Undeniable (6 page)

She would never do that to herself. Never let herself be bound so inextricably to one man that losing him would be the end of her. And it would happen. She’d seen it happen. Her father had mourned her mother to the point of forgetting who he was. Half the time Arwen wasn’t sure he hadn’t forgotten about her. Or at least that she was his daughter, and not just a piece of the woman he’d lost.

This, right here, right now is enough,
she told herself, her legs open, her nipples tight around the rings piercing them, her body hurting, soaring, looking for the relief that was just out of reach.
For the pleasure that reminded her she was very much alive—and very much worth remembering.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

Dax. As if she’d conjured him. As if he’d known. Instead of scaring her half to death, his voice sent ripples through the water to tickle her skin. Her pulse raced, beating at her wrists, in the hollow of her throat, deep inside her sex. She brought up her arms to rest on the tub’s edge and took a calming breath. Her eyes drifted open.

Slowly, she turned her head, found him lounging against her door, one shoulder against the jamb, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His shirt hung open as if he couldn’t be bothered with the snaps when he knew it would be coming off, and that strip of shadowed skin left her unaccountably flustered.

She wanted to ask how long he’d been there, how much he’d seen, but it didn’t matter. This was what she wanted. Her naked. Dax soon to be. God, he was gorgeous, and she was undone with wanting him, and already his cock bulged behind his fly.

“I’m having a warm and very relaxing bath,” she said after finding the words. She stirred the water with her fingertips, creating eddies and tiny lapping waves. She clenched her sex, imagining his tongue. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said, his voice deep, husky, aching with more than the weary fatigue etched at the corners of his eyes.

And that was the moment she knew she was in trouble. If she didn’t set boundaries before they took things further, she’d be unable later to recall the reasons for needing them. She could want to touch him. She could lust to have him touch her, pierce her, slide into her and make her come. But she could not need him. She could never need him. He was only here for her to enjoy and get out of her system for good.

She watched him strip, losing the boots and socks first, then the shirt. His buckle came next, and once he’d unhooked it from his belt, he let both ends dangle around his hands as he unbuttoned his fly. She didn’t even pretend to try and hold his gaze. Hers was caught by the movement of his dexterous fingers, by the prize behind the denim as he shucked off his jeans and walked toward her in nothing but tight white briefs.

He stopped, moved his hands to his hips. “Is this tub big enough for two people?”

She pulled her knees to her chest to make room. “It’s big enough for three.”

That had him frowning. “Have you had three in here?”

“Not yet,” she said, and laughing, wrapped her arms around her legs. He was so cute, so completely discombobulated. And who knew so easy to tease?

He looked down at the water, looked back at her, still frowning. “Are you planning to?”

“We’ll see.” She reached out then, hooked a finger in the leg of his briefs and tugged. “Lose ’em, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and rolled them off.

He stepped into the tub then, and being eye level with all that male flesh had her a little giddy and breathless. And as tired as she’d been a half hour ago, now she was wide, wide awake. Awake and wishing they had more hours ahead than her insanely busy schedule for tomorrow allowed. At some point, she really did need to sleep.

Speaking of which… “It’s the middle of the night, you know.”

He leaned back beneath the high faucet, resting his head and arms on the tub’s curved lip, stretching out his legs so that his feet brushed her hips. “Nope. It’s the first thing in the morning.”

“You look like you haven’t slept.” His body was a work of
art, his limbs long, leanly muscled, dusted with the same golden brown hair that grew in a wedge on his chest. His stomach was flat, his abs defined, as were his pectoral muscles.

His hands, however, were worn—bruised, scratched, a nail or two torn. And his face, his beautiful cheekbones and long lashes and lips that kissed like he could give her the world, was an exhausted mess of dark circles and lines etched deeply at his mouth and eyes.

“I slept,” he finally said. “In bed at ten. Up at three. Trip to town in a record-breaking twenty minutes.”

She wondered how many of the county’s sheriffs would ticket the Campbell black sheep for speeding, how many had grown up with him and would look the other way. “That’s not much sleep for the days you’re keeping.”

