“Wait?” His gaze was sleepy-lidded and incredibly sexy. His hair was messed up from her fingers, his mouth wet from hers, his eyes hot.
“We’re not taking this any further,” she said.
He looked at her for a long moment, as if the words were having trouble sinking in. “You want me to go.”
No. “Yes.”
He nodded agreeably. “Then I will. Soon as you look into my eyes and tell me you don’t want me.”
She opened her mouth, ready to tell him anything so she could be alone but nothing came out. “I don’t…” The words were I don’t want you.
“Yes?” he asked patiently.
The words sat on the tip of her tongue, a big fat lie, stuck, unwilling to come out. “Damn it!”
With a triumphant laugh, he pressed his face into the tumble of her hair. His voice sounded thick with satisfaction. “All you have to do is say it. Say you don’t want me and I’m out of here.”
She had to close her eyes against that strong, masculine voice.
“Let’s try something easier,” he suggested with far too much amusement in his voice. “Say you do want me.”
“Never.”
“Ah, darlin’. Have I taught you nothing? Never say never.”
“I don’t-” She sucked in a breath when he nipped at her jaw, then her throat as he skimmed his hands down her back. “Bo-”
He flicked open her bra and moaned when her breasts spilled into his hand. “Mmm…nice.”
“We’re not-” She broke off again when he bent and sucked a breast into his mouth, encircling her nipple with his tongue. “Not. Doing. This-”
Surging up, he popped open the button on his pants.
Oh, God. If he shoved those off, she was a goner. It was bad enough when he had his shirt off because he had the best belly known to man, the kind of belly she wanted to kiss. Bite. Frantic, she rolled to her stomach to crawl away.
A big hand clasped her ankle. “You haven’t said it.” He slowly but inexorably tugged her back, then flipped her over. Holding her down, he smiled with pure wickedness.
“I’m not saying anything!”
“Suit yourself.” He pinned her to the mattress, overpowering her, which she allowed, especially when he set his forearms alongside her face so that his fingers could stroke back her hair. The tender gesture startled her. He was heavy but not uncomfortable. The opposite, actually, and even as she wanted to deny it, her body was doing a slow burn for him, and of their own accord, her legs bent, pulling back to let him cradle between. With a rough groan, he rocked his hips to hers. “Mel.”
She whispered his name, too, or at least she meant to but it came out a sort of strangled plea for more, please more as she strained to fit snugger against him. She told herself this was ridiculous, that they were adults and could stop this at any time, and should. Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and clung.
“Mmm,” he murmured, and gently closed his teeth over her bottom lip, tugging just a little, creating a slight sting he stroked away with his tongue. “Still not saying it…”
Her skin had heated as if she had a fever, but she didn’t feel sick, she felt exhilarated. It was him, he gave that feeling to her with every taste, every touch, banishing away her worries, the mountains of stress on her shoulders. Banishing it and giving her something else instead, something she absolutely did not want to face. “I’m too stubborn to give in,” she admitted softly.
“Just one of the things I’m learning to appreciate about you, darlin’. Though I might have said bull-headed instead of stubborn.”
Arching up, enjoying his sharp hiss of arousal, she said, “Shut up and do me.”
“Oh, absolutely.” His low laugh warmed her further, and so did how he kissed his way along her jaw to her ear. “But let the record show you asked.”
“Told.”
“Begged.”
Before she could sputter and shove him away, he captured her mouth with his in a deep, wet, carnal kiss that left no doubt as to his plans, plans he furthered along by stripping away her pants while still holding her pinned to the mattress.
“Not fair,” she gasped. “Your pants-”
“If I take my hands off you, are you going to play nice?”
“Of course.”
He narrowed his eyes, but an aroused man didn’t have much in the way of working brain cells, and Bo was little exception. He pulled his weight off her and sat back on his heels as he unzipped his pants, the muscles in his rock-solid chest rippling, leaving her with a shocking need to put her mouth on him. Anywhere. Everywhere.
He eyed her as he slowly pulled a string of condoms from his pocket, dropping them to the mattress by her head as he kicked off his shoes, then came up to his knees to shove his pants to his thighs.
That actually sidetracked her for a beat, as her gaze traveled south and locked on her target. She didn’t realize that she licked her lips in anticipation until a choked out “oh, man” escaped him.
When he sat to kick the pants off his legs, she made her move, pouncing, tackling him midchest and taking him down to the bed, making sure to grab the condoms before they hit the floor.
Now he lay beneath her, his pants still at his thighs as she straddled his hips, gliding her hands along his arms, holding him down at the biceps, which flexed once, then went still.
“Is this your way of playing nice?” he murmured, lying still like a panther; poised, patient, just waiting to make his move.
“Believe me,” she said, “what comes next is going to be nice. Very nice.”
“Please be gentle,” he quipped, but lay there, surprisingly pliant.
Ha! As if he’d ever been pliant a day in his life. “Did you worry about gentle the last time?” she asked. “When you shoved me against my own front door and had your merry way with me?”
“Hey, I’m the one with rug burns on my ass.”
The memory of him sprawled out on her floor while she ran her mouth over that edible body tightened hers. “Complaining?”
“Not likely.”
Never underestimating him, she remained crouched over the top of him, the both of them well aware that he could have easily reversed their positions if he wanted.
“What are you going to do with me?” he asked.
In answer, she tore off a condom.
“Good start,” he said sounding a little pressed for air.
With a smile, she went to work protecting them both, stroking the condom down his silky hard length, probably taking far longer than necessary but she found she got a vicarious thrill out of the sounds he made when she stroked him. By the time she finished, Bo was sweating and she was shaking. “They should make those things bigger,” she said, and he let out a laughing moan. She bent over him again, pressing her lips to his jaw, then his throat, overcome by a sudden need to be gentle.
He gripped her hips, his laughter also gone. “Mel?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re killing me.”
“Oh! Sorry!” She tried to lift her weight off him but he held her still.
“No, not too heavy. I meant because I’m going to explode and you haven’t done anything to me yet.”
She eyed his penis, which twitched. “Ah. Well…”
“What?”
“I hate to ask…”
“Ask,” he said, looking a little desperate.
She stroked a finger over him, loving how that made his back arch up a bit, his hips push almost helplessly toward her. “I was thinking…”
“Seriously,” he grated out. “Anything, Mel.”
Power surged through her at that. “Maybe you could beg me for a change.”
His eyes locked onto hers. His fingers tightened on her hips, and the air charged, crackled, and popped around them. She’d bet her Hawker that he’d never begged for a single thing in his entire life. Never had to.
He slid one hand from her hip to low on her back, nudging her forward just a tad. Now the very tip of his erection teased her right where she wanted him the most. It tore a sound from deep in her throat, a sound that came awful close to begging so she clamped her lips shut, her hands flat on his pecs, her head bowed, air panting in and out of her mouth as if she’d just raced a marathon in the snow, uphill both ways. “Beg me, damn it.”