Throb (14 page)

“That’s not an answer.”

“What do you want me to say, Kate? That I’ll stay celibate while I wait for you to finish dating another man?”

I turn to face him. The thought of Cooper being with another woman makes me crazy. So I channel everything I’m feeling and haul myself up on him, grabbing his neck and pulling him down for a kiss at the same time I lift and wrap my legs around his waist.

Our passion quickly ignites—turning angry, frustrated jealousy and confusion into a ball of fire that burns into a smoldering kiss. He pushes back as hard as I press, until our bodies meld together. He cups and squeezes my ass with one hand, the other maneuvering my head where he wants it so he can devour my mouth. I may have started the kiss, but there’s no mistaking who controls it.

Movement into the apartment and down the long hallway to his bedroom doesn’t even register until we finally break for air. “What was that for?” We’re both breathing hard; his voice is hoarse with need.

“I don’t want to waste any more time. I only have so many hours to wear you out enough so that you’ll be useless to another woman for six weeks.”

Cooper throws his head back, laughing. He finds me projecting his own superlative promises back at him entertaining. Reaching the bed, he leans forward and gently lays me down. The amusement dancing in his eyes quickly turns into something stormier as he stands and takes in the sight of me lying on his bed.

Lowering his body, one hand on either side of me supporting his weight, Cooper presses his lips gently to my exposed collarbone. He kisses his way up my neck, light nips alternating with whispery caresses. By the time he reaches my ear, the nips and kisses have escalated to bites and sucking.

His hand makes its way down my body, slowing to appreciate my curves before traveling lower. He lingers at the hem of my skirt before slipping beneath. A moan escapes from my lips when his fingers stroke me through the lace of my panties.

“You’re so wet. I feel it without even putting my fingers inside.” He finds my clit easily and massages up and down. “First I’m going to fuck you with my fingers. Because I want to watch you the first time I make you come.” Oh lord. My body is halfway there just hearing him say
fuck you with my fingers.
Seriously, there’s a pre-orgasm buzz pulsing through my body. I may not even make it until his fingers feign their first pump.

His hand slips under my panties. “Look at me.” His voice is throaty and incredibly masculine. “And then, I’m going to lick you until you scream my name.” He dips one finger inside of me. My eyes shut. It’s been a long time. Too long, but I’m suddenly happy I’ve been on a self-imposed hiatus.

“You’re so tight,” he groans. “Jesus, Kate.” He works me slowly, my wetness allowing him to glide in and out. Feeling my body surrender, he pulls almost all the way out and pushes back in with two fingers. A few pumps and my body greedily accepts him, my back arching off the bed as I climb closer to release.

Covering my clit with his thumb, he growls when I let out a shameless moan of pleasure. His eyes flare with desire and our gazes lock. It takes all of my willpower not to close my eyes as blissful waves of orgasm roll over me. My hips writhe to meet each wave, riding the rollercoaster from explosion to euphoria.

Cooper’s hoarse voice mumbles something, but the words are incoherent over the sound of my heart beating wildly. What remains of my clothes are rapidly discarded, and it isn’t until I feel him hauling me down the bed that I’m even aware of what he’s doing.

Dropping to his knees, my ass hovering at the foot of the bed, he parts my shaky legs and his mouth is on me before I can object. A futile attempt to push him away is short lived when his tongue flutters over my clit.
Jesus. The man has me on the edge again within thirty seconds.

Abandoning my efforts to stop him in favor of raveling my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer as he laps at me hungrily, I yield to his skilled mouth. My body trembles as his tongue dips inside me, luring an unabashed moan as my second orgasm threatens quickly. His hands push my thighs wider, his mouth licking and sucking, his tongue lashing furiously over my swollen clit until I explode again, this time gasping his name.

I think I may have lost a few moments in time, somewhere between orgasm number two and his repositioning me in the center of his heavenly king-sized bed. But then the lush green eyes filled with golden sunflowers are staring down at me, his rigid cock throbbing near my tender opening.

“Reach up,” he says in a firm, yet strained, voice.

My heavily hooded eyes must display my confusion.

“Hold the headboard with both hands.”

“But …”

“Do it, Kate.”

I lift my arms, reaching over my head for the iron headboard. It’s cold, but I wrap my heated palms around the rounded metal and squeeze tight.

Cooper raises his head slightly, admiring the full view—me, underneath him, looking glazed and vulnerable.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in my ear. “Don’t let go.”

I nod, unable to form words, his warm breath spreading heat throughout my body. He licks the shell of my ear, and then his tongue travels down my neck, making its way to my taut nipple. He sucks hard, then bites, his teeth not releasing me until I whimper. Then he lavishes sweet kisses on the swollen buds he just assaulted, making them more than better.

He spends time worshiping my body, the length of him frequently rubbing up against me, teasing me mercilessly. Even after two energy-draining orgasms, he’s able to work me back into a frenzy. Eventually I can’t take it anymore and I reach down, desperate to feel his thick, hard erection.

“Back on the headboard,” he growls, stopping me before I’m able to touch.

“But I want—”

“Don’t let go again,” he warns, cutting me off and ignoring my plea.

Seriously?
I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of him. Every ridge of his ridiculously toned body is calling my name. His cock taunting me the loudest.

“I don’t think I can.”

My honesty is rewarded with a wicked grin. His already massive ego just shot up another stratosphere. One hand deftly rolls on a condom. Knowing my eyes are fixed on the way his fingers curl around his thickness, his hand lingers, stroking himself up and down leisurely. “Tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to touch you.”

“What do you want to touch, Kate?”

I’m laying spread-eagled beneath this man, yet I feel bashful saying the words. “You know.” My face flushes.

