Hard Wood Page 9

  I meet her eyes once more. Those eyes—I could get lost in them. Hell, maybe I’ve already gone missing. Maybe I’ll never be found because this is where I want to be.

  She draws a deep breath. “There’s a lot I want to tell you, Patrick.” I tense, my shoulders tightening, my body going rigid. This can’t be good. “But when we’re like this, I can’t really think.”

  Her breath flutters across my jaw, and it stokes the flames inside me.

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because of how you make me feel,” she whispers.

  I relax. That’s better. Maybe whatever she wants to tell me is something we can deal with. “How do I make you feel?”

  “Like I want to be in my body and out of my body,” she whispers. Her palm slides up the back of my neck, and I nearly growl. Her back is to the crowd, and we’re at the edge of the deck. No one can see that her fingers have traveled into my hair. She plays with the ends, and her touch drives me out of my mind. It’s a straight shot of lust to my chest, and heat pools in my groin.

  “Mia,” I whisper, almost a warning.

  Her fingers thread through my hair. She inches closer. Her lips are so damn near to me. “But most of all, I feel like I want you in my body.”

  I groan. I can’t even speak. Can’t form words. My brain is a haze. It’s a hot, fuzzy, static haze, and my fingertips burn with desire as I dig them into her hips. She’s reduced me to nothing but lust, nothing but fire, nothing but heat.

  She’s rendered me speechless, aroused, and completely, absolutely over the moon.

  “Jesus Christ, Mia,” I manage to say, a desperate groan under my breath, and I don’t care if Max is watching, or Chase, or anyone. But a quick scan tells me they’re all in their own worlds, so with my hands on her hips, I yank her closer, letting her feel what she’s done to me.

  She smiles, a wild, wicked grin.

  But this is more than sex. The way I feel for her is so much more. “Listen,” I say, before she kills all my brain cells with her words.

  “Talk,” she gently commands.

  “I don’t care that you live in California and I live here. I want to be with you. Even if we’re long distance, even if it’s hard to see each other, I’m absolutely crazy for you, Mia,” I say, and my heart feels a thousand times lighter.

  And then a thousand times fuller when she says, “I’m so crazy for you.” Her body melts against mine as if it’s as much of a welcome relief for her to speak her truth as it is for me to speak mine. “I thought I would go out of my mind if I didn’t say something.”

  “I wish I could kiss you right now.” My eyes survey the crowd, our friends and family dancing on the deck with us. As much as I want to crush my lips to hers, now’s not the time for that kind of public display of affection.

  “Kiss me tonight, then. Can I come over later? When the wedding ends?”

  “If you don’t, I think I might die,” I say, laughing.

  She levels me with her gaze once more. “Don’t die until you make love to me.”

  I’m fried. I’m toasted. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want Mia under me, over me, with me all night. “That’s all I’ll be doing once you knock on the door.”

  She curls her hand around my shoulder. “There’s something else I want to tell you.” Her voice is wobbly, and my chest hollows with her words.

  But I steel myself to take a hit tonight. Let’s do this. Let’s finish it. I need to know once and for all what I’m up against.

  A shriek of excitement cuts across the deck. “It’s finally time for cake!”

  We both startle and turn toward Nick’s pregnant wife, who’s pointing excitedly at the towering white cake as she calls the wedding party over.

  Once more, my arms are empty.

  17

  I flick on the light, unknot my tie, and say hello to Zeus.

  He rubs against my leg and meows. I understand immediately. I scoop a handful of his favorite kibble into a bowl, and set it on the floor.

  I turn on another light in the living room and contemplate pouring a Scotch. Feels like a night for the amber liquid. The kind of evening where I’ll pace around my pad, hoping she’ll arrive soon. A night when I should flop on the couch, stare into the distance, and think dark thoughts.

  But that’s not who I am.

  Even if Mia has things to tell me, I can handle them. That’s what I do. I handle stuff.

