Sweet Talkin' Lover EPB

by Tracey Livesay

  The import of his words ripped the air out of her lungs, and the vulnerability expressed left them both exposed, with nothing to hide behind.

  “But you invited me here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He reached out and tucked an errant lock of hair back into her ponytail. “I don’t know.”

  She licked her lips. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  He moved closer until the vanity was at her back and he . . . Good Lord, he was in front of her. “I know.”

  She was powerless to resist the surge of pleasure coursing through her. Her fingers tingled, her heart raced, her pussy pulsed. She hadn’t felt this much . . . wanting in such a long time. She’d begun to wonder if she’d ever feel that way again.

  She put trembling hands on his shoulders. “There are so many reasons this is a bad idea.”

  His hands gripped her hips. “I agree.”

  She shivered. “I’m here to evaluate the plant.”

  He leaned forward, pressed his cheek to her temple. “Of course.”

  His words stirred her hair. She slid her arms around and squeezed the muscles in his upper back. “I won’t be here long.”

  He slowly and sensuously moved his face against hers. “I know.”

  Their lips met, clung, then pulled away once, twice before his hand gripped the back of her neck and he took her mouth in a deep, hungry, and possessive kiss. Her heart seized, then thudded in her chest, and a liquid pool of desire settled low and thick in her belly. He kissed her with a skill and expertise that left her weak in the knees, like she was a fevered fantasy, like he’d devour her whole if she let him.

  And in this moment, with the way he was making her feel, she’d let him. She honest to God fucking would. Every molecule in her body strained toward him, as if they, too, understood her urgent need to be joined with him. His arm was a steel band around her waist, anchoring her to him. Everything about him made her crave him more: his scent, his feel, his taste. His tongue curved and brushed the roof of her mouth, and she moaned, letting her thighs spread.

  Right here. Right now.

  The hardness of his cock prodded her hip through the thin material of his pants, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. To run her thumb over the lubricated head, wrap her fingers around the shaft, and guide him into her. She slid her hand down and cupped one firm ass cheek, shivering in delicious anticipation of doing that again when they were both naked.

  But he abruptly broke their kiss, leaving her dazed and bereft. And angry.

  What the fuck?

  He rested his forehead against hers, their harsh breathing the only sound. She tried to drag in more air, if only to voice her question aloud or to pull him back for more, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Like the strength of their combined desire had short-circuited her central nervous system.

  And it had only been a kiss.

  After a long, slightly unbearable moment, he untangled himself from her and backed out of the space.

  The muscle in his jaw was working overtime. “Take your shower. When you’re done, leave your clothes in a pile on the floor. I’ll get a bag for them. Oh, and feel free to use all the hot water you want.”

  His implication was clear.

  He’d only need the cold.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wyatt didn’t flinch as the cold water hit his heated skin.

  Caila Harris would be the death of him.

  He rested his forehead against the shower wall and let the icy flow stream down his back. When he’d invited her to his house he’d had honest intentions.

  Mostly.

  He hadn’t consciously planned for anything to happen, but he’d wanted to spend some time with her. He’d regretted how their evening had ended at the homecoming game, and getting her to participate in the race had seemed like an opportunity for both him and the town to get what they wanted. And he’d invited her back to his house because, frankly, he wasn’t ready to say good-bye to her.

  What harm could come from it?

  That kiss had changed everything. Pulling away from her had been the second most difficult thing he’d endured in his life.

  Yeah, dude. What in the hell were you thinking?

  He’d been thinking their kiss must’ve made her wet and wondering if he should check with one finger or two.

  He’d been thinking he could come just from the luscious rasp of her tongue against his.

  And he’d been thinking these feelings—for her—were unlike any he’d ever known or experienced.

  If this were just sex, him scratching an itch, he would’ve continued kissing her. They were two intelligent, consenting adults who found each other attractive and wanted to let nature take its course.

  But this was more. And as much as he wished their situation was different, his wants weren’t his only concern. They couldn’t be. He had the expectations of his family and thousands of people resting on his shoulders. They didn’t care that Caila had the softest skin or the sweetest lips or the most bewitching scent. They wanted to know if Chro-Make would continue to operate. They wanted to know if they would have jobs. They wanted to know if the town would continue to function as they raised their families and lived their lives in Bradleton.

  In comparison, his feelings for Caila seemed selfish and inconsequential. They’d passed the point where he could have his cake and eat it, too. He could no longer fool himself into believing he could pursue a personal relationship with her separate from their business one. The lines drawn were clear: He could have her or he could help the town. He couldn’t do both.

  He’d had the privilege of being a Bradley and of being mayor. Now, he needed to tend to the responsibilities being both entailed.

  He turned off the shower and reached for a towel to dry off. How long had he been in there? Too long. He’d promised to provide Caila clothes to change into. Once he did, he’d apologize for the kiss and his previous inappropriate behavior, politely but firmly explain that it would be better for both of them if they kept everything on a business level, and offer to drive her back to Sinclair House. He’d call Joe and tell him to head back to Bradleton, and then Wyatt would do everything in his power to help Nate prove to Endurance why it would be a mistake to remove their business from Chro-Make.

