“No, it’s not,” he argued.
“You said the lights were a tradition.” She stepped closer, transfixed by the way his body seemed ready to pounce.
“I’m in favor of making new traditions,” he said, low and husky. “Believe me.”
“Like making cookies?” she asked, teasing.
“Like getting you naked.”
She swallowed, excitement coiling in her belly. She could do this. She could be sexy and provocative. His barely restrained hunger gave her all the encouragement she needed. She untied the sash of her robe and let the fabric slide from her fingers. She stood at the side of the bed, just out of his reach.
But she wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to reach for her. So she shrugged out of the robe and waited. His eyes devoured her. Even without his hands on her, she felt the bold heat of his caress. She was so exposed like this. And in his eyes, she hoped, beautiful.
His hands fisted in the sheets at his side as she ran her hand along the column of her neck and across her shoulder. Her breathing picked up as her hand dipped lower, her fingertips sliding between her breasts and across her stomach.
The expression on his face hid nothing. He was a man on fire. For her. He tossed the sheet aside and slid to the edge of the bed, pulling her between his legs and pressing her tight against him. His mouth latched on to the tip of her breast, his lips and tongue stroking and licking until her nipple pebbled in his mouth.
Her fingers twined through his thick hair, holding him in place. When his teeth grazed her sensitized skin, she moaned. His lips moved along the swell of her breast and down her side. His tongue traveled around her hip. Somehow she ended up falling forward, her hands tangled in sheets. Spencer was behind her, exploring the plane of her back with his hands and mouth. He kissed the dip behind her knee. Nipped the curve of her ass. One long finger traced a slow path up the inside of her thigh.
With a growl, he clasped her hips in his hands and wrapped around her to suck her earlobe into his mouth. She felt him, the muscles of his chest against her back. The thick tip of his hard shaft against her, seeking entrance. She curved back, opening for him. And when he slid deep, she was done for. His hand slid across her stomach and between her legs. Calloused fingers worked their magic, the rough abrasion wreaking havoc on her tender, swollen flesh.
He shifted, standing at the bedside and pulling her back onto him. Strange noises spilled from her mouth, broken and low. Every time he moved, his hold tightened. It was the sweetest invasion, complete and absolute. Pushing her until she knew she’d split apart. And when his fingers found her again, she did. The desperate cry that tore from her startled her.
And then she was turning. Spencer’s rhythm barely paused. From stomach to back, he was inside her, still relentless. Still wonderful. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his chest. His jaw was clenched tight. And he was staring down between them, watching as he moved in and out of her. His hand traveled down, his fingers stroking her again, and she was crying out her release again.
When his eyes met hers, he tensed, thrusting once, then again, before he climaxed. He slumped forward, pressing her into the mattress and blanketing her with his strength and warmth. She lay there gasping, her body still tingling with delightful twinges.
Spencer was equally breathless, hissing as he slipped from her to lie at her side.
She glanced his way to find him looking at her. “What?”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. It was the look on his face that made her heart slow...before tripping over itself in an unsteady rhythm when the corner of his mouth curved into a crooked grin. She wanted him to make her body hum with pleasure, but that was all. Her heart was off-limits. She frowned.
His grin grew. “How about we grab a couple of burgers and go check out the lights?”
“I’ve got things to do,” she mumbled, deciding time alone, dressed and conversation focused were a bad idea.
He shook his head. “Well, you’re going to have to feed me before I can do anything.” His fingertips skated along her collarbone.
She smiled in spite of herself. “I wasn’t talking about you.” She shook her head. “I was talking about...”
He rolled over, rising up on one elbow. “About?”
“Unpacking.”
“Unpacking?” he prodded. “What about tomorrow?”
“I have the women’s auxiliary auction tomorrow night,” she said, unable to ignore the curve of his bicep.
“What else?” he asked, his finger trailing between her breast and along her ribs.
“Nothing,” she said, growing distracted by his teasing touch.
“So you can unpack tomorrow,” he said, leaning forward to suck her nipple into his mouth. His tongue was wicked, erasing her argument completely. “And we can get those burgers and check out the lights. By then, I’ll have enough energy to do whatever you want.”
That was an offer she wasn’t going to refuse.
6