Explosive (32 page)

Thomas just stood there, existing on a knife’s edge of indecision. He believed her; he thought she was lying.

Something told him to get away from Sophie as fast as he could.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

The friction arising from the battle waging inside his spirit felt unbearable.

“Thomas?”

Her soft query brought him back to himself. She sat at the edge of the couch, her body tensed as if she was about to rise. He realized it was his presence that kept her motionless, her uncertainty about his intentions standing there in her living room almost naked in the middle of the night. His glance lowered over her, taking in her bare, pale limbs. She wore a nightgown—nothing fancy.

It looked sexy as hell on Sophie.

He inhaled slowly, his nostrils pinching tight, as he stared at the way her breasts shaped the soft fabric of the gown. Suddenly, unbidden and unwelcome, the potently erotic memories of making love to her that morning stormed through his brain. His cock lurched in his damp boxers.

Her dark eyes lowered and lingered on his crotch.

She’d noticed. Good, he thought grimly. What she’d said earlier today had made him vulnerable. Exposed. Angry. He didn’t feel so worried about protecting Sophie from his volatility at the moment. She’d asked him here. She knew the consequences.

“Why did you come back?” she whispered.

“One guess.”

Her elegant throat convulsed. She remained perched there at the edge of the couch, looking as if she was considering fleeing. But there wasn’t a chance he was letting Sophie Gable go anywhere at the moment.

“Take off your gown,” he demanded hoarsely.

“Thomas . . . you’re angry at me. I don’t think—”

His gaze flew to her face. “Take it off, Sophie.”

She hesitated for a split second before she whisked the filmy garment over her head. Underneath, she wore a pair of those modest, white cotton panties that drove him crazy with lust. He stared at her breasts. His cock strained against his boxer briefs as if it were iron and Sophie a powerful magnet.

He stepped toward her.

“Stand up,” he ordered quietly.

“Maybe we should talk first—”

“I don’t want to
talk
. Stand up,” he repeated.

She did so slowly as he approached her. He could see their reflections cast in the picture window behind her. He towered over her.

He reached out and cradled her breasts. Blood rushed into his cock. So soft . . . like new flower petals. So responsive, he added to himself as he flicked his thumbs over the rosy tips and she tightened for him. He became completely absorbed in his task as he fondled her, shaping her fulsome flesh to his palms, rubbing and tweaking her nipples until they grew incredibly hard and distended. The storm that held them captive, the inexplicable terror that crouched just outside of his vision, all of that receded.

He lifted her breasts with his hands and let them drop. A pang of lust shot through his cock when he saw them fall back into place with an erotic jiggle.

“I’ve never seen breasts this large and yet so firm,” he muttered, completely enraptured.

“Thomas,” she whispered shakily. He looked up at her face. Her glance seemed to entreat him, but he didn’t want to consider Sophie’s pleas at the moment.

Not unless she begged him to make her come.

“I know what I want right now, Sophie, and it’s not a heart-to-heart talk. If you don’t want to play, just say no, but don’t try and make me feel guilty because I want to fuck you blind.”

He didn’t feel guilty when he saw her lower lip tremble . . . Didn’t feel much of anything, really, except the potent blast of lust rushing through his veins. He molded her firm breasts to his palm and massaged her while he held her stare.

“What’s it going to be, Sophie?”

“If it’s ...” She swallowed. “If that’s what you want,” she finished throatily.

He stared at her magnificent breasts in his hands. “Oh, it’s what I want, all right. Lay down on your back on the couch.” He didn’t like letting go of her soft, warm flesh, but he did when she moved to do what he’d demanded.

He hurried out of the living room and returned a few seconds later carrying the little bottle of lubricant. There wasn’t much left. They’d made quite a dent in their supply over the past few days.

Sophie lay there, still wearing her girl-next-door panties, watching him with those big, dark eyes that were going to be the death of him. He jerked down his boxer briefs and matter-of-factly lubed up his swollen cock.

Her eyes widened.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck your ass again. Not at the moment,” he rasped. He dropped his heavy erection. “Move farther down on the couch.”

