Teach Me Like That (LMLT Book 2) (13 page)

I follow the noises and stop cold when my eyes find him in my den in front of a pristine, new window. I’m not in awe over the window, rather the man standing in my house shirtless.

I swallow roughly and watch him as he gathers his tools. The bending and squatting make the impeccable muscles of his back bunch and knot. The fine specimen of a man doesn’t realize I’m ogling him until I’m forced to grab the doorframe to steady myself.

He looks over his shoulder and grins salaciously.

“Hey,” he says huskily. “Sorry about the window.”

“Thank you for fixing it,” I manage to say with a soft voice. “How did you get in? My front door was locked.”

When he turns and faces me, my brain turns to mush. Corny, I know, but this man’s body is beyond spectacular. My eyes rove over every delicious dip and valley on his sculpted chest and abdomen.

Deadly. He’s positively deadly.

Kegan Cole has the body of an Olympic athlete. The light smattering of hair on his chest and stomach only accentuates the hard definition of each and every muscle. I make a mental note to scout out construction sites if this is what men who work with their hands all day look like.

He points. “I climbed through the window.”

Ignoring his explanation, I lick my lips as my eyes follow the trickle of sweat from the base of his throat clear down to the waistband of his jeans. My tongue tingles at the prospect of tasting his sweaty skin. If I’d known this is what he’s been hiding under his t-shirts, I never would’ve had the ability to resist him.

Taking in every inch of his exposed skin, wishing he was wearing even less, reminds me that my little battery operated friend in my bedside table has been less than satisfying these last couple of weeks. It’s almost as if my body knows what it’s missing, and it exponentially increases my desire for satisfaction. From the looks of Kegan and his cocky attitude, there’s not one ounce of doubt in my mind that he’d be able to give me what I need.

“You like what you see?” His voice makes my skin prickle with awareness.

I shift on my feet, resisting the urge to squeeze my thighs together and failing entirely.

I regretfully lift my eyes from the bare skin of his chest and finally make eye contact. The storm that is brewing in his baby blues makes me realize I couldn’t have been more obvious in my perusal of him.

“Clenching those thighs together is giving you away,” he says dropping a hand full of tools in a bucket and taking a few steps closer to me.

His movement draws my eyes back to the rippling muscles of his abdomen.

“You want me to fuck you.”

It’s not a question. He knows what I want. Hell, at the way my body is responding to his right now, he can probably
smell
what I want.

“How do you stay so fit?” Dumbest question in the world. Of all of the things I could say right now, and my brain allows my mouth to spit that mess out.

“I fuck a lot,” is his response.

As much as that declaration should turn me off, it does the exact opposite.

His rough, hardworking hand makes its way into my line of sight, interrupting my view of his tan, sweat covered body. I follow his hand as it roams down his body and grips the straining erection in his jeans.

Sweet mother of all things holy.

I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as I watch him stroke his jean-clad cock. I tangle my hands in the sides of my skirt to keep myself from reaching for him.

I feel a sense of disappointment when he releases himself, but immediately become aware of every sound and movement when he steps closer and circles my body like an animal on the hunt.

I close my eyes as he steps in against my back.

“I want to fuck you too, Lexi.”

I shudder as his breath mixes with the light sheen of sweat covering my neck.

Warm, plush lips touch my neck, and I nearly crumple to the ground until a strong arm wraps around my stomach to steady me. I can feel the heat and dampness of his skin through my thin, silk shirt.

“Can I fuck you, Lexi?”

My brain scrambles, trying to find a reason to say no, but can’t manage a single coherent thought with his body against mine. So, I do the only thing that feels right; I nod my permission with a jerky shake of my head.

“Right answer,” he says with a cocky tone in my ear.

The arm banded around my waist flexes as he pulls me harder against his body. The two fabric layers of my clothes and his jeans do nothing to mask the stiffness in his jeans. I moan in anticipation.

I know I was looking forward to the weekend, but I think Thursday has just become my new favorite day of the week.

