New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (10 page)

Summer dropped the hands from her ears and made a disparaging sound. “I just wanted to help.”

Becca let out a smile that was both warm and sad. “I know. And you did. Actually, both of you did.” She scooped up the garment bag, walked to the door. When she had her hand on the handle, she turned back. “I understand what you tried to give me, Summer. And it was wonderful. Exciting.” She looked at Kent and her eyes clouded, which broke his heart. “I understand what you tried to give me, too,” she whispered to him.
“And it was also wonderful and exciting. But I still want more, Kent.”

“I know,” he said to the door after she'd shut it. “Dammit. I want more, too.”

Summer grinned at him, making him swear colorfully.

“Love, love, love,” she sang, then laughed. “Oh don't worry, Dr. Dreamboat. I'm going to make a great sister-in-law.”

He nearly passed out at the thought.

I
T WAS LATE
,
but Becca didn't feel like going home. She'd been riding for an hour already now and her legs had long ago turned into rubber, but she didn't stop. Instead, she rode to the lab, hoping to be able to be alone and think.

Quivering muscles or not, it was time to face the facts. She'd set out to have a good time and had ended up falling in love, and the man she'd fallen in love with didn't “do” love.

Oh, he cared for her; she had only to look into his expressive eyes to see that. He wanted her, too. Every time he held her in his warm, strong, capable arms, that wanting surged like a live, tangible thing between them.

Thankfully the lab was empty. No one to see the stupid tears on her cheeks, no one to witness the self-pity she so rarely allowed herself.

All she wanted now was to lose herself in work. Unfortunately, some data she needed sat on Kent's desk waiting his approval.

Letting herself in his office, she took a moment to stand there and simply absorb his favorite space. She could feel him here, could imagine him standing tall by the window, his eyes flashing wickedly when he shot her that just-for-her smile.

She got what she needed from his desk, then stared in surprise at the trash can. The lingerie catalogue. This was a prized possession, favorite reading material, fought over by every single male in the lab on a daily basis.

Why had Kent thrown it away?

It didn't matter, she told herself. He could do as he wanted. So could she. Wild, fun, adventure. Her new motto. Yeah. She was a new woman.

But some of the wind left her sails when she realized she was a new woman who still had to ride home. Alone.

 

F
INALLY
, K
ENT THOUGHT
as relief washed through him. Finally. When Becca got off her bike, he rose off her top stair where he'd been waiting and worrying.

She stood there in the light of the moon's glow looking soft and vulnerable. Automatically, as if it was the most natural thing in his world, he reached for her, but at the last second, he stopped himself.

She'd been crying.

“You're hurt?” he demanded in a voice gritty with concern as he took her arm to turn her toward him so he could get a better look at her. Years of nasty tumbles had him checking out her knees and elbows first, but she shook her head.

“I'm not that pathetic,” she said. “I can ride a bike.”

He knew then, without her saying it, that
he'd
given her that sad, haunted look. In light of that, he had no right to haul her close the way he wanted to do. To bury his face in the soft spot of her neck, to wrap his arms around her and hold on tight.

While he was still standing there like an idiot, she crossed the threshold and surprised him by walking directly into his arms.

She felt like heaven. “I'm so glad to see you,” he whispered.

She simply pressed closer, put her cold nose to the crook of his neck and held on. “You threw away your lingerie catalog,” she said, her voice muffled. “How come?”

The question completely baffled him. “What?”

She pulled away and looked at him. “You've never thrown one of those away. You and the guys save them—I
know
where you hide them.”

“Uh, yeah. Well.” Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “I threw this one away, okay?”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Wouldn't you rather know why I'm here?”

She lifted a shoulder. Studied her feet. Blew out a breath. “Okay.”

“So enthusiastic.”

