Liquid Lies (26 page)

“You’re shaking.” She pressed feebly at his shoulders. “You can put me down.” Hoping that he wouldn’t.

“It’s not…you’re not heavy.” His eyes squeezed painfully shut. “God, I want to be in you. Say yes. If you say no, I won’t touch you again, won’t even look at you. Though it’ll kill me.”

It would kill her, too. Cinching her arms around his neck, she breathed hot into his ear,
“Yes,”
and prayed she wasn’t making a colossal mistake.

A shudder traveled from his scalp to his feet. He ripped her away from the wall, spun, and charged into her bedroom. She held on as he collapsed backward onto the low bed, taking her with him. The severely slanted ceiling had other ideas and collided with her forehead in a loud
thud
.

“Ow!” She pressed a hand to her hairline.

Reed sat up, legs bent over the foot of the bed. She was straddling his lap, her knees still wrapped around his firm waist, and he was trying not to laugh. “That did not just happen.”

“Unfortunately it did.”

“I had this big, sexy, sweep-you-off-your-feet thing all planned in my head. How come it never works out exactly like your fantasy? Let me see.”

“Well, you definitely got the sweeping part down.”

He pried away her fingers, took her face in his hands, and stretched up to kiss the knob that hurt. “I think you’ll live.”

That statement hung between them, swaying in a nonexistent breeze. She’d live, yes. Today and maybe tomorrow. But after that?

As he tilted her head back down, their eyes met. His thumbs caressed her cheeks. “What are we doing?” he murmured.

The huge space behind her rib cage ached. “Don’t say anything else.” She slid her hands up his pecs, her fingers pale against the dark of his tattoo. He was so warm, and now that she finally got to touch the designs, she felt like she was touching a part of him no one else ever had.

He gave her a slight nod, understanding. Talking never seemed to work out for them. It always circled back to where they were. How they’d gotten there. Where they were going.

Trust.

She curled her fingers, digging her nails into him. It drew a tiny gasp from him, his eyes going cloudy. He was pure sex, raw desire, forcibly shoved into a man’s gorgeously painted skin, forever trying to get out. The urge to tell him, over and over again, how roughly beautiful he was filled her brain and pressed against her tongue. How had she ever successfully ignored an attraction this intense?

Because…
a tiny voice inside her offered.

Shut up
. She quickly squashed that train of thought before it took off, instead concentrating on the gentle lift of his hand, the tug of his fingers as he pried loose the rubber band. The swish of her hair tickled her neck and back, sending vivid chills across her body. Then she realized it wasn’t her hair doing that but his fingers, combing through the strands. He pulled sections of her hair forward over her shoulders and drew his fingers down to the ends, where they rested just above her nipples. There he froze. Lifted his blue, blue eyes to hers.

“You look good in my shirt.”

“You look good in nothing.”

His jaw circled, like an animal licking its chops. He toyed with the hem of her T-shirt. “Let me see you.”

Raising her arms, he slowly lifted the shirt to reveal her, piece by piece. Arching, she offered herself to him. He used the fabric to tease her nipples, then replaced the thin cotton with his hot mouth.

“God, you’re…” he croaked.

“What?” She didn’t search for validation or a compliment. She craved knowing each of his thoughts, wanting to know where his head was at.

He drew a line with his palm from her neck, down between her breasts, to her stomach. “Beyond words.”

The T-shirt might have disappeared into thin air for all she knew, because suddenly his big hands cupped her breasts from below, and he feasted on her sensitive nipples like a starved man. She reached behind her, clamped her fingers onto his thighs, and let him take what he wanted. Because she desired whatever he did, and everything he did or said sent shimmering waves over her skin to center at the place where her damp underwear rubbed against that incredible bulge.

She had to move. Had to feel more. Her hips circled, gyrated. She’d come that way if she kept it up, her tender clit hitting just the right spot. His fingers dug into her ass. The cool wetness on her chest brought her back to reality. She lifted her head to stare into his heated expression.

“Enough,” he growled, “or I’ll never last.”

“I can’t help it.” Another slow circle, making them both shudder.

