Uncovered (16 page)

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I gently
chided, ignoring the blatant hypocrisy of my words.

He bent his face closer, touching his forehead
to mine and catching my breath. The tip of his nose brushed roughly against my
own, and he held my face possessively. “I’m not lying. I want you, Lizzie, and
I’m about to have you. I’m not going to stand out here arguing about who I’ve
had before you because it’s a waste of energy for both our mouths.” Exhaling
harshly, he tongued my upper lip, tilting my world on its axis one deliberate
lick at a time.

“Tonight, you’re mine. That’s the only
thing that matters,” he said before breaking contact with me to light each of
the two outdoor lamps on opposite ends of the trellis.

With my heart jammed somewhere between my
throat and ribcage, I was silent as he introduced light other than the moon’s
glow to the area. Walking around the bed slowly, I brushed my fingers along the
thick manila ropes securing the mattress in place. “Damn,” I whispered softly,
only to be startled a second later by the sharp
pop
of the champagne
bottle opening.

Setting the bottle beside the glasses on
the compact bedside stand, a slow grin crept across his face. “Close your
mouth, beautiful.”

Patience was definitely not a virtue of
Oliver Manning’s because a moment later, he closed it for me, getting rid of
the space between our bodies to slant his lips hungrily over mine. Plunging his
tongue inside, he tasted me like I was his last meal, licking and sucking. “You
smell so sweet,” he murmured between hot, wet kisses. “That perfume, Lizzie.”

I kicked off my boots one at a time,
smiling gratefully at him when he steadied me. “I’ve been thinking about
switching to a new scent,” I teased breathlessly.

“Never,” he growled, expertly removing my
shift dress in one swift motion so that I stood before him in nothing but a
black lace demi bra and a tiny thong. I felt a twinge of regret that I’d chosen
underwear I’d purchased specifically for work—for Gemma’s work—but his slow nod
of appreciation lessened the bite.  “The perfume is non-negotiable.”

Alternating between suppressing a grin
and holding my breath, I drank in the sight of his incredible muscles as he
stripped out of his boots, jeans, and t-shirt until nothing but a pair of
designer boxers separated his body from me. God, who the hell was this woman
staring at him? This couldn’t be Gemma—the woman who’d spent the last few years
prancing around in bras and panties without so much as managing a flush. This
woman,
Lizzie
, she was an entirely new creature. A creature completely
enthralled by the gorgeous, built man who was seconds away from getting to her
core.

But this had been a long time coming, and
I was ready.

“I’d planned on doing this slowly,”
Oliver started, pouring me a glass of champagne and handing it to me. I drank
it lighting fast, almost like a shot, feeling the carbonation winding a
bubbling path from my tongue to my stomach. My head was going to hate me for
that in the morning, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was hearing what he
had to say next, even if I had to coax it out of him.

“You’re going pretty slowly,” I objected
slyly, but then my body went stiff when he circled around me. I heard him
breathe in the scent of my hair, my skin, and I about lost it. “Really, really
slow,” I added in a whisper. 

“I was going to go slow,” he repeated.
“But I have no. Patience. Tonight.”

Reaching for me, he clutched my hips and
hauled me to his chest, his strong hand seizing the nape of my neck. I danced
my fingers down his abs, shuddering as I traced the cut “V” I was desperate to
lick.

“I want to taste you,” I admitted,
wetting the corners of his full lips with my tongue. “I need to feel you.”

“You will. But first, this,” he said
dangerously, “is for that
Mar-ga-ret
stunt you pulled earlier.” Lowering
his hand from my neck, he smacked my right ass cheek firmly enough for me to
gasp in mock outrage. “Don’t mention her again.”

“Fucker,” I growled, in spite of the heat
pooling in the pit of my stomach, and he responded by tugging his lips into an
arrogant grin. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Now that we’ve gotten all my promises
out the way, let’s get rid of this.” He unhooked my bra, tossing it over his
shoulder where it landed somewhere in the darkness.

The pool. The patio. Who in the hell knew
where it went—I wasn’t about to stand around letting it bother me.

