Buried in as deep as he could be, Decker flexed his hips and pushed a bit more. She hissed, then her eyes flew open and met his stare. He could happily dive into their chocolate depths and stay for a sweet, long while.
He stilled for a moment, feeling her tight walls engulf him, sucking him in deeper. He shuddered, his spine stiff, his body seized by the need to experience her in every way possible. The first time had been good. Already Decker could tell the second time was going to be even fucking better. Yee-haw!
Gathering her against his chest, Decker lifted her lush hips and eased out of her snug pussy before he stroked deep again. She felt electric around him, squeezing him as she gasped, jolting him with another sizzle of need. Jesus, what was it about this woman?
Rachel wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked with him, thrusting to his rhythm, her little cries driving him higher and higher. Frantically, she kissed her way across his shoulder, to his jaw. Then he claimed her mouth, his tongue plunging as deep as his dick. He wanted all of her every way he could get her. Her nails dug into his back, and she went wild underneath him, urging him on silently to give her every fucking thing.
After that, containing himself . . . impossible. His hips moved like they had a mind of their own, hammering her with long, rapid strokes. Tingles burned in his balls, danced through his body.
He grabbed her tighter, somehow managing to sink even farther into her body, deeper than he swore he’d ever been inside any woman. Blood raced, his heart chugged. Fuck, this was going to be good.
“Mine,” he growled.
She’d probably question that statement later. He ought to as well. But now, what they shared felt damn good. Right. Like he’d willingly fight any man to the death who wanted to touch her. That shit wasn’t happening—at all. In this moment, for this night, she was absolutely, unquestionably his.
And the thought turned him on even more. Fuck, at this rate he wasn’t going to last long, which blew his mind. Orgasm number two didn’t usually happen for a long while, and he could really lay thick pleasure on a woman while he took the time finding his own. This was completely different. Damn it, he intended to make sure she climaxed before this growing need blew off the top of his head.
As pleasure surged, his heartbeat roared, mixing with the deafening sounds of her mewls. As she screamed, arching up to him, Decker surged deep, filling her one final time. Blinding heat seared him. Her pussy constricted, pulsing, caressing the length of his cock and annihilating his restraint. As she shuddered through her orgasm, his seed spewed with the force of C4, detonating everything inside him.
Damn, at this rate, she was going to kill him. But he’d die happy.
With a groan, he stumbled from the bed, damn near dizzy, and disposed of the condom. She looked so gorgeous all flushed and damp, lying across her bed. He snagged a towel from the bathroom, ran warm water over a corner, then returned to clean her up.
“I’ll do it.” She reached for the terrycloth, still panting.
Decker edged away. “I’ll do it. You’ll lie there and look pretty so I can contemplate all the other ways I can sully you.”
With a tired laugh, Rachel rested back against the mattress. She was a bit stiff, a little self-conscious as he wiped her clean, but he was relieved to see that she trusted him enough to allow this intimacy.
Once he tossed the towel back in the bathroom, he crawled over her body and hunkered down beside her, nudging her to her side so she lay against him, her thigh tossed over his. The ceiling fan churned anemically overhead, fighting ineffectually against the humidity, sweat, and blazing sexual heat in the room.
He didn’t think he’d make it until dawn before he’d want inside her again. As she pressed against him, lips caressing his chest, her breasts cupping his ribs, he mentally revised that to an hour. Maybe less.
“So that’s what sex is supposed to be like?” she whispered.
Decker hesitated. “Really fantastic sex. This was above and beyond for me, too.”
Rachel sighed happily. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”
“Yeah.” And if she thought for one minute that he was about to get up and leave, he had a big surprise for her. With someone out to get her, he wasn’t budging. After that . . . well, he was starting to think that maybe he wouldn’t budge then, either.
• • •
SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the window, despite the blinds slanting up. Decker cracked an eye open and found Rachel draped across him, still completely naked, her dark hair cascading over his shoulder and down his arm. He raised his head a fraction. Her eyes remained closed, dark lashes feathering gentle half-circles on smooth cheeks. In the morning light, he saw a little spill of freckles on her nose. Her fingers splayed across his chest. Her breathing remained deep and even. So trusting.
She made him hard as hell. Again. Still.
After waking her at two and four thirty to slide into those sweet curves and possess her again, he should be sated and totally exhausted. But at just before eight a.m., even with shaky legs and an empty stomach, he was contemplating another go-round.
Yep, this woman totally flipped every switch.
And if he wanted to keep her alive long enough to see where this was leading, he needed to stop mooning over her and figure out who might be trying to kill her. Item one on the agenda: Dig up a picture of the illustrious ex and see if Owen was a match for the ass-hat in the bar. Preferably before Rachel awoke and wondered what the hell he was up to.
Slowly, he rose from bed and grimaced. He felt grimy, and couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept over with a woman. And he’d gotten soft since a damn toothbrush was pretty high on his list of must-haves.
Tossing on his jeans and the pistol he’d hidden beneath, he headed to the guest bathroom down the hall.
Inside, he flipped on the light. Bless Rachel. She’d thought of everything to make a guest comfortable. The vanity held a new toothbrush, fluffy towels, shampoo, and soap.
Decker made quick use of them, then wrapped the beige terrycloth around his hips. As he cracked the bathroom door, he heard a crash in the kitchen. His heartbeat kicked into high gear. Adrenaline ratcheted up, and he charged out, pistol in hand, ready to fight whoever had come for her.
As he sneaked down the hall, his back hugging the wall, he heard a feminine cry, then another crash. Fuck, what was going on?
Heart pounding, he forced himself to stay calm and crept closer, finger on the trigger, promising that any motherfucker who wanted to hurt her was going to find himself minus a head.
Fighting for calm, Decker clung to shadows until he rounded the corner and had a straight sightline into the kitchen. But he didn’t see anyone attacking Rachel. Rather, she attacked a plastic bin of flour and a couple of eggs while wrestling with a stainless steel bowl. A can of nonstick cooking spray rolled down the counter. She slammed down a wooden spoon, looking beyond frustrated.
Actually, it was kind of adorable.
Until she emerged from behind the tall counter and he realized she was wearing a frilly red apron, a pair of black stilettos—and nothing else.
He wanted to fuck her right now.
Darting back into the bathroom, he grabbed his jeans and flipped them over his pistol, hiding the piece, then sauntered down the hall and set everything down within easy reach—just in case—on the adjacent kitchen table.