A Sexy Time Of It

7

“KISS ME.” Even though she stood on the tips of her toes, Neely’s lips could just touch Max’s.“I will.”

When he lowered his head and covered her mouth more fully with his, it wasn’t anything like the other kisses they’d shared. He seemed intent on tasting her as if she were a banquet he was determined to enjoy. He nipped on her bottom lip, then traced it with his tongue. He feathered soft kisses at the corners of her mouth, then nibbled along her jawline to her ear, before returning his attention to her bottom lip again. Each separate sensation—his breath on her skin, the moist heat of his tongue, the sudden scrape of his teeth—streamed through her, making her head swim. The counter was at her back, and every hard plane and angle of his body was pressed to hers.

More. She was steeped in his textures, the scratchy stubble of his five o’clock shadow against her palm, the sleek, silky feel of his hair sliding between her fingers, the rough calluses on his hands. And he smelled so good, she wanted to sniff him the way he’d sniffed at her books. But she wanted more. That was the only thought that formed in her brain.

He took his mouth on a journey to her ear. “We’re going to take our time. Explore what we can do to each other. This time we’re making love for real.”

“I want your hands on me.”

He skimmed his palms down her arms, then ran them from her waist to the sides of her breasts. She waited, trembling, until her breath hitched. “Please.”

When he finally rubbed those firm thumbs over her nipples, she whimpered his name. More. The heat building inside of her needed an outlet. Couldn’t he read her mind? She thought of the alley in London and willed his hand to move down and grip her thigh. When it didn’t, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and scooted up until she was fitted against the hard length of him. Then she arched her hips. Now.

Max’s plan had been to take it slowly. They had so little time, and there was so much he wanted to show her. But the take-it-slow plan was threatened by the image she’d planted in his mind of what he’d wanted to do in that foggy London alley. He could take her now, exactly the way he’d intended to take her there—hot and fast.

No. Using every ounce of willpower he possessed, he clasped her waist and set her away from him.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“I won’t.” He couldn’t. That simple truth stunned him, giving him the momentary power to take a careful step back. “This time I want to make love to you with our clothes off.”

“Yes.” She jerked her T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. “Good plan.”

“Slowly.” He demonstrated as he unfastened her jeans and drew them down her legs. It cost him not to press his mouth right there where her thighs formed a V. He wanted very much to taste her there, too. And he would. It took more effort than he would have believed to rise and step back. The reward came when he saw the length of her legs and the practical white cotton bra and panties she wore. He ran a finger lightly over the top of the bra, absorbed the contrast of the rougher texture of the cotton and the supple smoothness of her skin. He’d always fancied lace and silk. Never again. “Very nice.”

Then he slowly ran his hands down her sides to her waist, enjoying the silky skin beneath his palms. He met her eyes then. “Much better than anything I imagined.”

“My turn.” She pushed his shirt up, and together they tugged it over his head. She took in the dusky tone of his skin, the lean torso. Unable to resist, she ran her hands over the long muscles of his shoulders and then down his chest. Here was the strength she’d only felt in her mind. He was right. It was much better. And the kick of his heartbeat beneath her palm was new. Lust pooled in her stomach.

He moved his hands then. Disappointment shot through her when he didn’t touch her but gripped the edge of the counter, caging her in.

“Don’t stop.”

His hoarse voice had her glancing up, and she caught the glint of humor as well as something much darker, something she recognized as a match to what she was feeling.

“I won’t,” she said, echoing what he’d said to her. Then because she simply had to, she leaned closer and drew in his scent—earthy, male. It fueled the fire inside of her. Then she tasted him, moving her lips and tongue over his nipples. His throaty moan had her hunger building, and she took her mouth on a slow journey up to his neck, then slowly to his waist. She was exhilarated by the vibration of his heartbeat, the salty flavor of his skin, the way the muscles of his stomach quivered when she dipped just the tip of her tongue into his navel.

When he groaned her name, a new wave of pleasure radiated through her, making her dizzy, then desperate. “Now,” she said. Her fingers trembled as she struggled with the snap of his jeans.

