“Put your ankles over my shoulders,” he told her.
She did, without question, assuming he was going to plow into her with his cock. She welcomed the thought, wanted something to ease the deep ache. But that wasn’t his plan. Instead, he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her clear off the bed, right up to his mouth.
“Oh, God!” she cried out when he made hot contact with his tongue on her clitoris.
The assault continued until she was twisting her head back and forth, fingers numb from her frantic grip on the sheet, skin crawling with goose bumps. “Rhett,” she whispered, all the blood rushing to her head, her leg and butt muscles tensed from the position, her agonized ecstasy rendering her incoherent. She had something to say, only she didn’t know what it was.
He lifted his mouth and looked down at her, his head framed by her thighs. “Say my name again,” he told her urgently. “Scream it.”
“Rhett,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Oh!” she said involuntarily, when he plunged his tongue into her again.
His movements stopped and she whimpered.
“Louder.”
“Rhett!” she called out, the name half plea, half question. It sounded electric to her, ringing in the quiet room, an embarrassing burst of her succumbing to him, to the needs of her body.
But it clearly wasn’t that loud, because he lifted his mouth again and used one finger to pinch her ass cheek. “Say it like you mean it. Don’t be ashamed, Shawn. Scream for me.”
So she did. She let go of everything inside her and screamed over and over while he worked her. She came with his name on her lips, echoing in the room around them, her throat going hoarse, her pleasure transcending her body, dragging everything out of her.
And when he levered her legs down onto the bed, still tasting her, as the last strains of tight fulfillment were wrung from her, Shawn blinked, her eyes, her mouth, her heart all open to him, frozen in the profound moment of pure abandonment.
Rhett undid his jeans, watching her with a predatory expression as he voiced his approval. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”
She was stunned, tremors still rippling through her.
STANDING up so he could shove his jeans and briefs off, Rhett stared down at Shawn, her breasts heaving, her cheeks pink, skin dewy from exertion. Her fingers were fluttering upward, reaching for him, but on the bed, like she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. She looked like she was in shock.
He felt a little that way himself. Something had happened to him when he had listened to Shawn scream his name, with the tangy taste of her on his tongue, legs wrapped around him. Something had shifted, and he didn’t know what it was. He only knew that he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her, that he had never known the kind of satisfaction he had felt when she had opened her throat and cried out her need, her pleasure.
His tongue was thick, his cock hard to the point of painful, his control hanging on by the merest of threads.
If she touched him, if he felt the feathery, soft touch of her fingers on his back, if her milky thighs wrapped around him, he wasn’t going to be able to contain himself. He was going to lose it in her, and he needed a second.
So as he divested himself of the remains of his clothes, he told her, “Hands above your head. Legs spread. No touching.”
Her eyelashes fluttered in confusion, but after a second, she did as she was told. The eroticism of her obedience humbled him, stoked his arousal to a fever pitch, and he moved between her thighs. Her body was displayed to pure perfection, arms above her head, neck long and graceful, breasts rising up, her legs spread wide for him, her blond curls dark and damp. When he sank into her, she cried out, then looked up to him for approval. For instruction.
He paused, the agony of the thick, pulsing desire, the primal pleasure from her surrender, almost unbearable. He shook his head, indicating no speaking, because he couldn’t speak himself. He wanted to experience his invasion of her body in silence, her screams of his name still echoing in his ears. She understood without any words from him, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip to hold back the moans as he began to move inside her.
Never had he felt this kind of connection, this deep of an intimacy with a woman, and he bent over to kiss her, wanting her to taste the lingering scent of her own body on his tongue. “Say it again,” he murmured softly against her mouth, his gaze locked with hers.
She knew what he meant. “Rhett,” she whispered, and the sweetness of his name on her lips broke his control.
He thrust deep and just said, “Shawn,” hoping she would understand that this was something different, something important happening between them. “Touch me.”
As he pushed in and out of her warmth, he expected her to lock her ankles behind his ass, to dig her nails into his back.
But she didn’t. Her legs stayed spread wide for him.
While her fingers reached up and stroked his cheeks.
It disarmed him entirely, that soft caress, her smooth hands cupping his face, while she mouthed his name in silence, the sentiment hitting him harder than when it had been torn from her on a shout.
Turning his head, he kissed her fingers, dragging one into his mouth, biting the tip before pulling it down onto the bed and intertwining her fingers with his. When the rush came, when he exploded inside her, their eyes never left each other, and Rhett knew that they had just crossed a line that couldn’t be taken back.
He didn’t want to take it back.
He wanted to stay there forever, bodies meshed together, emotions real and honest.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“SO what is this, Take Your Hot Husband We Didn’t Know You Had to Work Day?” Linda asked Shawn Monday morning after she had introduced Rhett.
“Ha ha. I’m so glad my staff has such a sense of humor.”
Linda shrugged, looking remarkably not contrite. “Friday you left at noon single, or so I thought. You been hiding him in your bedroom?” She eyed Rhett over her reading glasses. “I know I would.”
Shawn was surprised that more than annoyance, what she was actually feeling was a prickling of pride that her accounts receivable employee thought her husband was hot stuff. Because the truth was, he was hot stuff. He was gorgeous, built, he focused on her in bed, and he made coffee.
He was a keeper.
And she had gone from being entirely freaked out to wondering if, in fact, this relationship could be something more than a matter of saving her track and getting some booty at the same time.
Maybe it was the afterglow, but she was feeling just fine, thank you very much. Nothing Linda said was going to irritate her. “Maybe I have,” she said airily.
Rhett gave her a sly smile, and she knew he was remembering exactly what she was—last night and this morning’s repeat performance. Her body still ached in places she didn’t know she could ache.
Linda snorted, and dropped her reading glasses down onto her ample chest. She was a feisty woman in her late fifties, and she favored cheetah prints and cherry-red hair dye. She had been working at Hamby as long as Shawn could remember. In fact, when Shawn was little, she had been in awe of Linda, who had seemed like an exotic bird, with her eighties shoulder pads and jumbo hair, lips shiny and red, eyes painted with glittery shadow. Now she was settled into her desk chair behind her computer, eyeballing Shawn with no small amount of curiosity. “So I never pegged you for being able to keep a secret, girl, but apparently you’ve been mum about your dating life. How did you meet?”
“Through Eve Monroe, my sister-in-law,” Rhett told her.
That was a bit of a stretch, but it could be true. Frankly, it would have only been a matter of time before they had crossed paths. The only reason they hadn’t was because Eve had been married to Nolan just a few months and she had been busy changing careers, and Shawn had been dealing with her grandfather’s illness. They hadn’t seen each other much lately, other than at book club, and never with Nolan’s family around.