I’d think about it tomorrow morning.

Looking at my breasts, he was motionless
and speechless for several seconds before he eventually shook his head from
side to side. An unfamiliar feeling—self-consciousness—hit me hard, and I
started to cover myself, but he caught my hands in his. “You have an incredible
body.”

“Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself there,
Mr. Manning.”

Fingering the faded remnants of a scar on
my chest, he stared down at me questioningly. “What happened here?” 

“Coffee burn. My father left a cup of
coffee on the sunroom table when I was four and I knocked it all over myself.”
When his brows pulled together, I shook my head fiercely and stood on the tips
of my toes, wanting him to kiss me. To take away all the memories tonight.

 Hooking his hands beneath my legs, he
brought us both crashing down on the bed. My head spun from the rocking motion,
but before I could gather my bearings, he parted my legs. “This—
this
is
why I came back from New York.”

He shoved my lacy thong aside. Without
warning, he thrust two fingers into my sex, and I writhed beneath him.

Swallowing a scream of pleasure, I frantically
whispered, “You came back from New York just to get into my panties?”

Laying his head between my breasts, he made
a sound of disagreement. “I came back from New York because I couldn’t stand
the thought of another man touching you like this.” To demonstrate, he tugged
my nipple between his teeth. Sucking greedily until I moaned and curved against
his mouth, he pulled away, leaving my breast wet and heavy. “Those
thoughts—those kind of reactions—they’re terrifying,” he murmured, kissing
beneath my breasts.

“How so?” I blurted, tightening around
his fingers as he pushed them deeper into me, causing a visible shudder to run
through him.

“Power, beautiful.” Without giving me a
chance to ask him to elaborate, he covered my lips with his thumb. “Close your
eyes.”

 “Why?”

But he shook his head. “Close your eyes,”
he ordered.

Throwing my head back on the pillow, I
squeezed my lids together. Keeping the hand between my legs pumping steadily,
he moved, and I felt the bed swinging back and forth, the motion oddly
soothing.

I expected his tongue touching my pussy.
He’d promised it, after all, and it was obvious that was his intention when he
draped my legs over his broad shoulders and tilted my hips up. But what I
hadn’t anticipated was the tingles that would burst across the sensitive skin
when his other hand stroked my center just before his mouth.

Champagne.

He had drenched me in champagne and was
now in the process of tasting it right off my body.

Wow.
WOW
.

Fluttering my lashes apart, I dug my
fingers into his tousled hair, tugging his head back until our gazes met.

“Champagne,” I managed through my teeth.
“Really, Oliver?”

Laughing, he dipped his fingers in his
glass of champagne again and painted my swollen clit with his wet hand, his
blue eyes devouring mine as he drank away the delicious little bubbles.

“You want to come already?” he asked
incredulously, between sharp flicks of his tongue.

“What do you think?” I managed to gasp,
half delirious from his teasing. God, I’d craved for this for so long. It was
worth the wait.

So,
so
worth it.

“Do you want to come right now?” He
opened my legs further apart, fucking me thoroughly with his long fingers. “Or
do you want to wait for me?”

“I want both,” I panted, yanking harder
on his hair. “I want
both
.”

For what seemed like a torturous
eternity, he continued, sucking and stroking me until the orgasm finally hit me
hard. It zipped through me, burning my senses, drowning out everything.

When the tremors stunning my body ceased,
he pulled me up so I was on my knees and cradled my face with one hand. He
didn’t seem to notice the swaying bed as he stared down into my eyes, or my
hands shoving his boxers down and reaching ravenously for his cock. 

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out
my thoughts. “God, that’s big.” And I would know. Throwing his head back to
laugh, I took the opportunity to kiss my way from his throat to his chin, his
day-old beard scratching my flesh.

Dragging his fingers through my blond
locks, he forced my brown eyes to his. “I don’t want there to be a thing
between your pussy and me.”

