More Than Want You (More Than Words 1)

Weeks ago she told me that when she gives her body, she gives her soul. I feel both now.

Tonight, she’s all mine.

I lay my face over hers, foreheads and noses touching, as I thrust deep again. I’m looking right into her eyes, so blue and available. Everything about her reaches inside and rips me wide open—guts, chest, feelings—and spills them out between us.

My personal “number” is probably embarrassing.

I’ve nailed too many chicks to count. None have felt anywhere as amazing as Keeley.

Her fingers curling around my shoulders suddenly begin digging into my back. I feel the prick of her fingernails, the tightening of her walls around me. Her breathing picks up pace. Those pretty blues flare with sensual tension.

“Maxon, I need to come.”

“Do it, sunshine. I’m right here. I’ll make sure it’s so good. I won’t let you down.”

If I have to bite the shit out of my tongue and think of something boring, like the fine print on escrow documents, in order to keep my self-control together, I’ll do it. For her.

“Come with me.” A high, keening note fills her voice.

It’s so tempting…

I ease back and rock into her again. And again. Jesus, I’m going cross-eyed. It’s that good. I know I have something precious right now and I don’t want it to be over. But holy crap, I don’t know how long I can hold off.

“I want it to last,” I pant out before I take her lips again.

Kissing her is an addiction. There’s always something new about her mouth to explore. She’s sweet…but then she’s tart. She’s teasing and sly…before she turns eager and draws me in like a siren. I’m waxing on and on—mostly because I never knew I could feel this way about a woman.

Keeley eases away, and her lips drift up my neck until I shudder with a whole new ripple of excitement. My blood boils; my head is hazy. I don’t even have words to describe how hard I’m working to ignore the ache in my balls.

“We have all night…” she murmurs in my ear. “We could do this again, you know.”

We could. We will.

“I’m planning on it. It’s so good, sunshine. I don’t know how you’ll ever keep me away from you. I’m always going to want more.”

“Hmm, know what I thought about the first time I saw your lanai?”

From her tone, I’m guessing it’s not about the pretty ocean and that my dick is going to like it. “No.”

“I wanted you to touch me out there. I wanted to lean on the rail wearing one of your shirts—and nothing else—while you sauntered up behind me in just your pants and filled me. No one else would know. It would be our secret. But we could move like the waves of the ocean while we watch the sea crash…”

Oh, fuck. That sounds good. That sounds amazing. “Next time around, I’ll make that come true.”

I nuzzle her neck, breathe against her skin, squeeze one of her nipples. Her entire body tenses around me.

“Can’t wait,” she breathes.

Neither can I. She’s so close…and I’m right behind her. At first, I resist but I see the future. I can make her come now and later. I can make her come tomorrow and the next day. I can make her come for the rest of our lives.

I slam deeper into her, grinding against her to put pressure where she’s most sensitive. She gasps, reaches out to me like she needs me to steady her. Her eyes go wider. Yeah, that got to her. I do it again. Her pussy clenches on me so tight I can barely move.

With a grin, I roll to my back and take her with me, until she’s straddling my hips, hands braced on my shoulders, swaying over my body. Her hair grazes her arms as her breasts bounce and I surge up beneath her, deep into her, hitting the one spot that should coalesce all the tingles and aches into an eruption she can’t deny.

But leave it to my Keeley to change things up on me. She doesn’t sit passively above and wait for me to make her come. Of course not. She surges with me, gliding, sliding, slamming until there’s really no stopping the runaway ecstasy from taking over.

Her cry of unrestrained pleasure fills my bedroom. The sound sends me over the edge. I lose all hint of composure. Some grunt that’s low and dark and shocked by the force of my climax spills from my chest in a guttural roar. I empty out my balls, my energy—my fucking heart—until I’m lying beside her spent and gasping and wondering what the hell hit me.

Is that what love does?

“Wow,” she sighs.

I gasp. “Yeah.”

“We should do that again soon.”

I look over, watch her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tries to catch her breath. She looks sated and happy, just like I feel.

“Very soon. That was amazing.” I prop my head on my elbow. “You may laugh or not believe me but…it’s never been like that for me.”

She smiles like my words please her as much as my touch does, then she gives me a wry grin. “So I’m better than your usual good time?”

I lift her hand, press a kiss to her palm. “You’re the best.”

I want to tell her I love her. I think she’d be happy to hear it. I hope. I think she loves me, too. But what if I’m wrong? What if she says it’s too soon? What if she laughs?

This should be simple, right? Why does it now feel so complicated?

“You okay? Your face got serious all of a sudden.”

I swallow. I have to grow a pair. It’s not as if she’s going to put up with me for the rest of my life if I can’t tell her I love her. I mean, I want to hear it from her, too.

I suddenly realize that Dad didn’t believe in love because he didn’t want to deal with emotion—too inconvenient—and didn’t care enough about anyone else’s feelings to try—too much effort. Fuck him. I am different. What’s the point of living and working your whole life if you don’t share it with anyone? Granddad used to say that. I wonder why my mom couldn’t be more like her father. Maybe Barclay Reed shut her up over and over so she just shut down.

I can’t imagine ever smothering Keeley that way. I don’t want to stifle her or make her feel less than worthy. I don’t want her to wonder if I love her. I just have to work up the courage to tell her everything I’m thinking.

“Yeah. No. Good. I’m—”

Suddenly, my phone rings. How many times can a guy get interrupted in one evening?

Then I realize I haven’t heard this chime in three years. My ears aren’t deceiving me. But I don’t know how that’s possible. After Griff stopped answering this number, I figured he’d changed it. I didn’t even remember that I’d set up a special ringtone for him. I certainly never thought to change or delete it.

Holy shit.

Keeley groans. “Who is that?”

I rise from the bed and snatch up my boxers. The chime sounds again. I drag in a bracing breath. “That’s Griff.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Griff?” Keeley sounds as confused as I feel. “Now?”

Exactly. The only reason I can think of for my brother’s sudden call is Dad.

I’ve already put up with as much shit from that man tonight as I plan to. And I can’t imagine why the fuck Griff would bother to call me about him. It’s not as if my brother will want to compare notes about what a son of a bitch Barclay Reed is. We both know that well. There’s no way in hell Griff simply wants to talk to me.

Something must be wrong.

Heart pounding, I fumble through my pockets until I find the phone.

I glance at the display. Sure enough, it’s Griff.

With a trembling finger, I press the button. I’m not sure what to say. There’s no etiquette for greeting the brother you haven’t spoken to since he splintered your business, called you a shitbag, and fucked your ex-girlfriend all in the same week.

“What?” I say cautiously.

“God, you’re still a selfish prick, sending Dad to my place while I’m working my ass off to finish my pitch. These are the two most critical days of my career! Harlow swore you’d changed. But nope. You’re still putting yourself first and not even bothering