“Not yet.” He stilled her hands with his. “You still have clothes on.”

“So do you.” But he didn’t free her hands.

“If you take my jeans off, I’ll be inside of you before you can blink.”

When she met his eyes heat, primitive and thrilling, shot through her.

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

Releasing her hands, he eased away from her. “Soon, but not yet. Strip for me, Neely.”

She was grateful that the counter was at her back. Otherwise, she might have melted right to the floor. Her hands trembled as she unhooked her bra, pushed the straps off her shoulders and let them slide down her skin. His eyes were so dark, so hot, she couldn’t look away. What was he thinking? She could feel the connection, but all she could sense now were feelings, fierce and desperate. Or was it her own emotions she was reading? Moving away from the counter, she ran her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pushed them slowly down her legs.

“Step out of them.”

His voice sounded raw. His hands had dropped away from the counter and were clenched at his sides.

“Turn around.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to do, but before she could move, he gripped her waist and turned her. Then he dropped to his knees behind her.

“The tattoo. I saw it when you bent over in the kitchen. I barely kept myself from doing this then.”

When she felt his tongue brush against the skin on her right buttock, heat arrowed to her center. Neely arched back. If he hadn’t been holding on to her waist, she would have collapsed in ecstasy. He licked her again and again. Then with his mouth still on her tattoo, his teeth scraped against her skin as he slid two fingers between her legs and into her.

The orgasm pulsed through her in one glorious wave after another until she was trembling with pleasure.

But it wasn’t enough. The moment he stood, she turned and wrapped her arms around him. “Touch me again,” she whispered. A jolt of heat rocked her system as he gripped her buttocks with his hands. She felt the brand of each one of his fingers as he squeezed and released, squeezed and released. The pleasure was so intense, her need so great, that for a moment, she couldn’t think. All she knew was a hunger she wasn’t sure could ever be assuaged. She pulled him closer.

Kiss me.

Neely wasn’t sure if she’d said it or only thought it. He lifted her so that she could wrap her legs around him and drag his mouth to hers.

Max took control of the kiss, totally helpless to do otherwise. Touching her and making her come had left him dizzy and desperately hungry. He wanted more, wanted to give her more, but he couldn’t wait. Reaching out, he sent a stack of books and flyers tumbling to the floor. Then he settled her on the counter. Keeping his mouth fused to hers, he moved his hands over her even as he searched for flavors—coffee and that rare, wild sweetness that he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. When his hands settled on her thighs, he tore his mouth away from hers.

For a moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing, punctuated by the ticking of the grandfather clock.

“Now. Right now.” Max wasn’t sure which one of them said it or if they merely thought it. He kept his eyes on hers as he tore at his jeans. He was so close that his knuckles brushed against the moist, yearning flesh at her center and triggered a longing that he’d never experienced before. He recalled all too clearly the way her tight inner muscles had gripped his fingers.

Her hands worked with his to push the denim down.

Right now. He dug his fingers into her hips and entered her in one long, steady thrust. He drew out and pushed in again until he filled her completely.

For a moment, they both stilled, as if with one mind they’d decided to draw out the pleasure for as long as they could. His climax was close. Even without moving, he could feel it building at the base of his spine. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off much longer.

“Look at me, Neely.”

When she did, he began to move, pulling out and then thrusting in. “This is real.”

“Yes.” As if to prove it, she wrapped her legs more tightly around him.

Max swore once, then began to drive himself into her. He couldn’t get enough. They moved together with such speed, such harmony that he could no longer tell where he left off and she began. Still, he did everything he could to extend the time until they took that final leap together.

WHEN SANITY RETURNED for Max, he found himself sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the counter with Neely cuddled on his lap. He had some vague idea of how they’d gotten there. Had he fallen asleep? Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and when he glanced down at her, his heart took a bounce. He knew in that moment that he was going to do everything he could to protect her. He wouldn’t let the Ripper kill her even if it meant the end of his career as a TGS agent.