Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (12 page)

She
finally opens her eyes and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

“Are
you laughing at me?” Her tone is hushed, yet accusatory.

“Not
at all. I’m smiling because I’d like to keep kissing you.” I move my hand to
her cheek. “You’re flushed and it’s sexy, Carter.”

She
shoves me away from her. The action is so unanticipated I almost lose my
balance.

“Don’t
say things to me that aren’t true. I am anything but sexy.”

She
turns and heads to the elevator.

“Wait
a minute.”

She
keeps walking.

“Carter!
Stop.”

She
is forced to as she waits for the elevator.

“Carter,
I never say things if they aren’t true.”

No
response.

“Carter.
I meant what I said.”

When
she finally faces me, her expression is one of complete disbelief. “Kestrel, I
call bullshit on that. I saw the way you looked at me when I made you that
offer for the room. I saw the expression on your face … the way you
inspected
me. I’m not a fool. I know what I am. What I’ve always been. I’m one of
those
girls. I’ve been bullied and made fun of before.”

“So
have I. That’s why I would never do it to someone else.”

Her
lips move, as if she’s going to say something, but then she doesn’t. The
elevator dings, and the doors open.

“Aren’t
you forgetting something?” I ask.

Her
brow furrows.

“Your
backpack?”

“Oh,
damn.” She runs down the hall, back to the lab. I wait for her at the elevator.

On
the way down, I say, “Why don’t you follow me to my place and we can go out
from there?”

“Fine.”

I
gently elbow her in the ribs. “Are you going to be grumpy all night just
because I kissed you? Or do I have to kiss you again to prove to you I think
you really are sexy? Because I’m up for that if you want.”

Her
mouth drops open.

“I
see how it is then.”

I
grab her and kiss her again. This time, I slide my hands down to palm her ass.
She sucks her breath in when I do, and I go in for the kill. By the time I’m
done, her arms are wrapped around my neck and I’m chuckling.

“Yep,
not only are you sexy, you’re hot as hell.”

When
the doors slide open, we move apart and I throw my arm around her shoulders as
we walk. I’m pretty damn sure she doesn’t know what to make of me. And right
now, I’m not sure what to make of me, either.

“Who
knew I’d have a thing for a doctor who wears glasses?” I ask as I pinch her
ass. The look of shock on her face is priceless.

When
we get to the parking garage, I tell her to meet me at my place. I pull into my
driveway to see she’s already there, waiting.

“So,
did you want to change, because I’m going to,” I say.

“No,
I’m good.” She’s already wearing jeans.

“Great.
Come on in.”

She
follows me and I ask, “Where would you like to go?”

She
mentions a couple of places, both seafood. We make our decision and it’s a
place out on John’s Island. I quickly change into jeans and a sweater. I grab
two leather jackets.

“You
want to drive or you want me to?” she asks.

“I’ll
drive,” I say as I hand her a helmet and a leather jacket.

“What’s
this?”

“You
can’t ride without either. One is obviously for your head and the other is so
you won’t be cold.”

She’s
puzzled as we walk outside, until we go around the side of the carriage house
and she sees the Harley.

“Oh
my.”

“You
okay with this?”

“I
guess so. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

“Good.
You’ll like it.”

“I’ll
have to take your word for it since I’ve never been much of a daredevil.”

I
climb on and tell her to do likewise. “Hold onto me, and don’t fight the
turns.”

“What
does that mean?”

Checking
to make sure her feet are properly placed, I turn my head and say, “Scoot
closer to me and follow my body as we ride.”

Her
arms tentatively hold me. That needs to change so I take them and wrap them
tightly around me. Then I say, “Can you hear me?” The helmets are equipped with
earpieces and microphones so we can communicate and I need to make sure they
are in working order.

“Yeah.
This is cool.”

“The
bike is pretty noisy. We won’t have to shout with the helmets on. Ready?”

“Yep.”

I
start her up and off we go. Once we clear the city, I open her up and we fly
like the wind. Riding the Harley is so liberating. The constraints of my life
and job melt away like the dingy old snow at the end of winter. Every time I
ride I feel a renewed sense of energy flow into my blood, energizing me.
Carter’s hands spread out against my abs and I can hear her breathing.

“All
okay back there?” I ask.

“Yeah.”
Her voice is husky, sexy sounding. I feel myself respond.

What
is happening to me? Why is this girl affecting me so much? I’m at a loss for an
explanation.

“Kestrel?”

“Yes?”

“This
is fantastic.”

Her
body is completely pressed to mine and I want it to stay there. I’ve never
ridden with another woman, other than my sister-in-law, and I never imagined it
could be this erotic. When we get to the restaurant, I pull in the lot, and
find a place to park in the back corner, where it’s dark and deserted. I waste
no time in dismounting the bike and ridding myself of the helmet.

My
hands lift her off and remove her helmet, and my lips are on hers before I can
stop myself. Her hair spills out of the bun it was in and I twist one hand in
it as I intensify the kiss. She moans when I do, and the urge to feel her skin
pushes me past my boundaries. My free hand slides under the jacket and finds
the waist of her jeans. Her skin is cool from the night air and my hand slips
beneath her jeans. Touching her ass is almost more than I can take. That is
until her teeth sink into my lower lip and she pulls me closer.

My
harsh breathing forces me to stop the kiss and when I do, I look at her face as
the moonlight washes over it. Her eyes are shadowed but not her lips. They’re
parted as she runs her tongue across the lower one.

“Don’t
stop. Not now, Kestrel.”

“Jesus
Christ, Carter. I’m undone here.”