  Rather than pace, I grab a book, my dog-eared and well-worn paperback of A Prayer for Owen Meany. I flip it open to a random page and read words I’ve read many times before.

  The knock on my door comes quickly, and I open it. Mia strides in with purpose, her chin high, her eyes fierce. She places her hands on my chest, as if she’s warding me off. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this.”

  All the air spills out of me. “Why?”

  “I dated a good friend of Max’s right after college.”

  And that’s the reason. That’s all the reasons, it seems. “What happened?”

  Her hazel eyes are intense. “It didn’t end well.”

  I furrow my brow. “You mean Max didn’t handle it well?”

  She shakes her head, the loose little strands of her hair moving with her. “It’s not about him. It’s about me. I’ve never wanted to get involved with one of his friends since then. That’s why I’ve had to resist you. That’s why I’ve held back before.”

  I grit my teeth, then will myself to let go of my frustration. “What happened? Who is this guy?”

  “His name is Eric.”

  I search my files for a friend of Max’s by that name. But he’s never mentioned an Eric, not even in passing. “I’ve never heard of him.”

  Mia lets out a long, sad breath. “That’s the issue. They aren’t friends anymore.”

  My shoulders sag, and I get it. I understand at last what I’m up against. This cuts so much deeper than the question of when and where I tell Max I’m mad about his sister. This is about whether she’ll even let herself cross a huge hurdle.

  But Mia surprises me by wrapping her arms around my neck. Pressing her breasts to my chest. Sliding her body against mine.

  “Mia,” I say, and this time the warning is real. “You tell me you shouldn’t do this, and then you do this.”

  “I told you because I want you to know where I’m coming from.” She draws a deep breath. “But I don’t want us to stop.”

  I close my eyes, feeling my body sway as if I’ve had too much to drink, when all I’ve had is a glass or two earlier. It’s not alcohol, though, that makes me feel this way. It’s the uncertainty of opening my heart. But even so, I don’t want to resist her. I rope my arms around her waist, bringing her closer, walking backward with her toward the kitchen counter.

  “I can’t think straight when I’m touching you,” I say, my voice rougher than it’s ever been.

  “I can’t, either.” Her back hits the counter, and I lift her onto it so we’re face-to-face and eye-to-eye.

  “So what are we doing?” I don’t break my gaze. I don’t mince words. I serve it straight up. “I don’t want half of you. I don’t want a fling with you.”

  “I don’t want that, either. All I know is I don’t want to hurt Max.”

  “And I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “But I’m still here.” With a clear voice and fierce eyes, she says, “And I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

  This woman is breaking me down. I don’t even know if I can have her the way I want. But I don’t want to let her go, either. That means I need to show her. I need to convince her we will be different. That I’m not Eric, even though I know nothing about him.

  I bend close and push the strap of her dress over her shoulder. “I won’t hurt you.” I kiss her neck, her collarbone. “This won’t end badly, Mia. I promise you.”

  “Patrick . . . you don’t know that.”

  I kiss her shoulder, and she shudders. “I do know that. And I mean it. I’m not that
guy.” I don’t know how to make it more obvious without spelling it out for her. But she’s not ready to hear the truth—I won’t let it end badly because if I have my way, we won’t end. Instead, I clasp her face in my hands and say, “You have to know I will do everything to make this good for you. Every single thing between us will be good.”

  She trembles and circles her arms tighter around my neck. “It’s so good already.”

  Our eyes lock, and the air between us is charged like a live wire. Electric. Ready to burn.

  “Then what do you want, Mia? You know what I want. You. I want all of you, and I’ll tell Max tomorrow that I’m crazy for you. But if you think you shouldn’t be doing this, then you’re right. We shouldn’t do this. If you need to leave, I need to be the man who lets you walk away.”

  She closes her eyes, and when she opens them, they shine with heat, with fire, with an insatiable need I recognize instantly. It’s how I feel.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Her lips curve up in a grin. “Except to your bed. Right this second.”