“Why, Kate.” His mouth is back at my ear, his hand working my breasts, kneading my sensitive nipple. Every tweak sends pleasure shooting through my nerves. I even feel it down in my toes. “Does my sharp-tongued woman not like to say naughty words?”

“You’re trying to torture me.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“You.” I buck underneath him.

“Say it. Say what you want. What you were reaching for.”

He surprises me by pushing two fingers back inside me. My body clenches down, tightening around them. “Is this what you want? You want my fingers inside of you?” He strokes in and out, rubbing me close, but it doesn’t satisfy the need I have. I need more.

I shake my head.

“Then tell me,” he croons, his fingers pumping in and out faster.

“Please,” I moan.

“Please what?” He sucks on the sensitive flesh beneath my ear.

“You know,” I groan, breathless from his expert touch.

“Say it.” His strained, throaty voice quivers at my ear. I’d pretty much say or do anything to get him to give me what I need.

“Your cock. Please. I want your cock inside of me.”

A flash of virile male satisfaction crosses his face, but a shadow shudders over the ego, turning to a possessive darkness. His jaw clenches tight and he takes one of my hands white-knuckling the headboard above me and brings it to his mouth. Gently, he kisses my hand, then replaces it on the headboard to grab hold.

I gasp loudly when he rams deep inside of me, giving me what I desperately need. “Oh, god,” I pant, my body convulsing at the rock-hard intrusion. He’s so thick, it’s almost a struggle to accommodate his girth. If I wasn’t primed sodden, taking him in so deep might fall on the other side of the slim wall that separates pain and pleasure.

He lets my body adjust and then begins to move. Stroking places inside of me to find ecstasy like he’s been doing it forever instead of it being just our first time. It doesn’t take long for him to lure the orgasm from my hungry body. But after he does, he groans and his thrusts intensify to a deliciously ravenous pounding that my body longed to feel.

Sometime in the aftermath of our escapades, in between kisses that feel like so much more than just kisses, I realize why I feel such a remarkable sense of relief. It wasn’t the hours of foreplay building to a crescendo. I’d been waiting for this moment since the first time I met him.

I wake to the distant sound of Cooper’s voice coming from the other room. He’s on the phone, so I only hear one side of the conversation. But it makes me smile nonetheless. He’s barking orders at someone; his voice, full of authority, leaves no question as to who’s the boss. There was certainly no question last night either. Without a doubt, the man takes charge, there’s no mistaking he’s an alpha male. Yet there’s something different in him. Something other bossy men are missing that makes the world of difference. Cooper may
seem
like he takes control away from me, but he’d never take it unless I was giving it to him. I never realized letting someone else take the lead could be so empowering and yet freeing at the same time.

I pick the dress shirt he was wearing yesterday up from the floor, button it enough to cover me, and go searching for the voice.

“He can have until five tonight to decide. After that we’re moving on and going with our second choice.” Cooper is wearing lounge pants and no shirt, his back to me, but he turns, sensing me, even though I make no sound with my bare feet. His eyes sweep over me, taking their time as they crawl up my bare legs and linger finding the hint of breast peeking out of the scarcely closed shirt. I only fastened one button up from the navel. He crooks a finger at me with a grin. I roll my eyes dramatically, but walk to him anyway, quite enjoying the way he watches my every step intently.

“Just let me know by five.” He hangs up the phone without even saying goodbye and tosses it on the granite.

“I like your shirt.” He wraps me in his arms.

“Thanks. Coffee?”

“Already made.” He kisses my forehead and leads me to the island to sit while he fixes me a steaming mug.

“Sleep well?” Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he eyes me over his mug.

“Like a baby. I was really out.”

“I know. I’ve been up for two hours.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight.”

“You sleep well?”

“Best night of sleep I’ve had in years.” He smiles. It’s a genuine smile, it makes him look so young.

“Working so early on a Saturday?” I sip my coffee.

“Had a few loose ends to tie up. Wanted to get them done before you woke. What time do you turn into a pumpkin?”

My smile fades. “I have to be on set at three.”

“Finish your coffee.” He drains his mug and walks closer. “You sore?”

“Not really.” A little achy, but I keep that part to myself.

“Let’s go fix that. I want you to feel me for six weeks.”

The morning after a sleepover, I’m usually ready for a woman to leave. I’m not rude or brash about it, but I’ll admit weekday sleepovers are more my thing. No leisure time the next day to spend making post-coital nice. It’s not that I don’t like a woman’s company outside of the bedroom, I do, although I generally prefer that time to be
before
sex, rather than after.

“Lunch should be here any minute,” I say as Kate comes from the bathroom. Wet hair and a makeup-free face; she grows more beautiful each time I look at her. I glance at the clock again, dreading the minutes ticking by so fast. Why is it that the first woman I want to spend the entire weekend with doing nothing is also the one running on a meter set to expire way too soon?

“Great.” She looks at her watch and back to me. Her face shows as much dread over the ticking away of the moments as I feel.

“I’ll drop you back at your car after lunch.”

She bites her lip. “Would you mind dropping me home? I need to get my bag.”

“Bag?”

“We’re sequestered at the house for a few nights.”

I fail miserably at letting her words roll off of me. My face hardens, jaw clenches down and I open and close my fists.

“Sorry,” she offers apologetically. And it looks like she means it. Oddly, the anger doesn’t make me want to walk away from her. Instead, I get the feral urge to fuck her long and hard again. I’m not oblivious. I do realize it’s most likely the primal urge to mark my territory in the most glaring way I know how. But that doesn’t make the urge any less real.

The intercom buzzes, saving me from myself. I walk to the door and press the button. Lou’s voice booms through the loud speaker.