Close Enough to Hurt, page 15
“Easy, tiger.”
He cups my jaw with both hands, holding me like I’m made of water, liable to slip away if he’s not careful. He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine, breath skating across my face, short and choppy. I lift onto my toes, absorbing his exhalations, taking him into my blood.
Our lips are inches apart. I can’t think about anything other than closing that miniscule gap. Finally learning the true taste of him. His nearness floods me, heightening every sense to unbearable degrees, blowing every fuse.
“Daniel.”
“Hmm?”
“Kiss me,” I say, pretending it doesn’t sound like a plea.
“Anything for you, Dylan.” Still smiling, he brings his mouth down to mine.
CHAPTER
16
THE LAST THING I see before I close my eyes is the wolfish flash of Daniel’s teeth in the corner of his mouth. I already know the image will be seared into my memory.
He surprises me by aiming elsewhere, delivering a teasing kiss to the tip of my nose. Another at the corner of my mouth. More on my cheekbones, feather light.
With each pass, I squirm, wanting more contact, more force. More.
His laughter leaves a puff of steam against my cheek.
Then his lips press against mine, soft and perfect.
I gasp at the unexpected pressure, inhaling the sweet, peppery bite of cinnamon as I breathe him in. The kiss is so different from Brent’s toxic invasion, it makes my eyes water with something too much like adoration. I have never been kissed like this. Like I matter.
A small, hungry noise builds in my throat, escaping when I break away a fraction.
Daniel’s control snaps.
He kisses me again, hard, angling my jaw to get deeper.
I can’t help but reply with a bite to his lower lip, sinking my teeth into him. He tastes so good, better than I ever could’ve imagined. And I did, waking up in the middle of the night after dreams that would damn my soul forever.
His hands rove everywhere, pressing into my spine, arching me toward him. A moan rises from deep in his chest and coaxes my mouth open before I know it’s happened. The tip of his tongue grazes mine in a delicious swipe and my ears ring with the change in blood pressure.
Single-minded, his hands travel low, pulling my hips flush to him. His erection juts into my stomach, pulsing, warm even through fabric.
Fused, he walks me backward, never breaking our kiss.
My legs catch the edge of the sectional and I fall back, breathing hard, light-headed, not sure how I wound up there. It’s like my brain melted on the way, blinking in and out of awareness.
Daniel stands tall, backlit by the fire like some vengeful god of the underworld.
Shivers course through my body. Is it the damp lace or the way he’s looking at me, like he’s going to consume me whole?
I sit up before he can devour, somehow plucking the important information out of my lust haze. “I have an IUD, but I don’t have condoms.”
He takes it in stride. “I brought one.”
I raise a brow.
He has the good sense to look a little abashed. His skin tone isn’t the sort to betray a blush, but color fills his skin, turning it rose gold.
“Cheeky,” I say.
“Hopeful?” he counters. “Prepared?”
“Nuh-uh.” I laugh. “Don’t try to rebrand this one, sir.”
He smiles, fiendish. “And if I brought more than one? What would you say then?”
For the first time in my life, I’m without words. I swallow, hoping to find them. “Do you need one? For STIs?”
He shakes his head.
“Me neither. I was tested a while back. There hasn’t been anyone …” I cover myself, wishing I knew how to stop rambling. “Like I said, it’s been a while. A long while.” I sit up. “So, I guess the, uh … option is there, if you want to …”
“To come?” His voice is all gravel. “Inside you?”
I nod.
He breathes out, then looks up. “Would you feel better if I wore a condom?”
“Probably.” My smile is tight. “Don’t want to be the case study exception. Especially now.”
A shadow flits over his face. “Then I will.”
I heave a sigh of relief. I can’t imagine becoming pregnant with everything going on. Trying to protect myself as well as another life.
Daniel takes advantage of my pause and kneels to clasp my ankles, long fingers overlapping. His palms are hot enough to lift the lingering goose bumps from my skin. He continues upward, kneading warmth into my calves, the tendons surrounding my knees. When his hands reach my thighs, prizing them apart, I stop breathing.
