off, but you know Coco.”
Sten did know. “She took matters into her own hands.”
Karin turned to Madison. “Holding the line on my little girl? Talk about a full-time job.”
By then, the little girl in question was out of sight. Still, Madison pitched her voice low against the chance that the child might overhear. “I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t refuse her anything.”
Karin made a humphing sound. “With kids, it’s learn fast, or die—and now I can’t invite you two over for bacon and eggs this morning without encouraging her to get sneaky when things don’t go her way.”
Sten’s arm still rested across Madison’s shoulder. She reached up and wrapped her hand around his, leaning into him, because it felt natural to do that. It felt utterly right.
“We get it,” he said. And he nuzzled her hair, which she’d piled on the top of her head in a haphazard bun.
Did life get any better?
Doubtful.
“How ’bout this?” suggested Karin. “Just come over at breakfast-time any morning the mood strikes. That way, when Coco starts in on me, I can tell her you have an open invitation, that when you can make it for breakfast, you will.”
Madison thanked her and Sten said, “Works for me.”
Karin started for the stairs—but then stopped and turned back. “I have to say it.” She pointed a finger at Sten then at Madison and back to Sten again. “I like where this is going. I truly do.” With a low laugh, she left.
Sten shut the slider. “Ignore my pushy niece and my
matchmaking sister.”
She stepped right up to him and kissed him with a quick press of her lips to his. “Maybe I like where this is going, too.”
He was silent. But his expression told her way more than she wanted to know. As far as he was concerned, this special magic between them was just for now.
And no way was she ruining an absolutely perfect morning by getting into it with him about what might happen next. There didn’t need to be a next—scratch that. There definitely did need to be a next. There would be a next.
But they didn’t have to talk about that now.
She gave him a slow smile.
He put a finger under her chin. “Those dimples. You could finish a man off with those dimples, you know that?”
She kissed him again, taking her time about it, resting her palms on his warm, hard, bare chest.
He said, “Oh, and by the way. Just so you’re aware. Liam told Karin why you’re here, that you’re a long-lost Bravo sister. Karin has promised to keep it to herself.”
“All good,” she said. “Want some breakfast?”
“You cook?” he teased.
She didn’t roll her eyes, but she considered it. “I’ve cooked you breakfast once before as I recall, so you are well aware that I have a few life skills beyond memorizing other people’s words and hitting my mark, thank you—scrambled and sausage?”
He gave her one of those looks containing equal parts fondness and desire. “Yes, please.”
* * *
Sten brewed himself a pod of coffee and set the table as Maddy bustled around the kitchen getting the food on. It was fun, just being with her, doing simple, everyday things—waking up together, sharing breakfast.
They sat down to eat. “This is really good,” he said, after his first bite.
“So, then. It’s confirmed. I can fry sausage and scramble eggs. Yet more proof that I’m a woman you shouldn’t underestimate.” She sipped her coffee and looked downright smug.
He wanted to jump up, grab her, slam his mouth on hers and carry her back to the bedroom again. But he had to remember that last night was her first time. She was probably sore.
Switched At Birth Page 12