Both of his hands slide up my body and begin to work the delicate buttons of my blouse. I don’t know if the back of his hand grazing my hardened nipple was intentional, but it sure got my attention.

My skin responds with racing goosebumps when the warm air of the room hits my flesh as he lowers my blouse down my arms.

Lips and the occasional lick of his wandering tongue set me on fire as his mouth teases my neck with the attention my body is demanding elsewhere.

“Please,” I whisper as deft fingers toy with my nipples through the lace of the camisole.

“I’ve been wondering for weeks what your voice would sound like begging for more,” he breathes in my ear. “I can’t wait for the plea when I’m buried so deep in you that you never want me to leave.”

“Quite sure of yourself,” I mutter then groan as he pinches a puckered bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“Just wait and see,” he counters playfully.

I don’t want to wait
, I want to tell him. I want to beg and plead for him to end the needy ache that’s building up in my body, but now that he’s called me out, challenged me, I refuse. I want him to take me, but I won’t concede to his every whim.

He turns me around and holds me at arm’s length as his eyes rake over my body from head to sandal covered toe.

I’m not very exposed, but from the look in his eyes, he’s seeing more than a lace camisole and calf-length skirt.

Agile fingers slide the silk straps of my lingerie off my shoulders until my arms are free, and the fabric is bunched around my waist.

I’m reminded of Jillian’s declaration that Kegan Cole is known for wanting women who have large breasts. I raise my arms to cover my small chest, but his large hands grip my wrists, preventing me.

“Don’t,” he says, licking his lips as he leans in to take my right nipple in his mouth.

The hot, wet attention of his tongue is divine. The swirling, stroking, and sucking of his mouth is pleasurable beyond measure, but it’s the nip and the slight sting of pain that follows that has me on the edge.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he says releasing my wrists and drawing both hands to my breasts.

I automatically reach for the button and zipper on his jeans as his lips find mine. He pushes my hands away before I can even get the top button undone. His tongue dips inside of my mouth, taking over, taking charge. Lush slides of his tongue and playful nips on my lips heighten my arousal.

I feel his hands begin to bunch my skirt up, and my body sighs in relief that this is finally heading in the direction I’ve wanted it to the second I saw his skin glistening in the sunshine in front of my newly repaired window.

“Hold this,” he growls into my mouth.

My hands instinctively obey and reach for the gathered fabric. He continues to bite and lick my neck as his arms once again circle my waist. Lifting me off my feet, he carries me several feet further into the room.

I hiss when the coolness of the window meets the bare skin of my back. Before I can wrap my legs around his waist, he lowers my feet back to the ground and turns me, forcing me to face the window.

“Fuck,” he groans gripping each cheek of my ass in his rough hands. He has an unobstructed view as he grips my hip and applies pressure with one hand to my back. I bend at the waist at his unspoken command.

A jolt of electricity torments my body when thick fingers rub my slit over the silk of my thong.

“So wet,” he says appreciatively. “So tight,” he commends slipping his fingers past the fabric and directly inside of me.

“Oh God,” I sigh at the relief I immediately feel at his intrusion.

“So greedy,” he declares as my core clutches at his fingers.

I whimper, disappointed when he pulls his hand from the apex of my thighs. A gentle but authoritative hand grips my neck and pulls me up against his chest.

“So sweet,” he says pulling his fingers from his mouth with a smack.

My body trembles with need as he reapplies pressure on my back, urging me to bend over again.

“Grab the window frame,” he instructs as he takes a step back.

My body teems with excitement at the rasp of his zipper and the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

I jerk in mild surprise when he grips one hip holding me in place. My unsure, trembling legs barely hold me up when I feel him slide my thong aside and rub the thick head of his cock against my slit. Every action since I walked into this room has been a layer to his seduction; each well-placed movement is a new tier on his enticement.

“Please,” I plead as he teases my clit with the tip of his erection. I refuse to acknowledge that he was right about the begging, but no doubt he’ll taunt me with it later.

“Your wish,” he grunts as he slams inside of me. “My command.”

