Here Comes Trouble Page 0,42

him think she was otherwise protected. The end result was the same.

“I am, too. Safe, I mean.” He slid his hands into her hair. “Will you trust me, then?”

He was a biker, from Vegas. She had no reason to trust him. For all she knew he’d slept his way across the country. But that’s not what her instincts told her. And certainly not what she wanted to believe. And…he’d asked. He could have just taken. But he’d asked.

And then that twinkle surfaced, glittering playfully, and she was so gone, and not just her body. “Race you to my bedside nightstand,” he said, giving her the graceful out, and in such a way as to make it fun, easy. Not awkward.

And she knew then that it was never going to be awkward. Not with Brett.

“I’m fine…here,” she said, answering the trust question her own way. It was that or shake him and beg. And she was trying to at least pretend not to appear desperate and beyond needy.

“Really,” he said, that slow grin easing back across his handsome face. He tilted her head, lifting her mouth up to his. “Well, then…” He closed his mouth over hers, and all she could think was that it was always, always going to be just that good. Better, even.

Kirby wound her arms around his neck, and let herself go, let herself take, and open to him, and just sink into the pleasure that could be had just from kissing.

But Brett had other ideas. He gripped her hips and pulled her thighs up, urging her to cross her ankles behind his back. He hiked her up farther, until her face was even with his. He took advantage of the shift and took the kiss deeper. Then he slowly slid her down the wall…and onto him.

She sucked in a deep breath, and he slowed. “It’s okay?”

“Very,” she gasped.

He grinned against the side of her mouth, but said, “You sure?”

“Very.”

He took his time, given that gravity alone was pushing her down on him, and lifted her hips away from the wall a little so she could have some control over the movement.

And then, oh, there was movement. Heavenly, wonderfully invasive, incredibly fulfilling movement. If she’d thought she might die from the bliss of having his tongue on her…in her, well, this…? This was pretty much proof that she really had died and gone straight to heaven.

Their kiss was broken by the necessity of him arching his hips to keep her pinned so she could move. He still gripped her hips, she held on to his shoulders, her own head tipped back now pressing against the wall as her back arched away…pushing her more deeply onto him.

They found their rhythm, and she lost track of who was moaning, who was growling. His hands were wide, warm, and secure on her hips. He was deep, and strong, and steady in taking her. She’d never felt so wanton, so wanted, so purely sexual in her entire life.

She felt him gathering, and he pressed her back against the wall then, pinning her there with every part of his body. His mouth was on the curve of her neck and she felt devoured, invaded, claimed…and thrilled at the very intensity of it all.

When he came, he found her mouth, and took her there, too. She was gripping his shoulders so hard her fingers cramped; her legs shook from holding him so tightly. She took his pounding release and reveled in every pulse, every beat of her heart and of his.

They were both breathing hard, clutching each other, when he said, “Hold on.”

She already was, so she wasn’t sure what he meant. But as he slid from her body, he hiked her up higher again, and she instinctively tightened her legs around him. He turned, leaning his weight against the wall as he fought to regain his regular breathing. “Bed?” he said, nudging at her hair, her face tucked against the rapid pulse still beating in his neck. “Or shower.”

She might have growled a little at that last suggestion. A growly groan. It was a primal response and she was feeling nothing if not absolutely primal in that moment.

“Shower it is then.” He pushed away from the wall, holding on to her tightly. “Closest?”

“Mine,” she said, and when his hands reflexively tightened at the word, she instantly had a flash, a blink, of what it would be like if he actually was. “Front hall, first door,” she managed, thankful her face was averted