A Brand New Ending (Page 51)

“Hmm. You think that’s a good idea?”

His eyes roved over her disheveled state, hungrily taking in the thrust of her breasts and the curve of her ass. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if she was in sweats with her hair in a topknot and no makeup on her face. Suddenly, the way those forest-green eyes lit up like fire made her feel like a goddess.

“Definitely.”

Desire flared deep and hot in her belly. “What about your work?”

He rubbed his head as if considering something. “You know, I’ve been having some trouble writing these love scenes. Maybe some inspiration is in order.”

Amusement danced through her. “Sure you don’t want Devon to inspire you?” she teased. “Her hands were all over you this morning at breakfast.”

He pushed away from the door and placed his hands on his hips. The soft cotton fabric of his T-shirt stretched over those drool-worthy muscles. His hair was mussed. His jaw stubbled. His gray sweats had a hole in the knee. His male hotness made her knees wobble. “I told you she wasn’t the woman I wanted.” He paused, his gaze fastened on her mouth. “Were you jealous?”

“Did you want me to be?” she threw back at him.

A smile touched his lips. “Maybe a little. You’re completely hot when you’re pissed and possessive.”

Sexual tension flared and pulsed between them. Her nipples strained against the cotton of her shirt. Already, her thighs were trembling with pure need. She thought about Devon sliding her hands over her husband’s thigh, and the light of lust she’d seen in her eyes. On cue, a rush of possessiveness flooded Ophelia.

“I didn’t like her hands on you,” she confessed.

“Why?”

The challenge hung between them. She waited for him to close the distance and take control. Reassure her. Kiss her. Touch her.

But he wasn’t budging. He rocked back on his heels, waiting for her answer, like they had all the time in the world.

Frustration nipped. “Because I didn’t like it,” she repeated.

His voice was a deep rumble of sound. “Gotta tell me why. I can’t always be the one chasing you and taking.”

She sucked in her breath. Those eyes burned like a forest fire. His relaxed stance hid a fine-tuned tension that stiffened his muscles and carved out the lines of his face. He reminded her of a predator gone still, waiting patiently to jump on his prey until he was sure it was time.

The teasing game suddenly became much more. She fought with the rising unease, realizing he was right. Since he’d returned, he’d been the one to chase her. Tell her what he wanted. Ask her for a second chance. But now, he was forcing her to choose—and to become a full partner in this relationship.

If she wanted him, she was going to have to tell him.

Ophelia straightened to full height and slowly walked toward him. Each step was a deliberate choice—every pace affected her on a deeper level. She stopped an inch from him.

His body heat pulled her in and tantalized her, his masculine scent of musk and coffee and spice drifting to her nostrils. His jaw clenched with tension.

She trembled, but gave him the words. “I didn’t like it because you belong to me.”

He devoured her with his gaze, pushing for more. “Truth or dare, Ophelia?”

Her entire body throbbed with delicious, agonizing tension. She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. “Dare.”

His head bent down. His warm breath rushed against her mouth. “Come and take what you want,” he growled. “Take what’s yours.”

The words crashed through her. With a low moan, she fisted his shirt and yanked him close, going on her tiptoes until her lips collided with his.

She kissed him with a ravenous hunger that had no bounds. Her tongue slid between his lips; she was instantly half-drunk on the sexy, spicy taste of him. She hooked a thigh around his hips to get closer, reaching up to tug at his hair and force him to give more, give her what she needed, give her what she craved right now . . .

He lifted her up and slammed her back onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss. She writhed beneath him, and he tugged off their clothes with the fumbling, desperate motions of the young—it was as if he’d die if he didn’t get to her naked skin.

The shocking heat of his flesh seared through her. His hard muscles cradled her curves, and she ripped her mouth away, forcing him to roll over.

She dipped her head and tasted him, her hands roving freely over his hard body, her nails curling into his flesh and her tongue licking.

He groaned her name and pulled the pins out of her topknot, tugging his fingers through the damp waves that spilled over his chest.

She was a madwoman. She needed to touch and taste every inch of him, from his flat, hard nipples through the golden whorls of hair over his chest to the lean angle of his hipbone. She dragged her teeth over his flat stomach, blowing her breath over his hardened shaft until he jerked with need.

She closed her hands around his erection, squeezed, sent her tongue darting out to taste his essence, then opened her mouth wide and took him in.

He cried out, fisted his fingers in her hair, and arched his hips. A thrill coursed through her at her feminine power, at the vulnerable need in every jerk and cry and pull of her hair. She pleasured him, sucking deep, swirling her tongue around the tip, using her hands to add more pressure and fist him, until finally he let out a roar and flew upward. He lifted her high above him and slammed her down onto his cock.

Her thighs tightened, and she threw her head back with pleasure. He filled every aching inch of her, driving away her very breath, and she tightened her inner muscles to clutch him even deeper, rocking her hips to take him to the hilt.

He rubbed her tight nipples, flicking them with his thumbs. His green eyes misted with a ferocious hunger that sent a thrill through her.

“Ride me,” he demanded. “Take it all. I belong to you.”

A primitive thrill shot through her. Slowly, she lifted herself up, dragging his erection over her swollen clit, then rocking herself back down in perfect, deliberate strokes. She rode him and claimed him at once, and when the orgasm finally exploded through her body, she bowed back and screamed his name without restraint.

He let out a hoarse shout, grabbing her hips and forcing her to ride him through her climax, drawing out her pleasure for endless, mind-blowing moments. Then he was coming, twisting his body and dragging her down so he could kiss her, his tongue thrusting as desperately as his cock, exploding inside her.

She collapsed onto his chest, her skin damp with sweat. Moving her head, she slid over to entangle her thigh with his, boneless.

His hand shot out in panic. “Holy shit. I didn’t use a condom!”

She almost jumped up in her own panic, but then relaxed back against him. “It’s okay, I’m clean and have been on the pill for my period awhile.”

His muscles released, and he let out a breath. “Thank God. I’m clean, too.”

“You better be.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Thank you for saving me. And giving me inspiration.”

She grinned and snuggled in his arms. “It was my pleasure.”

“How’s your schedule this week?”

“We’re half-full, but then we’ll be completely empty for a while. Reservations pick up again the first week of March, and they’re steady till spring.”

“So, very soon, they’ll be no guests to bother us?”