He inhaled all her breath when he took her mouth this time. He could have it all if he wanted; it was his for now. The kiss was hard and hot, and he held her so perfectly still. His hand slid around her ass and lifted her body slightly. He dipped around back and used the gentle pad of a finger to draw a long, slow line over her underwear from back to front and back again.

That was when she lost her mind, when all thought vanished and the only things she was aware of were the places their bodies touched. When she whimpered, he pulled away and whispered with a naughty grin, “Shh.”

But then his fingers made mockery of the elastic in her underwear, sliding easily underneath. He lifted her more onto her knees and immediately slid two fingers between her slick skin and into the place that had gone liquid for him. He penetrated her, knuckle-deep, from behind. She moaned loud into his neck, letting his warm, taut skin bear the brunt of her verbal desire.

“God, you’re so wet.”

“For…you,” she murmured in time with his down-tempo thrusts. “It’s all for you.”

He groaned. His whole body went limp. In a flurry of action, he flipped them over so she was sitting on the bed and he stood before her.

He pointed to her underwear. “Off.”

She tossed him a smirk and pointed to his jeans. “Off yourself.”

It turned into a frantic race to see who could get completely naked first. She, with only little white underwear, lost. Reed loomed above her, strong, painted, gloriously hard in all the right places. Eye level with his huge erection, all she could think was
That’s for me
.

She went to her knees on the low bed. His abs contracted expectantly. Who was she to disappoint? Crawling forward, she filled her mouth with him. No preamble. Like his fingers inside her, she just went for him. His hips started to pump, and the thick slide of him against her tongue and lips made her mouth water. The taste of him, the suction, the withheld moans on both sides…it was too much.

His hands sank into her hair and pulled her off him with a pop and a gasp.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said, but he wasn’t looking at her. His head was turned to the side, his eyes shut hard. His chest heaved with barely contained restraint.

“No.” His eyes opened, searing her. “I said I wanted inside you.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “But first…”

One second she was on her knees, the next he’d positioned her on her back. Reed pulled her bottom to the edge of the bed and sank between her thighs. He stretched his arms beneath her knees, pushing her legs back, and grabbed her wrists. The immobility scared her for about a half second, then his magic tongue made everything else go away.

Soft and teasing at first, taking a maddeningly long time, he licked her. Swirled her. Tasted her. He listened to her body, using deliberate strokes of his tongue and lips that built and built up to insistent. Masterful. His heavy breathing filled the small bedroom, and she got off on the fact that this turned him on as much as her.

When he released one of her arms and slid those fingers back inside her, she came instantly. Violently. She bit her lip before the cry escaped. His mouth kept moving, taking her up and up, and just when she thought they’d reached the top, her body tumbled into helpless movement. She gave it free rein, letting the little earthquakes and the starbursts of pleasure consume her.

After she’d calmed somewhat, he sat back on his heels, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled. “Been wanting to see you quiver.”

Moving as one, she scooted back on the bed as he crawled over her, his huge body hovering like it had the other night. He kissed her, her arms twining around his neck. One of his knees knocked her thigh out to the side and he settled into the cradle of her body, the tip of his cock pressing against where he’d made her melt.

He exhaled on a hiss, his head dropping to the crook of her neck.

“Please.” She wrapped a leg around his hip.

“Oh, Gwen.” His mouth curved against her skin. “You don’t need to beg me.”

He pushed himself inside. Gentle but firm. Millimeter by agonizing millimeter until he filled her and started to move. Curling his hips upward, he hit this amazing spot deep, deep inside her. Her body still pulsed from what he’d done earlier, and she grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheet to anchor herself. Even so, he felt like flying—the scary, sinking sensation on the descent coupled with the swoosh of adrenaline on takeoff.

“Better than I imagined,” he stuttered. “Perfect.”

The rhythm he found inside her was like music. A steady, deliberate beat. A little bit romantic, all the way hot. But soon it wasn’t enough—for either of them. He rose up, tilting her ass higher with one hand, balancing himself on the other, and…stopped.

