Dead Sexy

Slow…

He smoothed the denim down her legs. His fingertips brushed her bare skin, grazing and stirring. The friction ripped through him, testing his control with each delicious inch. Finally, finally, he stood near the foot of the bed and pulled the jeans free of her long legs.

Clad only in the thin cotton shirt and lace panties, she looked so damned sweet and innocent. So opposite of any of the women he usually kept company with. He grew harder, hotter, and anticipation zipped up and down his spine.

His gaze traveled from her calves, up her lush thighs, to the wispy lace barely covering the soft strip of blond silk between her legs.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. With a sweep of his tongue he licked his lips. The urge to feel her pressed against his mouth nearly sent him over the edge. He wanted to part her with his tongue and taste all of her secrets. Need pounded, steady, demanding, and sent the blood jolting through his veins at an alarming rate.

The hunger roared inside of him and made him think crazy-ass thoughts. Like how she was just about the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and how he wanted her more than any other woman in his past.

Because she was different from every woman.

He stared deep into her eyes. Gone was the glimmer of loneliness he’d glimpsed earlier. He saw only uncertainty now. And anticipation.

His hands started to tremble and he felt a driving force wrap around him, propel him toward her. He dropped to the bed beside her and reached out. His fingers brushed the velvet of one hip.

It wasn’t enough.

His hands seemed to move of their own accord, traveling the length of her body, exploring every curve, every dip, lingering at the lace covering her moist heat.

He traced the pattern with his fingertip, moving lower until he could feel the slit between her legs. She gasped and her legs opened. She wanted more and he wanted to give it to her. He followed the edge of her panties and barely resisted the need to dip his fingers beneath and plunge one deep into her lush body.

Not yet. She was still too stiff. Too wary. Despite the growing desire that flushed her skin a bright, delicious pink.

Jake tamped down on his hunger and forced his hand up over her flat belly. Her soft flesh quivered beneath his palm as he moved higher, pushing her T-shirt up until he uncovered one creamy breast.

His fingertips circled the rose-colored nipple, and he inhaled sharply when the already turgid peak ripened even more.

Leaning over, he touched his lips to her navel, dipped his tongue inside and swirled. She whimpered, the sound urging him on. He licked a path up her fragrant skin, teasing and nibbling, until he reached one full breast. Closing his lips over her swollen nipple, he pulled and tugged.

He swept his hands downward, cupping her heat through the scanty lace of her panties. Wisps of silky hair brushed his palm like licks of fire, stoking the hunger that already raged inside of him.

She gasped and arched toward him. But despite her reaction, there was something inside of her that still held back.

“Jake McCann,” he murmured, his lips grazing her nipple. “I was born and raised in a hole-in-the-wall town called Junction. My favorite color is blue and I like horses.”

THE DEEP, HUSKY VOICE echoed in Nikki’s ears, and she opened her eyes to stare up at the man leaning over. His hand stilled between her legs, his palm pressed tightly to her sex.

“C-can you ride?” She wasn’t sure how she managed the question. The heat from his touch seeped into her, making her head spin. But she managed anyway, her curiosity getting the best of her.

His gaze glittered hot and bright, like liquid silver. “Darlin’, I can ride better than I can walk.”

He hooked one finger under the edge of her panties and pushed the lace to the side. He trailed his fingertips over her moist flesh, his gaze never leaving hers. As if he knew how wound up she was. As if he knew his effect on her.

He knew her.

Inside and out.

She stiffened at the unsettling thought. But then he pushed a finger deep inside and she stopped thinking altogether.

She gasped, her lips parting, her eyes drifting closed at the intimate caress.

“Open your eyes,” Jake demanded, his voice raw with savage lust. “I want to look at you. I want to see what’s in your eyes when you come apart for me.”

Nikki obeyed and he caught her gaze. He slipped another finger inside her.

Her legs turned to butter. Her knees fell open, giving him better access.

But he didn’t go deeper and give her more of what she wanted. Instead he stared down at her, his gaze so compelling that she couldn’t help herself. She arched her hips, rising up to meet him, drawing him in.

The more she moved, the deeper he went. The pressure built.

“That’s it, sugar. You’re getting closer.”

She continued to move from side to side, creating the most delicious friction, her insides slick, sweltering from his invasion. She tried to breathe, to pull oxygen into her lungs, but she couldn’t seem to get enough. Pleasure rippled from her head to her toes, and the room seemed to spin around her. Her hips rotated. Her nerves buzzed.

She hadn’t felt so good in a long, long time.

If ever.

She ignored the outrageous thought and concentrated on the feelings roiling inside of her. Her head fell back. Her lips parted. A low moan rumbled up her throat and spilled past her lips.

He leaned down and caught the sound with his mouth. His hand fell away from her as he thrust his tongue deep, mimicking the careful attention his purposeful fingers had given her only seconds before.

Straddling her, his knees trapped her thighs. He leaned back to gaze down at her. He was a black silhouette, a man made of shadows, a stranger.

She knew his name, she reminded herself. And his favorite color. And there was just something about him, an understanding that said he knew her all too well. Her likes. Her dislikes. Her fears.

Hello? We’re talking a one night stand here. Stop thinking and just feel.

She touched his bare chest, felt the wisps of hair beneath her palm, the ripple of muscle as he sucked in a deep breath. Her attention shifted lower and she grasped him, trailing her hand up and down his shaft. His flesh pulsed in her palm and a shiver danced up her spine. She wanted to feel him. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything.

He thrust into her grip as she worked him for several long moments before he caught her wrist and forced her hand away. He leaned down and snatched his jeans off the floor. Pulling a condom from his pocket, he ripped open the package and rolled the latex down his penis.

And then he touched her.

His hands started on her rib cage and slid her T-shirt up and over her head. He touched her anywhere, everywhere, as if he knew what she craved better than he knew himself.

He did.

The truth hit her as she stared into his silver gaze and saw her own ferocious hunger mirrored in the bright depths. He knew her, all right. He knew her frustration. Her need.

He felt them both.

She wondered if he had his own string of fetish-ridden ex-girlfriends. He lowered his head then and drew her nipple into the moist heat of his mouth, and suddenly the only thing on her mind was touching him. She slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling his warm skin and hard muscle.

He suckled her breast, his teeth grazing the soft globes, nipping and biting with just enough pressure to make her gasp. Her breast swelled and throbbed.