Someone Like You (18 page)

That did it.

With one move, he yanked at her dress, pulling it off over her head. His fingers trailed over the lace of her strapless bra lightly, teasing her already-hard nipples, even as he shifted to lie beside her and ached for more. He decided the bra was even more beautiful as he unhooked it, removed it, and threw it recklessly across the room. She laughed until his mouth closed hungrily over her breast, turning her giggle of delight into a hot-blooded moan of ecstasy.

He couldn't get enough of her skin. Tongue, lips, teeth, hands—he wanted to cover every inch of her. She clawed at his back as he devoured. Her warm, soft hands slid over his back, down his sides, along his hips . . . then down to his pants, pulling at the button and zipper in a frenzy. Her hands glided over his ass as she worked to get his pants and boxer briefs off at the same time. He pulled away for a second to help her.

He felt the coolness of the air-conditioning hit his naked body as he rolled back to her. “God, I want you, Abby,” he said, his voice rough and husky.

“I want you, too,” she whispered. “All of you.”

Her words made him groan before he suckled at her other breast. She reached down in between them, feeling the ridges of muscle in his abs, the lines of his hips, over his ass, a total exploration with her hands. Which was fair, since he was doing the same to her. His greedy hands canvassed every soft curve and his lips followed. But when she grasped his erection and stroked, he hissed out a breath at the incredible sensation. So much for taking it slow their first time; they were like a speeding train, and on for the wild ride together.

As she continued to touch him, his hands moved up her shapely thighs. After he briefly admired the matching piece of light blue lace there, his fingers deftly removed it, sliding it down her legs. Her breath caught, she stopped stroking him, and their eyes met. He grabbed her hand, pulling it away from him to pin it to the floor over her head, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Oh my God,” she gasped as he moved in to kiss her.

His hand trailed up her thigh with deliberate slowness, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he slid a finger inside her. A ragged cry burst from her into his mouth, vibrating against his lips as her body arched. She was so wet, so ready for him, it actually made him shudder. It was all he could do to pace himself, hold on to whatever fraying control he had left. He wanted to give her pleasure first. It had been so long for her . . . he wanted to watch her fall apart before his eyes. “That's it, Abby. That's it.”

“Oh, God . . .” She grasped his shoulder as her head fell back. “Wait . . . I just . . .” A raspy groan floated out of her as he added a second finger, thrusting slowly in and out of her. “Ohhhh my God,” she panted.

“Let me touch you,” he whispered, moving up to nibble on her ear as his fingers moved deeper inside her. The hand he held above her head tightened, squeezing her fingers hard. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“God, yes,” she breathed. “Don't stop.”

“I'm just getting started.” His tongue flicked at her ear as he bit the lobe and she moaned again. Her skin was so hot, flushed, and dewy as he worked her, his fingers increasing the pace. The sound of her ragged breathing was so erotic to him. He licked her neck, her ear, and whispered seductively, “Let me take you.”

“You have me.” Passion made her voice raspy, made her dark blue eyes cloudy as they slipped closed and she threw her head back. She was so gorgeous, so responsive . . . his teeth scraped along her neck and she writhed beneath him, desperately wanting . . . hot desire seared through him, making him ache. “Pierce . . . that feels
so
good.”

“Good. Let yourself go.” His fingers moved inside her, increasing the pace, while his thumb massaged her clit. Her hips bucked as she cried out, her back arching. “God yeah, baby. That's it. I want to watch you let go. I'm going to watch you, and it's going to be amazing.”

Her hips rocked and she moaned louder, from deep in her throat. The sound reverberated through him, sending trails of fire through every nerve in his body. Her fingernails dug into his skin. “Ohhh God, I'm too close . . .”

“Go with it,” he murmured. He kissed the soft spot on her neck, bit her gently as his fingers thrust deeper, harder. Her back arched off the floor this time as she cried out. She clutched at him, and her eyes slipped closed again. Her hips moved in the primal rhythm he'd set for her. Watching her get lost in her desire had his whole body throbbing, but he held himself back. All that mattered at that moment was her. Her passion, her need. He wanted to give her that release. Sweet, screaming, mindless release, watching her break apart, all by his doing.

She buried her face in his neck, gasping and whimpering as his fingers moved relentlessly inside her. He covered her mouth with his and she kissed him back hungrily, her fingers raking through his hair, gripping hard. With another throaty moan, she panted, “Pierce, I'm—ohhh, God . . .”

