One Man Rush (8 page)

Why worry about being alone with him when he was only here to elude the rest of the matchmaking world? Obviously, she’d succeeded in pushing him away the night before. So how come she didn’t feel relieved?

“Seriously?” He stepped into the foyer and she shoved the door closed behind him. “I didn’t think it would be that easy convincing you to help.”

“Maybe I feel bad about the hard sell last night.” She waved him deeper into the house, away from the dining room and toward the addition in the back where an airy family room looked out over the pool. “Come with me.”

“This is an impressive house.” Kyle peered around the family room, where overstuffed chairs mingled with antique Mexican furnishings. Amps and sound equipment collected dust on one end of the space where framed album covers and news clippings covered one wall. “You didn’t mention your mother is Brandy Collins.”

She tensed, never prepared to talk about her mom’s accident. Months later, it was still too painful, mostly because she didn’t know what the future held for recovery.

“I moved out of an apartment downtown last fall after her accident.” Everyone knew about the car crash, which had occurred after the kick-off concert of Brandy’s first tour in two years. The story had made national headlines, and was still a feature in the entertainment news long after the regular media had finished talking about the accident. “It’s easier for me to be here since she has a lot of appointments and needs extra help. I live in the guest cottage out back.”

“That’s really good of you.” Taking her hand, he folded it in his. “It must be hard for you to take on so much.”

Most people asked a lot of questions about her mother. Expressed their love of her music and their prayers for her recovery. All of which Marissa was always grateful for. But just now, having Kyle take a moment to acknowledge her sacrifice and her role in the ordeal warmed her heart.

More than that, it made her realize one of the reasons she was so attracted to him. He might be wealthy and famous, a superstar in his own right. Yet he was incredibly real. A genuinely down-to-earth, relatable guy. And having known plenty of famous people, Marissa realized how rare it was to maintain that kind of grounded attitude in the world he moved in. Hadn’t Stacy mentioned that Kyle wanted to start a youth hockey camp? Obviously, he was about more than just winning.

“She’s my mom,” she said simply. “I’m glad that my being here helps her be able to stay at home. She gets confused easily, and I think the familiar surroundings are comforting.”

He squeezed her hand hard before letting her go.

“Not every daughter would be so dedicated.”

Her eyes burned at his unexpected kindness. She’d been so emotional around him last night and today. It had to be a reaction to all the stress trying to pay the bills.

“Thank you.” Backing up a step, she figured the sooner she helped him plot a way to elude the east coast’s top matchmakers, the sooner she’d return to her own work. The sooner she’d quit thinking about how much she wanted another kiss. “I’ll just be a minute if you want to have a seat. I’ll let the nurse know she needs to sit with Mom and then we can figure out what to do about your new fans.”

With a clipped nod, he agreed, giving her time to get things settled at the main house. When she returned to the family room, Kyle was reading some of the framed articles about her mother.

“I’m ready.” She headed toward the French doors leading out to the pool. “We can talk in the guest cottage so we don’t have to worry about waking Mom. It’s not extravagant, but it’s comfortable.”

“After you.” Reaching over her head, he palmed the surface of the door, holding it for her.

She slipped past him, catching a scent of soap and aftershave, which did curious things to her insides. Being alone with him would present a challenge, but she couldn’t just leave him to the professional matchmakers to tear apart.

After all, she’d started the hunt for him thanks to Stacy Goodwell’s insistence. Maybe she felt responsible for allowing Stacy to think she could dictate whom she wanted to meet, something that had bothered her from the start, since it went against her theory of matchmaking. Either way, Marissa hadn’t meant to make Kyle a target for other matchmakers in an insane competition dreamed up by Phil Goodwell.

Besides, maybe Marissa didn’t like the idea of Kyle being forced into the dating pool. Why should he have to date Stacy just because her father was a powerful man who might sponsor Kyle’s dream of a youth hockey camp?

The idea of him dating other women inspired a possessiveness she had no business feeling.

By the time she reached the guest cottage, her hands were shaky as she slid the key into the lock. Because of her mother. Because of stress.

Even as she tried to make excuses, she knew that wasn’t why.

“Let me.” Kyle’s hand covered hers on the key since she’d apparently forgotten which way it turned.

His powerful body sheltered hers from the breeze, never touching her but making her utterly aware of his presence. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent. Feeling his warmth. His nearness.

