What's Yours is Mine (28 page)

As Will closed the bathroom door, Darcy went to her dresser.
 

One last night together.

Chapter Twenty-Three

When Will got out of the bathroom, Darcy was wearing a bathrobe. She sat on the bed reading a book. As he stepped into the room, cinching his own robe tight over his sweats and wishing he’d left on his T-shirt, she looked up, then back at her novel, unaccountably shy.
 

He went to the closet and took out the blanket, feeling foolish. They were adults. They shouldn’t need the admittedly futile barrier. But if they went to bed without it and ended up in a tangle of limbs in the morning, he knew he wouldn’t have the fortitude to pull away. And they didn’t need that added complication, no matter how much he was tempted.
 

As he started rolling the blanket into a bolster on the bed, Darcy set her book on a nightstand and leaned forward to help. Her bathrobe fell open, revealing a glimpse of…black lace?

The sight pulsed through Will, an unexpected jolt of pure desire. What was she wearing? And why?

Darcy saw him looking. She yanked the bathrobe tight, hiding the lace, and gave a nervous little laugh. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Will stood by the bed, clutching the edge of the rough wool blanket. “Were you planning to go to sleep in your bathrobe?”

She looked down at herself with wry amusement. “I had a moment of insanity while you were in the bathroom. I rethought it. I’ll go change.” She got up from the bed, took a step toward her dresser.
 

Will caught her arm. “Can I see it before you change?”

Darcy stood stock-still. Her breath stuttered as she met his gaze. Then she stepped backward, her hands on her bathrobe.
 

The air felt thick with tension. His and, oh yes, hers. She reflexively sucked in her bottom lip. It felt like everything depended on the next few moments.
 

He waited, unmoving, controlling his breathing with an effort.
 

Darcy unbelted her bathrobe. It swung open, revealing an outfit straight out of a men’s magazine: tight-fitting mesh, hiding nothing of her curves, even those deep rose nipples he remembered so vividly from that tumultuous first night. Even the dark triangle between her thighs. Everything. And yet the scant garment covered it all, a tantalizing, teasing barrier. Purple mesh with black lace edging. All she needed was some thigh-high leather boots and she’d be his teenage wet dream, but better.
 

But in his teenage imagination, his fantasy woman had a come-hither seductive gaze. Darcy looked wary, and when she licked her lips again, it was nerves, not enticement.
 

Will exhaled. “You look incredible.”
 

Darcy visibly relaxed.

He grinned. “Own it.”
 

She smiled back, jutting out her hip. “Like what you’re seeing, sir?”

“Oh man.” His heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and his erection was practically jumping out of his poor sweatpants. “Don’t you know you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen? These last days have been hell, trying to stay away from you.”

He could tell by the widening of her eyes she didn’t know.
 

“I thought you hated me.”

“At first. A little. But I hated myself more for lusting after you.” He took a step toward her. Her breath whuffled through her teeth, a sharp inhale.
 

“And now?”

“Just lust. Hate took a vacation.” He reached her, peeling off the bathrobe. It fell to the floor.
 

“I should change into something else.” But her breath was making her chest rise and fall rapidly, her mouth was partly open, her pupils were dilated, and her nipples were tight and clearly, wholly aroused.
 

“Absolutely.” He flicked those tantalizing nipples with his thumbs. She inhaled sharply. “You should find something else in your brand-new dresser. A floor-length muumuu. Do you have one of those? Or a suit of armor. You might want to dig one up. Quickly.”

He reached for her, and that was it for talking.

~*~

This kiss was neither fierce nor sweet. It wasn’t an
I hate you but I want to throw you down on the bed
, nor was it the gentle, warm exploration from this afternoon. This kiss was hungry, desperate. She clung to Will, sucking him in, consuming him. And, gloriously, he had abandoned all pretense of calm distance. He held her close, twining his tongue with hers like he was sucking the nectar of life.
 