He waited while she scooted away from the pillows and armrest. He straddled her chest with one leg, pressing his knee into the couch next to her ribs. His other leg wouldn’t fit on the narrow couch. He bent his leg and kept his foot on the floor, leaning over Sophie and placing both his hands on the armrest.

“Squeeze them together. I want to fuck those beautiful breasts.”

He groaned in pleasure a moment later as his cock burrowed between silky, firm flesh. He thrust his hips, drowning in the delicious sensation. It was selfish of him to stimulate himself in this way, and he knew it. He
knew
it. Christ, he couldn’t even see Sophie’s expression, positioned as he was.

That was when he realized the last thing he wanted to see at that moment was Sophie’s breathtaking face or to stare at his own reflection in her haunted eyes.

He just wanted to lose himself in the bounty of Sophie’s sweet body.

He watched his cock sliding like an oiled piston between the fulsome globes, aroused beyond measure by the sight of her holding her full breasts in her small hands, making a pagan offering of her flesh for his greedy cock.

Selfish. That’s what he was when it came to Sophie. And he couldn’t seem to stop his endless greed.

Her nipples rose from the mounds like hard little darts, tempting him, making him starved for the feeling of them sliding against his tongue. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop fucking Sophie’s breasts. He was like an addict when it came to her.

She moaned when he became more forceful in his thrusts, popping the lower curves of her breasts with his pelvis and aching balls. The sight of her flesh bobbing up with every lusty stroke drove him crazy.

“Touch your nipples,” he growled. He watched with a feral focus as her forefingers and thumbs slid over the erect crests. “That’s right. Pinch them.”

He groaned gutturally and grimaced in mounting pleasure as his balls smacked against her breasts rhythmically.

Pleasure swamped his brain for the next several moments, washing away everything in its wake.

Her eyelids blinked open when he jerked his cock out of the sweet crevice of her breasts. He stood and swung his leg to the floor. She seemed dazed when he grabbed her hands and pulled her up next to him, but he was glad to see that her cheeks were stained pink with arousal. He was so turned on, so primed to detonate, that he couldn’t speak. He merely turned her until she faced the picture window and urged her to bend over, still holding one of her wrists.

She leaned over. He grabbed her other wrist and bound her hands at her lower back with one hand, using his grip on her to keep her steady. He arrowed his cock to her slit.

“Spread your legs, Sophie. Let me in,” he insisted in a tight, low voice.

He hissed as she complied and his cock sunk into her slowly.

“Jesus,” he mumbled tensely. She was molten. He felt like he was sinking into bliss. He had to press firmly to gain ground she was so tight, but it was a hot, sweet struggle. His cock carved through her snug, juicy channel like a hot knife through melting butter.

She whimpered once he pressed his balls to her moist tissues. The sound may have come from discomfort or it may have come from arousal. Thomas couldn’t tell which. He didn’t care.

He was stone drunk on greedy lust. He shook with a need to leap into the forgetful fires of hedonistic pleasure.

He held her hip firmly and began to fuck her, fast and furious from the get-go. This wasn’t about wooing Sophie; it was about his desperation. His need. There wasn’t room for anything else. She mewled in surprised arousal as he plunged into her from tip to balls, driving into her firm, yet giving body like he thought salvation lay at her depths.

It was too much. Emotion and wild pleasure swamped him from every direction, making him sweat . . . making him dizzy.

“God, I want to fill you up with my come.”

She said his name on a moan, and he realized he’d spoken his thought out loud. It was true. Why the hell did the mere thought of Sophie drenched with his semen turn him into a rabid animal?

He snarled as he lifted one foot onto the couch, his thigh forcing Sophie downward slightly until her forehead hit the cushion of the couch. He thrust with even greater force, watching with fixed intensity as his cock pounded into her with all the relentless power of a charging piston.

Nirvana winked at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Sophie.
Sophie
,” he hissed from a clenched jaw. He released her hip and furrowed his fingers through the soft hair at her nape. He grasped a handful of it, jerking her head back slightly as a hurtling wave of climax seized his entire body.

