Instant Gratification (13 page)

S
tone absorbed the bone-melting sensation of Emma’s arms winding their way around his neck. “Do you, Emma? Feel a spark?”

She pressed even closer, letting out a hum of desire that went straight to his head. And parts south.
Far
south.

“It’s too soon to tell,” she murmured in his ear.

“Liar.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Her lips were brushing his earlobe with every word, and he was hard as a rock. “I think…I think I feel an entire set of fireworks.”

“Good.” He nodded, definitely feeling the same fireworks. He’d nearly made those fireworks work for him the last time they’d been alone together, when she’d nearly given it all up for him. Nearly…nearly…and then TJ had shown up and he’d been shit out of luck. Suddenly, he had hopes that tonight would end better. “Let’s make sure.”

“How—”

Which is all he let her get out before he leaned over her, pressing her back down, down, down to the couch. Towering over her, he looked into those fathomless eyes, letting the anticipation drum between them before bending low to kiss her.

Together they sank further into his comfortably worn couch as she opened her mouth for him, gently sliding her tongue to his. Oh, God, yeah, that worked, and he tightened his hands on her, apparently the universal sign for more, please, because with a little gasp of breath, she made room for him between her legs and arched up to rock against him. “You sure yet?” he asked as the both of them panted for more.

She blinked up at him, lips wet, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I lost all track of our conversation.”

With a ragged exhale, he pressed his forehead to hers. Pressed up against him, she undulated her hips against the hard-on he’d had since she’d driven up to the lodge. “Okay, it’s definitely safe to say I’m sure I feel
something
,” she murmured.

With a low laugh, he pressed the “something” up against her. “Not what I meant, Em.”

“I feel it.” She cupped his face. “It’s been so long that I almost didn’t recognize it, but I feel it.” She touched his hair, his jaw, nothing but a touch, and he nearly melted on the spot. It’d been awhile for him too, at least awhile since he’d felt so moved. As in earth rocking, foundation slipping, dizzy from the emotions
moved
. He was still trying to gather his wits when she whispered his name in a low, shaky voice that said she was with him on this. Unnerved, unsure, but with him.

Slowly, he lowered his head and kissed her again; a deep, long, wet kiss that shut down what little brain power he had left. She tasted warm and sweet and innately female. She tasted like the solution to his restless loneliness. She tasted like she was…his. “I want more than Spencer got,” he murmured. “I want more than the kiss. Tell me right now if you don’t, before this goes any further.”

“That elusive word
more
again…” she whispered, staring at him as she pulled his head back down. “Kiss me, Stone. Take what you want.”

He would. He did, taking what he wanted without apology,
showing her what he was beginning to realize he felt. A fact that amped up both his heartbeat and the mood, which went from calm and lazily aroused to hot-as-hell wild frenzied as they went at it, their hands fighting for purchase, tangling in each other. She was letting out those helpless little pants as she tried to get under his clothes, the sexiest breathy sounds he’d ever heard, which were going to make him go off so he grabbed her hands and pressed them high above her head. This brought his entire weight down on her, which she welcomed by spreading her legs even further and wrapping them around him, bringing him in tighter against her. “God,” he murmured, his mouth on her throat now. “God, Emma.”

“I know,” she gasped, latching her mouth onto his shoulder. It was crazy how fast the air changed, how fast it sparked, and lit fire.

Crazy.
Take what he wanted?
He wanted it all.

“Stone—”

“Tell me.”

“You. I want
you
.”

The words were no sooner out of Emma’s mouth before he ripped off his shirt, and then hers, both following the same air path over his shoulder and across the room.

He popped open her bra and bent his head, kissing her jaw, her throat, her shoulder, and then a breast, gently pulling it into his mouth and sucking, a motion so perfect that it arched her right off the couch and further into his mouth. An inarticulate sound left her, one that conveyed shocking need and hunger, which might have horrified her if she’d been alone in this.