There was nothing else but this. There never would be anything else but this. The two of them, locked in an embrace, standing in this room, by this bed. She stood on tiptoe, put her hand behind his head, tilted her own head for a better fit. Closer, more, yes, more. Not just a kiss. A whole-body kiss, a whole-heart kiss.
 

They’d lost their bathrobes a while ago. It wasn’t enough. Darcy hooked her fingers in Will’s sweatpants, gratified to discover he wasn’t wearing boxers tonight. On some level, he too had been preparing for this, whether or not he’d admit it.
 

His sweats pooled on the floor. Will kicked them aside and returned to the kiss naked. Darcy slid her hands over his hips, along the indentations at the top of his pelvis, then curved her hands around to feel his buttocks, the skin cool under her hands, feeling his erection jump against the thin mesh of her teddy. Still kissing, still linked, she curved her hands along his hips to his groin, curling her fingers around the hard warmth.
 

He broke the kiss to whisper, “Be careful, there are consequences to every action.”

She smiled against his mouth. “An equal and opposite reaction? I didn’t realize you were such a physicist.”

His hands slid down her body; she could feel his fingernails through the mesh and wished she were naked already so she could feel the full effect. But then his touch got so much more intimate as he slipped his fingers under the thin strip of fabric at her crotch, his thumb rubbing against her nub as his fingers delved into her core.
 

“You hate it when things aren’t exactly equal, don’t you?” His voice was smiling, like he approved. And wow, he knew what he was doing with those skilled fingers. His erection was strength and silk under her palm as she stroked him too, and she felt a heady power as he struggled for breath. God help her, she was melting into a puddle of goo. Too much, too soon, too strong.
 

She stepped back. Will looked wary. But oh, he was magnificent. Fully naked, fully erect, his blue-green-hazel gaze lighting up parts of herself she’d never been aware of. She was exquisitely, excruciatingly aware of her whole body right now.
 

“Is this just a tease, Darcy? Another game?” His voice was hoarse, strained. “I’ll give you anything you want right now. The condo. The whole complex. The entire damned town. Just say the word.”

She inhaled, the air itself feeling like a caress to her overheated body. So many things she could say, so many things she wanted to say right now.
I want you, all of you, I want to stay with you, I want to love you, I want to learn what love means when it’s combined with this stunning, explosive chemistry, I want to learn how to be a better person, I want to learn who I am now that you’ve happened to me.
 

Instead she said, “I do have a demand, now that you mention it. You might, in fact, call it a requirement.”

Will reached out and took her by the shoulders. It wasn’t friendly, and it wasn’t warm, but it was need and naked emotion, conflicted and pained. “What?”

“That you take that bolster and toss it on the floor. I hate that thing.”

He was surprised into a bark of laughter. “And?”

“And then make love to me like I was meant to be your lover.”

“Oh God.” He gathered her close, his lips questing for hers. Greedy and delicious. But she pulled back. “Nuh-uh. The bolster.”

Laughing, he grabbed the rolled blanket and tossed it on the floor. Then he stomped on it. “Satisfied?”

“Not yet.” She unhooked the top few hooks of the teddy, spreading it wide to expose her breasts. “You have some work to attend to, sir.”
 

His eyes gleamed with a heady mix of lust and amusement, his head dropped, and he licked her breasts, first one and then the other. She inhaled fire, inhaled lust, inhaled insanity, and it was delicious.

But then he stopped.
 

She opened her eyes.
 

“I have a request of my own.”

Her breath faltered.
 

His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you to touch yourself in front of me. I want to see your face, your body, when you pleasure yourself like you did the other night. The images in my head were driving me mad. Did you know that?”

She shook her head, not daring to speak.
 

“Will you do that for me?” His gaze burned her from head to toe. Devouring, ravenous but also yearning, soft.
 

She dropped to the bed and spread her legs wide. “Like this?”
 

He nodded, mute.
 

She felt a ripple run through her, the thrill of control, and smiled, wicked and sure. “No.”

He swallowed.
 

“Not unless you do the same.” Her lips felt dry. She darted her tongue out and moistened them, enjoying the sharp way he inhaled. “Want to know what I was thinking that night when I lay there next to you?”
 