He looks up, meeting my gaze, eyes liquid and heated. “Lay back.”
There’s something in the quiet, fierce tone of his voice that makes me acquiescent, compliant. I obey, head falling back on the soft cushion.
“Instant agreement?” His fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, chased by a warm kiss. “Must be a first.”
“Guess you just needed to get me naked.” I struggle beneath his secure hold, trying to inch my way closer to him, aching for friction. Everything from waist to knees throbs and tightens.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to.” His voice is a curl of smoke, breath fanning across my hyper-flushed skin. His hands roam up and over my teddy and reach beneath the delicate straps. “Let me?”
“Please.” I sit up and obligingly lower the thin straps over my shoulders.
He peels the wet fabric down my body, dropping it on the floor without a glance.
The silence while he takes me in is freighted. I resist the urge to cover myself.
“Just look at you.” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple shifting. “Dylan, you’re so lovely.”
He shakes his head, gaze heavy lidded, unfocused. “So lovely.”
He drops to his knees again and kisses me. One arm goes around my back, the other under the heavy weight of my hair, fingers wrapping tight around the nape of my neck.
He feels so good against my bare skin, I can’t help pushing up against him, pressed chest to chest. His body is so different from mine, so unyielding. I sink my fingers into his dark hair and tug. His hair is cold at the ends, still damp, but warm at the roots and soft as mink.
Daniel groans and pulls me even tighter, like he wants to crush us together.
His lips drift to my neck, pressing kiss after kiss down the length, then across the top swell of my breasts. When his mouth closes over a tight bud, laving it with his tongue, I whimper.
The sight of him bent to taste, cheeks hollowed, dark hair obscuring his eyes, makes liquid fire race south. The sensation gathers and surges the longer he goes on, leaving me shaky and gasping.
He resumes his work on the other side. Each pull with his tongue winds me up more. A fine mist of sweat collects in all the depressions of my body, and my whimpering grows louder and louder. It feels indescribably good, like I could climax from the pressure of his mouth and teeth alone.
Breathing hard through his nose, he abruptly pulls back.
I look up, dazed, wondering what stopped him from carrying me away. Wondering if I’ll live to see the other side of this fever dream. My skin glistens everywhere he touched me.
He widens my legs, spreading them to fit his shoulders.
I don’t have time to take a breath before he parts me with his tongue, mouth so soft and hot I cry out. Stars dance in and out of my vision as he picks up where he left off, one decadent lick after another.
I writhe on the cushions, hips rocking, grasping for something to anchor to.
“Daniel,” I gasp. I don’t know what I’m asking for. Begging for mercy? Relief from the fire filling my body with each passing second?
He groans against me but doesn’t pause or ease up. Not even a little.
I let my head fall back, panting. Watching the candlelight cast our twined shadows across the ceiling. Consigned to my fate, one moan after another spilling out of me.
The vibration from his baritone hums of approval travel deep inside, fueling the fire degree by degree. Jesus, God. I pull his hair—too hard—but I’ve lost all finesse. All remove. I won’t withstand this.
Then I have to laugh, because it’s just as I suspected. Feared. If given half a chance, my mild-mannered friend would turn into a fire god in bed and immolate me on the spot. No wonder I held him at arm’s length as long as humanly possible.
The laughter catches his attention. He lifts his head, brows drawn. Looking fearsome. “That bad?”
His lips are puffy. Wet with me. I blink, still not quite sure how this surreal sequence of events came to be. Flung onto a plateau of arousal I didn’t know existed.
“No,” I say, because I have no filter. Not anymore. “It’s better than I imagined.”
Comprehension softens his face, followed by determination, hardening the planes of his cheeks and jaw. “You imagined?”
“More than you know.”
In answer, he slides a long finger into me, stroking and caressing.