“Okay, fine. If you must know, I'm a little nervous you're here to say something like, ‘you drive me crazy, Becca. You ruined a good pair of my shoes, twisted my ankle and got a ticket in my car. You're too much trouble, so stay out of my life.”' She flashed an uncertain smile that both warmed and broke his heart. “That's what I'm thinking you should be saying to me.”

“You can't really think that.” But she did, he could see that more clearly than the nose on his face. “Okay, I'm not good at words, but I'll try. For you, I'd try anything.”

“You…you would?”

“I let you drive my car, didn't I? Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Your bedroom,” he said, his voice already husky at the thought of her there.

Her eyes darkened, her lips parted. “You want to show me something?”

“I want to tell you, with those words you want, but it has to be there.”

She bit her lip and nodded, and he scooped her up in his arms. There was no wild kissing this time, no forays in the hallway, no pressing each other against the wall in desperate hunger.

But she looped her arms around his neck. “I can walk.”

“Maybe I want to hold you. Makes me feel tough,” he said, huffing only a little. “Manly.”

She laughed, then grew quiet when he pushed open the bedroom door, carried her to the bed and slowly let her slide down his body until her feet hit the floor.

With a hand that was suddenly unsteady, because this was so important, he reached out and touched her face. “I can run a company. Manage a staff. I can do just about anything that needs to be done in my lab, but formulating my thoughts and putting them into words where you're concerned is the hardest thing I've ever done.”

She closed her eyes. “I understand—”

He pressed gentle fingers to her soft lips, then leaned close to whisper, “Let me show you.” He touched her hair, then took a step closer, eased out
the clip that kept everything so neat and sank his fingers into the thick, glorious depths.

She made a sound of wanting. He bent to kiss her. She made another sound, of desire this time, and her eyes fluttered closed again. The pulse at the base of her throat matched his racing heart.

He kissed that throat now. “I love your hair,” he murmured. “Love it up, love it down, love it any which way, but I especially love it stuffed into that baseball cap of yours, with all those little strands hanging out.”

When his fingers brushed against the curve of her ear, she drew an audible breath. “Nice earrings,” he said softly, carefully unscrewing the back of her gold hoop and setting it on his dresser. “Without is even better.” And then he put his mouth to the sensitive lobe and sucked.

She clutched at him, but managed to say, “You seem to have plenty of words now.”

“You inspire me.” He took her face in his hands and tipped it up. The room was fairly dark, all he could see clearly were those eyes of hers, but it was enough. He kissed her, stealing what little breath he'd managed to save up, a deep, slow, soulful kiss. When he finally raised his head, they were both shaky.

He went to work on her elegant sweater next.
“Mmm, you look good in clothes…” The soft material slipped down her arms and hit the floor. His fingers went to the zipper on her skirt. “But I love the way you look without them even more.”

Now her skirt lay pooled on the floor, too, leaving Becca standing in nothing but a silky camisole, matching panties and thigh-high stockings. She was breathtaking, so much so that he had to stand there looking at her in awe. “You're so beautiful.” Gently he slipped the straps of her camisole down her arms. “And that's without the veneer of all the fancy clothes, or any part of the makeover, which by the way, has absolutely nothing to do with my desire for you.” He sank to his knees before her, running a slow hand up the back of her calf.

She let out a trembly smile, but she crossed her arms over her chest, holding the flimsy material of the camisole to her.

He didn't tell her she'd just emphasized her full breasts, their rosy peaks, hard and begging for his attention.

They wouldn't have to beg long. He tipped his head back and smiled at her. “Have I ever told you how much I love those torn jeans you used to wear?”

She shook her head, sucking in a harsh breath when his fingers played over her skin.

“You have the greatest legs, all long and lean. Your jeans really show them off.”

Air seemed to get stuck in her throat when his fingers danced along behind her knees, then up the backs of her thighs. His fingers dipped between those thighs and she gasped.

While she was still trying to catch her breath, he tugged on her camisole, gently and slowly, until she let it free. Immediately, she crossed her arms again, covering her bared breasts, but he'd get to them in good time. “Step out of it,” he whispered, coaxing her to lift one foot, then the other, slipping off her heels.