“Can’t be helped. I promised the guys no more hanky-panky on company time.”

That brought a grin. “Is that what I am? Hanky-panky?”

He opened one eye, but that was all. Not another part of his body moved. The water’s surface remained still. “Not from way over there, you’re not.”

And that was her cue. She got to her hands and knees, straddling his legs and crawling onto his lap. Then she realized this water level would never work.

She nudged his hip. “Lift up. You’re sitting on the plug.”

“You have sex toys in the tub?”

“Just you, cowboy.” She nudged him again. “The plug for the drain? The tub’s about to overflow. And we’re not even moving.”

“Got it,” he said, and obeyed.

She slid her hand between his thighs, her knuckles brushing against his sac where it hung heavy and warm, then against his ass where she stayed and played while the water surplus swirled around her fingers as it flowed.

Dax gave her a grunt and wiggled. “Careful with the goods there, woman.”

“I’m always careful,” she said, replacing the plug and lingering, pushing the tip of her finger against his tight hole, laughing and retreating when he twisted away. “And you’re way too tense.”

“No wonder, you knocking at locked doors down there.”

Yesterday, in her kitchen, he’d briefly let her in to play, and she’d remind him of that soon enough, but first… “Do we need to revisit the condom issue?”

This time, both eyes opened and his frown returned. “What? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. I’m not that big of a whore.”

“Are you going to be?” she asked, settling on his lap, his cock thrusting upward and caught between them.

“A whore?” When she nodded, his face broke into a wickedly dimpled grin. “If you’ll let me.”

He was big beneath her, broad and strong, and she ached to learn what he liked, to have him inside of her. To feel his hands and his teeth on her skin. To touch him in ways no other woman had. For as long as it took to work him out of her system, he was hers.

And when she was done, he would never
never
forget her.

She reached up, stroked a hand down his face, feeling the scratch of the stubble he hadn’t shaved. “You whore with me, you can ride bareback. You whore elsewhere—”

“Look at me, Arwen,” he said, his eyes fierce as he grabbed her wrist. “I’m half dead as it is. Where am I going to find time, not to mention the energy, for anyone but you?”

A flutter of something uncomfortable spread from her chest to her core. She wasn’t frightened, but suddenly well aware that she knew nothing of the past sixteen years and what they’d done to him. In her mind, he was the Dax she’d created out of the boy she’d crushed on in school, and fantasies weren’t always safe.

“Fine,” she said, her gaze moving from his to her wrist and back. “Just making sure we’re clear.”

“As clear as the rainwater that would make everything about my life as a rancher a whole lot easier,” he said, letting her go, awake now and stiff with worry and distracted when she’d wanted him pliant and in this moment with her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have… Shit. Coming here probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”

And that wasn’t the best apology she’d ever received, but he’d made it and without prompting. “Why did you come?”

“So I could come,” he said, waggling both brows, the water sloshing as he gave a playful thrust of his hips.

All the better that they were on the same page. She wanted him for sex, that was all. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she threaded her fingers into the damp hair at his nape. “You don’t need me for that.”

“Yeah, but you make it a hell of a lot more fun.” Then he reached for the rings in her nipples and used them to tug her against him as he opened his mouth over hers.

S
HE TASTED LIKE
Arwen. Funny that he knew that about her after nothing but yesterday’s kiss. Knew how sweet she was. How warm and wet. How demanding. He probably liked that best of all. He got what he wanted and didn’t have to sweet-talk or beg.

Cupping the back of his head with one hand, the head of his cock with the other, she moved up and down as they kissed, a fucking motion that had the rings in her nipples scraping at his. All he could do was sit back and take it. Take it and try not to die.

She pulled her mouth free, kissed his jaw, his cheekbone, his brow, his closed eyes. He allowed her that liberty, too, sitting still, at her mercy. He liked it a lot, letting her have her way. After the
kitchen where he’d called the shots, she deserved it. He wasn’t selfish as a rule. He’d just been starving.

“You can play along if you want,” she said, her thumb stroking a particularly sensitive spot that had his balls drawing close and tight.

