Sure Shot (Brooklyn #4)(15)

But then his firm lips soften against my mouth, and I’m already pressing back, looking for more. Oh, right. This man has a black belt in kissing. He tilts his head to draw me closer, and I open for him like I always did before. His tongue sweeps against mine as he tastes me.

Suddenly I’m twenty-one again, and totally bowled over by Tank’s tongue in my mouth. It happened just like this. Red wine, followed by sudden kisses in a hotel room. Strong arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me in. A wide palm on my ass, nudging me nearer to the column of his erection.

I’m all in. I don’t try to resist him. I can’t think of a reason why I should. I can’t think at all.

His kiss grows deeper and more demanding. My poor little body puts up no defenses. I melt against him. My head is full of peaceful static. I’m perfectly content to stay here in this quiet place, lip-locked and breathing in sync with the best lover I’ve ever known.

But eventually he breaks off our kiss and lifts me.

“Tank,” I whisper as my feet leave the ground. This is my last chance to be rational.

“Yeah,” he grunts, carrying me toward what I can only assume is the bedroom.

“What are we doing?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, possibly because I weigh a few more pounds than I did at twenty-one and he needs to concentrate. He drops me on the bed and answers the question. “What I always do, Bess. Just seeing what I can get away with.”

He settles beside me on the mattress, scrutinizing my heaving chest and the way my dress rides up on my thighs. His body flexes as he leans over me—sculpted by intense physical conditioning, plus a generous helping of genetic good fortune.

And I forget why I asked the question at all.





Six





The Cave Man in Action





Tank





Bess stares up at me with wide-eyed wonder. But a second ago, she’d tried to call me on my bullshit. What are we doing?

Like I even know. Like I ever know. She might’ve thought I’d seemed wise at twenty-three, but I’d been a stupid kid with three skills—hockey, smack talk, and sex.

Now we’re having another go at that last thing. I feel wild tonight, and I know Bess feels it, too. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trapped deep inside my head. I want out, and I know just how to get there.

“Kick off your shoes,” I growl. “Let’s go.”

For a split second, I think she’s going to roll her eyes and tell me to fuck off. She pushes me out of the way and stands.

My heart drops.

But instead of leaving this madman’s hotel room, she takes my face in two hands and kisses me sweetly. And then? She toes out of her shoes.

Hallelujah. I lay another scorching kiss on her. We were always so good together. And maybe it’s like riding a bike, because the kiss goes from zero to sixty in under six seconds. I push my tongue into her mouth to show her just what I need. And her hands skate across my chest as she lets me know that she needs it, too.

I lift the little dress she’s wearing and shove her panties down. Bess moans, and unbuttons my khaki shorts with quick fingers.

I’d weep with joy if it wouldn’t slow down the action. Instead, I yank down her zipper, remove her dress, and toss it aside. And—holy hell—I’ve got a hot, naked woman in my arms. Her face is flushed, her lips bitten by my kisses. And the expression in her eyes is one I haven’t seen from anyone in years. Pure lust.

“Goddamn, honey,” I babble, my gaze sweeping down her lovely body. “Thirty looks hot on you.” I skim a grateful hand down her milky skin, my fingertips just brushing the trimmed red hair at the top of her sex.

“Fuck,” she gasps.

The shocked, dirty word makes me absolutely throb. I yank my shorts down, finishing the job she’d started, kicking off my briefs after that. “Lie down,” I practically snarl, my self-control paper thin.

Bess steps back to do exactly as I say, and I feel another rush of gratitude, followed immediately by a wave of white-hot desire as she lays herself out for me on the white duvet.

It’s like being handed a full platter of food after a year of near starvation. I don’t even know where to begin. I prowl the bed, lean down, and take one of her pert nipples into my mouth.

“Oh, Tank,” she moans, arching off the bed, threading her fingers into my hair.

The sound makes me ache. I can’t even remember the last time I heard my name as a moan. I’m trembling now as I kiss my way across her chest, swirling my tongue around her other perfect breast, taking the pebbled tip against my tongue.

My cock is as stiff as a pipe, bobbing heavily against the bed as I lick and kiss and nibble my way down her body. I part her legs with shaking hands and then drop my mouth unceremoniously onto her pussy. She sobs my name again, and I’m drunk with the taste of her on my tongue, and the tug of her hands in my hair.

This is everything I forgot I needed. I bury my face between her thighs, losing myself in the clutch of her legs and the slide of my tongue against her slick heat until she’s shaking and sobbing my name.

She has no idea at all what this means to me. I haven’t felt desire like this in years. Haven’t been desired in years.

When I can’t stand it any longer, I hoist my hungry, desperate body over hers. I grip her hips, knowing that if I hesitate, we’ll both just think too much. I slide inside her tight heat, my jaw clenching against the sudden, unbearable heaven. We inhale sharply and in unison.