He tossed the silk over his shoulder and moved in close, kissing her quivering belly. While his mouth made its way to her hipbone, he rolled her stockings down until she stood before him in nothing but panties.

Sitting back on his heels, he reached up and took her hands in his, holding them at her sides. Her face was flushed, her eyes limpid pools of desire he could happily drown in. “I have some more words,” he told her softly. “Lots of them. We've had fun. We've had adventure. Both were
nice. Great. But I don't want to go back to the way we were. I'd miss you too much.”

Her hands clutched his.

He held her tight. “You said you wanted more. I want more too. The grandest adventure of all. You and me. Together.”

“You…really think of me that way?”

“I think about you every moment of my waking day,” he said honestly. “I dream about you all night long. I wake up hard and aching and dying for you. I love your body, every inch of it, but I love what's inside even more. We're magic together, Becca. We're soul mates. Please, if you believe nothing else I've told you, believe that.”

Her hands flexed in his, but he held them tight. Again, he kissed her softly, high on her thigh now, then higher still, in that smooth, sensitive groove between her thigh and hip.

“Kent…” Her voice wavered, nervous and excited. “Did you just tell me…”

“Yeah. I love you.”

She let out a sigh that stirred his blood, stoked the fire burning with him. Gently he nuzzled at her, and instinctively her hips undulated. When he did it again, a helpless sound escaped from deep in her throat. Then he slipped his tongue between the edge of her panties and slid it over her.

She cried out then, and when he opened his mouth on her, she shuddered violently. “I can't…Kent, my legs…they won't hold me.”

Surging to his feet, he lifted her against him and laid her in the center of the bed.

She watched as he undressed, her chest rising and falling shallowly, her eyes on his magnificent body. “You were right…you had plenty to show me.” Her voice was low, her eyes dark and direct.

He let out a groaning laugh. “This isn't the half of it.”

“No?” Her breath quickened even more, and he thought he just might lose it right there.

Simply because she was getting hot looking at him.

Then her gaze met his and there was far more than just hunger and passion there in those green depths. “Did you mean it?” she whispered.

“Yes.” Leaning over her, bracketing her hips with his hands, he looked deep into her eyes. “I love your wit, your smarts, your voice, your eyes, your
everything.
”

“Except the way I drive.”

“I'll get used to it, I swear.”

She lifted her arms. He sank to the bed, slipped into them and covered her. Her mouth sought out his. The scent of her hair, the need in her gaze,
the urging of her hands, it all swamped him. She was everything he'd ever wanted, everything he ever
would
want, and since he could no longer remember why he was afraid of this, he poured himself into the kiss.

She moaned his name, pressed closer still, giving him everything she had. With tenderness and lust driving him, he ran his hands over her breasts, her belly, to the throbbing spot between her legs, and when she opened them further and arched up to him, he filled her. She was gloriously wet and hot, and though he was on the edge, though she thrust her hips impatiently, he held them both still. “Look at you,” he whispered. “You take my breath away, Becca.”

Gazes locked, she lifted slightly, driving him more deeply inside her. He could see her, all of her; her warm spirit, her compassion, her need for him.

It was the last that had his heart overflowing. Hunger and passion and so much more roared through his veins. He was deep inside her, in her body, her heart. She was most certainly in his. It was almost too much, this joining of the body and soul, so much pleasure and sensation, he could hardly take it.

Planting his forearms on either side of her head,
cupping her face, he kissed her, lost himself in her taste, in the feel of her. “I love you,” he said again, in a voice so thick and raspy he hardly recognized it. And he moved within her.

With a small cry, she arched back. He thrust again, and again. Claiming. Staking. Promising. In the most intense moments of his life, they moved together, mind and body. When she came, her body rippling with blinding pleasure, it triggered his own earth-shattering release.