Too soon, he had the door open, his hand falling away from hers. By now she was jittery, the way she’d felt in the days when she drank too much caffeine and didn’t eat enough breakfast. Only this time, it was a case of too much sexual frustration and not enough Kyle Murphy.

Half stumbling inside the cottage, she stepped on the ice-blue shag carpet in a living area that was a nod to the seventies and the disco-era. Daylight filtered in the half-closed blinds, but the room was dim with no lights on. Danish modern furniture and an iconic pole lamp with brown metal shades blurred in her mind, a dreamlike backdrop for the only thing that seemed clear in her field of vision.

A strong, attractive athlete who looked at her as if she was beautiful. He followed her inside and closed the door behind him. The fact that he locked it sent a shiver through her. She swallowed hard.

“I don’t know why I thought I could be alone with you.” She had no willpower when it came to Kyle. Hadn’t she seen as much when he’d kissed her the last time? She’d been ready to climb into his lap and strip them both naked.

“Maybe you realized that last night was special.”

Or maybe she was just crazy. All she could think about was the way it had felt to have his hands on her. His lips hot on hers.

“Which, in the end, didn’t go so well.” She cleared her throat since her voice seemed to have dwindled to nothing.

“Only because you insisted on saying it was all a mistake.” He stepped closer, making his intent clear.

Her heart raced. She wanted to say something, but words seemed inadequate to express the tumult of feelings and sensations swirling inside her. He’d been so kind about her mom. So thoughtful about backing off when she’d panicked after their kiss.

“I don’t think it was a mistake,” he reiterated.

Her heart beat so loud now she could hear it in her ears.

“The only error we made was stopping too soon.” His hands slid around her waist and she was lost.

No, she’d been lost from the moment she’d brought him here—to the privacy of the guest cottage—where she could have him all to herself.

“How did you sleep last night, Marissa?” he asked, breathing the question so softly over her ear that her skin tingled all the way up her spine.

“Not so well,” she answered honestly, arching her neck in the sincere hope he would kiss her there again. “I contacted my client. Told her I’m withdrawing from the race to secure you as a date for her.”

His lips molded to the column of her throat, tasting her in slow sweeps of his tongue.

“Thank you.” He breathed the words against her neck, a warm and minty tickle of air that gave her goose bumps.

Sensation tripped down her shoulder and circled her breast, making her back arch with the need for more contact.

It might be crazy, but Kyle was the only good thing to happen to her in months. And he was better than good. He rated off-the-charts delectable. This time, there would be no stopping.

7

KYLE LIFTED HER OFF
her feet. Crushed her to him. Kissed her until he couldn’t breathe.

He backed her out of the living area, seeking somewhere to lay her down. Moving blindly, he felt his way down the hallway, protecting her body and not caring what he ran into with his own. Her fingers combed wildly through his hair as she kissed him, her tongue stroking an erotic rhythm over his.

Her orchid scent heightened as her body heated up. She tugged on his jacket sleeve with an impatient hand and he realized she wanted him to go left.

There must be a bedroom in that direction.

Grateful, he edged inside the dim room where the curtains had been fully drawn. A dark shape tucked into a corner looked like the bed. Before he could bring her there, she shifted downward, freeing herself from his arms.

His caveman brain—calibrated solely for sex—couldn’t process what was happening. Stopping didn’t compute. But then she began unbuttoning her blouse, her pale fingers flying over the fastenings.

This, he understood. Shoving off his jacket, he yanked his T-shirt up and over his head.

“Wait,” she pleaded, a soft palm on his bare chest. “I want to see you.”

For a moment, she disappeared and he was tempted to follow despite her dictate. But she returned from somewhere—a bathroom off to one side, he thought—with a fat candle burning on a silver tray. The warm light played over her pretty features, casting her skin in a golden glow.

Leaning forward to place the candle on a nightstand, she gave him a gorgeous view of creamy breasts swelling above a pink lace bra. Her half-opened blouse framed the display, making his mouth water for a taste.

“Good idea,” he managed to say, his voice throaty and hoarse with hunger for her. But he wanted to show her he hadn’t gone totally sex-crazy. He could still appreciate the finer points of taking their time.

Even if blood flow to his erection robbed his brain of vital oxygen.

“I’m out of practice,” she whispered, hovering awkwardly over the candle with her glasses steaming up.