  18

  Our hands move with furious speed as we reach the bedroom.

  She tugs at my loosened tie, tossing it onto the mattress. Her quick fingers make fast work of the buttons on my shirt.

  “God, you looked so hot in a suit, it’s almost a sin to take it off you,” she says, as she makes her way down to the last button. “But I’m willing to commit this wrong.”

  “I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night, from the second you walked into the boathouse,” I tell her as I spin her around, unhook the zipper on the dress, then slide it down to her waist. She wears a strapless bra and my God, her back is so fucking sensual, so smooth and soft. I unhook her bra and run my fingers along her spine.

  She arches into my touch, and then I press my lips to her neck and kiss a slow, lingering path down her back. She shivers with every single kiss. When I stop, I spin her around again to face me, slide the straps down her arms, and let the dress fall to her waist.

  My breath hitches.

  “Mia,” I say, as I cup her breasts, running my thumbs over her nipples, feeling them tighten under my touch. “You’re so beautiful. I’m going to sound like a broken record. But, Jesus. Look at you. I can’t believe you’re here and I’m touching you.”

  She runs her hands down my chest. “Don’t stop.”

  We move quickly through the rest of our clothes. She tugs at the zipper on my suit pants as I push down the skirt of her dress, letting the pale-yellow fabric pool on the floor. Everything else comes off in seconds, and then I stare at the stunning woman before me. Her silver belly-button ring glints in the moonlight. I run my thumb over it.

  My mouth is dry, and my heart slams against my chest. My pulse rockets. “You.” I can’t form any more words, so gently, I push her to the bed.

  She sinks onto the mattress. I kneel before her and open her legs.

  She gasps.

  I spread them wider, savoring the sight of her wet pussy. “Need to taste you.”

  “Please,” she moans, leaning back on her palms, her tits pushing up, her back arching, her legs wide for me.

  I slide my hands under her thighs and bury my face between them.

  And I lick.

  And I lick.

  And I lick.

  She’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever tasted—sweet and salty and so fucking wet for me. Her silky sweetness coats my lips, gets on my chin, covers my beard.

  I can’t get enough of her. My cock throbs, a heavy weight between my legs, aching as I devour her.

  Something happens when you touch the person you’ve fantasized about for months. The person you’ve longed for. You not only want to fuck her, you want to adore her with every part of you.

  Right now, my mouth is going to deliver that message, because that’s how I feel—I want to fuck her with my tongue and cherish her with my lips.

  I want her to know how badly I want to fuck every part of her, and how much I’ll adore her. That’s how I taste her. That’s how I eat her. The way I want her—every way. I flick my tongue against the delicious rise of her clit, and her hands clamp onto my head, her fingers threading tightly in my hair.

  “Ohhhh,” she moans, tugging me even closer. I’m not sure I can bury my face any farther into the promised land, but if she needs more of me, I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her anything she wants.

  As I suck hard on her clit, she curls her hands tighter around my skull, then she draws up her legs, so her feet are perched on the edge of the mattress. Like that, she lifts her hips, arching, thrusting, and fucking my face.

  I go faster, sweeping my tongue up and down her center, lapping up every last drop of her wetness, then I do it again, since she only gets wetter, flooding my tongue with her desire.

  Her scent fills my nostrils, and her pussy is the center of my world. As her noises grow louder, and her cries reach higher, I glide a finger across her. Her gasp is long and feral, and it’s a cue to give her more. With two fingers I push inside, and she falls back, her head hitting the bed, her legs widening, and her hands never letting go of my head.

  She moans and writhes. “So close.”

  Come all the fuck over me, I want to tell her, but I won’t let go of her pussy. I am a man consumed with the task at hand—making Mia come so hard she forgets any reason she’s ever had to back down. Making it so good for her that she knows no one else will ever send her so high.

  I move my face back and forth fast, licking and kissing her through her orgasm as she rocks against me like there’s no tomorrow. She’s moaning and groaning and crying out so good, so good, so good, as her body’s rhythm slows.