“What?” It came out as a husky whisper. He was watching her intently now, as she ran her hands down her body.
 

“You. Inside me. Thrusting into me.” She matched her fingers to her words, slipping inside herself. “Moving with my movements. I heard you breathing there.” She indicated his side of the bed. “And imagined you rolling over, toward me, rolling on top of me, and yanking your boxers down and sliding that lovely thick cock right into me.”

He exhaled, deep and shuddering, and brushed his responsive shaft with his fingertips. She could feel the pleasure gathering inside her. He was touching himself at her behest, opening himself to her. No more hiding. No more pretense.
 

“Darcy.” He took a step toward her.
 

“Yes?”

“Darcy.” He veered left instead, and she felt a momentary pang. But he only went to the nightstand.
 

“I told you, I’m on the—” Then she saw what was cradled in his palm. A jar of lotion. “Oh.”
 

And she melted. Will remembered. That intimate moment late at night, his deep voice murmuring in her ear like a caress, and she’d told him how she longed to be touched.

Now he carefully, slowly unbuttoned her teddy, brushing her hands away when she tried to help, kissing his way down the gradually revealed slice of skin until the teddy fell away, an irrelevant scrap of fabric. He laid her on the bed, exquisitely gently, and slid his lotion-rich hands along her body, along skin and muscle, making her purr with pleasure. It felt like such a gift, his intent attention entirely focused on her enjoyment, and oh, he was so good with his hands, just as she’d always known he would be.
 

After a luxurious, leisurely rubdown, he gently turned her over. He used the same steady strokes, but now he circled her nipples and slid his fingers lightly along her abdomen with a feather-light touch, and it was more than just a massage. Then his mouth replaced his hands at her cleft, and she nearly jumped off the bed at the sharp jolt of sensation. And that was even better. But she wasn’t going to last, not if he kept doing this to her. She was gunpowder, she was dynamite, she was gasoline, and he was the flame.
 

She slid her fingers through his hair, tugged at his shoulders. “Please. Will. Please.”

Will slid up her body, pressing her into the mattress, kissing her, smiling into her mouth. “Will what?”

“Will, please.” She was panting.
 

“Will Freaking Dougherty? Will Sexy Dougherty? Will Wonderful Dougherty?” His voice was teasing, but his body felt warm and strong against her. And he was laughing, his eyes creased and his mouth quirked. And his erection rubbed in a gentle rhythm against her, soothing and inflaming in equal measure.
 

“Will You-Better-Make-Love-to-Me-Now-or-I’ll-Scream Dougherty, that’s who. Please, Will.”
 

His breath caught. With a quirk of hips and hands, he slid into her. Then stopped, gazing down at her. Joined by just the merest bit of flesh, just the head.
 

“Darcy.” It was a whisper, a caress.

“Yes.” She whispered back and bucked up, feeling the delicious slide of him filling her completely. Oh
yes
.
 

He gazed down at her. His dark blond hair stood up on end, messy and careless; his cheekbones were limned in the dim light, sharp contrast. His eyes were dark pools of emotion, and his mouth was soft and full.
 

She raised her hips up to meet him, feeling his abdomen warm against her belly, his chest hard against her breasts, the pressure of him inside and against her. And all the while, he gazed down at her, and she gazed up into his dark blue eyes, into his warmth and passion and wide-open heart.
 

They moved faster, his eyes slitted with pleasure, his breath mingling with hers as she thrust her hips up, wrapped her legs around him, urged him on, as the sensations built fast and strong like her heartbeat: rapid, glorious, a whole-body quickening, fully awake, in and of this moment, this room, the pounding ocean and their ragged breaths and her pulsing, throbbing, beating core, rising toward him, rising into him, taking him into herself, sensations building, cresting, soaring, exploding, and
oh!
And
yes!

And
YES!
 

In the aftermath, she fell asleep quickly, easily, her head pillowed on his chest, his heartbeat reassuring under her ear.

~*~

In the aftermath, he held her and wondered what came next.