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“I can’t...oh, Jeremiah.” She put her hands against his shoulders, using him as leverage as she arched herself against his hands, her hips a piston in the night.
He slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Someone will hear.”
She cried out against his fingers, used her teeth against his palm, and in the darkness she found the light of his eyes. Blue fire that burned away everything but what he made her feel.
She didn’t look away. Couldn’t. His hand was over her mouth, his fingers inside her and she came, eyes wide open.
What the hell was that? Jeremiah wondered, feeling as if he’d been given a million dollars. The key to the city, a king’s crown. Lucy Alatore was the most passionate, most exciting woman he’d ever had the privilege of touching. Ever.
And he was oddly humbled in the back alley behind this bar.
Oddly reverent.
He lifted his hand from her mouth and kissed her lips in apology. Kissed the red marks on her cheeks that his fingers had left. Reluctant to leave the hot, wet pocket he’d found, he slowly slipped his fingers from her. Cataloging every silken inch of her. She shook and trembled, her body jerking in wild aftershocks as his fingers slipped over sensitive skin and then, because he was a devil, went back one more time.
“No. Jeremiah,” she breathed. “No more.”
“Sorry.” He buttoned her pants and reached for his, but her hands got there first and at the first touch of her fingers he jerked.
“Baby, I’m...” God. He felt like a teenager. Young and untried and so close to losing control it was embarrassing. If he just had a second, a minute even, he’d get himself under control so at the first touch of her hand he wouldn’t come all over her like a fifteen-year-old.
But she wasn’t going to give him a minute. Her hands, busy and hot, slipped into the open V of his pants.
“Hard,” she breathed, licking his neck. “So hard.”
Yes. Yes. He resisted, easing away, but she stopped him.
“Let me,” she breathed, stroking him hard and then harder. Slow and then faster.
His grip on her shoulder was too tight, he knew that, and he was biting his tongue so hard he could taste blood and he was going to embarrass himself, but there was no walking away from this.
He jerked, putting his hand over hers to push her away, but she linked her hand with his, and the sensation was too much. He jerked. And again, spilling himself over their fingers.
All he could hear for several long moments was the pounding of his heart in his ears. His brain was short-circuiting, his wires crossed.
Did I just…all over her…behind a bar?
She shifted, her hands leaving his body, and all sorts of reason and sense rushed in with the cool air.
“Um...” Her fingers were a mess, so was he, and he felt like such a child. Such a green boy. Eight months since he’d touched a woman and this is what happened. For a man who used to pride himself on being able to say no when the moment required, he certainly had been unable to tonight.
He blamed Lucy. Irresistible Lucy.
“Here.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. Something was stuck in there with it and it fell to the ground. He ignored it and wiped her hands. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
He didn’t look up at her, unsure of what he would see. Diligently he just kept cleaning them both up.
“That was—”
“A mistake?” He felt thin. Like all of the cracks in his foundation were creeping up and over his body, revealing all his weaknesses.
“Do you think it was a mistake?” She touched his face, lifting his chin so he had to meet her eyes. Her liquid, slightly wounded eyes.
It would be easy to say yes, to bundle all of this up as a one-off, a mistake never to be repeated, but he wanted a repeat. From what was happening in his pants, he wanted a repeat immediately.
“No.” He tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. “But we could have been caught. Who does that, Lucy?”
“We do!” She erupted with light, a glee she’d clearly been suppressing. Her smile was womanly, her black hair wild around her face, her eyes wide in the half-light.
Beautiful, he thought. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“I’ve never done anything like that before. Ever.” She made it sound like they’d egged a house, broke into the high school, something innocent and naughty at the same time.
The bark of his laughter startled a bird in the bushes past the stone wall they leaned against.
“Honestly, Jeremiah Stone.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, a spark against his skin. “That was perfect.”
“Perfect? Perfect would have been a king-sized bed. A couple of condoms—”
“Oh, I have no doubt but that you would rock a king-size bed. And I hope to find out all your tricks. But this…” She sighed, her head falling back.
