Prodigal (Maelstrom Chronicles) (15 page)

The vision of her in a T-shirt and the hot pants style underwear she preferred never failed to arouse him. Even though he’d had good intentions about confessing, it leaked right out of him when he saw her bare legs.

She had a number of scars, darker spots on her warm brown skin. He wanted to kiss every one of them. Work his way up those glorious legs. Revel in the taste between her thighs. She never undressed farther than a shirt and underwear, which was a good thing. It was possible that the sight of her naked would cause spontaneous combustion in his cock. He stared at the juncture of her legs in those tight boy shorts like some kind of lust-induced zombie.

She was still talking to him, and he startled out of his trance. “Huh?”

“You’re falling asleep with your eyes open.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stay up gabbing with Ship tonight. Get in bed.”

He’d worked so hard to stay out of her personal space the past week that her playful gesture ignited something in him that he couldn’t contain. “I’m actually not that tired all of a sudden.”

First he stood up. Then he took off his shirt.

She watched.

Next he took off his pants. He didn’t usually strip down until the lights went out, after he was done studying on her terminal, texting quietly with Ship and postponing his nightmares.

“Streaker,” she said, amused.

He smiled. “You did it first.”

She inspected him all the way down, her glance practically a stroke. When she lingered at the juncture of his legs, he felt a stirring in his cock.

Well, shit, he hadn’t thought this through.

He sat on his bed, disguising his growing erection.

“Are you trying to start something?” she asked bluntly.

“I’m not going to get in your space, Claire. You already asked me not to. But if you start anything, I promise you, I’ll finish it.”

“It’s been a long day.” She didn’t head for the restroom or get in bed. She just stood there, right out of reach, and peeled off her socks. Slowly. Army green socks, not nylons or anything sexy, but the sight inspired his hard-on to new heights.

“What do you remember about it?” she asked abruptly, taking a seat on her bunk. “About sex. You’re bragging that you’re going to finish things, and you might not remember how things work.”

“I remember how things work,” he said softly. “I remember what parts go where and what places on a woman I like to kiss. I just don’t remember making love to anyone in specific.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t taken any of your fans up on their offers this week? I know you’ve been propositioned.”

“You been keeping track?” He certainly noticed which people talked to her in a more than friendly way. There were only a couple. Not that he was worried about competition. Claire wasn’t a prize for the best man to win. She’d grab anybody who treated her that way by the balls and sterilize him for life.

He liked that about her—how passionate and determined she was, how unwilling she was to put up with unproductive shit. He’d never have to wonder where he stood with her.

“It’s my job.” Her eyelashes flickered down. “Keeping track of my people. Did you sleep with Dixie?”

“No. Would you care if I did?”

“I’m not your wife.” Claire arched an eyebrow in challenge. “I’m not in charge of who you sleep with.”

Dixie flirted with him—especially when Claire was around—but she’d never asked him for sex. He wouldn’t have agreed.

She wasn’t his type. Not post-amnesia. Camp Chanuters had taken great pleasure in showing him articles about his movies, his off-screen life, and photo spreads of him paired with various women who tended to resemble Dixie.

But his type now was Claire Lawson.

His type, the object of his affection, relaxed on her bed, bare legs crossed, one foot bouncing. Nervous. She rarely fidgeted.

Was she going to start something? Was she considering it?

Could he sweet-talk her into it?

He stretched leisurely, loosening up, before continuing the charged conversation. “I do know one thing about sex.”

Her foot stilled. “Oh?”

“I know when I’m attracted to someone.”

“Have you been attracted to a lot of people lately?” Her lips tightened. “Maybe you should have slept with them.”

“I’m attracted to you.” Adam leaned over, elbows on his knees, and stared at her. “I want to kiss you.”

“Is that so?” She stared right back, expression thoughtful. Her moods could change like lightning and thunder, which excited him. He’d noticed in himself a compulsion to remain calm, being polite to everyone even when he didn’t necessarily want to. Her openness with opinions and emotions seemed cleansing and authentic.

They made a good team. They’d make a good team in bed, too.

At least, if he was good at sex, they would. Only one way to find out.