But she wasn’t. For once, she wasn’t alone at all, and given the sound that escaped his throat—one of equal need and hunger, and also of thrilling impatience, he felt it too as he lifted up enough to unhook and unzip her pants. Still teasing her nip
ples with his tongue, he slid a hand down her leg, bending it so he could reach to yank off her shoe.

She went to work on his clothes, and had his sweats opened and her hands inside when he twisted to get at her other shoe. Tangled up in each other, they lost their balance and together fell off the couch and onto the small space on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

“Jesus.” He arched up to slide his hands beneath her head as she dissolved into laughter. “Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Yes.” She held onto him when he would have pulled away. Her bra was caught on her elbow, her pants half on and half off, both hampering her movements. He lay over her, no shirt, his sweats halfway down. His chest was warm and deliciously hard against her. She realized he had a leg thrust between hers, one hand still cradling her head in a protective gesture that melted her as his other hand, low on her back, moved lower to cup her bottom. “Very okay. You?”

His eyes were lit with heat and humor as his mouth curved. “I could be better.”

“You have a nearly naked woman in your arms and you could be better?”

“I could be inside you.”

His words liquefied her bones. “I suggest rectifying the situation. Stat.”

“I love it when you get bossy.” He pushed with his thigh, just a little, which opened her legs to him further, and then he settled into the spot as if he’d been made for it as his fingers slid between her legs and stroked.

She cried out, she couldn’t help it. She’d never been amused and excited at the same time before, never, and it confused her brain, flipped a switch somewhere deep inside, making it feel so intense she almost couldn’t take it. “Not to criticize your technique,” she panted. “But what’s taking so long?”

With a grin, he lowered his head and licked her nipple, rasping his tongue over the tip, and then again, while she sucked in a breath. “I’ve never been a fast mover,” he said against her flesh.

As if to prove the point, he slid his way down her body, kissing her ribs, her belly button, her hip. His fingers idly, almost lazily, hooked in her pants. He lifted his head and watched her as he tugged.

But since he’d only gotten one of her shoes off, they got stuck on her leg. He didn’t seem concerned as he dropped his gaze to see what he was doing, and ran a finger over the elastic on her bikini panties. “Pretty,” he said of the navy blue and white sailor stripes. He slid them down, sucking in a breath at all he’d revealed. “God. Look at you.”

“Stone—”

“Open.” Accompanying this gentle demand, he settled a hand on her thigh and nudged it, wedging his shoulders between her legs, giving him quite the front row view.

“Um.” Trapped, she lay there on the floor between the couch and the table, her legs held open by his wide shoulders, with nowhere to escape. She could have pushed him away, could have sat up, could have stopped him in a hundred different ways, but instead, when he leaned forward and lapped at her like she was a bowl of cream, she sank her fingers into his hair and held on for the ride.

She cried out again. And then again when he added his fingers. She was burning up, from the inside out, trembling with strain, her every muscle taut and seeking release as she clutched at him with a horrifying desperation.

It’d been so long. So damn long, and even so, she honestly had to admit, she’d never felt like
this
. Like she was going to die if he didn’t finish her off, like she didn’t have to struggle to get to the edge, didn’t have to
try
to orgasm because she was there on the very brink already. He held her there, damn him,
held her there for an interminably long beat before he let her take the plunge.

She very nearly came right out of her own skin. Cradled by him, she shuddered and trembled, and shuddered some more,
shocked
at how easily it had barreled through her.

Stone lifted his head and lazily kissed his way up her body as if totally relaxed—except for the erection pressing against her hip.

She reached for him, managing to stroke him once before a rough rumble escaped his throat and he staggered to his feet. The light fell over him, revealing just how incredibly made he was. His chest was perfectly sculptured, his belly flat and six-packed, his thighs hard and powerful.

And between…God, between them he was just as glorious, but that was as far she got before he scooped her up against him and carried her through the living room, down a hall to his bedroom. He set her on the bed, then flicked on a lamp, which gave her a moment of self-awareness she could have done without. But then he moved into her line of view and she blessed the light because he was so beautifully made she could hardly stand it.

