A Brand New Ending (Page 39)

“You taste so good,” he muttered against her lips. He sucked her lower lip and gave it a sexy little nip. “So damn sweet.”

She arched up with unspoken demand and bit back. They fell into another deep kiss, and she realized in this moment she had a choice. If she took him to her bed, everything would change.

Unless it was only for tonight . . . Maybe she could handle it.

When her gaze had collided with his after her song, something had shifted and broken inside of her. There seemed to be a new understanding as he looked at her, an intensity that ripped down her barriers and dared her to take what she wanted.

Him. For one night.

God, the high of singing still buzzed through her body.

It had been so long since she’d felt this alive—so long since her body had lit up and wept for a man to touch her.

If she gave herself this one night, maybe she’d be able to let go of some ghosts of the past. It would be like a perfect, bittersweet goodbye to the man she’d once loved.

Her inner voice laughed hysterically at her naïveté and the outright lie. But the needy, lust-filled part of her drove her forward with determination.

She broke the kiss, panting against his carved lips. “Come inside.”

He groaned, stroking her bare arms, and nipped at her ear. “I need you to be sure. We can make out right here, for as long as you want, and I’d be happy as hell. I don’t want to push you, baby.”

She gave a low laugh. “Thought you promised to seduce me, Kimpton. You going back on your word?”

One beat passed. Two. She watched him struggle with his conscience. She could see the naked hunger in his eyes as he stared at her.

Then he moved.

With a low growl, he lifted her high, opening her door and stepping into the darkened bedroom. Swiveling on his heel, he pinned her back against the wall so her legs wrapped around his hips and his hard shaft pressed into her inner thigh.

She wriggled to get closer, so that delicious hardness would rub against her sensitive, swollen folds throbbing between her thighs.

God, how bad she wanted him.

Her entire body was on fire and practically weeping for relief.

As if he knew exactly what she craved, he hitched her higher, hiked up her skirt, and ran his palm over the damp black lace of her panties.

She cried out and shuddered, rolling her hips in silent need.

“You’re so wet for me,” he gritted out. He took her mouth again with a raw hunger, his tongue sinking deep, his fingers coasting over the sheer lace in teasing strokes that drove her mad.

She frantically pulled at the snap of his jeans, yanked the zipper down, and plunged her hands inside his pants.

He groaned her name, moved her underwear to the side, and dipped a finger into her dripping channel.

She clenched around him in greed. “More,” she gasped.

“Baby, it’s too fast. You’re too drunk.”

She squeezed his throbbing dick in her hands in punishment. “Not drunk. Just want you. Get naked.”

He gave a tortured laugh, jerking helplessly in her grip. “I don’t want you to have regrets in the morning.”

Mad with lust, she fisted him tight and growled against his full lips. “I dare you to make me come, Kyle. And if you can’t, you can leave right now.”

“Brat.” He sunk his teeth in the vulnerable curve of her neck and plunged two fingers into her pussy. She shuddered, helpless under his command. “This what you want?” His thumb rubbed her swollen clit while his fingers played, stretching and finding that magical place that made her head spin and her belly clench and her hips twist for more. “Right there?”

“Yes! Oh God, yes.”

He took her mouth again, swallowing her cries as he pushed her to the edge and held her there ruthlessly, teasing the swollen bud with tiny flicks of his thumb, forcing her to beg and writhe for the orgasm shimmering before her in all its glory.

He ripped his mouth away again and studied her face. Forest-green eyes delved into hers, sheened with lust and a reverence that filled her up. “You’re so beautiful. Come for me, Ophelia.”

He rubbed hard over her clit, curled his fingers, and thrust deep.

Her head banged against the door and she cried his name, riding the wicked wave of pleasure as it tossed her around and tore her to pieces. He wrung out every last drop of ecstasy, drawing it out, then scooped her up and laid her on the bed.

She blinked in the darkness, muscles limp.

He leaned over her, gaze raking over her features, his finger tracing the swollen curve of her bottom lip.

“I’ve dreamed of you for so long, of having you back in my arms. Tell me you want this just as bad as I do. For us to be together again.”

The complications of their relationship suddenly hit her full force, but in the dark, in his arms, everything seemed right. “I can’t promise you anything but tonight,” she whispered.

Pain shimmered in his eyes. His jaw tightened, but after a moment, he slowly nodded. “I’ll take it. But you have to promise to give me everything. All of you. No holding back.”

The morning meant nothing—a distant time that had no place in this magical moment. It was a bargain that might steal her soul, but right now, nothing else mattered except having him make love to her.

“Tonight, I’m yours.”

Resolution beat from the powerful lines of his body. “Then it’ll have to be enough.”

A sliver of unease crept down her spine, but she was too far gone to have any regrets. In seconds, he pulled off his clothes and stood before her naked.

He was magnificent. Tall and lean hipped, with swirls of golden hair dusting his muscled chest. He stood with his feet braced, head thrown back, the confidence and pride in his body reverberating from his aura. He was pure eroticism. Mouth dry, unable to say a word to express the need coursing through her, she lifted her arms for him to join her.

He lowered himself over her, stripping off her jacket and tank, unzipping her boots, unsnapping the hook on her bra, and tugging down her skirt and panties so she lay naked underneath him. Rubbing his rough palms over her hardened nipples, he spent long minutes stroking, licking, sucking—until her breasts were so sensitive she was once again at the edge. She wriggled and hooked an ankle over his thigh, opening herself up.

He scraped his teeth against her nipple and chuckled. “Oh no, not this time. I’m going slow. I want to see if you have any more freckles.”

A groan ripped from her lips. “I don’t.”

“Shush, I’m counting. And if you interrupt me, I’ll have to start all over.”

He started with her cheeks, dropped to her shoulders, and traced the dots that peppered her pale skin.

How many times had she cursed the ugliness of those freckles? How many times had he proven how beautiful he thought they were by spending hours exploring each and every one?

He took his time, licking, tasting, his hands roving up and down her body in soothing strokes. He brushed his lips over her throbbing nipples, ducked lower to her hip, and nibbled at the group of freckles that had always fascinated him, telling her they reminded him of the Big Dipper.

His tongue dragged over to her inner thigh, his hands holding her spread open for him to play. She tried to struggle to hurry him up, but his grip tightened and he shot her a warning glance.

“Want me to begin again?”

“No! No, go ahead.”

“Twenty-two, right?”

She shook under the strain. Her entire body throbbed with need. “Yes. Twenty-two.”