“I’m glad.” He hadn’t meant to say it quite so fiercely, but it was the truth.

He admired her sweetness and her honor, liked the fact that she was careful with herself. So if she needed a little extra time, by God, he was going to give it to her.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I’m not very…” She seemed to cast around for words, her sexual hesitance making his throat dry up.

How had he gotten so lucky to be with her?

“I only have one expectation,” he explained, crossing the bedroom floor to retrieve her since she showed no signs of coming back to him. “I expect I’m going to die any minute now if I don’t touch you more.”

It was a pressing imperative to put his hands on her. Mold her against him. Taste her thoroughly.

“Sounds serious,” she murmured, sliding her glasses down and setting them on the dresser.

“You have no idea.” He stopped inches away and undid the last three buttons on her blouse.

A soft breath hissed between her teeth as he pushed the pink cotton off her shoulders, letting it fall to the carpet.

She was thin and delicately made. The gentle swell of her breasts was perfectly proportioned for the rest of her. Unable to resist another second, he skimmed a hand beneath one pink bra strap and let it fall off her shoulder. The cup rolled forward, stopping just before it revealed anything.

Leaning in, he kissed her there, on the top of that plump rise. He licked her and she shivered, a raw moan bubbling up from her throat while he sought the tight crest of her nipple. Finding it, he suckled hard, drawing her deep in his mouth to make her forget about anything but him. This.

He kept her there, working the tight nub with his tongue so his fingers were free to explore. With one hand, he undid the clasp on her skirt. With the other, he tunneled into her hair beneath the loose knot at the back of her head. This time, he knew where to search for the pins, freeing them to unleash the spill of dark hair.

Releasing her for a moment, he edged back to admire his work. The tousled hair and flushed cheeks. The swollen mouth and taut nipple that peeked over the top of her bra cup. While he watched, her skirt began to slip, and he helped it down her narrow hips. Her lace-and-ribbon pink panties were pretty trappings beneath her conservative clothes.

“So?” She toyed with the bra strap that hadn’t fallen off her shoulder yet. “I’ve satisfied your curiosity about what I look like undressed. I think you owe me the same courtesy.”

“As much as I’m loving the view, I wouldn’t call this undressed.” He traced the top hem of her panties, hardly daring to believe he was going to have her. “There’s a whole lot more I want to see.”

“I expect payment in kind.” She tilted her head in a flirty look and reached for his belt buckle, her fingertips brushing his abs and making him fantasize about her hand wrapped around him. “Shall I do the honors?”

He throbbed in response—a definite affirmative. But he didn’t trust himself. He needed to maintain control if he wanted any shot of making this right for her.

“I can go faster,” he argued, taking over the task. In a blink, his pants and boxers were on the floor and he had the distinct pleasure of watching her eyes widen.

She smiled appreciatively.

“Very nice.” Palming his abs just above the tip of his erection, she leaned close to whisper in his ear. “But I might need a little help getting ready for all that.”

He strained to be inside her. To stroke himself against the tender softness of her thighs. Higher.

Ruthlessly reining himself in, he lifted her off her feet and dropped her gently in the center of the bed.

“My pleasure,” he said roughly, hanging by a thread. He was wound so tight it wouldn’t take much to set him off.

For a moment, he simply let his gaze wander over her. She looked so good everywhere, he didn’t know where to begin. Then, directing his attention to the places where her lingerie still covered her, he started with the front clasp of the pink bra.

Freeing her breasts, he lavished them with kisses, nips, teasing licks. When her back arched for more, he kissed his way down her body, lingering in the narrow depression of her navel. He listened to her breathing grow deeper. Then faster. Then turn to frustrated gasps as she hooked a thumb in her panties and inched them lower.

A beautiful sign she wanted more.

Gently, Kyle caught a bit of the lace in his teeth and dragged the fabric lower. Lower. The candlelight danced warm shadows against her skin as she rocked her hips closer. When he had her naked, he pressed kisses along her inner thigh. Her sweetly urgent sighs drove him on, a reward for his patience. His restraint.

Her legs shifted against him as he reached the apex of her thighs. Her fingers twined in his hair and the orchid scent of her skin made him desperate for a taste of her.