He had a condom, and she stared at it thinking good God, she’d have actually forgotten. For the first time in her life, she would have forgotten to have responsible sex.

Good thing
he
could think, because she was apparently beyond it, as proven when he ran a hand down her body, over her breasts, her belly, to between her thighs, where she was wet and beyond ready. Apparently agreeing, he let out a heartfelt groan, knelt between her spread thighs and entered her.

With an arch of her back, she gave him entry, and when he pushed all the way into her, their twin gasps of pleasure echoed in her ears. She’d have thought she was finished after that last orgasm, but he began to move and she clutched at him, rock
ing to meet his every thrust, shocked at how good she felt, how high, how utterly filled.

He whispered her name, cupped her head in his big hands and kissed her as deeply as he was within her body, and when he lost himself and came with her name on his lips, she followed him over.

It took her a long time to come back to herself, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry for her to. His mouth was against her throat, nuzzling. His muscles were still quaking faintly as he pressed his pelvis to hers, relishing the last of his pleasure.

And there’d been such pleasure. As she slowly came back to herself, she realized she was clutching him tight, digging her fingers into him. Yes, she was gripping his ass like a vice while still gasping for breath like she’d just run the marathon. With a sound of embarrassed regret, she started to pull free, but in what was perhaps the nicest moment of all, he didn’t move away from her, instead seemed content to stay and just kiss her neck, his hands slowly sweeping over her as if to help calm her.

Cuddling. They were cuddling. That’s when she remembered. She didn’t do the cuddle, never had, and she gave him a little push.

He obliged her by rolling off, but he didn’t go far. On his side now, he propped up his head with his hand. His other went to her hip, covering nearly the whole thing with just one warm, callused palm. An easy touch. A familiar touch.

Which, given what he’d just done to her—that being completely shattering her—he probably
was
feeling pretty damn familiar. Utterly unconcerned with his nudity, he smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Good Lord, how had one guy gotten so sexy and cute at the same time? It seemed like an unfair disbursement of the goods, and if she ever stood in the line at the Pearly Gates, that would be the first thing she’d ask about.

But for now, she had places to go, people to see, things to do.

And a hot, sexy guy that threatened her very soul to get away from. Making her move, she shifted, getting to her belly before he slid a leg over her, holding her down. She turned her head and looked at him.

“Question,” he said lightly.

Seeing as she was pinned like a bug, she blew her hair from her face and did her best not to give herself away. “What?”

“Are you relaxed?”

Ha. “Let me go.”

“Because you were feeling pretty damn relaxed until about two seconds ago, when you realized you were hugging me for all you were worth. That’s when you got all uptight again.”

Okay, true. As was something else—she’d finally answered her own question on how his stubble would feel against her skin.

Like heaven. “Let me up now.”

His leg slid from her immediately. “My apologies.”

Fine. He was insulted. She’d deal with that later. She got out of the bed and realized her clothes were in the living room. Which was why she liked her affairs simple and in the dark.

He’d rolled to his back, hands behind his head, and was watching her from beneath lowered lashes, giving nothing of himself away.

Except, of course, the fact that he was sprawled out naked as the day he’d been born, revealing everything, anything she wanted to see.

Damn. To be that open. She whirled around, found one of his shirts and shoved it over her head, forgoing both panties and bra. On the other side of the country, her mother was rolling over in her grave.

Goodness, darling, you could have had Spencer. That boy’s a surgeon, and he’d have left the light off
.

Rolling her eyes, she headed toward the door. But suddenly, the man lounging so lazily on the bed beat her to it, and put a hand on the handle. Before she could say a word, he’d opened it for her, not attempting to hold her in.

She looked up into his eyes.

He flashed a smile that didn’t quite make it to his usual full potential. “I take it we’re done here tonight.”

“Yeah, I have to—”

He put a finger over her lips. “Don’t make up an excuse to run away. I don’t need a pretty lie.”