“I’m smart,” I jerked his erection from
head to shaft, stroking until a few beads of liquid glistened the tip. I sucked
the pad of my finger to lick it clean, and his hold on my hair tightened at the
sight of me tasting him. “And I’m safe. You’ve got nothing to worry about with
me.”

It was one of the few honest things I’d
told him, and he nodded. “Good, me too.” Repositioning our bodies so that he
was lying beneath me, he stared at me like I was a goddess. “You’re beautiful.
Everything about you is beautiful.”

“What are you doing?” I whispered when
his hands stroked my arms, spreading out over my palms. “Oliver?”

 Securing my fingers around the ropes on
either side of the bed, he grinned at me wickedly just before he raised my hips
and stroked the thick head of his erection over my wet flesh. “I’m giving you
both
.
My way.”

Lowering
my hips, I moaned as his erection gradually filled me.

“Fuck,
this
was worth the wait,”
Oliver groaned in contentment, echoing my precise thoughts from earlier,
jerking his body up to meet mine until he was totally inside me. I intensified
my grip on the ropes the bed hung from, letting my head fall back as I adjusted
to his size. And it was impressive—satisfyingly and completely impressive.
“When was the last time—”

“Shh.” I grinded against him. “It’s just
you and me tonight, remember?” I demanded, turning his very own words against
him.

The last thing I wanted to tell him was
it had been months since another man had touched me—that I hadn’t touched
another man since the call that brought me to him. I couldn’t tell him any of
that when he was inside me, his cock throbbing.

Hell, I couldn’t tell him that at all.

“Just
use
me.”

Palming my breasts, he tweaked my
sensitive nipples as I moved against him like a woman possessed. The bed
creaked and swung beneath the motion of our bodies, but I didn’t mind the
dizzying wave anymore. Now it was erotic, a part of the sensual ebb and flow
that was our slick bodies.

Surrounding my throat with one hand, he
murmured, “Do you like that?”

I moaned in ecstasy at the slight pressure,
lolling my head from side to side. With his other hand, he pressed his index
finger to my parted lips. “Suck,” he ordered, and I drew the single digit into
my mouth, the lingering taste of champagne and my sex coating my tongue.

As soon as that delicious part of his
flesh was wet, he reached it between our hips and swirled my swollen clit.
“Ohhhhh!”

“That’s it,” he urged, pounding faster
into me. I crashed against him, meeting each pump with my own, my breasts
bouncing, the sound meshing with that of his balls slapping against my ass.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Can’t get enough?” My question caused
the vise grip he had on my throat to tighten just a little, which I took as an
invitation to clench my sex around him. He closed his eyes and let out a groan
that was almost as shattering as our colliding bodies.

“God, no!”

A moment later, when the first bursts of
pleasure threatened to overcome me, his palms spanned my arms again, jerking my
fingers roughly from the ropes. When he repositioned us, this time I was on my
back with my knees to my chest and my legs over his shoulders. His lips hovered
over mine.

“I’ve got to see you when you come,” he
rasped into my skin. “I won’t be able to let you leave without watching you
come.”

Crossing my ankles behind his shoulders,
I struggled to nod, but my body seizing up under him halted it. With my head
whipping wildly from side to side, I gave up, my core throbbing with release.

“Perfect,” he panted. “You’re so goddamn
perfect.”

Fisting the sheets, I continued to meet
his erratic thrusts, until I felt the muscles contract under his slick back.
The sensation cleaved through me, starting at my feet and ending at my heart,
sending my body into pandemonium all over again.

“Let go,” I whispered. “Let go, Oliver.”

A moment later, he threw his head back.
As the orgasm ripped through him, destroying him, his erection continued to
slide into me, hard and fast. It evoked an animalistic sound from the back of
his throat that pierced the quiet November night.

It left my own throat dry with need.

It made me want to give him everything.

Every. Single. Part. Of.
Me
.

*

When I awoke, I
was on my stomach in his bedroom, and it was still dark out. I flipped over to
face him, only to discover he was gone, the sheets tangled where his body had
lain.

I
could smell him.

I
could smell him drifting from the sheets, from my naked body, and I couldn’t
resist lowering my nose to my bare shoulder and inhaling. Stifling a yawn, I
slid off the edge of the bed.