I gasp at the unexpected invasion. Even a single finger is a stretch, muscles shifting and tightening around him. Drawing him deeper.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You feel so goddamn good.” I squeeze on him, hard.
He growls against my skin and bends to resume his thorough devastation with lips and tongue. Between the firm suction and the added pressure from his fingers—oh God, he added another—it’s not long before me he’s worked me into near-constant shaking, vibrating with tension.
“I can’t …” I arch my back, lifting my hips closer to his mouth. “Daniel, it feels … Fuck, I’m so close.”
His grip on my thigh tightens, pinning me down, steadying my frantic movements. He groans into me, hot and loud.
My hold on space and time grows hazy. Everything else falls away. The only things anchoring me are his mouth and hands. Firm, upward strokes, working in concert. Driving me into another plane of existence, suspended between torture and release.
Bright heat rolls up my toes, my legs, gathers under my ribs. The agonizing rush keeps going, pushing me up and up. “Oh my God.” My entire body is resonant and taut, like a glass harp tuned to a pitch beyond human hearing.
Then the glass explodes, shattering me along with it. I sob, hips bucking, nails digging merciless crescents into Daniel’s forearms.
He doesn’t ease up, tongue still teasing and fluttering. The orgasm rolls on and on, waves of ecstasy shimmering. I close my eyes and surrender, letting the delirium consume me until I’m boneless.
When I’ve stopped quaking, he pulls away. His dark eyes are glazed, and every breath looks like a struggle, tendons in his neck strained. “Dylan, I need you.” He palms himself, groaning. “Please, let me fuck you.”
I shiver, hearing him say such a filthy word in that precise way of his.
“Yes,” I say. Like he didn’t deliver me to another dimension minutes ago. “Hurry.”
He fumbles with his belt buckle, struggling. Then, frustrated, he yanks it off with a clean snap.
Jesus Christ, he looks like he’s in agony. A pressed coil, bursting with potential energy.
The button on his pants is the next casualty when he rips it open and stands to step out of the stiff wool, revealing long, built legs and the firm outline of his erection through the silky-looking boxer briefs. When he drops them, kicking the fabric away, a small nip of apprehension cuts into my admiration.
“I don’t know if I—”
“If what?” He pauses, breathing hard, like he remembers he’s supposed to be listening to me.
“It’s been a long time,” I try again.
He catches my meaning and glances down, then back at me, and I know I’m in trouble. “Well. Only one way to find out.”
He drops to his knees and begins a slow slide, filling me inch by precious inch.
“Ohhhh.” The pressure is unreal, muscles stretching to accommodate. Mere seconds later, however, a deep glow builds inside. A dangerous thrill, powerful enough to render the rest of the world as dull background noise.
“You’re so wet,” he hisses, sliding another inch. “Ah, fuck.”
“Daniel …” I wince, but it’s so good, I can’t tell him to stop.
Nevertheless, he holds himself still. Every vein in his chest and arms stands in relief. “Are you okay?”
I nod. It’s beyond my current vocabulary to describe the bite of pain and pleasure, how they work in concert, obliterating everything else.
“You can do it,” he says to my neck. “Just take … a little more.”
He’s right, like he usually is. The last bit of resistance gives way. A groan gusts out of him as he sinks to the hilt, head lowered, brows knitted like he’s in pain. Then he looks at me, eyes flashing obsidian.
Our gazes lock.
He goes still and quiet. I do too. Not pushing, not thrusting. Not so much as a breath.
The moment is so voltaic, I’m surprised it doesn’t burn down my boat.
As it is, everything could go up in flames around us and I’m not sure I’d notice. There’s too much awe floating around us, filling the air. The longer I look, the more of the universe and all its secrets I see inside his blown-out pupils. How could I have let this man walk a parallel path for so long?
“Dylan.” My name sounds like a prayer. “You’re so … so tight.”
“Daniel.” I’m shaking, but I lift my hands to his face, touching the strong bones, framing his clean jaw.