“Come for me, Abby,” he coaxed in a sultry murmur against her ear. His fingers were merciless, driving faster. He looked into her eyes and rumbled in a husky voice, “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

She exploded beneath him with a lusty shout, writhing helplessly as the orgasm overtook her. Her loud cries sent triumphant electricity shooting through his veins. He felt her body shudder and buck beneath him, felt her nails dig into his shoulder while her other hand, still over her head and entwined with his, squeezed his fingers hard. He watched her face, mesmerized, and worked her body as the climax consumed her. Then, just as the waves began to subside, he kneeled up to reach for the condom. He quickly got it on and moved to lie on top of her. As he settled between her legs, she hadn't even caught her breath. She lay panting and flushed as she stared back at him.

“Christ, that was beautiful,” he said, kissing her lips. “You're so beautiful, Abby.” Then his hips shifted and he thrust into her smoothly; her body welcomed him, still slick and warm. He moaned with pleasure at the feel of being inside her. Time seemed to stop for a wavy minute. He held himself still and ran his hands over her hair, brushing it back from her face with tender strokes. He looked into her eyes until she gazed back just as deeply. He wanted that connection with her. Then he started to move,
had
to move, unable to hold back any longer.

Her legs wrapped around his waist to draw him in deeper and she rocked with him, matching his quick, powerful thrusts beat for beat. Her hands moved over his shoulders, down his back, down to his ass, up his back again. The feel of her fingers exploring his skin, her lips against his neck as he pushed harder into her, drove his desire into overdrive. In the quiet darkness, only the sounds of their heavy breathing and soft groans filled the space as they moved together. She clutched his broad shoulders and held on as he thrust again, and again, and again. Faster, harder, deeper inside her . . . nothing but sensation, nothing but her.

When she hoarsely whispered his name against his lips, it pushed him over the edge. He growled into her neck as he reached his powerful release, clinging to her as he came. She arched to him and cried out; still shuddering, he ground his hips against hers, bringing her to climax again. Their bodies rocked together, holding on, drawing out the shattering moment to last as long as possible, until the rough moans turned to jagged panting, until the fiery, hungry kisses turned slow and soft and tender.

Chapter Sixteen

Lying side by side on the floor, still gasping for breath, Pierce said in awe, “Holy shit. That was . . .
whoa
.” He chuckled ruefully. “I can't believe I just took you on the floor of the sunroom. Jesus. I couldn't even hold out long enough to get you into a bed. You were right all along: I
am
a big bad wolf.” He glanced her way to flash a naughty grin as she giggled. “And you know what? I'm not apologizing. That was
hot.
I loved every second of it.”

“Me too,” Abby said. She grinned right back at him, looking sated and sensuous. “Hey, I didn't tell you to stop. I basically
urged
you to take me on the floor of the sunroom. So what does that make me?”

“Absolutely fantastic,” he proclaimed. He rolled onto his side and leaned up on one elbow to gaze down at her. His eyes and hands roved along her naked body. “And absolutely beautiful.” He lowered his mouth onto hers, lingering, letting himself drown in long kisses. Her hands reached up to touch his face, snaking around his neck as he kissed her, as his teeth scraped along her throat and nibbled on her lips. “Abby . . . that was amazing. You little vixen. I told you you'd surprise me.”

She smiled. “I, uh . . .” Giving up, she pulled his head down for more kisses. They luxuriated in each other, drifting hands and sweeping tongues and satisfied smiles. After a minute, he rolled away and discreetly disposed of the condom, then went back to her. He held her close, pressed the length of his body against hers, and plundered her mouth as they curled into each other.

“Your sister's not going to walk in on us, right?” Abby said.

“No,” Pierce assured her with a laugh. “That would be something, huh? I told you, she's sleeping up at the main house tonight.”

“I still feel like we displaced her from her own home.” Abby winced, even as her fingertips trailed sinuously down the length of his tightly muscled back. He gave a tiny shudder.

He smiled and kissed her before saying, “Stop it. She knows I'm crazy about you. Stop thinking about my sister, before I get icked out.” She laughed as he kissed her once more before rolling off her and standing up. “Let's go get in a bed. Much softer.” He extended his hand down to her with a sultry smile. She placed her hand in his and let him haul her to her feet.

He yanked her against him hard and his lips crashed against hers once more. One of his hands tangled in her hair, and the other swept down her back to squeeze her ass and hold her tightly against him. She sighed into his mouth, and he felt the buzz of lust zip through him. His lips left hers to work their way down her neck, nipping at her throat.

“God, I love how you feel against me,” he whispered. His hands swept up and down her body, greedy and possessive.

“I love it too,” she whispered, her fingertips doing a similar dance along his skin.

He kissed her again, then waggled his brows with sinful purpose. “Ready for round two?”