He looked down at her, and what she saw on his face was deeper than finally fulfilled desire. Stronger than perfunctory lust. She couldn’t define it, but she understood.

She rocked her hips and he ran with the cue, slowly sliding out then plunging hard back in. Head back, back arched, she loved the deep stab, how he was pouring that hard-won emotion into the movement of his body and just letting it go.

Another completely unexpected orgasm barreled down on her. She had enough time to grab a pillow and bury her face in it, screaming her pleasure. This orgasm felt wonderfully different, its source emanating from that place deep inside he stroked so perfectly. And because it took a different path, started from a new origin than what he’d done with his tongue, it hit different points of pleasure. The shudders came slower, but their peaks and troughs were more pronounced and she rode them gladly.

There was another reason for the pillow. She didn’t want him to see how much he affected her. In this raw, most naked of moments, she knew she couldn’t hold it back.

“Jesus,” he swore under his breath as her body subsided. “Another?” He plucked the pillow from her face, slanted his mouth across hers. “I could watch you come all day.”

He started to move again. Easy at first, then building speed and pressure, until his hips pounded out his own desire, to his own rhythm. She made herself pliant, let him use her the way he’d dreamed, because she’d been dreaming about it, too.

Enraptured, she watched his powerful body buckle. Listened to the strangled sound of his own muffled orgasm. Felt him pulse inside her. He bared his teeth like an animal and never, not once, took his eyes off hers. He wanted her to see what he felt, and it was beautiful and overwhelming.

“You are…” he said with a great sigh. He fitted himself on top of her and his weight took them both deeper into the covers. But he never finished that thought. It was okay; she got it.

She slid her hands over the rasp of his skull stubble and turned his head to make him look directly at her. “You are, too,” she said.

Starlight melted in his eyes; it was the only way to describe the warmth she saw in them. He kissed her with unapologetic reverence. When at last he pulled out of her, Gwen whimpered in the absence. He rolled over, and looked down.

“Oh, shit.”

“I’m clean,” she blurted out, feeling beyond awkward. “Been tested for everything.” Ofarian policy, pending any engagement announcement. “You?”

“Me, too.” He blinked, looking like a target in a gun range. “But what about the other part?”

“It’s okay. I’ve got it covered.” She really didn’t want to explain the finer points of IUDs.

They remained frozen, inches apart on a tousled bed. He looked torn about what to do next, and glanced at her expectantly. Should he slide closer and hold her like a lover? Or back off, their needs satiated? Truth be told, she didn’t have a clue. Too many
should
and
shouldn’t
s rattled around in her brain, mixing haphazardly with the
want
s and
need to
s. One glance around the room told them exactly where they were and that what they’d just given in to compromised them both in too many ways to count.

But she did know one thing. He was right; they’d felt perfect together. And in more than just the physical way.

Fear must have shown on her face, because he suddenly reached for her. He pulled her on top of him, mingling their heat. His arms glided around her back, his muscles so thick and long they blanketed her from shoulder to hip. She drank in the smell of him—the soap they had to share, the starch of the sheets, the sex sweat—and tried to relax in his arms.

Warm fingers trailed up and down her spine.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Maybe he meant only in the context of his obligation to Nora, but she pretended he meant more.

They stayed like that for who knows how long, sweat gluing their bodies together. They searched each other’s faces, Reed’s big hand buried in her hair, fingers making lazy circles on her scalp. Their breathing synchronized.

This man was being paid to keep her from her real life, and the secrets she had to keep from him were too numerous to count, but they couldn’t deny this connection any longer. It was deeper than physical attraction and wider than anything they could say to one another.

She finally broke the long, heavy silence. “This is so—”

“Intense,” he finished for her.

“Intense,” she whispered back.

The kiss that followed was deep and slow and lasted the rest of the night.

TWENTY-FIVE

Reed woke with no fewer than three parts of Gwen touching
him. Dainty ankle around his. Silky arm across his waist. Her chilly little nose pressed to his shoulder, the one without the tat. It had been that way throughout the night, one or both of them periodically waking, realizing they’d separated, and then closing the gap.