  She lets go of her grip, her hands falling to the mattress as she releases a satisfied breath.

  I raise my face, wipe a hand over my mouth, and look at my gorgeous woman. She’s spent and glowing, and she’s still murmuring. I crawl up her body, lower myself to her, letting her feel the weight of my cock against her belly.

  Her eyes flutter open. Her smile spreads. Her hazel eyes are glossy. “Hi,” she says a little hoarsely, as her hand drifts down to my dick. Her fist curls around me, and I suck in a breath and then groan.

  “Hey,” I manage to say as she strokes. A shudder racks me as her soft hand explores my shaft, her thumb tracing the head.

  “I like this. I like you,” she says, all sensual and husky as she wraps her hand tighter.

  Her smile fades, and she lets go. My dick misses her hand. A lot.

  She pushes up to her elbows. I tense, brace myself for some kind of shift. But instead, she asks me the most wonderful question in the universe. “Can we have sex without a condom? I’m on birth control, and I’m clean. Are you?”

  “Fuck yeah, I am,” I tell her, and I grip my cock in one hand, settle between her legs, and rub the head against her sweet, hot pussy.

  She lifts her hips, seeking me out. Flames lick my skin, and I groan. It’s such a rush, such a high. There is nothing like this. Nothing like knowing that my Mia wants the same things as I do right now.

  She’s ready. She’s so damn wet. But I want her begging. I want her needing me. I want her to know from the way I fuck her that I’m not like any other man in her past. I need her to know I’m the one she’ll always want.

  Gripping my dick, I rub against her, touching her wetness with the head, letting her feel me all over her—up, down, around, then right there, on her most sensitive spot. I rub, and I play, and I work her into a frenzy again.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” she cries out, lifting and rocking and trying desperately to draw me into her body—her body, where she said she wanted me tonight.

  “You want me inside you, Mia?” I growl.

  “Please, yes,” she groans, letting her knees fall wide for me.

  I give her just the tip, and it electrifies me. I tremble because it’s so damn good. “You want me to bury my cock all the way in you?”

  She rocks her hips. “I do. I want y
ou in me.”

  “You want to feel all of me, baby, or is this enough?” I give her a little bit more. My meaning should be perfectly clear. If Mia wants me, she’d better want everything I have to give.

  “I want all of you. I want you to fuck me. I want you.”

  Kneeling between her legs, I push in another inch. I shudder. “How’s this?”

  “More,” she groans.

  “You want it all?”

  “Yes,” she says, practically bowing her back off the bed. “I want all of you.”

  I give in, sinking into her, burying my cock inside her, and then lowering myself to her. “You need to know, with me, you can have everything.”

  She wraps her legs around my lower back. “That’s what I want.”

  I hold nothing back. I fuck her hard. I fuck her slow. I fuck her fast. I fuck her so she knows she’s the one. I give her everything I have as I move inside her. As I swivel my hips. As I pump into her.

  She moans, and murmurs, and cries my name. Her hair is a wild tangle, strands pressed to her face as she moves with me, her hips lifting and thrusting and rising.

  We move as if we’re meant to come together. I reach down to her thigh, pushing her right knee up to her chest.

  “Gymnastics comes in handy,” I say, laughing lightly.

  “The other one, too,” she says, and pleasure camps out in my whole damn body.

  I push her left knee up so they’re both hiked to her chest. Then she drapes them over my shoulders. She wiggles her hands between us, sliding them to my face. Gripping my jaw, she lets me do all the work, as she gives herself over to how I fuck her.

  “We fit,” she says, on a pant.

  “So incredibly well,” I groan, driving into her. As I pull back, my shaft slides against her clit, and she moans so damn loudly.

  “Like that, like that,” she pants, and I take her and make love to her until she’s so far gone, she’s digging her fingers into my jaw as she gasps oh God, oh God, oh God.