But
that is before. Before her hand unbuttons and unzips my pants. And her cool fingers
slip inside and take a hold of my dick.

“Oh
fuck. Not here, Carter. If we’re going to do this, it’s going to be right. And
not in some parking lot of a restaurant.”

“But
…”

“Put
it on.”

I
hand her the helmet and we get back on the road. It takes hours, or at least it
seems like hours, to get back to my place. And when we do, I tear her off the
bike and carry her in the house. Helmet and jacket disappear like they never
existed. And then we’re kissing like two crazed teenagers.

In
the middle of it, I ask, “You’re sure about this?”

“Look
at me. Do you think this is the picture of a hesitant woman?”

She’s
right. She’s every bit as eager as I am. She lifts her shirt over her head and
undoes her bra. Carter is slightly built for a tall woman. Long and lean, she’s
very delicate looking.
And timid.

“I’m
not exactly—well I’m pretty inexperienced here.”

“Your
inexperience blows me away.”

I
peel my shirt off,
then
the rest of my clothes follow.
She watches me demurely. Her fingers fumble with the button on her jeans but I
brush them aside as I finish the task. When she steps out of the obstructing
garment, I am in awe of her. In clothing, she’s a frump. Naked, she’s a
goddess. My mouth is cotton, devoid of all moisture. Every coherent thought has
fled, and I am left with nothing but a vision of true beauty as she stands
before me. But what I realize is I am undeserving of her. She’s sweet innocence
and she has been dealt the cruelest hand of all—the death of her child.
The loss of a love I cannot comprehend. This lovely creature that stands before
me, who has bared her innermost secrets, is now willing to share her body to
me.

“Kestrel?”
Her voice has an element of uncertainty in it.

“My
God, you’re beautiful.” Before my mind can take a turn down the dark path that
it so often does, her body plows into mine, mouth against mouth,
chest
against chest. She clings to me and I find that I
couldn’t let her go for anything in the world. In this moment, everything is
wiped clean. It’s only the two of us alone in the world.

What’s
happening to me? I’ve asked myself this a dozen or more times and can’t seem to
find the answer. Carter impacts me in a way I’ve never been before. Is it
sympathy? Empathy? Or Both? I don’t have the answer. But my heart responds to
her not only physically, but emotionally. And it scares the hell out of me.
Because I’m every bit as fucked up as she is.

In
this moment, I shed those thoughts and focus on the here and now. And what
she’s doing to me. Her lips are on my neck, and she’s sucking and licking me.
For someone who’s inexperienced, she has set me on fire. And then I feel her
warm breath against my skin as she murmurs, “Tell me what to do. What can I do
to please you?”

“Jesus,
what the hell do you think you’re doing now? Look at me.”

“What
do you mean?”

“I
mean, step away, and look at me.”

Her
brows are furrowed but she does as I say. Only she focuses on my face. I
gesture with my head, indicating for her to look down. When she does, she gets
the picture.

“Now
do you understand? I am very pleased.”

“I,
uh,” she swallows, then continues, “yeah.”

“Touch
me.
Down there.
Like you did in the parking lot.”

Our
eyes are locked, but then she looks down and her hand reaches out. My cock jerks
in response.

“Harder.”

“Like
this?”

“Yeah.”
I practically growl at her.

“Do
you want me to suck it?”

There’s
nothing I’d like more, but if I let her do it, I’d come in half a second. She’d
think I was a fucking teenage boy who hadn’t had sex in a while. She’d be half
right anyway.

“Not
yet. But I want to suck you.” That brings her hand to a dead stop.

“You
want to …”

“Yeah.”
And I kiss her opened mouth. Savagely.
Because I can’t help
myself.
She does that to me. She’s innocence and willingness wrapped up
in one nice, hot package. And I’m going to make her come like she’s never come
before. While we kiss, I walk us into the bedroom. When the backs of her legs
hit the bed, we tumble onto it.

“Carter,
I’m going to tell you this because I mean it and because it’s true. You are
absolutely gorgeous and extremely sexy.” Then I lift her legs and spread them
wide. “Now I want to taste you, suck you, eat you until you scream.” My tongue
makes one long swipe on one inner thigh and I first bite, then suck. Then I
move to the other and repeat. I hear her suck in her breath. Score. Then I lick
everything
but
what she thinks I’m
going to, until she’s squirming so much, I have to grip her hips to keep her in
place. Now I target her sex and my tongue tunnels into her before it begins its
long slow torture. I lick, tease, suck, and nibble before moving to her clit.
By then, she’s biting the first joint of her index finger. Once there, I suck
on that tiny bud until I bring her to an orgasm that leaves her fingers
clenching the sheets and her mouth calling out my name. But I don’t stop
playing with her. My fingers slowly, inexorably move in and out of her.

“You
have the sweetest, softest pussy. And look how wet you are. You’re so ready for
me. Tell me what you want.”

She
still breathing a bit hard when she says, “Don’t call it a pussy.”

My
fingers are touching said anatomy. I want to laugh, but I don’t. I can’t keep
the smirk off my face when I ask, “And why not?”

“Because
a pussy is a cat.”

“Then
what shall I call it?”

“A
vagina.”

Now
I really want to laugh. Hard. “Don’t you think that’s a bit clinical?” In a
falsetto voice I say, “Oh, Carter, you have the sweetest vagina.”

That
gets a giggle out of her.

“And
I suppose you want to tell me you enjoy my penis.”

“Well,
I can hardly say, since I’ve yet to experience it.”

“Then,
sweetheart, I think we should let your pussy meet my dick. What do you think
about that?”