“Surprise.” Then he flexed his arms and slowly lowered himself until his mouth hovered tantalizingly close to hers. Every nerve ending in her body migrated to her lips and prickled with anticipation.
“I am surprised,” she managed.
“In another second you’re going to be downright speechless.”
She already was. Speechless. Ready. Eager. She closed her eyes, tipped her face toward his, and held her breath…
He shifted, and claimed a target nowhere near her mouth. Her eyes flew open. Her toes curled. Then he tugged her bikini aside, and went after the target again. Her breath rushed out in an uncontrolled burst.
“Wait!”
He speared his tongue into her heat once more, like a starving man about to be dragged away from a meal, and then forced himself to raise his head. “No,” he ground out. “No more waiting.” Control slipped away like sand through his fist at the sight of her spread out before him. He reared up onto his knees, dug into the pocket of his trunks, and retrieved the trio of condoms he’d shoved there upon finding her underwear on his bed. He threw two onto the side table, tore the foil on the last, and stared into huge brown eyes.
“I spent the last twenty-four hours running my ass ragged.” The thick growl coming out of his throat barely sounded like his own voice. “Aggravating my staff”—he tugged his trunks off—“rescheduling meetings”—he rolled the condom on—“commandeering a goddamn G-6 aircraft. Why?” He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her toward him. “Because I couldn’t wait another fucking second.”
He knew he sounded angry. Even he could hear the impatience in his voice. She definitely could, considering she lay there, breathing rapidly and looking at him like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had, but the uncertainty didn’t give rise to much caution. “If it’s no, tell me no. Otherwise, shut that beautiful mouth and open these gorgeous legs, because we both know ‘wait’ is not an option.”
Her eyes searched his, and for one agonizing moment he thought she might refuse him. Then those long, slender legs slowly opened.
Triumph brought no calm, just a new level of urgency. “Hold on to something.”
He grasped her hips, lifted, and somehow made himself wait while she scrambled to wrap a hand around the armrest. A second later he drove into her. No polish. No sophistication. She’d stripped those attributes from him the second he’d seen her lying on the chaise, uncovered and unguarded. Her sharp inhale could have meant anything…shock, pain, gratitude? The question formed on his lips, but came out as a groan when she arched up to meet his thrust, digging her heels into his calves for leverage. Her body clamped around him, her inner muscles quivered in reaction.
More, was all he could think, and he drew back to go again.
She made a small sound of distress at the slight withdrawal. “Don’t stop.”
“Nothing short of the apocalypse could stop me now.” He reinforced his grip on her hips and unleashed a series of rapid thrusts—more instinct than technique.
Her head lolled on the cushion. Her breasts bounced from the collision of their bodies. Tendrils of damp hair clung to her face and chest. This. This he’d missed their first time. The opportunity to see her eyes glaze, her cheeks flush, and her mouth drop open. The chance to watch her stomach tighten and her hips flex as she strained to meet every thrust. He wanted to frame her face in his hands, lean in and kiss her parted lips. He wanted to caress her breasts. Feel the scrape of her tight nipple on his tongue. But all he could do was grip her ass tighter, and adjust the angle to allow her a quick, greedy grind at the base of his cock every time he sank deep.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Sweat burned his eyes. Pressure built at the small of his back and sank into his balls. Warning signs from his nervous system. He slowed, and gave her longer, deeper strokes because he was determined to get her there first. She drove a fist into the cushion for additional leverage, and lifted her hips as high as she could, attempting to maximize the duration and intensity of every precious grind. He gritted his teeth and let her do her best.
Long lashes lowered as she concentrated on the internal chase. Some twisted part of his ego raged against being blocked out, used like a convenient tool to get the job done. A nameless, faceless tool. Just like you’re using her, the cool, detached voice in his head fired back, but it wasn’t true. Not this time. It had to be her, and there was nothing convenient about it. By the time this week was over, she would be out of his system, damn it. They’d both walk away—or crawl away—fucked out, wrung out, and utterly satisfied. No more thoughts of her hijacking his head and distracting him from his priorities.
But at this moment? At this moment he craved the same admission from her. He was what she needed. Him, specifically. Not simply some readily available clit-pleaser she could use to make up for months of lackluster sex with a worthless prick like Barrington. Or worse, a substitute. Behind those closed eyes was she picturing Barrington? She’d mistaken him for Paul the first time, but damn if he’d play the stand-in twice.
Fuck no. Maybe he had lost his mind, but he was going to hear her say his name. He tightened his hold on her hips and pulled nearly all the way out, clenching his jaw against her body’s frantic attempts to hold on to him.
Her groan came first, and then her eyes flew open and darted around, seeking a justification for the interruption. Finally they settled on him. Two dark mirrors.
“I warned you the next time you spread your legs for me, I wouldn’t be a gentleman. Did you expect a gentleman, Chelsea?”
Chapter Thirteen
Did she expect…? Chelsea struggled to focus on his words, but the orgasm he dangled just out of her reach prevented her from making any sense of them. Her thoughts whirled. Her body screamed for relief. She couldn’t participate in a conversation. Not now. She managed a head shake, but apparently he considered that an unsatisfactory response, because he eased out another inch. Instinct had her tightening already strained muscles in a useless attempt to keep him in place.
He said something, but she couldn’t hear well over the pathetic moans coming from somewhere nearby. She held her breath to quiet the chaos in her head, and realized the pathetic moaner had been her.
“Did you expect a gentleman?” he repeated. Turquoise eyes stared down at her, through her, as if he could lure the proper response out of her with the power of his gaze alone.
Trouble was, she honestly didn’t know what he wanted to hear, and she was in no condition for this game. “I don’t kn— No!” The word came quickly as he pulled out a bit more.
He stopped, thank God, and she nearly burst into tears.
“No, what?”
“No, I don’t want a gentleman?” Please be the right answer. She prayed the response got him moving again before she lost her min