Sure enough, he went temporarily blind as a jolt of pleasure consumed him.

Sophie cried out at the sensation of him swelling inside her and pressing tight, her eyes going wide at the erotic feeling of his cock jerking as he exploded inside her. He continued to fuck her as he came, releasing her hair, but using his grip on her bound wrists to push her pussy back and forth on his throbbing penis.

His volatile possession continued. She felt his cock lurch inside her and realized with a sense of wonder that he was still ejaculating.

After a moment, he let go of her wrists and reached for her shoulders, pulling her up against him. He pressed his mouth to the crown of her head and gave a low, plaintive moan.

Her heart squeezed tight in recognition of the sound of a wounded creature.

She studied the erotic tableau of their reflection in the picture window. He leaned down over her from his great height, his neck bent, his large hands on her shoulders looking dark next to her skin.

She reached around and encircled his hips with her arms, palming the rock-hard muscles of his buttocks. Her vagina clamped tight around his cock, securing him in her embrace.

He raised his head slowly. Sophie couldn’t make out his eyes in the reflection, but she sensed his gaze on her.

He suddenly withdrew and turned her in his arms. He lifted her. Neither of them spoke as he carried her down the dark hallway to the bedroom, his hand at the back of her head pressing her cheek to his chest. Sophie couldn’t find words to speak. But as Thomas had said earlier, conversation wasn’t his focus at the moment.

He pushed her tighter against his body when they reached her bedside so that he could use one hand to whip back the covers. He laid her on the cool sheets and settled on the mattress next to her. She put her arms around his shoulders and stroked his dense back muscles while his hand caressed her waist, belly, and hips, and finally settled between her thighs. She whimpered in pleasure as he skillfully amplified the friction that had grown in her flesh during his volatile possession.

When she climaxed a moment later against his hand, he covered her mouth with his, eating her cries of pleasure. After she’d quieted, he transferred his lips to her cheeks, where he wetted them with her tears. Her hand found his cock and she stroked him while he kissed her, feeling the fever amplify in his flesh yet again.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispered roughly next to her lips after she’d opened her thighs and guided him back inside her.

“I don’t know for sure,” she replied in a hushed voice. She moaned shakily when he began to roll his hips, fucking her with slow, firm, delicious strokes. She cradled the base of his skull and leaned up to press her mouth to his. “But I wish you would trust me,” she gasped as he subtly rotated his pelvis against her clit, “because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

He went still for a moment before he seized her mouth in a branding kiss and resumed making love to her, this time more heatedly.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

The next morning she awoke to the ceaseless drone of falling rain. She was beginning to wonder if it would ever stop. She glanced at Thomas, her gaze sticking on the sight of his usually tension-filled face relaxed for once in sleep. He didn’t stir when she got out of bed and tucked the blanket securely around him. She shrugged into a thick robe—the house felt chilly and damp—and wandered out into the kitchen to start the coffee.

Peering out the kitchen window into the gloom, she was heartened to see that the water in the ditches next to her driveway had receded. Even though it still rained, it came down lighter than last night, and must have been doing so for a while. She thought of the Dolans and was about to try their downed phone line again when Thomas came up behind her.

“Good morning,” she whispered when he wrapped her in his arms and pressed his mouth to the juncture at her neck and shoulder. She laughed softly when he didn’t answer, but turned her around and lifted her. She encircled his waist with her legs as he carried her back to bed.

He made love to her with a fierce focus. Just before he’d nearly driven her over the edge into ecstasy, he bit at her lower lip as it shaped a plea.

“Tell me, Sophie.”

And she did: She told him she loved him.

God help her.

Afterward, he held her in his arms and they stared out the wet window onto the sodden day. Dread settled on her chest.

“You’re in danger, Thomas,” she whispered. “The people who knew about your brother’s and Bernard Cokey’s conversations are dying.”

He paused in stroking her upper arm. “Cokey had a long history as a criminal, Sophie. Word must have leaked out about him sharing secrets with Rick. Obviously Cokey was fearful for his life.”