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Not even me. Bethany isn’t going to make getting information from her easy.
Together, we cross the yard and traverse the stone steps to the little cottage. She opens the bright door and reaches for the light switch inside.
I grab her wrist. “Don’t bother. We’re not going to spend any time in the kitchen.”
Her breath catches. I can’t see her face in the dark but I hear her excitement. It probably shouldn’t and I wish it didn’t, but her gasp sets my blood on fire.
With a tug, I pull her body against mine. We crash together. I lower my mouth to hers and shove her lips apart with my own. I’m not patient. I need this woman in a way I don’t understand. I want to be the one to give her pleasure and comfort and whatever else she requires.
When Bethany melts against me and surrenders herself to the kiss, I wrap my arms around her and lift her from the floor, urging her legs around my waist. She all but climbs my body, tightens her grip on me, and deepens our kiss.
Fuck yes.
The minute we reach the bed, I set her flat on her back, crawl onto the mattress above her, and strip away my T-shirt. “All I could think about all evening was replacing the memory of Lund’s touch with mine.”
She pauses unbuttoning her short-sleeve sweater to caress my face. “I wasn’t thinking of him at all. I only want you.”
Her admission does something to me that I can’t ignore or fight.
Swallowing, I shove her sundress up her thighs, press my entire body onto hers, then grip her hips and lift. I strain to get closer, my cock notching against her sex. At the feel of my erection against the soft pad of her sex, I toss my head back and groan. So, so good. And she’s already damp. I saw the little wet spot on her panties. I swear I can almost feel it through my strangling jeans.
With a snarl, I stand and tear into my fly, yanking a few condoms from my pocket and slapping all but one on the nightstand.
Around us, the sounds of the night—frogs, insects, and waves—resonate in the distance. But my breathing is the loudest. It tangles with her gentle pants, which ramp up to a little gasp when I rub my fingers directly over her lace-covered pussy.
“Take them off.”
Bethany doesn’t argue, simply shimmies the silken undergarment off her body and lets it fall to the floor. She peels the sweater off, too. The only things between me and her naked body are two spaghetti straps and the soft gray dress they’re holding up.
“Does this zip in the back?” I tug at the cotton.
She shakes her head. “It stretches.”
Even better.
I flip the strap off of one shoulder. As she shrugs out of the other, I’m aware of her bare pussy inches away. My entire body’s imperative is to be there now—and never leave. But I want to see her nipples, too. I want her breasts bare for me.
I jerk down on the bodice. The soft cotton strains until her breasts spring free and the dress gathers around her waist. She’s not wearing a bra. I suspected it the second she ditched the sweater. Now that her taut, candy-sweet nipples are inches from me and her naked pussy is even closer, I’m not sure where to start.
Decisions, decisions…
I roll the condom on, ignoring my shaking hands, then dive onto the bed beside her, latching onto one of her hard pink crests at the same time my fingers find their way to her clit.
Bethany whimpers under me, fingers tugging at my hair, hips moving in needy wriggles.
Her arousal spikes my bloodstream with savage triumph. I’m driven not just to give Bethany pleasure but to surround her, to make her feel wanted and adored. Vital. I want to fill her up so thoroughly that she’ll never seek out Stephen Lund or any other man for comfort. She won’t find it in their empty touches. And I will make damn sure she thinks twice about having a meaningless fling with a client—or anyone else—again.
Yeah, that’s lofty and irrational. I know. But I can’t control my urges right now. I’m not even going to try.
“Beth…” I breathe against her skin before I pluck her other nipple with my lips and teeth, then follow that up by sliding excruciatingly slow circles around her clit.
“Clint…” Her breath hitches. “Oh… What are you doing to me?”
“Making you feel good. Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
She sounds breathy, aroused. It turns me on more.
“Good. Tell me when you’re close to coming.”
“I’m almost there,” she admits. “I don’t understand.”
“What?” The explosive chemistry between us?
“I hardly liked sex before you. But today, I thought of almost nothing else.”
Oh, fuck if that doesn’t flip my switch even more. “I thought about you, too, sweetheart. Your lips, your soft skin, the way you toss your head back when you’re trying to fight the rising need to scream, the way your eyes turn so green before you come. Like now.”