“Oliver?”
When he didn’t answer, I padded across the red tile floor toward the door, but
the repetitive
thump, thump
noise coming from right outside the window stopped
me in my tracks. Frowning, I slid the linen curtains aside.

And
there he was. His sculpted chest and mussed brown hair damp with sweat as he
leaned back, concentrating on the basketball goal. Lifting his hands, he threw
the ball at the net, sinking it with so much ease I couldn’t hold back my grin.

If
he hadn’t been injured in college, there was no doubt in my mind he’d have gone
pro. He wouldn’t be the executive vice-president at Manning Hotel Group. He
probably wouldn’t have been in Emerson & Taylor the day we met. We wouldn’t
have touched, wouldn’t have connected—wouldn’t have been anything.

No,
that was wrong. He would still be the son of the woman I was desperate to
unravel. 

The
panicked sound that came from my parted lips startled me, and I blinked away
the heat that rose behind my eyelids. Thinking of Margaret was a bitter
reminder that I still had so much more to do. I had no idea how much longer
something could last between Oliver and me, but I wasn’t about to spend what
might be final moments simply watching him. 

I
wanted to be in his presence. I wanted to let his intoxicating scent screw with
my head as I inhaled it directly from his skin.

Spotting
a tee shirt draped over the bathroom door, I donned it, smirking at the sight
of my small body in a shirt meant for a six-foot-two man. After I swished some
of his mouthwash around my mouth, I strode out to the backyard.

He
had earbuds in, and he didn’t realize I was there, so I took that opportunity
to admire his lean, muscular physique as he bent his knees slightly and took
another shot. It dropped through the net, rolling over to me.

I
stopped it with my foot. “You do this every night?”

He
faced me, his intense expression softening when he saw me in the moonlight
wearing his shirt. “Shit. Did I wake you?” He jogged over, his face etched with
concern as he pulled the earbuds out of his ears.

From
where I stood, I could hear Eminem and Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie”
playing. He paused it and stuffed the iPod in his pocket, but the scalding
knife of irony still twisted my chest.

“No,
I woke up on my own and realized you were gone. When I heard you out here, I—”
I held my breath when he knelt in front of me, his full lips touching my knee
cap as he coaxed my foot off the ball. “You’re amazing.”

Tossing
the ball back and forth between his large hands, he lifted his shoulders
modestly. “I haven’t played for competition in nine years, but I like to vary
my workouts. I had this installed after I bought the place.”

“Vary
your workouts?” I repeated, and his head moved up and down deliberately. A
vivid image of his body leaned over mine, pumping furiously into me hit my
memory full force. Automatically, I licked my lips. “Hmm … well, it worked.”

Slanting
away from me, he aimed for the goal and once again easily hit his mark. After
he retrieved the ball and returned to my side, he leaned into me, the look in
his eyes challenging. “Want to try?”

“Me?”
At the disbelieving tone of my voice, he bobbed his head. “Didn’t I already
tell you how much I sucked at athletics?”

But
he was already moving around me, making sure the front of his body brushed
every inch of mine until he was standing behind me. His hands covering mine, he
positioned my fingers on either side of the basketball. “Here, spread your
legs,” he said.

I
moved my feet slightly apart, but it must not have been enough, because a
moment later, I felt his hand between my thighs. Palming my center, he sucked
in a breath.

“You
have no panties on,” he mused, his voice low. “And your pussy is already wet.”

I
widened my stance a little more, but the clench in my core was agonizing. “I
have no idea what you did with my underwear,” I countered.

“God,
you make it hard to concentrate.” But he pulled his hand reluctantly from my
thighs, making certain to give my clitoris a harsh squeeze in the process.  He
grasped my hips to still my trembling then lowered his mouth to my ear.
“Alright, bend your knees.”

“Like
this?”

“Perfect.
You’re perfect, Lizzie.” Releasing my hips, he situated my arms until I was
holding the ball a few inches above my waist. “Alright, push it up and shoot it
in one fluid motion, like this—” I let him guide me, and a second later the
ball slammed into the rim and fell onto the court.