“I want to do more than kiss you.” He trained his gaze on her face, gauging her expression for encouragement. “I want to remember sex, and I want it to be with you. I want to know what it feels like to be inside you. I want to hear you call my name. I want to see…” He wanted to see if sleeping with her, cuddled in the same twin bed, would drive away his nightmares. “I want to see you beneath me. I want to see you come.”

“Dirty talk. Wow.” She bit her bottom lip, another nervous gesture he’d never seen from her before. “That’s not from a movie I just haven’t heard about, right? Did you do porn in the beginning of your career, Adam Alsing?”

He smiled. “How would I know?”

“I hate to break it to you.” She sauntered across the short distance and stopped before him, close enough to touch. “You won’t ever see me beneath you. I like to be on top.”

She didn’t reach out. She just…waited. She’d told him not to start anything, but she wouldn’t start it herself?

Adam stood, their mostly naked bodies almost touching from head to toe, and cupped her face in his hands.

“Do you want to be on top of me, Claire?”

“I am the sheriff,” she said. “I am the one in charge.” But she bit her lip again.

When his thumbs caressed her cheeks, her hair tickled his fingertips, soft and tightly curled. He inhaled her scent, female with hints of the soap they shared, and dropped feather-light kisses on her brow, her temple, her cheekbone, her jaw.

He paused when their lips were almost touching and noticed that her eyes had fluttered shut. Her pulse raced in her neck. She parted her lips, waiting.

God, she was sexy. It was the only time he’d seen her vulnerable, and she was allowing herself to be that way with him. It had to mean something.

“You don’t want to be on top of me,” he guessed. “You want me on top of you.”

He dragged a palm down her back. Their height differential wasn’t huge. When he reached her wonderful, tight ass, flattered so perfectly by her underwear, he pressed her against his erection.

“Ah.” She swallowed. “You aren’t tired, are you?”

“No.” Adam nuzzled her neck where her pulse fluttered, and tasted her skin, taking his time. They’d only have one first kiss. She smelled and felt fantastic—lean and hot and smooth. Finally, he found her lips.

He brushed his mouth against hers tentatively, then more firmly. As she leaned closer to him, he felt the clasp of her hands at his waist.

“I want you to be my first, Claire. I don’t want anyone else.” He parted her lips with his tongue. Instinct guided him as he kissed her, and when she began to kiss him back, it jolted his heart like a defibrillator.

Gently, Adam clasped her head, holding her in place so he could learn everything about her sharp tongue, her full lips. Based on her rapid breathing and her exploring hands, she liked to have her lips nibbled. She liked it when he sucked her tongue. She liked it when he slid his hand inside her underwear and fondled her bare ass.

She melted into him as he took the lead. Massaging her rear earned him a moan, as did slithering his hand inside her shirt. Her hot skin delighted him, and her long, shuddering sigh of surrender delighted him even more.

He was never letting her go. Never.

In seconds, he stripped off her shirt. Apparently, he remembered enough about women’s clothing to unhook her bra on the first try. He released her, but only long enough to find her breasts with his hands. Small and soft, with a few delicate stretch marks, they were everything he’d imagined. Striking, dark areolas were tipped with tight nipples he simply had to taste.

He kissed his way down her neck, and she cradled his head, arching toward him. When he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, she tangled her fingers in his hair. “Adam. I can’t believe how… Oh, hell yes.”

He sucked harder, her response all the incentive he needed to forge ahead. She squirmed, and he fastened his hand on her other breast, stimulating both nipples at once. When his caresses had her whimpering, he returned to her swollen lips. His fingers slicked across her nipple before he squeezed her entire breast, sinking into her softness.

“Do you like that?” He pinched both nipples, and she gasped. “Do you like some pain with the pleasure?”

“I like everything you’re doing.” She grabbed his head to bring his lips to hers. “I guess you don’t remember what you like, do you?”

“I like you.” He kissed her long and deep, the sounds of their breathing erotic as hell. “I like this…and this.” When he kissed her ear, licking her earlobe, she laughed breathily.

“I like this spot.” He found the hollow next to her collarbone and sucked there, hard, until it left a mark. “These are delicious, as well.” Her breasts needed more attention, so he lavished them with bites and licks, driving her wild. She didn’t seem notice he’d walked her backward to her bed.