The forceful action forces me onto my tiptoes as my body fights to adjust his size.

“Oh!” I scream as he pulls out of me to the tip and repeats the action.

Damn, he’s going to kill me, and my body clings to him, begging him for more.

“So much better,” he says more to himself than me.

I tilt my head and rest my cheek against the cool glass as my fingers white-knuckle the window sill.
I pray the glass is sturdy, and his thrusts don’t force my face through the window
, is the last thought I have before I’m nothing but sensation, boneless.

My eyes fall closed as my orgasm builds to a crescendo faster than any one before it.

Expert fingers toy with my clit until my body convulses and grips him in pulsing squeezes.

My body goes lax, forcing him to wrap his free arm around my waist.

“More,” he demands as his hips continue to thrust, not even slowing for my release.

“I can’t,” I whimper.

“You will,” he counters leaning over my body. “Grip the window sill, Lexi.”

Fingers, having gone lax from my previous surrender, regrip the wood at the bottom of the window. The arm around my waist relaxes and is pulled away as his chest rests against my back. His hand is now gripping the window frame near my head as he slams into me repeatedly, relentlessly.

The angle of his intrusion changes, and my body sparks with renewed hunger.

“Kegan,” I pant, my breath fogging up the glass against my cheek.

“That’s it, Lexi.” His voice betrays his control as my core begins to quicken once again. “I need you to come.”

His words, combined with the fact my body was already on the precipice, send me over the edge. Again.

“Fuck!” he growls before his teeth sink into the flesh of my shoulder. Seconds later, I can feel the pulsing of his orgasm through every cell in my body.

I feel his tongue lick at the indentions his teeth surely left in my skin before he stands up, keeping a steady arm around me.

I sense him straightening his clothes before I’m picked up and placed on the couch. I watch him with heavy eyelids as he removes the condom, ties it off, and tosses it in the trash at the end of the couch. His cock, I notice, has barely softened, but he shoves it into his jeans and zips up anyways. This man is beyond virile and potent.

He leans in and brushes his lips against mine. “Thanks, doll,” are the only words spoken before he gathers his tools, winks at me, and walks out of my house.

Kegan

I don’t know how today is going to go, but I do know I set an early alarm on my cell phone and made it to the job site before the sun crested over the horizon, with the hopes that I can catch Lexi before she leaves for work.

I’m scanning through social media notifications on my phone. Okay, I’m actually scrolling through Tumblr, which has managed to become nothing more than porn clips.

I miss Lexi coming out of her front door but catch a brief glimpse of her as she rounds the front of her car and opens the driver’s side door. I spring out of my truck and shout her name, trying to get her attention before she locks herself inside.

Her eyes lift to mine, and a smile spreads across her face as she leans in the opening of her car door.

She winks at me, and without another word, she climbs in her car and leaves me standing halfway between her house and the job site.

I chuckle to myself because the vixen just used one of my own moves against me, and damned if it doesn’t make me rock hard in my pants.

I left her yesterday within minutes of pulling out of her deliciously sweet body. I had to. Everything in my body was telling me to stay, to carry her to her room and spend the rest of the night pleasing her. Honestly… it freaked me out more than I want to admit.

Don’t get me wrong; she’s not the first woman I’ve had the urge to stick around for another taste, but it was more than that. I didn’t just want to get inside of her again. I saw myself waking up with her in my arms and getting up early to make the coffee. That shit has never happened before.

I’m not that guy. I’m not the guy who sneaks into the bathroom and joins her in the shower. I’m not the guy who wants to ask a woman what her plans are for the weekend and pray that I’m a part of it. Yet, all of those urges were there. The sense of calm in my blood that I seek after such a release never came. If anything, my desire for her was elevated.

So, I did what I always do. I thanked her the same way I do every woman I conquer, and I left. I told myself walking out of her house that I’d got what I came for, and my insistence on doing it again was over. I reminded myself repeatedly that I don’t do emotion; I don’t do complicated, and Lexi Carter has complicated written all over her.