And still he wanted more.
Pulling away from her for just a moment, he pulled his 9mm from his shoulder holster and set it on the bedside table, close enough to reach. Then he unhooked his shoulder holster and shrugged out of his shirt.
Rees moved close. She ran her fingers along his collarbone, over his chest.
Trent pulled her closer and placed her arm around his neck. Running his hands down her sides and around her back, he encircled her, engulfed her, molded her body to his. Her cotton sweater rubbed his bare chest. Her heat penetrated the fabric and seeped into him like the sun’s rays after a long winter chill.
He gathered the knitted cotton in his fingers, grasped the ribbing and lifted the sweater over her head. Moving his fingers along the silk of her skin, he slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders. He released the clasp and pulled the lace and satin free.
Moonlight reached through the lace curtains and accented the perfect roundness of her bare breasts. He covered them with his hands, kneading her softness, teasing her nipples with his fingertips until they tightened into hard nubs.
A moan sounded deep in her chest. A moan of pleasure. A moan of need. Her fingers found the waistband of his slacks. Tentatively she began unbuttoning, as if she expected him to push her away. Again.
“I’m so sorry, Rees.”
She looked up at him. “Sorry?”
“For pulling away yesterday. I never should have done that to you. Not after…”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.”
“And now?” A tremor rippled through her voice.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Hesitating.”
“Kinda.”
“I don’t mean to.” He almost apologized again, but before the words left his lips, he realized how worthless another apology would be. This wasn’t the time for words. It was the moment for action.
Trent folded her hands in his, stilling her fingers. And instead of speaking, he kissed her, long and deep, then swept her up in his arms. He set her down on the bed, and when she tried to reach for his fly again, he cupped her head gently in his hands.
“My turn first.” Kissing her again, he inched her back onto the sheets.
He knelt on the bed, straddling her, a knee on either side. He kissed her slowly, savoring every nip of her lips and caress of her tongue. Then he worked his way over her jaw, down her neck, and focused on her breasts. Circling one nipple with his tongue, then the other. Suckling one, then the other. Nipping. Flicking.
“Oh,” Risa said, but he could feel the sound vibrating in her chest more than hear it.
Trent pinched one nipple with his fingers, then sucked it hard into his mouth. He could play with her breasts forever. Watching them. Sucking them. Making her arch her back for more.
But he wanted to give her more than that.
He moved lower, littering kisses over her belly, letting his breath caress her. He wanted her softness around him. Her wetness. Her heat. But he wasn’t going to rush. He wanted to move slowly. To savor. To make the moment last.
A moment they might never have again.
He was hard now. Impossibly hard and heavy. And he could feel the contours of her body brushing underneath him as he moved. Her abdomen, the hinge of her thighs, her long, long legs. Each sensation giving him a little jolt. Making him know what it meant to be alive.
Trent cradled her hips with his hands and swirled his tongue in her navel.
Risa sucked in a breath, her back arching, her breasts rising and falling.
He moved lower, over her abdomen, over her mound. He found the cleft in her thighs and flicked her with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh,” she said on a breath.
Trent moved lower. He looped his arms under her legs, spread her thighs wide, then he settled his body between them. He could smell her excitement. Her need for him. And he smiled. “I’ve missed this.”
“So have I.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I love you, Trent. I always have.”
He knew that. He knew it, but he hadn’t let himself think of it. Not for a long time. Even now, he couldn’t think. He could only feel. He could only do.
He drew in a deep breath of her and then flicked his tongue.
A low coo rose from her chest.
She tasted just how he remembered. Warm and fresh and so erotic he thought he would lose control.
With a fat tongue, he caressed her, long and slow, one side then the other. He moved lightly at first, a mere feathering of pressure, then as his excitement built, he intensified his stroke.
Longer.
Harder.
Deeper.
Risa groaned, tilting her hips. One side, then the other, trying to capture him. Claim the pleasure. But whatever way she moved, he teased the other side. Flicking then licking. Flicking then licking. He wanted to make her want him more. He wanted to drive her out of her mind.
He wanted to hear her beg.
Trent pulled back from her, just a centimeter, maybe two. Risa was breathtaking from this angle. Her open legs, her erect nipples. He wanted to take his pleasure now. Plunge into her and thrust until he reached his peace. But that wasn’t enough for him. Not nearly enough.
Opening his mouth, he breathed heavily, directing the exhale on the center of her desire.
At first she tilted her hips toward him, straining for his mouth. Then she sat up on her elbows. “Trent?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Just enjoying the view.”
She laughed, a little self-consciously, then tilted her hips toward him again.
“Well, aren’t you eager.”
“You make me that way.”
“Do you want me to lick you, Risa?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to make you come.”
“Um, yes.”
Trent knew he could make her do better than that. He knew he could torment her. Giving and withdrawing. Giving and withdrawing. Making her desperate for him. Making her writhe and beg.
But he’d done enough of that already. Enough pushing her away. Enough denying them both. They could get a call any moment. The sheriff’s department. The FBI. The sound of a window breaking downstairs.
He wasn’t going to miss this chance.
Trent licked, teased, then he ground his mouth into her, not just licking her but devouring. Hard. Deep. Putting his whole body into it. Everything he was.
A shudder worked through her body, rippling up her torso, curling through her legs. She spread her legs even wider, meeting his tongue.
Another shudder shook her. Then another.
Risa gripped the back of his head, her fingers digging into his scalp. She held him to her and moved against his mouth, his whole face, riding him. She shuddered again and called out. And when her body finally released, finally relaxed, she grasped his shoulders and pulled him up to her. “I want you, Trent. Please. I want you inside me.”
He moved up her body, his chest pressing against her breasts, his lips claiming her mouth. And when he sank deep into her, he felt as if he was coming home.
Nikki
Nikki hadn’t liked the musty, isolated cabin one bit, but it was better than this place.
It was an old two-story house, set back a little from a quiet, country road. The walls were painted lemon yellow, cheerier than the morning sun outside. The floors all hardwood and soft, patterned rugs. Artwork hung on the walls, homemade, but a step up from paint-by-number. And photographs lined the mantle. Children. Vacations. Weddings where every guest wore a happy face.