  He threw on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats and grabbed another one of his shirts and some yoga pants Laura had left the last time she and Dan had dropped by to help with the house, and headed to the hallway bathroom. He stooped down to leave them by the door so she’d see them when—

  The door opened. Swirls of steam slipped past him unheeded as he came face to towel-covered belly. Droplets of water dotted her slim calves and muscled thighs. He swallowed as one bead of moisture near her knee decided to traverse the miles of supple brown skin down her legs to dissolve at her ankle.

  Lucky bastard.

  Are you fucking kidding me? I’m trying to do the right thing. How much temptation am I supposed to endure?

  She stared down at him, her eyes wide. “I—I was looking for clothes and some lotion.”

  His chest rose and fell as he stared up at her, his heartbeat drowning out any ambient sounds. Her gaze burned into his, and just when he thought he’d burst out of his skin, the pink tip of her tongue darted out and left her lower lip wet. She took a step toward him.

  Like a moth to a flame . . .

  Fuck responsibility.

  With one fluid motion he stood, slid his hand beneath the weight of her wet strands to cup her neck, and claimed her mouth with all of the pent-up yearning that had enveloped him from the moment they’d met.

  She moaned and clawed at his back, meeting him kiss for frenzied kiss. He backed her into the steamy bathroom and lifted her until she was sitting on the sink. Her legs clamped around his hips and pulled him closer, the heat from her core calling to him.

  He was powerless to refuse.

  He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back. He drew his
lips across the skin of her neck, its dewy softness yielding to his tongue and his teeth. She smelled amazing, her own scent mixed with his soap. Giving in to a heretofore unknown flight of fancy, he licked her collarbone. He didn’t know why. Just another way to be close to her. She moaned and dug greedy fingers into his scalp.

  He wanted to see her, to feel all of her, but the damn towel impeded him. He snagged the knot between her breasts and pulled, his heart racing as the pima cotton slid open and bared her naked body to him, like a special gift being unveiled.

  He exhaled slowly. “You’re beautiful.”

  Her eyes glowed. “Keep looking at me like that and I might believe you.”

  Her breasts were the perfect handful, with dark, puffy nipples that reminded him of chocolate thumbprint cookies. He cupped their smooth roundness and kissed their tops, his tongue traveling all over the orbs but never going near their tips.

  It didn’t matter.

  Her peaks hardened as if he’d lavished them with all of his attention, and when she finally squirmed in his arms and squeezed his hips with her thighs, he gave her what she wanted, puckering his lips and treating the bud with long, slow pulls that left her responsive, lithe body trembling in his arms.

  “Yessssss,” she moaned.

  She arched her back, and he followed the lines of her body as it led him down a path to her navel, her hipbone, the crease at her inner thigh, and then her curl-capped mons. He pressed a kiss on the wiry thatch of hair and reverently spread her thighs so he could gaze upon the treasure awaiting him.

  “So pretty,” he whispered, breathing in her warm, aroused scent.

  With one hand he separated her lips while he sucked the index finger of his other hand in his mouth, then pressed it against her nub.

  Her toes dug into his upper back and she pushed herself against his finger, grinding against the pad. Her breathy sigh of ecstasy welcomed him home and created a sex slave. He wanted nothing more than to give her as much pleasure as she could tolerate.

  Then show her she could take more.

  He lavished her outer lips with nibbles and kisses, running the tip of his tongue up and down the furrows between her outer and inner lips. She tilted her pelvis up, allowing him better access, and he took full advantage of it. The floor was hard beneath his knees and his jaw got tired, but he didn’t care. He’d stay locked in this position, loving her, for as long as it took.

  “I thought about this,” she said, her words punctuated by moans.

  So had he. And his dreams could never have lived up to the reality.

  Her hands palmed the strands at the nape of his neck. “That first night we met,” she continued, “I wanted your mouth on me. Even then.”

  God damn.

  Her words were like gasoline on a brush fire; it set everything ablaze. He licked, sucked, tickled, and lapped every part of her pussy. It was like finally eating a juicy peach when the ripe fruit was all you’d craved for days. With his tongue, lips, and fingers, he savored each delectable taste until she grabbed a handful of his hair and gasped his name.

  He smiled against her as she came, hips arching and bucking, inner thighs quivering. He softly nuzzled her and rubbed his nose against her skin as her tremors subsided. He kissed her gleaming lips one more time, then stood and kissed her properly. She didn’t recoil from him; on the contrary, she greedily ran her tongue over his lips and his chin, sampling her altered essence from him.

  “Like how you taste?” he murmured.

  “I do,” she said, her voice a soft purr.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  She nodded.

  He nibbled his way to her ear. “You’re the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in a long time.”

  He drew her earlobe into his mouth and bit it.

  “Now, Wyatt,” she commanded, her husky voice teetering on the edge.

  His dick grew so hard he imagined it ripping through the fabric of his pants.

