Her reply ended up being an inarticulate moan because he finally, finally settled in deep enough she could tighten her hips and get a brutally solid
grind against the base of his cock. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. She made it last as long as she could, then moaned again as he slowly withdrew. And withdrew. And kept on withdrawing.
“No. No. No. No.” She dug her fingernails into his ass and clamped her legs around his waist in an attempt to keep him.
He eased all the way out, and she didn’t know whether to burst into tears or slug him. Or both.
“I love…being. Inside. You.” He pushed into her again, a little more with each word, and the wet glide of his entry echoed in the room. “So much, I needed to feel that again, but you don’t have to worry, Savannah. I will never leave you hanging. I will always”—thrust—“always”—thrust—“take care of you. ”
And now she really was blinking back tears, because terms like “never leave” and “always” weren’t really in his vocabulary. Hearing them from him, even in this capacity, overwhelmed her. She turned away so he wouldn’t see how his words affected her.
Movement to her right caught her attention. Her gaze homed in on the flat screen of the TV on the wall opposite the bed. The dark rectangle acted like a mirror, reflecting them. The knot of desire at her center twisted tighter as she watched the rippling muscles in Beau’s shoulders, the slope of his back, the unspeakably sexy way his glutes bunched and relaxed with every unhurried thrust.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away. He rocked into her, once, twice, and then moved his hips in a lazy circle, stirring her, hitting every trigger point along the way. He stilled. She whimpered.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the view, but”—callused fingers smoothed over her cheek and turned her face back to him—“look here now.”
She didn’t have much choice, but finding herself the focus of his dark, miss-no-detail eyes left her more exposed than she could afford. All she had left was her Southern sass, so she used it. “You’re kind of strict about the eye contact, Beauregard.”
He smiled, but didn’t release her gaze. Instead, he threaded his fingers through hers and pinned their linked hands on either side of her head. “I’m strict about a lot of things.”
With that, he angled his talented hips and unleashed a series of rough, rapid strokes that sent her flying, and all she could do was call his name.
Firm lips covered hers and devoured every ragged cry. Abruptly, the rhythm changed. Deep thrusts and shallow withdrawals subjected her to a whole new barrage of pleasure. His big frame froze, shuddered, and then their kiss reversed. His groan flowed into her mouth at the same moment his release flowed into her body.
Several minutes ticked by while her heart rate subsided. At least she thought it was hers. Two hundred pounds of rock-solid male lay over her, and the steady drumbeat hammering her ribs might just as easily belong to him. A deep, satisfied sigh rumbled up from between them. Probably his.
She closed her eyes, concentrated on the contentment of the moment. Clung to it.
When he kissed a ticklish spot near her ear, she smiled and wiggled her fingers in their still-twined hands. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“My pleasure.” He rolled off her and tucked her against him. “But I think we both know you’re the one taking care of me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Beau steered the Yukon into the semicircle of his parents’ driveway and stopped in the extra space alongside the garage of the redbrick colonial with black shutters and dark shingle roof. Massive twin maples dominated the front yard. A wreath with a big red bow graced the front door, and a Christmas tree winked from the large window of the front room. Aside from the seasonal touches, everything seemed about the same as the last time he’d been there—back in mid-October when he’d spent a weekend helping them unpack.
His parents had emailed pictures of the now-finished basement, so he knew looks could be deceiving. A part of him identified with the house a little. Chances were he looked the same on the outside, too, but inside, he’d undergone changes. Last time he’d visited he’d been alone, and content to stay that way. Well, “content” overstated things. More like stable. Comfortably numb. This time his emotions were anything but stable or comfortable. The reason for the change sat beside him, snoozing in the passenger seat.
The arrangement they’d entered into had seemed so straightforward. Ridiculously convenient. Dumb luck had taken care of the setup, and a well-timed opportunity provided a natural end. Except the end didn’t feel so natural anymore. In fact, the end felt like the most artificial part of the entire plan. Since the night of his holiday party when she’d mentioned the possibility of signing with the Mercer Gallery and withdrawing from the fellowship, he’d practically had to swallow his tongue to keep from uttering the most selfish and terrifying four-letter word in his vocabulary.
Stay.
Out of the question. Want he could handle. Not comfortably, no, because he didn’t want to want anybody or anything, but he’d lost the battle with want before they’d exchanged more than neighborly smiles. A guy didn’t ask a woman to stay because he wanted her. Stay implied need.
He sure as hell didn’t want to need her, and he flat-out refused to fall in love with her, but every time he thought about her, some defective brain cell in the back of his mind whispered the damn word. Stay. He turned to her now and got a jolt of surprise to find her staring back at him.
“You look like Bruce Banner right before he turns into the Hulk.”
“I do not.”
She clenched her teeth, furrowed her brow, and made a growling sound.
“I’m fine.” But he deliberately relaxed his jaw. “How are you feeling?” Late nights at the studio were starting to take a toll on her. She’d woken this morning with an upset stomach and a noticeable lack of energy, and then promptly fallen asleep once they’d gotten under way.
“Good. I think I slept off whatever nasty old bug was trying to sink its teeth into me.” She sat up and stretched indulgently, folding her arms above her head and arching her body so only her hips and the back of her head touched the seat.
Hell, he felt good just watching her. She caught him looking, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “If we do what you’re thinking, right here in the front of your truck while parked in your parents’ driveway, Santa’s going to put us on the naughty list for life.”