Uncommon Passion (12 page)

holding a bottle of water. One shoulder holding up the doorframe, he drank half, then looked at her as he

wiped his mouth with a knuckle. He couldn’t possibly look less interested in her, or for that matter in sin,

but as he watched her, his eyes changed. Heated. Without a word the air picked up a charge. That skittering,

sparking electricity made her grip the edge of his mattress.

He crossed to stand in front of her and set the bottle of water on the nightstand. A tuft of dark brown

hair peeked from the elastic waist of the shorts, and the scent of sleep-warm skin drifted into her nostrils as

she looked up his long torso to his face. To her surprise he went down on his knees in front of her. He said

nothing, the sound of her shallow inhales running in counterpoint to his even breathing as his hands

gripped her ankles and rose slowly up the backs of her calves, along the sides of her thighs. His thumbs

met, brushing one after the other over her mound, awakening nerves before his fingers slid into the elastic

at the top of her white cotton panties and tugged. She lifted her hips and he slid them down and off. Then

he wrapped his arm around her hips and lifted her backward as he planted his other hand and shifted them

back to the center of the big bed. As they shifted her hair, loosely braided halfway down her back, caught

and she winced.

Without a word he settled easily on top of her, one hair-roughened leg between hers, her skirt rucked

up to midthigh, his hard, bare torso pressed against hers. Braced on one elbow he reached under her back,

found the end of her braid, and tugged the elastic free, then began loosening the plait.

Intimacy encompassed so much more than just sex, she thought. On her back, in his bed, she watched

his face as his rough fingers worked away in her hair. Memory bled into the present as images of him using

the ends of her hair to tease her breasts flashed in her mind. Without thinking about it she lifted her hand

and rested it on his hip, gently rubbing her thumb on the ridge of bone exposed by his shorts. When he

finished loosening her hair he cupped the side of her face. His thumb brushed across her lips, and it took

her a minute to realize he was moving his thumb in the same slow rhythm she was. Curious, she dipped her

thumb into the elastic waist of his shorts. In response he pressed gently on her lower lip, opening her

mouth slightly. Then he bent his head and kissed her.

The taste of toothpaste, fresh and minty, quickly dissipated as the kiss grew heated. His hand roamed

from her thigh, over her skirt to her waist, then up to cup her breast, back down again to tease her mound,

then down to her thigh. Anticipation built, heat simmering in her lips, her nipples, in her sex, pressed firmly

against Ben’s hard thigh.

Still, the light, teasing brush of his fingertips as they trailed up her thigh, taking her skirt with them,

made her tremble. But he continued the motion, up over her tummy, catching the hem of her blouse and

working under it to cup her breast. He gripped it firmly and pinched her nipple. Sensation made her gasp

and tear her mouth from his even as she lifted into his hand.

“Tell me again why you’re here.”

“I want to be with you,” she said.

“What does that mean?” he said, his voice slightly amused, slightly mocking, then answered his own

question. “You want to have sex.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Say it.”

“Why? You know what I mean.”

“Because
be with you
is kind of lame. Generic. Like watching a sunset on a date,” he said, still amused,

still mocking. “Guys are dense. The next one might need specific instructions.”

She waited, her heart pounding hard against the palm cupping her breast. “I like watching sunsets, and I

want to have sex with you.”

A rough chuckle tumbled into her ear. “This won’t be like watching a sunset. Be more specific,” he

said. “What do you want me to do to you?”

The world contracted, encompassing only their bodies, the mattress at her back, the sunlight filtering

through the blinds. His bedroom was like a wolf’s den, hidden away from prying eyes, safe and dangerous

at once.

This wasn’t about what she wanted him to do to her. It was about what she wanted to do to him, to feel

with him, starting with his torso against hers, so she sat up. Together they got her blouse and bra off, and

this time when they lay back down she wrapped her arm around his bare back, flattening her palm at the

small of his back and pulling him closer. Her fingers explored the hard bumps of his spine, the muscles

flexing and ridged along either side while he kissed her. Mouth, jaw, cheek, ear, throat, collarbone, each

impact light, teasing, the scrape of his stubble striking sparks over each hot spot raised by his mouth. Her

nipples hardened in anticipation when his mouth reached the top of her breast, but he ignored them, instead

gently scraping then licking, rough then hot and smooth, then chilly as he worked his way into the valley

between her breasts, teasing the undersides.

Then he flicked his tongue against one stiff nipple. She shuddered, felt as much as heard that low, dark

laugh before he did it again. Tongue, teeth, then another slow tour of her breasts while she floated in desire,

her nipples tight and sensitized in the cool, dim room.

“What do you want me to do?” When she hesitated, he dropped hot, openmouthed kisses down her

breastbone to her belly, then flicked her a hot glance. “Say it.”

“Kiss my breasts,” she whispered.

He gave a low, rough growl-laugh, then ran his tongue up the underside of her breast to her nipple.

“Like that?” he asked, licking the hard tip.

“Harder,” she said.

He rewarded her daring with the pressure of teeth holding her nipple for the slow stroke of his tongue.

Heat and light sang in her veins, spreading with her heartbeat, pooling between her legs. She undulated

against his hard thigh, the rhythm slow, subtle—unlike her hands tightly gripping his shoulders as the air

simmered around them. He brushed his cheek against the full sides, then slid up her body to hold her jaw

for an explicit kiss. His mouth was wet, hot, lips swollen. She responded with abandon, her breath

shuddering as she inhaled the scent of skin and sweat and arousal.

