Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

I held my weight on one elbow and sent my hand to her bare knee, right below where her dress puddled between us like some demarcation line of where an innocent kiss ended, and scandalous began.

“So soft,” I whispered against her mouth as my fingers trailed up the silky skin of her inner thigh, pushing beneath the layers of dress.

Her nails scratched a path up my back before burying themselves in my hair again, and her hips rocked beneath me again.

I hissed at the contact, my cock nearly screaming to be let out. Need replaced logical thought as I pumped myself against her once, long and slow.

“Lukas!” she cried out.

My thumb grazed the silky, drenched fabric of her underwear and I groaned. “Fuck, Faith, you’re wet and ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” She arched against my thumb.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Lost to her pleasure, to our chemistry, trusting me to care for her.

She answered with a searing kiss, sucking my tongue into her mouth, and then I was the one lost to her again.

My thumb parted her slick folds through the fabric of her panties, and I let my nail skim her clit over the material.

She arched, her cry breathless and needy against my mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me, do you know that?” I asked her, pressing my cock into her thigh to keep from burying it inside her.

“I’m definitely going to kill you if you don’t let me come!” she bit back.

I laughed, the sound low and quickly replaced by a groan when her teeth nipped at the skin between my jaw and neck. My tongue rubbed against hers as I kissed her deeply, branding her as mine as my fingers pressed into her cleft and rubbed her clit.

She soaked the fabric slick, and it was the height of control and delayed gratification to keep her panties on. I’d take her edge off. I’d make her come so hard she’d see me every time she closed her eyes. I’d give her a taste of everything we’d be together, but I wouldn’t strip her naked until she was in my bed—until she knew that she belonged to me in every way.

Her muscles locked as I circled her clit tighter and tighter, and when her breath caught, I pressed down on that bundle of nerves.

She screamed my name loudly, without reservation, and I damn-near came from the sound, from the sight of her coming undone under my hands.

I kissed her orgasm from her as she came on my fingers, her hips bucking up, seeking the cock I wouldn’t give her. Not yet.

I clenched my muscles as I watched her, willing my body to calm even as she writhed as I pushed her orgasm longer with subtle moves of my fingers. I knew dozens of ways to make her come, ways to kick her back into another orgasm, ways to keep her writhing under me for hours.

I couldn't wait to show her every single one.

But waiting was the only way to get her in the long run.

She fell back against the chaise, her breasts heaving under her gown, and I carefully leaned back on my knees, untangling myself from her.

“Holy. Shit. Lukas. You’re magical or something. Dangerous. A girl could get addicted, you know.” She opened her eyes, and I memorized everything about her in that moment. The way her emerald eyes became even more jewel-toned in her satisfaction. The slight sheen of moisture on her skin. The way she looked up at me like I was a god.

My cock throbbed, keeping time with my heartbeat, and every instinct in me clamored to unzip and sheath myself inside her, to fuck her until she needed me so badly she’d never walk away. To addict her to sex like she’d suggested and use it to bind her to me.

But that wasn’t what Faith needed. Not right now.

“Your turn.” She gave me a wicked grin and sat up, immediately reaching for my belt.

I scrambled off the chaise, putting feet of distance between us. “No. God, don’t touch me. I’ll be inside you in three seconds.”

“I’m okay with that.” She shifted those bare, smooth legs, and her heels sparkled in the firelight. How the fuck could she look debauched and still classy at the same time?

“I’m not.” I shook my head when she dropped her jaw.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re hurting, and I’m not going to be a regret,” I tried to explain, raking my hands over my hair. My fingers caught on the strap of my mask and I ripped it from my face.

She sat, pivoting so her feet were on the ground. “And don’t you think I should get to decide what regrets I have?”

“No, not when I’m not willing to be one.”

“Not willing…” She shook her head and stood, her dress falling back into place. “Since when are you not willing?”

“What?” Her words felt like a punch to the stomach.

“Even with the damned mask,” she muttered, tearing it off her face and dropping it to the ground.

“The mask?” I asked. Realization hit and hit hard. “What, you think I want you to be some nameless fuck at a charity ball? That I won’t know it’s you while I’m inside you if you wear a damned mask?”

Her lips pursed.

“Förbannat!” I cursed. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t want me. You just want me to fuck you.”

She sucked in a breath and dropped her gaze. “Is that so wrong?”

Well, this was a first. Pain sliced into the organ that pumped blood through my body. It had been a long time since a woman’s words had wounded me, and hers cut me to the quick.

“Yes!” I shouted, my temper getting the best of me.

“Why?” she fired back, our gazes clashing again. “Why is it okay for you to do it, but not me?”

“For me to do it? I haven’t…” I shook my head. I’d been a manwhore for years, so defending myself with a flimsy five-month celibacy wasn’t going to hold any weight.

“Sure, you have. I know you, Lukas.” Animosity dripped from her voice.

“You know jack and shit about me.”

She laughed, but the sound was broken. “I know you’re the guy who will stick his dick into any woman with a heartbeat and two legs. Well, any woman except me.” She gripped her dress and fled toward the door. “But I guess that’s more about me than you, huh?

She had the door open before my brain caught on to the fact that she was leaving.

“Do not walk out that door. We’re not done.” I marched toward her.

“Oh yes, we are. Mistake already made. Over. Done.”

I caught the door and slammed it shut. “We’re not done, and if you walk out there, I’ll follow. I don’t give a goddamn who hears us. I’ll finish this in the ballroom.”

“No you won’t,” she challenged.

“Oh really. Give me one good reason?” I wasn’t letting her go without a fight.

She blinked back moisture in her eyes, and her chin rose another inch as she stared me down. “Because you wouldn’t want Eric to know what just happened in here.”

I swallowed, the truth of what we’d done hitting home. I’d meant it as an introduction, as the first step into what would last...Oh fuck that, my dick had overruled my brain, pure and simple.

She was right.

Eric would fucking kill me for putting my hands on her when she was obviously rebounding.

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a sharp smile before opening the door again.

I let her by. Let her walk out. Let her go.

Because I knew what I wanted, and she didn’t. She wasn’t ready for me. Not yet.

But she would be one day.

And I’d be waiting.

Chapter 2

Faith

Four Months Later

“I want to start a concierge public relations firm,” I blurted the words, barely two steps into Langley Pierce’s office. The place was all sleek lines and chic style, nestled at the top of a prestigious building in the heart of Seattle. “For athletes,” I continued, taking the seat in front of her dark pine desk.

She tucked some of her perfectly waved jet-black hair behind her

ear, a soft smile on her lips. “Well,” she said, nodding. “The world can always use more strong women to guide these fierce athletes.”