Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(72)

“Socks, too.”

“That’s cheating!” she said, yanking the boot free and tossing it to the side with a thunk.

“Socks, Hadley,” he insisted.

She cursed under her breath but began stripping his socks off. He reached over his shoulder and waited until she believed she still had a chance to win before pulling off his undershirt in one smooth movement. “So sorry, min käraste. You lose.”

“You’re not sorry at all,” she said, throwing down the second sock as she pushed herself to her feet.

He clucked his tongue and pushed disheveled hair out of his eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

Her blinking gaze flicked over his chest. She blew out a long breath and stepped closer. He inhaled the scent of her hair while they both stared down at the space between them. Slender fingers unbuckled and pulled his belt free from the belt loops, one by one. His curved dagger and its leather sheath slid free into his waiting palm.

Determined, she unbuttoned his fly, each tug of her fingers exquisite torture. Christ, he was harder than a brickbat. When she let his pants fall to the floor and hesitated, he took pity on her, tucking his thumbs into the waist of his shorts to spring his proud erection. Her little gasp and the accompanying scarlet blush that bloomed over her face made him want to throw his hands up in victory.

“Good God,” she murmured.

“It’s one of my better features,” he teased. Bet George didn’t have half of this. He wanted to ask, but didn’t want the bastard’s name floating around her bedroom. She already had enough baggage, and he wanted to deal with that first. “C’mere.”

“Lowe . . .”

Ignoring her weak protests, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her down to the rose-covered rug until she straddled him while he lay on his back. “Pin me down,” he said, throwing his hands over his head in surrender.

“What—oh . . .” She slanted him an irritated look. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Then humor me. Pin me down. Go on.”

Hesitantly, she stretched out and bowed over him. The black beads of her long necklace cascaded against his chest as her hands pinned his to the rug. Sweet Jesus, her body felt good on his. Her face hovered over his, strands of her bobbed hair tickling his cheeks with every hard inhalation of breath. Stockinged knees pressed against his outer thighs. It took every ounce of control he had not to pull her against him and roll her onto her back.

“Most interesting,” he murmured in a voice that sounded shakier than he intended. “What does it feel like to hold down a man twice your size?”

“You’re letting me.”

“Pretend I’m not. What would you do next?”

“This is silly.”

“Is it?” He slowly thrust his hips toward the thighs arching above him.

She groaned. He closed his eyes and waited, listening to her quickening breath. After a long moment, he felt warmth on his forehead. Her lips, kissing him. Once, then twice, on his eyebrow. And as she kissed a slow path from his temple to his jaw, chills raced over his skin. She picked up speed and confidence, opening her mouth against the frantic pulse on his neck, swiping a hesitant tongue over his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

Keeping a grip on his arms, she slid lower and pressed kisses on his chest. Did she know what she was doing? Because, for a moment, he couldn’t figure out who was the manipulator. Her lips grazed his nipple, almost seemingly accidentally. Pleasure rocketed straight to his balls. Now he was the one groaning. And when her kiss gained suction—God!—his tenuous restraint eroded. Again, he thrust his hips upward, and this time his cock rubbed against the silk between her legs—this time she squirmed and pushed back.

Out of nowhere, a familiar pressure gathered at the base of his spine.

Shit.

It was all too much. Far too long since he’d had a woman. He might’ve been able to hold out if it was anyone else but Hadley. But he’d never wanted anything so badly and his body was going haywire. Somewhere God was laughing as he cruelly took away all of Lowe’s willpower and turned him back into a fifteen-year-old boy who was on the verge of coming in his pants when the wind gusted.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “I’m not going to last. You’ve got to give me relief.” His hips thrust on their own accord now. It was nearly painful. “Please.”

Just as he was about to break free of her grip and take care of himself, she released one arm and slid her hand between them. He pushed himself into her palm and her slender fingers circled. Absolute bliss. One uneven pump of her hand and his hips lifted off the rug. A second, and he was struggling for breath. Two more and the floor fell away. He came, quickly, violently, as he spilled onto his stomach and the front of her dress.

His head lolled against the floor as he closed his eyes, reeling with relief and regret. If he was attempting to cure her touching phobia, he was fairly certain this wasn’t the way to go about it. “Sorry,” he mumbled as she released him. “I’m normally not this eager.”

A rustling movement tore him out of his thoughts. Soft fabric brushed his stomach. Was she cleaning him up? Before he could analyze this too closely, her warm touch disappeared.

He cracked open an eye to see Hadley straddling above him on her knees as the inner lining of her black dress glided over her shoulders. She tossed the dress aside and shook her hair out, breathing hard. Bare arms. Bare thighs, banded by ribbon-adorned black garters. And in the middle, a golden silk step-in chemise—so fine, he could see right through to her nipples and the dark triangle of hair between her thighs.