His restraint slipped and he covered her sex with his mouth. He’d meant to tease and tempt her, to build the heat between them. But the need to have her was riding him hard now. The slick sweetness of her almost sent him over the edge. Just knowing she was this hot, this ready, was killing him.

Gripping her thighs, he made more room for himself. She trembled against his tongue, her whole body quivering. He traced the hot core of her, circling round and round while her short nails scratched into the bedspread on either side of her. He tried to spin out the pleasure, staving off her finish while building the heat. But soon, he couldn’t hold back.

Pressing a kiss to her sex, he left her. He wanted to bury himself deep between her legs, but he couldn’t recall getting out a condom and his pants were on the other side of the room. She solved the dilemma by tearing open a foil packet she’d retrieved from somewhere. Bless her.

He closed his eyes when she rolled the condom on him, her soft hand as lethal as a tongue stroke. Capturing her wrist, he pulled her back. Then, with a thrust of his hips, he sought the place he’d wanted to be ever since he laid eyes on Marissa.

Inside her.

* * *

MARISSA HAD BRACED HERSELF
for the feel of him, but her imaginings paled in comparison to the reality of Kyle. She’d never had sex like this. She’d been with men who moved on the fringes of life—like her. Kyle lived it. Embraced it. Grabbed it with both hands and ran.

And oh, she could feel that in the way he touched and kissed her.

“Are you okay?” He held himself very still after the first easy thrust of his hips.

She knew he was holding back. There was more for her. He’d waited because of her. Because she’d told him she might not be ready for all he had to offer.

But she was
so
ready now.

Arching her hips, she took all of him. It wasn’t graceful or smooth, but it felt so damn good she wasn’t even the slightest bit sorry she’d taken the initiative. She could tell from his expression—eyes closed, the cords in his neck straining—that he liked the way it felt.

She wrapped her arms around him, savoring every second of having him so close. He was a beautiful, well-made man, his body eye-poppingly masculine. And she had him all to herself. Her body hovered near to fulfillment, her sex humming with frantic nerve endings just waiting for their moment to sing. Yet she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to roll around this bed with Kyle wrapped up in her arms for hours. Days.

Lightly, she bit his shoulder then kissed it. Bit and kiss. Licked the salty path of his skin sheened with a hint of sweat from holding back.

At least, she’d like to think that’s what it was from. Even now, he started an easy rhythm with his hips. Staved off the inevitable completion with a slow stroke in. Out.

His gaze locked on hers in the candlelight and her heart did a flip inside her chest. Men like him had never noticed her. She had no idea why he seemed to. But there was no denying the attraction. They didn’t need to put words to it since it was simply there. All the time.

“I want you all day,” he told her, the sentiment echoing her thoughts. “I hope you can clear your calendar.”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Better make now perfect just in case.”

“Don’t say that.” His thrusts grew harder. Deeper. Faster.

“I’m serious.” She knotted her fingers in the bedspread, anchoring herself against the temptation to become swept away by him.

“I know.” He dipped down to her breast and circled the tip with his tongue in a way that reminded her of other things he’d done to her. Sweet, wicked things that made her breathe faster now. “But if I was going to make it perfect this time,” he continued, pinning her hips with his and moving them in a slow circle that took her breath away. “I would have made you come first with my mouth.”

Just hearing the words undid her. She flew apart with a cry, her legs shaking and her body rocking with hard spasms. The power of it rushed her in waves and she had no choice but to let it take her.

He followed her before her release stopped so that their shouts mingled at one point, each at the mercy of something lush and wild.

She rolled to her side on the bed, her body still subject to aftershocks as he held her. It was the most transcendent sex she’d ever had, and she clung to Kyle’s shoulders to steady herself in the long, silent moments afterward. Her mind cleared slowly as rational thought returned.

The most rash and reckless thing she’d ever done could come back and bite her. She could lose her credibility in the matchmaking business. Fail her mother completely. But she hadn’t been thinking and she’d been caught in an attraction unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

She’d been blinded by attraction once before and it hadn’t turned out well. And what she felt for that guy paled in comparison to the industrial-strength magnetism of the draw between her and Kyle.

Now she just had to hope that her sanity returned. That she could maintain perspective on this wild hunger she felt. Maybe if she compartmentalized it—allowed it to be just physical, just temporary—she could retain a shred of objectivity where he was concerned. Because no matter how much the consequences taunted her, she already wanted him again.