I
tossed my head back, laughing. “Told you I was a non-athlete.”

He
gave my bare ass a hard smack before jogging to grab the ball. “It was your
first time. Besides, you can play tennis.”

He’d
remembered me telling him that? It had been mentioned so fleetingly, I was a
little surprised. A blush of pleasure sneaking across my skin, I looked down at
my feet, tugging at the hem of his tee shirt.

“So
you never answered my question,” I said, and he sent a puzzled expression at me
just before he went in for a layup.

“What
would that be?”

“Do
you come out here and play every night?”

“Just
when I have a lot on my mind,” he stated.

A
light breeze swept through his backyard, and I shuddered, rubbing my hands over
the goose bumps that formed on my skin. “Care to talk about it?”

“A
bunch of work bullshit. I’m not going to bore you with it.” His smile was
almost forced, and I felt an uncomfortable tension in the back of my throat
when I let my thoughts wander. He was lying, I could tell. But, hell, who was I
to throw stones.

I
was a lie.

I
turned on my heel. Maybe I shouldn’t have come out here. If this is what he did
to ease his mind, I was interrupting. “I’m going back inside to—”

“Are
you tired?”

Looking
over my shoulder, I shook my head. “No,” I breathed. “I just didn’t want to get
in the way.”

“Stay.”
He raked his eyes over me. “I won’t be much longer, and I like you standing
there in my clothes, looking like you were just fucked.”

“I
was
just fucked,” I pointed out, smirking.

But
God, he knew exactly what to say to send my body into a state of sexual panic.
Crossing my legs at the ankle, I watched in silence as he took shot after shot
until I heard myself quietly ask, “Did your stepdad…did he teach you how to
play basketball too?” At my mention of my dad, my vision blurred, but I
immediately separated myself from the negative emotions.

I
wanted to hear the good.

The
beautiful.

Breaking
his attention away from dribbling the ball, Oliver stared over at me, the
muscles in his neck tightening. “No.” He alternated, bouncing the basketball
with his left hand. “I was almost fourteen when my mom married him, so I
already knew the fundamentals of the game. By that time I’d reached the point
where I’d lost the stutter and had picked up getting high just like almost
every other over-privileged fuck my age.”

He
took another shot, this time missing and barely hitting the rim. “My stepfather
was the person who talked me into joining the team. He thought it would be good
for me.”

“Over-privileged
fuck,” I echoed, ignoring the wiggle of jealousy that trickled through me.
“God, you put it so eloquently.”

“It’s
the truth, beautiful. Greg intervened and got me into this.” Staring up at the
basketball goal again, his features wrinkled into a frown.

I
was dying to know what he was thinking, but I didn’t want to probe—for both our
sake. Digging too deep could be catastrophic, a heartache I wasn’t willing to
let consume me tonight. Eventually though, his shoulders relaxed. His movements
were slow, predatory, as he crossed the small court to stand in front of me.

Suddenly
the racing of my pulse had nothing to do with melancholy thoughts of the past.

It
had everything to do with the man in front of me with his hands on my face, his
body a mere few inches from mine. “You didn’t come out here to talk about
basketball.”

“No,”
I admitted, “but I don’t mind.”

“I
do.” He gathered me against him. “Call in tomorrow.”

I
moaned in frustration. “She’d kill me.”

Releasing
a curse, he gripped my ass and lifted me up. Need spiraled through me, and I
refused to deny it. I denied so much already, that this—this was one thing I’d
admit. Digging my fingers into his light brown hair, I tugged the damp locks
back until we were eye to eye. When I tried to speak, he quieted me with his
teeth, suckling on my lower lip until my core pulsed.

“I
want you, Lizzie,” he growled, carrying me through the door and into the house.

“Again?”

I
gasped when his shorts came down around his legs and the head of his erection
settled between my folds. Supporting me against the closest wall we came in
contact with, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips as he buried
himself inside my body. “Yes. Again.”