Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(58)

She held on.

“Now, kiss me.”

She closed in on him, stiffly. She had to forcibly loosen her limbs to lift to her tiptoes and do as he requested. When she placed her lips on his, she waited for him to take over. He didn’t. So she kissed him lightly again. He held her to him and kissed her back, but only returned the same amount of pressure she gave.

She waited, her lips over his.

He waited, too. Waited for her to take control.

She went for it. Sliding her tongue along his bottom lip, she gripped his head and closed her mouth over his. He opened for her and she dipped into his mouth, savoring the taste of him, and liking how he held back enough to give her free rein.

When she deepened the kiss, his hold on her body tightened. His hands went to her bra, unhooked it. She briefly took her hands from his hair to allow him to drop it to the ground, but returned her fingers instantly to the silky strands giving her purchase where she had none.

She was afloat. Bobbing in the low tide of her imagination, the place where the sandbar dropped off between fantasy and reality. His thumbs went to her nipples and brushed them until they pebbled, then one of his hands dipped past the flimsy lace barrier of her panties and into her wetness.

A low groan of approval sounded in his throat. The next sound that left her lips was a returning groan of her own.

Eyes and hands still on her body, he wheeled her backward into her office, past the desk and the bookshelves littered with photography books and various papers, and to the couch against the wall.

“My bedroom’s—” she started to say.

“Too far,” he finished, coming down on top of her on the couch. Fusing their mouths, he tasted her, sending her brain into the clouds. Somehow through the veil of lust shrouding her, she registered the scratch of the lace as her panties slid down her legs, the cool press of his fingers at her center.

He dropped his forehead on hers. “Ace, my God, you’re f*cking killing me.”

Though her eyes widened with shock at his words, she secretly loved that he’d said that. Or maybe she loved how he slipped along her folds while he’d said that. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“Pants, Ace.”

It took a second to reroute her thoughts.

“Unbutton my pants,” he reiterated.

Crap! She was already screwing this up. Ignoring the burn of embarrassment in her face, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He left her briefly to discard them and pull off his shirt.

She tried not to read too much meaning into the tats, tried not to remember his entire family had been permanently inked into his body. Tried to ignore the feeling of disloyalty, like she was being silently watched and/or judged. Instead, she focused on the arm with the evergreen trees. Let her eyes wander up his arm and over his muscular chest, before skimming down his firm abdomen. She followed the line of her eyes with her fingers, savoring the feel of his hot skin while his fingers danced over her body: plucking a nipple, dipping into her well of desire, coating her brain in lust-addled confusion.

When she reached his black briefs, tenting impressively, she cupped his length in her hand and stroked. He filled her palm, and her mind flashed a pleasant vision of him filling her elsewhere.

But… she hadn’t planned on doing this on the couch.

She stopped stroking him to deliver the bad news. “Condoms are in my bedroom.”

His sly smile clicked into place. He put his hand on hers and encouraged her to stroke him some more, which she did. Happily.

“I have condoms.”

He came down over her, kissing her mouth hard as his cock grew harder against her. By then, all rational thought had leaked out her ears, and by the time he stood to pull the condom from his jeans, strip his briefs off, and roll the protection on, she was damn near panting.

Evan half-naked was worthy of a photograph.

Evan all-the-way-naked was worth casting in bronze.

He laid over her, his body covering her cooling skin. When she thought he would have nudged her entrance, he paused, the length of him resting against her thigh instead.

“Ace.”

“What?” she asked, alarmed. What had she done wrong?

He grinned. “You want this?”

“Yes,” she breathed. No hesitation.

His grin widened.

“You want me?”

“I want you.”

“Say it.”

“I want you.”

“Say my name.”

She met his eyes, unerring in their quest to see right through to her soul. “Evan.” The tip of his cock entered her. On a breath, she said, “I want you,” then gasped when he slid inside. What was most definitely a moan pulled from her lips like taffy. Long and loose, and oh-so-sweet.

“Almost there, sweetheart. You okay?” he asked with what sounded like painstaking effort.

Wait.

Almost?

“There’s more?” she breathed.

He chuckled and she learned a second later there was, indeed, more. She accepted every inch, wrapping her legs around his back and tilting her hips to meet him. He eased into her the rest of the way as she clung to his solid back with both hands.

“Charlie.” Her whispered name against her lips filled her heart as much as he’d filled her body. “Okay, baby?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes as he came to her, chest to chest, hips to hips. “I’m so good.”