I don’t dare say more. God knows what ludicrous things might spew out of my mouth. I might tell him I liked his cape, and the following record screech would for sure for sure ruin my night.
He begins to move. An easy, experimental lift and release, flexing the muscles in his back and hips.
Even that small, delicious effort is enough to make my vision blur. He’s so hard inside me, massaging everything he touches.
He groans and brings his mouth down to mine, delivering a hot, open kiss that steals all my air.
Then he rears back, eyes wide, mouth parted in horror.
“What?” I demand, alarmed by his expression.
“The condom,” he rasps. “Dylan, I’m sorry.” He starts to withdraw.
I wrap my legs tight around his back, locking him in place.
“Change your mind?” He’s already picked up the thread of movement again, the smallest of smiles dancing across his face.
“Looks that way.” I shift, welcoming him deeper. “You can thank my drought.”
He groans, then smiles in earnest, popping both dimples, a diabolical glint in his eyes. “All work, no play for Lady Justice?” He leans down, words a fiery rush past my ear. “I’m going to make you feel good, darling.” A kiss on my throat punctuates the promise. “So good.”
I answer with a squeeze, urging him on. “Please.”
He’s as good as his word. With every deft thrust and roll of his hips, the coal burns hotter inside, flooding my body with new heat. Sweat coats my skin and I start to clench around him, involuntary pulls tugging him deeper and deeper.
“Fuck,” he mutters, face buried in my neck and hair, pausing for a moment. I feel his smile against my throat. “You’ll kill me if you keep that up.”
“It’s not … on purpose.” I pant for air as he picks up again. “You feel … God, you feel good.”
Face etched with grim determination, he pulls my hips high, positioning me at a new and helpless angle.
Each stroke lights up something deep inside, turning me to a creature of raw sensation. I curve and grind against him, determined to meet each push.
He curses again and reaches to caress the twitching bundle of nerves with his thumb. All the while, his abs flex and torque, thrusts never losing speed.
I turn my head and moan into the pillow, undone by even the slightest added abrasion. It’s too much. He’s too much, razing me from the inside out. Minutes float by in a fog of arousal so acute, I don’t know how I’ll live through it.
“I can’t,” I say. “I can’t hang on.” The pleasure builds and crests with such speed, it steals my breath.
Daniel’s answer is to lean over and draw a taut nipple into his mouth.
The soft tug and swirl of his tongue synced with every stroke feels like a deliberate attack. “Harder.” I grip his head to hold him in place. “Please.”
He groans into my aching flesh and gives and gives, driving into me. I feel him swell and lengthen inside, if such a thing is possible. His breathing is labored, uneven. Seconds away from release.
The knowledge he’s on the knife edge catapults me up and over the final barrier. “Oh,” I breathe. “Oh my God …”
The wave pushes me higher and higher and higher. When it breaks, I cry his name, dizzy with euphoria.
His thrusts grow irregular, frantic. He grunts and tries to pull away. Out of me.
“No,” I gasp. Still riding the last shuddering swell of climax. “Don’t. I want you to—”
Daniel gapes at me, frozen for one agonized moment, every muscle rigid.
Then he wrenches himself away. With a broken sound torn from his throat, he spurts onto my stomach, one hot pulse after another after another.
He falls forward, chest heaving, bracing himself with one arm on the back of the couch. Sweat coats his skin, highlighting the broad planes of his chest and shoulders. His eyes search mine out, a thousand unspoken things swimming in his gaze.
I reach for him, desperate to touch, to reassure. To leave trails of love all over his skin and push the hair out of his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say helplessly. My face and neck burn with residual shame. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. It just …” I shake my head. “You felt …” I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud. That he made me feel better than I ever have.
He shifts forward, leaning over me, and brings his lips to mine, sweet and silky. “No, Dylan. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” With a free hand, he pushes the hair out of my face, lifts my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Even if there’s only a fractional chance of conception, I know how you feel about it, and I mean to respect that.”