  Not needing to be told a second time, he fumbled open a side drawer and frantically sifted through the contents. Not finding what he sought, he shut it and opened another one.

  “What are you doing?” she whined. Not in an annoying way. In a totally sexy I-need-you-to-fuck-me-now kind of way.

  He understood the feeling.

  “I keep condoms in here,” he said, his voice slightly distracted as he continued.

  “Why?”

  He tilted his head. “You really want to discuss that right now?”

  She bit her lip. “Not really.”

  She was so cute.

  He kissed her quickly before resuming his search. “Found them.”

  “Finally.”

  He pulled one out and ripped it open with his teeth.

  “Allow me,” she said, then gestured to his shirt. “Take that off.”

  He hauled the fabric over his head while she reached into his sweatpants and grabbed hold of his cock. He gripped the sides of the sink to keep from coming in her palm like some inexperienced teenager. She slid the condom on, leaving him with barely a modicum of self-control. He trailed his fingers down her arms, clasped their fingers together, then pinned both hands above her head and stared into her eyes.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, and to emphasize her desire, prodded him closer with the heel of her foot on his ass.

  He didn’t rush, though. He took his time, wanting to enjoy the feeling of her enveloping him inch by exquisite inch.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she muttered.

  Her pussy walls clenched around and clamped down on him and it was all so fucking unbelievable.

  He closed his eyes. “Don’t. Move.”

  He honestly didn’t know how long he could last. He hadn’t expected it to be this . . .

  He exhaled, and the sharp bite of pleasure receded slightly. He took a moment, and when he opened his eyes, it was to find her watching him. They were so close he could see where the dark brown of her pupil ended and the black of her iris began. He couldn’t stop staring at her, memorizing every feature, every mole. The bow in the center of her upper lip, the curly hairs at her temple.

  As he began to move—to withdraw and dip back in—she never looked away from him. Over and over as his hips thrust, building up the slick friction between his cock and her pussy, her lashes flickered, her lids lowered slightly, but she kept her gaze trained on his.

  It drove him out of his mind.

  She bit her lip, and when it emerged wet and swollen, he released her hands and surged into her. She braced a hand against the side of the sink and slid her other one down between them to rub her clit.

  His knees threatened to buckle and fell them both.

  “Do you mind if I do that?” she asked, with a tiny smile.

  “Fuck no,” he grunted, his fingers digging into her hips. “I know you like it.”

  “How?”

  “Your pussy tells me.”

  It did. Her inner walls massaged his dick with each pulse of pleasure she experienced.

  She tossed her hair back and closed her eyes. “What are you doing to me?”

  He could ask her that very same question. It was gratifying to know they were in sync with regard to their feelings.

  “Wyatt . . . Wyatt . . . I’m coming.”

  “Come on, baby. Come on,” he begged, his voice hoarse, his muscles straining. “Let me feel it.”

  Please.

  She did and it blew his world apart.

  Several hours later, Wyatt entered his bedroom carrying two glasses of water.

  “We need to stay hydrated,” he said. “Between the 5K and what you just put me through, water is a must.”

  Caila laughed and pushed herself into a sitting position on his bed, holding the white sheet against her naked chest.

  “You getting modest on me now?” he growled, handing her a glass.

  He’d tasted every inch of those breasts. He knew they were sensitive, that he could get her halfway there just by focusing on them
. He knew she liked when he paid attention to her entire breast and not just the nipple. But when he did lock in on that bud of pleasure, look out! He’d also been thrilled to learn she got really turned on when he caressed her nipple with the head of his cock.

  Just thinking about that last one . . .

  He shivered.

  And even with all he learned, he could spend years discovering more.

  He raised his own glass to his lips and downed more than half its contents in several long swallows.

  “One of us should be,” she said, placing her glass on the nightstand and tipping her chin toward his cock straining against the confines of the boxer briefs he wore . . . and nothing else.

  Water dripped from the glass to rest on his chest. Before he could brush it away, she rose onto her knees and captured the drops with her tongue. Then she took the occasion to pay a little attention to his nipples.

  Heat flooded him. It hadn’t been that long since they’d finished round two, but his body didn’t seem to care about that small, pesky detail.

  With a final flick of her tongue, she fell back to the bed and smiled languidly. “I’d never considered myself modest, but when the girls are free, you tend to lose focus. And you were all about your water. Hydration, remember?”

  He grabbed her ankle and hauled her to him. “You’re about to see why.”

  Giggling, she kicked away from him and scooted across the king-sized mattress. “You’re insatiable!”

  “Only for you.”

  “Well, I need a break. My legs may be strong from running, but that last position put a lot of strain on them.”

  He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her into his arms. “I guess a little rest will do us both some good.”

  Her fingers brushed the wood behind him. “This is gorgeous.”

  He’d carved designs into three large rectangular panels of pine and mounted them to the wall above his bed. “Thanks.”

  “Your work?”

  He nodded. “One of the first things I worked on after I bought the house.”

  “You really are talented.”