“Already? Damn, you're like a machine,” she said, even as she caressed the smooth planes of his chest. She felt his growing erection against her hip and grinned. “Hey, if you're up for it. I mean, I
do
have a lot of lost time to make up for. . . .”

He laughed and pulled back to take her by the hand. “Come on. Let's go upstairs and make up for lost time.”

* * *

An hour later, Pierce and Abby lay together in bed, sweaty and exhausted. He held her against his side, decimated, content, replaying moments in his head. Her fingers made lazy tracks back and forth, up and down, along his chest, his arms, tracing the lines of his tattoos . . . she felt so good in his arms. It felt quiet and right and he loved it. He kissed her forehead, listening to her breathing gradually slow. “You falling asleep?” he whispered.

“Not yet,” she whispered back. “But maybe soon. I'm like mush.”

“I should hope so. I'm wiped out. You destroyed me.”

She giggled and dropped a light kiss on his chest. “Truth? I don't think I can move.”

“Good. Don't.” He tipped her chin up with a fingertip, made her look into his eyes. “Stay here tonight. Stay over.”

Her brows creased as she frowned. “I don't know. . . .”

He saw hesitation in her eyes before she looked away. A shadow of uncertainty. Everything in him wanted to quell her lingering doubts, stamp them out with steel-tipped boots.

“Stay with me, Abby,” he murmured. Her eyes stayed on his as his fingertip dragged slowly along her lips. “I want you here. In my bed, in my arms. I want to fall asleep with you, and I want to wake up with you.” He leaned in to touch his lips tenderly to hers. “In the morning, I'll take you again, then I'll make you breakfast . . .” Another soft, achingly gentle kiss. “Stay.”

Her stormy eyes softened, a smile lifted her lips, and she kissed him. “That sounds wonderful. All right, I will.”

“Good.” He kissed her a few more times, lazily, leisurely . . . naughtily nibbling on her lips . . . then something occurred to him. “You want to call home and let them know you're not coming home tonight? So they won't worry?”

“Wow.” She blinked and let out a soft huff of surprise. “I was
just
thinking I have to shoot my mom a text, or she'll wait up all night.”

“I'm reading your mind already? Awesome.” He kissed her again, then sucked on her bottom lip and let it go with a playful pop. “Where's your phone?”

“In my handbag. Which is . . . downstairs.” She groaned and curled tighter into the crook of his arm. “I don't want to move.”

“You don't have to.” He swept his hand over her back to squeeze her ass, then sat up and swung his legs out of bed. “I need a drink. I'll go downstairs to get us both some water, and bring back your bag, okay?”

“Thanks. Can you bring back my clothes, too?” she asked. A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks. “Just in case Tess comes home . . . I don't need her to see my undies on the sunroom floor. Or wherever you tossed them.”

Pierce laughed and kissed her once more before leaving the room.

As he padded along naked through the dark, quiet house, he smiled as he marveled at how good he felt. How amazing the whole night had been. How fantastic Abby was.

God help him, he was crazy about her.

Things were falling into place. He didn't know why or how that had happened, he just knew it was happening and he was damn grateful for it. What he did know: He wanted to come back to New York permanently. To take his life and pull a total one-eighty from a few short weeks before. He even wanted to try to be a part of his family—most of it, anyway. He wanted to figure out what his next career move would be, and to build something substantial with his post-football life.

And yes, he wanted to be with Abby. She was a down-to-earth, smart, sexy woman whom he genuinely liked. Being with Abby could make the picture complete. He felt that as certainly, as profoundly, as he'd felt when he left for England all those years ago. He'd known that was right for him.

Now, something in him knew that
she
was right for him. He'd never even thought that way before, and it startled him. But he was in deep, and there was no point in denying it.

When he moved back to Long Island and got his life together, things were going to be different. Better. He felt it in his bones. Excitement and elation washed over him. He'd been so in flux since the scandal broke. The months of doubt and uncertainty, of his privacy invaded almost daily, of his future and his integrity under scrutiny and being questioned. Everything was changing, and he hadn't been ready. He'd felt angry and powerless, and struggled with feeling out of control.

Since he'd taken proactive steps to change his life he was doing better now. He was starting to feel strong again, and getting stronger every day, as he walked toward his future on his terms. There were still things that needed working on. He wasn't kidding himself about that. But he wasn't . . .
angry
as much. He'd come to a place of acceptance, starting to let the wounds heal.

And he recognized that getting involved with Abby was the thing that had pushed him past the last of the wreckage. Between her presence, and Tess and Troy and even Dane and the kids on the soccer team, he'd been able to rediscover the qualities he possessed that had worked for him before and started to let go of what hadn't. Leaving London and coming back to Long Island was the smartest thing he'd done in a long time.