He cracked open one eye. “I’m playing the part of the willing victim.”

She nipped his earlobe, growled. “That’s got to be a new role for a Campbell. Victim.”

Uh… wow. He’d thought himself too mellow these days to get irritated by a reminder of his roots, but damn if she hadn’t just yanked a big one. “Really? We’re going to bring families into this? Because I don’t think there’s a tub big enough—”

“Shh.” She pressed an index finger to his lips. “That’s all I wanted. Some sign of life.”

“This doesn’t do it for you?” He caught her hand still stroking his cock and pumped into their joined fists. “It sure seemed to hit all the right spots when I had you up against your kitchen door.”

Her finger moved, outlined his lips, pushed between, along his tongue, then withdrew. “It’s going to be hard to ever look at that door and not think about you.”

He was a professional bullshitter, not easily had. His ego on the other hand…

He moved his hands to her ass and eased beneath her, sliding into her when she next lowered her hips. Her head fell back on her shoulders. She closed her eyes. She sat still, impaled, her pulse a rhythmic throb in her throat.

His pulse throbbed elsewhere. It pounded inside her. It pounded in his chest. It pounded in his fingertips where he gouged her skin. He swallowed, waiting, and finally she smiled, a secret sort of sexy
grin she caught in the corner with her teeth. Then she looped her arms around his neck, laced her hands, and rode him.

Up, down. Up, down. Grinding in a figure eight against the base of his shaft. Easing away until she barely held him. Teasing him. Making it hard not to give up and let go.
It would be so goddamn easy to let
go.

“I was thinking of you earlier while bathing,” she said. “Thinking about this.” Up, down. Grinding. “And there you were. My real-life fantasy.”

The woman was not playing fair. “You always leave your back door unlocked?”

“Only for you,” she said, rocking, taking him deep, withdrawing. “Just for you.”

A howl clawed and snarled high in his chest. He wrapped an arm around her back and brought her close, burying his face between her tits and inhaling. She smelled like the water, like fruit and herbs, and his stomach rumbled, wanting things he couldn’t name.

He bit at her nipple ring, sucked flesh and silver into his mouth, winced at the metallic burn. His free hand found its way between their bodies, and he toyed with her clit, tweaking, tugging, working her as she squirmed, as tiny, breathy
oh
s and deeper, richer sounds escaped her lips.

He used his fingers, his teeth, and his cock on her, hurting her, soothing her, gauging her reaction, and giving her less or more. Her noises became commands of “Not so much,” and “Harder,” and “Yes, right there, please.”

And this time when she tossed back her head, he knew from the fluttering contractions she was coming. She was beautiful to watch, her parted lips, the tip of her tongue, the flush coloring her skin like summer peaches.

She finished with a shudder that sucked the air from his lungs and he groaned. Only when he was able to breathe again and the vibrations had faded did he pull out of her body. Then he spanked her once. Hard. “On your knees.”

She obeyed, sitting back and giving him the room he needed to get to his feet. Cock in his fist, he braced his legs against the tub’s sides and nodded.

Her eyes glittered as she took him into her mouth. He looked down, watched her lips, her cheeks, her tits bouncing as she sucked him and tongued him, her fingers using him like she was a singer and he was her mic.

Lust clutched hard, and his legs began to shake. The base of his spine twitched and tingled. His gut caught fire and burned. That was when she reached a hand between his legs, pushing a finger against the ridge behind his balls before sliding it to the rim of his ass.

He slammed a palm against the wall on his left, furrowed the fingers of the other into the rows of her wet hair and grunted like a pig. He felt her smile and he closed his eyes and he didn’t even stop her when she pushed deeper into his hole.

Instead, he grit his teeth and let her. Desire wrapped him up and tightened around him, squeezing as she made him forget everything but his cock. Nothing existed but the slick heat of her mouth, her finger in his ass, the fingers of her other hand ringed around his balls.

He was drowning in sex, suffocating, going down. Her lips caught at the ridge of his cock’s head, and with each movement of her finger, he clenched against what felt like a threat to his rules against involvement. What was he thinking, letting her in? He did not let women in.