Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,49

lock. Finally he got it and turned the handle. He lifted her with that one arm and took the two paces inside. He turned them both and slammed the door, stepped forward immediately, his hands gripping hers and lifting them higher on the wood so they were above her head.

His feet moved between hers, pushing hers wider apart. But they couldn’t go that far the way her jeans were only pulled to her mid-thigh. It excited her all the more—she wanted to be pinned by him again. It had been all she’d been able to think of for days. He leaned against her from behind, holding her still as he unzipped his jeans. She pressed her palms to the door herself, rubbing to feel the blunt head of him so near to entering her slick heat.

‘Hell, Mya.’ He cursed again. ‘I want you …’

She heard the sharp rip, felt his movement behind her. A second later his hands circled her thighs. His fingers met in the middle, touching her intimately. She heard his roughly drawn breath as he felt how wet she already was. His fingers returned to her inner thighs, holding her tight now, and he thrust in hard. No preliminaries, just raw heat.

She gasped, shocked and delighted and desperate all at once. She put her hands on the door, bracing and giving leverage to push back on him and take him deeper. He moaned and immediately pressed his mouth to her shoulder to muffle the sounds of ecstatic agony.

Heat beaded all over her body. Her breath burned in too-short bursts. More moisture slicked where she needed it most, easing his sudden, forceful invasion.

He circled his hips and then thrust hard all the way home again, surging into a quick, hard, breathless rhythm. A coarse word of bliss rapidly transformed into a groan and he paused his rough thrusts into her. ‘Damn it … you can’t possibly come this way.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ But she could, she was almost there already. Desperately turned on. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’

He lifted her, flattening her against the door. Literally screwing her to it. A good thing given her legs were trembling so much they couldn’t hold her up because she was so close to orgasm.

He forced his fingers between her and the wood, and for a second they stroked, as if to ensure she was as turned on as she declared. She pressed against his hand, trapping it, stopping the tease. Then arched her back as much as she could.

‘Brad!’

He growled and withdrew his hand, slamming it against the wall by her head as he thrust hard again. ‘I want you so much.’

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard as his words struck like hot stones into her soul and his body rammed once more into hers. She felt his rough jaw against her cheek; the blunt demand inflamed her body.

She could hardly move her mouth to form the words. ‘More,’ she confessed. ‘I … want you. More … More.’

It became a mantra and then a scream as the sensations skidded, becoming convulsions that twisted through her. Her hands curled into claws as she shook. She ground her hips round and round between him and the wall. Both immovable forces. With a harsh groan he resisted her attempts to milk him. His hands gripped her hips, holding her still as over and over he stroked as if trying to get deeper and deeper within her, as if he too couldn’t bear for it to be over just yet. His need shocked her. The same need that had summoned her here, making her ignore both caution and reason.

‘Oh. Yes.’ Her own primal reaction to his demand was an orgasm so strong she would have fallen to the floor had he not held her so tightly.

His fingers dug as the answering cry was ripped from him.

Breathing hard, he slumped against her, still pinning her to the wall, his head falling to her shoulder. She felt the harsh gusts of breath down her back as he held her close. She appreciated the contact—the comfort—as if he too needed the time and the proximity to process what they’d just shared.

And then he moved, lifting her into his arms and stomping a few feet into his spare room—the library. He sank into the big armchair, holding her in his lap.

Their eyes met in the dim light. He smiled at her and then kissed her. She kissed him back. The slow, tender kisses that they’d skipped in their haste for