In the dark, he found their clothes strewn all along the couch and floor, and chuckled as he scooped them all up. He found her clutch bag and grabbed that, too. The moon outside caught his eye as he moved past the windows, and he went to take a longer look. Moonlight had always soothed him. He stared out the glass wall to the expanse of grass, out to the Sound, up to the stars, pondering.

Things with Abby had changed tonight. Being with her had deepened the connection for him—sealed it with a kiss, so to speak. He wanted to make a place for her in his life, to take what they were tentatively building and maybe . . . Christ, he'd never thought like this about a woman before. It was strange, but not scary. More like exhilarating.

Blinking himself back into focus, he went to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water from the fridge. He tried to figure out exactly what it was he was feeling, but was so stupidly happy, he really couldn't think straight. And he decided that for now, that was fine. He didn't need labels. He just needed Abby, and to enjoy the ride. He'd make the most of their time together, show her she meant something to him and that he was trustworthy, and make sure she enjoyed the ride too. That was all that mattered at the moment.

* * *

Sunlight. Lots of it. Abby felt its warmth on her face as she slowly opened her eyes. Disoriented for a few seconds, she had no idea where she was. Then the big warm hand on her bare leg moved, she turned her head, and oh
hello,
she was in bed with Pierce. A soft rush of heady warmth ran through her as she stared at him.

She'd stayed the night. She'd slept in his arms. After the second round of sex, they'd cuddled together, kissing and whispering things until they fell asleep. Had she fallen asleep first? Probably. The last thing she remembered was Pierce's warm lips at her temple and his hand sweeping slowly up and down her back as he held her.

She wasn't in his embrace anymore, but one of his hands was on her thigh, as if even in sleep he had to touch her. That's what he'd whispered to her last night: “I can't seem to stop touching you. My hands are just . . . drawn to your skin, all the time.” She rolled back carefully, just enough to look him over as he slept beside her. A soft, pleased smile bloomed across her face. He was beautiful.

She let her eyes slowly travel over him, an open study of him as he lay on his back, one arm flung over his head, snoring so softly she found it cute. His dark hair was mussed, and she wanted to reach out and play with it. To run her fingers along his high cheekbones, stroke across his long, dark lashes, his slightly parted full lips, and scruffy jaw. To run her hands along his smooth chest and strong arms, and trace all his tattoos with her fingertips and her tongue, as she'd done last night. To let her fingers play leisurely along his defined abs, then trail down the thin line of dark hair that started at his navel and led down to that well-endowed package that had filled her, stretched her . . .

But she didn't touch him at all. Still smiling to herself, she crept out of bed and checked the time on her phone. Seven
A.M.
Even when she didn't have to wake up early, her body clock was locked into the teachers' regimen. Wanting to let Pierce sleep some more, she tiptoed into the adjoining bathroom. He'd told her he always chose this guest room because it was the biggest, and the only one with its own bathroom. She longed for a shower.

She snorted softly; the guest bathroom was bigger than the biggest bathroom in her house. Marble and glass and brushed beige tile . . . gorgeous. She felt like she was in a hotel. As she brushed her teeth, standing naked in front of the mirror, she cringed at her bedhead hair. She definitely looked like someone who'd had wild sex all night. And God, had she. Color crept into her cheeks and her stomach gave a delicious twist as she recalled some of the steamier moments from the night before. Pierce had serious bedroom skills, that was for sure. It was the best sex she'd ever had. He was sensuous, seductive, torturously slow some of the time, and passionately hungry the rest of the time. His dirty talk alone had burned her up from the inside out.

Well, he'd been with a lot of women. That was one of the benefits of his experience, she supposed: He was a master.

She suddenly hoped he'd enjoyed her, too.

Self-doubt crept in as she turned on the jets and waited for the water to warm up: Had
her
bedroom skills measured up? She'd never thought this way before, but she had to face it: she'd just slept with a seasoned player. He'd
seemed
satisfied, as lost to passion and swept away as she'd been . . . but what if . . .

She shook her head hard, as if to shake out the negative, demeaning thoughts. She couldn't go there, or she'd never stop comparing herself to countless, faceless women. And dammit, she was better than that. Either Pierce had enjoyed the sex or he hadn't. She thought his powerful orgasms—the way he'd gripped her and roared his release—were proof enough she'd done just fine.

Stepping into the shower, she moaned out loud as the water cascaded down over her. She moved to stand right under the jets, soaking her hair through and letting the warmth beat into her shoulders. Her eyes slipped closed and she relaxed.