Falling for the Enemy (Private Pleasures 3)

He honestly didn’t know who moved first, but in the next heartbeat they were on each other. Mouths fused. Hands grasping. He pulled her in closer and somehow ended up with her legs around his waist and her smooth, round handful of an ass right there in his palm. He squeezed. She moaned and tried to crawl under his shirt.

He tangled fingers into her hair, tugged her head back, and recaptured her mouth. Her kiss was as tantalizing and vital as the rest of her, and made him want to taste her everywhere—to consume all the heat and energy she offered. He moved his hand from her hair to the back of her neck in some primitive strategy to foreclose any escape route, and deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into the sweet recess of her mouth with more hunger than finesse. She moaned again and raked her fingernails along his spine, setting off tiny bolts of lightning everywhere she touched.

Uncensored, unsupervised lust tore through him. Desperate to feed it, he sank his teeth into her lip and tightened his grip on her ass. She squirmed against him with such force he suddenly worried it stemmed more from agitation than pleasure.

He pulled back. “Fuck, I’m—”

No apology necessary. She yanked him back and took hard, fast little bites out of his lips while she worked his shirt up his chest. They wrestled his arms free, and then she swept it over his head, dragging some of his hair along with it.

“Sorry…I’m not usually…so grabby, but…”

“I don’t care,” he managed when she ran her lips over his chin. Her fingernail etched a trail across his chest. He knew without looking she traced the gothic script letters tattooed there. The only easy day was yesterday.

Over the last seven months the sentiment had never felt truer, except right here, right now, because falling into Virginia felt easier than breathing—and just as critical. He slid his hand from the back of her neck around to her throat, over her collarbone and down the inviting slope of her chest.

A shiver racked her when he squeezed her breast. Her legs tightened around his hips. “It’s just lately…I’ve been on…this…sex hiatus.”

Him, too, now that he thought about it, but then thought got more difficult because her soft, quick lips scorched a path from his chin to his earlobe, and then she latched on and sucked so hard he almost went lightheaded at the thought of that mouth on his cock, sucking with the same brutal intensity. He shoved her tank top up to her armpits and took a second to appreciate the sight of her pale cleavage swelling above a red, push-up bra. “Sex hiatus?”

“Yeah.” She was on the move again, raining hot little kisses along the side of his neck. “Fun’s fun, but I figured it was time to stop making the same mistakes with the same old guys.”

He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Her breasts sprang free from their satin and lace restraint. Compact, upswept, with tight, pink nipples pointed straight at him. His mouth watered with anticipation. “Time to make a new mistake, with a new guy?”

She laughed, and the low husky sound pulled his attention back to her face. Her grin slipped a bit off center as she stared at him and smoothed her hand along his cheek. “This is, without a doubt, a huge mistake.”

He didn’t know if she was trying to warn herself off, or him, but it didn’t matter. Good judgment had abandoned him the second he’d walked into her shop, or, in truth, the minute he’d left the house this evening, knowing full well where he’d end up. “Then we better make it count. One night. No apologies. No regrets.”

A wiggle of her hips served as a cue to put her down. For a moment of staggering disappointment he

thought she’d changed her mind, but when he put her on her feet, she leaned over and dug around in the bottom drawer of her workstation. A second later she straightened and tossed a handful of condoms onto the surface. She stared at him in the mirror and added, “I’m a big believer in no regrets.”

To show her she wouldn’t have any, he hitched up her skirt, yanked her tiny, red thong out of his way, freed his throbbing cock from his jeans and nestled it along the cleft of her ass.

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. “Holy mother…load.”

“You don’t know the half of it…well…maybe about half.” And he was only half-joking, which must have shown on his face because she wrapped her hands around the edge of the counter in front of her and shivered.

“Are you going to sweet talk me, or dirty talk me, before you—?”

“I’m going to fuck you.” So saying, he reached past her, grabbed a condom and tore it open.

“Oh, God, okay, that works.” He got the condom on, then reached around and sent his fingers into the neatly groomed, gratifyingly damp strip of red curls between her thighs.

“Until you scream my name, sweet Virginia,” he added, just to see what she’d toss back, and gave her a slow, thorough stroke.

“Sugar…” She leaned into the workstation and raised her hips to give him more access. “I don’t even remember your name.”

How had he resisted her for two weeks? He laughed, but the laugh was on him, because he was the one who wouldn’t survive their night of no regrets. Her heat, the feel of her, slick on his fingers as she grinded against his hand, and the slow, condom-lubricated slide of his cock along the ripe-peach contours of her backside had his mind racing with a thousand possibilities, and his body ached to act on them all at once. Incompatible impulses he scrambled to organize and prioritize. Kiss her until their lips went raw. Take her breast into his mouth and suck her nipple so she felt the pull all the way down her spine. Drop to his knees and devour her until she came with a scream and coated his tongue with her taste. But all of that was impossible, because the strongest urge, the one forcing its way to the forefront, involved one thing only—him sliding into her slick, tight heat, and losing himself there, fucking her so long, so hard, they’d both have scars by the time he was done.

Seven months suddenly struck him as a reckless amount of time to have gone without an orgasm involving another living, breathing, feeling human being, with needs and priorities of her own. He was like a ticking time bomb.

She arched her back and came up on her toes, squeezing his cock again in the process.

Jesus. He slid one finger inside her. She sucked in a breath and went higher on her toes. He eased another finger in. Her body clenched around him and she let out a small, impatient “Now.”

“Take another finger,” he whispered.

“No more. I want you.”