“Keep talking.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to learn what works for you. Don’t rely on the man to take care of you. Know what

you want and how to ask for it.” His scythe-smile flashed in the filtered sunlight. “Because it makes me

really, really hot when a woman talks dirty in bed.”

She blinked. He tucked a pillow under her head, then left a trail of kisses down her breastbone to her

waistband. “Lift,” he commanded.

The slight angle allowed her to watch him unfasten button and zipper, then slide the skirt down to toss it

to the floor. He settled between her parted legs, blue eyes holding hers as he skated his palms up calves to

knees to inner thighs. Vulnerability melded with desire, and she kept her legs as closed as she could with a

big, broad-shouldered man kneeling between them.

“You said no to this the first night.”

She nodded.

He loomed over her, dark hair, lust-dark eyes, scruff on his jaw, broad, tanned shoulders gilded by the

weak sunlight pushing through the blinds, and without any movement at all she tightened again. He worked

his big, rough hands under her bottom to curve around her hips. One palm flattened on her belly. The

fingers of the other hand stroked her mound before he bent forward to press an openmouthed kiss to the

top of her folds. “Say yes this time.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to like that,” she said.

“It’s intimate,” he murmured, hot breath against her sex, his stubble ever so slightly grazing awakening

nerve endings. “More intimate than sex. Sometimes it’s easier for a woman to get off this way. Close your

eyes.”

She did as he said. Her awareness of touch heightened. Sweat slicked her thighs where his shoulders

held her open and where his palm lay against her belly, just above her mound. The fingers of his other

hand curled around her hip. After a moment a slow stream of air blew gently against the top of her sex. She

tensed. It stopped, but that faint pressure hinted at something more. When she relaxed again her thighs

relaxed a little more. Her inner folds parted, the sensation heightened without the visual distraction of his

dark face between her legs. The next time he blew gently, the air flowed over her clit.

Her breathing shallowed, and her hips tilted ever so slightly. Not enough. “Ben,” she whispered.

“Say,
lick my clit.
”

Her clit fluttered at the words as warm breath whispered against needy flesh. “Lick my clit,” she said.

“Look at me and say it.”

She opened her eyes to find him studying her. A shocking heat flashed from her nipples to low in her

belly. “Lick my clit, Ben.”

He was smiling when he pressed his open mouth to her sex. His tongue slowly circled her clit, sending

heat streaming through her veins. The slick, smooth pressure was easier to take than his rough fingertips.

She learned as he explored. One side was more sensitive than the other, and steady circles around the

increasingly distended nub tightened her muscles. The pleasure ebbed with the cessation of contact, and she

moaned and lifted her hips.

When she opened her eyes again, he said, “Still think you’re not going to like this?”

“Don’t stop.”

He widened her legs with his shoulders, then used his tongue and very, very gently, his teeth until she

was gasping. The build to orgasm still startled her, so demanding, so shockingly powerful. She gripped the

pillow behind her head with one hand, threaded her fingers through Ben’s hair with the other, and lifted her

hips to his mouth. Gasping little breaths tripped into the still, quiet air, then she stopped breathing entirely.

Then the wave crashed over her, pushing her deep into the void.

The rasp of palm over stubble brought her back into the room. She opened her eyes to find Ben wiping

moisture from his jaw. Her moisture. “Kiss me,” she said without thinking. When he hesitated, she said it

again. “Kiss me. I want to taste that.”

Chapter Eight

How in the name of sweet baby Jesus had this woman stayed a virgin for so long?

Broad damned daylight, she was naked in his bed, legs splayed for him, the sex flush still pink on her

cheeks and throat. Ten minutes ago she didn’t want him to go down on her. Now she wanted to know how

she tasted?

This wasn’t going according to plan. His cock hung heavy and rigid between his legs, balls tight to his

body because talking dirty did turn him on. Rachel Hill talking dirty made him hard enough to pound nails.

Her peremptory tone also did it for him, not quite a command but definitely leaving no room for him to

refuse.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and crawled up her body, using his knees to keep her thighs spread.
Make her

feel the emptiness, the need. Don’t hold back, and toss your expectations about delicate sensibilities out

the window.
He nuzzled into her jaw, let her smell the musk clinging to his chin and lips, then brushed his

mouth over hers. Her tongue flicked out to lick first his upper, then his lower lip, and somehow she’d

rewired his brain so the touch of her lips against his mouth sent five thousand volts straight to his cock. He

let out a soft little groan but stayed poised above her while she nibbled and sucked and licked, torturing

himself until she wrapped one leg, then the other, around his to pull him down to her. She worked her

hands under his elastic waistband and gripped his hips, pulling him closer.

“How do you like me now?” he said. Even to his own ears the words sounded rough, like she’d abraded

his throat with sandpaper.

“Very, very well,” she said.

“Gonna trust me to know what you need?”

“Maybe,” she said.

She flattened her palms on his hipbones, one hand on either side of his erection, and eased his shorts

down. The only thought left in his brain was how badly he wanted to hear Rachel Hill ask him to fuck her.

He sat back and opened the nightstand drawer to grab a box of condoms. “They teach you about safe

sex at that church you went to?”

“Only that safe sex is married sex,” she said.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He tore one condom from the strip, handed it to her, then shoved his shorts down and off. A muscle

jumped in his jaw as he pushed back onto his heels, his knees spread wide. “First safe sex lesson. The guy

always wears a condom. Always. Guys will use every line in the book to go bareback. It’s non-negotiable

until you see test results from a doctor.”

She opened the packet and withdrew the condom. “I know,” she said as she studied it. “I read up on

safe sex before we went out on our date.”

So there was a limit to the stupid risks she’d take. She’d buy a stranger at an auction, but know enough