Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(86)

“Lean back,” he whispered. “Let me play with you.”

He must have fetched the soap himself because his palms were slick with it and the sensations he aroused so exquisite her eyes stung with tears. She didn’t want to betray Hoyt. She didn’t want it to feel so good, but it had been too long, and as his warm, soapy hands circled her breasts, she couldn’t resist. She would permit this intimate caress for a moment, and then she would draw away.

Round and round his hand traveled, coming closer and closer to the tender centers. Her breathing quickened. He brushed her nipples, then plucked them between his fingers and began massaging them as he had her toes. The sensation was delicious and familiar, like a favorite song heard again after a very long time. She had forgotten how wonderful this felt. Her body grew heavier, more languid, until it seemed to be melting into his.

He abandoned her nipples and returned to making lazy circles around her breasts, gently teasing until he once again reached the tips, then plucking and pulling. She squirmed against him. He circled again. This time she moaned when he reached her nipples and rolled them between his fingers.

Her breathing was coming heavier now, and her body felt swollen with arousal. Kissing her ear, he lifted her up onto his thighs, her back still against his chest. She felt his lips tugging on her lobe. He began to suck there, on the flesh and the diamond stud, and she shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation. She couldn’t remember Hoyt ever doing that to her, but when she tried to recall if he had, her thoughts kept scattering.

He spread his legs and, in the process, wedged hers open with his knees. His hands slid down her breasts to her inner thighs. She didn’t understand what he was doing as he rotated both of them, pulling her thighs wider, moving their hips closer to the edge of the tub. And then she felt the powerful jet of water gushing into her.

She gasped and nearly jumped off his lap, trying to get away from the surge of water shooting out of one of the nozzles set into the side of the tub.

She heard the devil’s laughter in her ear, soft and seductive. “Relax, Suzy. Enjoy.”

And, God forgive her, she did enjoy.

He played with her breasts, nipped at her ears and shoulders with his teeth, sucked at the tender flesh of her neck. Their bodies shifted so that sometimes the surging jet of water pummeled her, sometimes him. She lost all sense of herself, didn’t even think to object when he pushed himself inside her from behind and let the water work at them where they were joined. She tried to move on him, but he wouldn’t allow it. And each time she was about to go over the edge, he shifted the position of her body just enough so that it didn’t happen.

She began to sob. “Please…”

“What do you want?” he whispered, as he pushed deeper.

“Please, let me…Let me…”

“Do you want more, Suzy? Is that what you want? You want more?”

His gentle croon fueled her excitement. “Yes…Yes…” She was begging him, but it had been so long that she couldn’t stop herself.

His voice was soft and gruff and tender. “Not yet, love. Not yet.”

She sobbed as he lifted her off him. She tried to turn in his arms, but he stood. In the dim light, she could see his silhouette and the hard, thick thrust of him. Instinctively, she reached up and clasped him, shameless and brazen, forgetting that this man wasn’t her husband, that she hadn’t wanted this.

He groaned and caught her wrist. “Wait. Just a little while longer.”

He stepped from the water and slipped his robe over his wet body. Without bothering to fasten it, he pulled her out and wrapped her in a towel, then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, as if she were a virgin going into her bridal bower.

She turned her head into his shoulder as he walked into the dimly lit room. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to remember who he was and who she was, and that she was about to betray her husband. What was she doing in a stranger’s arms hovering on the brink of sexual oblivion?

“No light.” She needed the darkness to hide the shame she felt for letting this man arouse her to such a state where she couldn’t help herself.

He stopped walking. She lifted her head to gaze at him and saw that his hair was wet and rumpled, his expression unreadable.

She expected him to put her on the bed, but instead, he carried her in the opposite direction, toward a door she hadn’t noticed earlier. She gazed up at him questioningly, but he wasn’t looking at her. With his foot, he pushed opened the door and carried her inside.

To her shock, he had taken her into his large walk-in closet. She saw double rows of expensive suits and tailored shirts, orderly racks of boots and wingtips, a stack of denim jeans, a pile of knit shirts. The heady masculine scents enveloped her: cologne, leather, and the clean, starchy smell of freshly laundered shirts. He set her down on the carpeted floor and immediately reached behind him to shut the door. They were plunged into a darkness so thick she caught her breath in fear.

His voice drifted to her, husky and dangerous. “No light.”

The towel slipped from beneath her arms as he tugged it away. Then he must have moved back because he was no longer touching her.

Seconds ticked by. Her heart began to pound. She stood naked in the darkness, no longer certain how close he was to her. Even the sound of his breathing was hidden by the distant hum of the air conditioner. The darkness disoriented her. It was too dense, too absolute. She thought of death and the grave. She turned, then turned again, but the movement was a mistake because she lost her bearings. She clutched her throat against a rising tide of hysteria.