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Testing his legs, he decided the burn was manageable. No worse than a heavy leg circuit at the gym. “Bet I can.”
“Really?” Blond eyebrows arched challengingly. “What do you bet?”
“If I win, you spend the night.”
She looked uncertain, so he allowed his legs to tremble with the “strain” of holding the position. It worked.
“And if I win?”
He shrugged. “Name your prize.”
Chapter Sixteen
She blinked. Name her prize? With desire swirling in her stomach at the sight of him, taut and toned and shirtless, thinking strategically posed a challenge. Moving to face him, she couldn’t help but notice the way his rippling abs disappeared into the low, loose waistband of his Levi’s. Drawn to the play of muscles, she let her palm slide over the chiseled terrain. He groaned a low warning, but she didn’t heed it. Instead, she moved her hand along the front of his jeans and cupped him through the denim.
“This is my prize.”
The breath burst from his lungs like a small explosion. His balance faltered, but then he tightened his obliques and steadied while her mouth watered at the display.
“That’s cheating.”
She met his half-amused, half-tortured gaze, and gently squeezed his erection, then hummed with pleasure as he swelled to new dimensions, as if straining to reach her. Her nipples tightened in response, and she felt an answering throb between her legs. “Do you feel cheated?”
His eyes glazed. “Christ, no.”
The next thing she knew, two strong arms banded around her and she found herself pressed into a big, warm, naked chest. “I forfeit,” he growled and then slammed his mouth down on hers.
God, how did he do this to her, with nothing but a kiss? When his tongue dove into her mouth to mate with hers, she gripped his shoulders in a useless attempt to steady her world while h
er body melted into his.
Her head spun as he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom. When he deposited her on the bed, grabbed the hem of her tank top, and broke the kiss in preparation for yanking it over her head, she decided it was time to remind him who lost their little bet. Rising to her knees, she blocked his hands. “Not so fast, mister, I believe you forfeited our challenge, which means I won. Therefore, I’m entitled to claim my prize.” Victory smile firmly in place, she patted the spot beside her on the bed.
His eyes narrowed, but he sat.
She slid off the bed and insinuated herself between his knees. Looking up at him, she slipped her fingers under the waistband of his jeans and pulled the first button open.
“Just so we’re clear, you cheated,” he said gruffly.
She popped the next button and saw the head of his erection peeking from the band of his white knit boxers. “Don’t be a sore loser.” Leaning in, she kissed the eager tip.
He groaned. The low sound grew ragged and raw as she yanked his fly open, dragged the band of his shorts down, and took his jutting penis all the way into her mouth.
“Ah, Jesus, go easy on me,” he begged. His head dipped forward, and his eyes drifted closed.
Never, she thought smugly, letting her lips slide over him, using her tongue to trace the underside of his shaft. The maneuver provoked a rough curse, and his hand tangled in her hair, fingers circling restlessly against her scalp. Taking it as a sign, she swirled her tongue over him—top, shaft, base—everywhere she could reach. She figured she must have done something right because he actually whimpered. Fueled by the desire to see just how far she could go, she closed her lips around him snugly and slid her mouth slowly back up his length.
Low groans punctuated his shallow breaths. In a move she found incredibly erotic, he traced the seal of her lips with the tip of his index finger.
“I love being inside you like this,” he confessed in a harsh whisper. “It feels good, so fucking good…”
Within a few seconds his whispers turned to an inarticulate mix of prayers and curses. Within a few more, she was flat on her back on the bed, sweats dangling from one ankle while he rolled on another condom. Their eyes met for a single suspended beat of pure, hot anticipation. Then he drove into her with the devastating intensity of a lightning strike.
Contrary to what she’d heard, lightning could strike twice in the same place, three times, innumerable times. He proved this with every earth-shattering lunge of his body into hers. Soon her cries competed with his.
Though she couldn’t hear anything over the roar of her rushing pulse, she knew she was babbling, begging. He must have heard her, because he reared back, shoved her legs up until her knees practically brushed her earlobes, and drove into her again with a long, hard thrust. This time lightning didn’t simply strike, it electrified every atom in her body and sent her spinning, twirling, falling. Emotions too intense to name surged through her. She twined herself around him—her only anchor in this spiraling universe of pleasure—and held on for dear life.
…