“I really like this.” He pressured her until her legs gave out before dropping her to the mattress. Then he migrated from her breasts, kissing down the center of her slim torso. “I suspect, if I keep going, I’ll find the thing I like best of all.”

“God, Adam. I’m not sure…” She gasped when he cupped her mound.

“I promise, I remember how things work.” After settling on the bed beside her, he licked his way up her body. His hand worshipped her taut form, caressing lower and lower. She moved restlessly, her slender feet rubbing his legs. When his hand reached her underwear again, she whimpered and drew him down for a kiss.

A spoken yes wouldn’t have been any louder.

He removed her underwear swiftly. She was already damp. Ready for him. Jesus, if her body were any more perfectly made, she’d be art.

Her hair hid the slick secrets he couldn’t remember but wanted to learn. Plucking her clit until she groaned, he reveled in her wetness and her heat. He thrust deep inside her with one finger, then two, as she kissed him with increasing urgency. His palm rode her clit as he pleasured her, but this wasn’t what he wanted. Or wasn’t all that he wanted.

What did
she
want? As he was contemplating a suave way to ask about condoms, her hand found his cock through his underwear.

Her sure, strong grip froze him in a moment of blinding pleasure before he reapplied himself to her pussy. She soon had his underwear off, too, and they were kissing, groping, fondling one another anxiously. They touched each other everywhere, whispering and kissing. His pre-cum turned her grasp on his cock slick, making it easy to imagine himself inside her.

He thrust into her hand, panting, and let their rhythm synchronize. Into her, out of her. She was so drenched and excited that his hand was dripping.

“Oh, God.” Her eyes tightly closed, she came up for a breath. “This is stupid.”

“Why?” He withdrew his fingers from her vagina to stroke her clit with greater accuracy. Her eyes flew open, and she bit her lip.

“You’re so… That’s so…” Her hips thrust involuntarily as he roused her further, so he lowered his head to her breasts. When he closed his lips around her nipple, she practically squealed.

Claire Lawson, kick-ass, post-apocalyptic sheriff who didn’t take shit from anyone, was falling apart in his arms. He didn’t think he could be any happier, except for when he made her cry out his name as she climaxed.

If he brought her to orgasm with his mouth, he could taste her faith in him, her submission to him, and use it to deepen their bond.

You trust me to love you, Claire. To have nothing between us. Don’t forget that.

Adam’s delicious, carnal plan lasted only until she started scrambling at his hips, pulling him desperately to cover her. “I need you. Adam. Please.”

He hesitated, resisting her frantic tugs. “I also remember how babies get made. I’m not… I mean, you’re a great mom, but is that what you want to risk? With me?”

“Oh, fuck.” Claire squirmed restlessly, trying to overpower him with brute force. It didn’t work, so she leaned up and kissed him. “I know you don’t have any diseases. As for the rest, you can just pull out.”

God, he wanted to. There was nothing he wanted more than to plunge into her eager body and feel those legs wrapped around his hips.

Maybe just a minute of heaven. A minute of the connection he wanted to forge between them.

He hovered atop her and poised between her thighs. She stared up at him, her eyes so dark and huge he thought she might be crying. He lowered himself until their bodies connected.

She groaned. Her legs encircled him. The chafe of her softness against his cock made him shudder. He could fuck her right now, and she wouldn’t do anything, anything at all to stop him. She was his; she wanted to be his. She wanted him on top of her and in charge of her.

“I’m saying yes here. This is a yes.” Kissing him, she rubbed her hands up and down his back. Finally, she caught his ass and ground against him. “Finish this. You promised.”

Instead, he reached between them and dragged his cock against her clit. The stimulation had her panting in moments, writhing against him.

“Please, please,” she begged. “Please quit teasing me.”

“But I like teasing you. Beg me some more, and I’ll make you come.” His balls tightened as her desperation cranked up his ego, his libido, and his testosterone. She slithered her hand between them, too, and caught his cock in her fingers.

“Shut up. This isn’t begging.” Before he could stop her, she angled the sensitive head of his cock exactly right. He found himself sliding into her creamy perfection.