It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(57)

Her bones began to feel as if they were buckling. The sensations were so exciting that she forgot about her pinioned arms. He moved to her other breast, licking and then sucking. She sagged against him.

When his hand slipped under the hem of her short dress and cupped her bare thigh, her panic returned, and she knew she had to get her arms free before she could let him go any farther. His fingers moved upward.

“Wait,” she whispered. She tried to pull away, but his athlete’s hands held her fast. “Let me go.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure you do.”

“Dan!”

“Whatever the lady wants.” He released her, but only long enough to yank her dress down over her hips. Her bra slipped off, leaving her standing there in one sandal, an ankle bracelet, and a pair of waist-high white cotton panties.

“You sure don’t believe in spending your money on fancy underwear.”

Her confidence dissolved and all the old ghosts were back. She grabbed for her dress to cover herself, but before she could reach it, he had picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. As he dropped her onto the bed, her lone sandal flew.

He loomed over her, and he was no longer a fantasy figure, but a real man stripping off his denim shirt, revealing an alarmingly well-developed chest with bulging pectorals, mountainous biceps, and veins standing out like ropes on his arms. A thick pelt of hair in the middle of his chest tapered into an arrow-straight line that disappeared along a hard, flat stomach into the waistband of his jeans.

She knew that he worked out in the weight room every day, and she’d seen him do laps around the field in the evening, but she still wasn’t prepared for his powerfully muscled body. All thoughts of young Elizabeth fled from her mind. She felt like an eighteen-year-old virgin instead of a thirty-three-year-old woman who’d had both too many and too few lovers. She had set herself up to play with a pro when she couldn’t even handle the amateurs.

His eyes were on her breasts as he unsnapped his jeans. She grabbed for the edge of the bedspread.

“Drop it.”

“No, I’m not doing this.” She drew the corner of the quilted fabric to her chin at the same time she slid to the opposite side of the bed.

“Right on schedule.” Reaching down, he snared her ankle and sent her sprawling back against the pillows.

She let out a soft, strangled exclamation. The deadly sense of purpose in those ice green eyes sent fear rushing through her. She remembered his strength when he’d dragged her to the gazebo, and she clutched at the bedspread as her only protection.

“Please, Dan . . .” Her voice sounded helpless instead of strong, and she knew she had lost all control.

“You were the one who wanted fun and games.”

“I didn’t. I—”

“Shut up.” He unzipped his jeans. “Now show me those tits again.”

His rough vulgarity galvanized her. She spun away from him toward the opposite side of the bed, thrusting her legs out from under the twisted spread. She was off the bed and running toward the door. Dimly, she heard him grumbling from behind her.

“I’m getting too old for this.”

She snatched up a damp towel he’d tossed on a chair after his shower and frantically raced into the living room for the door. Just as she yanked it open, he slapped it shut again with the palm of his hand.

“You’re even crazier than Val!” He swung her around by her upper arm. “You don’t have any clothes on. Do you want everybody to see you?”

“I don’t care!” she cried, her heart pounding. “I told you to stop.”

“You also told me not to listen, and that’s just what I’m doing.”

He whipped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing, carried her back into the bedroom, and dropped her on the mattress.

“I’m not hitting you, so if that’s what you’re after, you’ll have to find another stud.” He knelt beside her, his big hand shackling her upper arm, and spoke almost indifferently. “How do you want it?”

She realized it was going to happen again. The liquor had made her let down her guard, and she was helpless.

That was when she screamed.

He was on her in a second, covering her mouth with his palm while he clamped her wrists above her head with his free hand. “Jesus,” he hissed. “Not so loud.” The denim of his jeans chafed her thighs as he glowered down at her, looking more disgusted than angry.

She went wild when she realized he actually expected her to keep quiet while he did this to her. Tears stung her eyes as she began to buck beneath him, twisting her hips and trying to free her legs. She bit hard into his hand and he released her with an angry exclamation.

“That’s it!” He rolled off her, shaking his hand. “I’ve tried to be liberated and understanding, but I’m not doing this anymore!”

She was so startled she quit struggling.

He shot to his feet “I’m hard as hell right now, but I’d rather disappear into that bathroom with a copy of Penthouse than keep on playing these caveman games. I don’t care that you told me not to stop, because I’m stopping! I’m sick and tired of feeling like some slug who can only get laid if he beats up women.” He loomed over her. “If you ask me, you’ve got enough notches on your bedpost to have a little more sensitivity when it comes to men.” Bracing his hands on his hips, he glowered down at her. “From now on, when a woman tells me to stop, I’m stopping, even if she’s already told me not to pay any attention when she tells me to stop.”