Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(90)

His eyes darkened as he curved his hand around her throat once more.

It made her rub her feet against the sheets, her blood hot with nervous arousal. Those nerves sizzled under his kiss. He thrust his tongue deep, moving his hand back down her body only to return to collar her throat in a more aggressive hold.

“Okay?” His lips brushed her own.

She arched into him in a silent yes, her hands buried in his hair. Kiss even deeper, he came over her, using one forearm to brace himself so his weight wouldn’t crush her. For a second, Charlotte thought she’d be all right, that they’d figured it out, then black spots danced in her vision, claustrophobia choking her until she couldn’t even tell him to get off.





34


GABRIEL AND HIS MS. BAIRD





GABRIEL FELT CHARLOTTE’S BODY go motionless underneath him. Her breathing told him that this time it wasn’t the incipient panic he’d sensed in her earlier. This was the real deal, a full-blown panic attack.

Shifting immediately to his back, he pulled her on top of him. “Charlotte.” Chancing a light grip on her chin while leaving her otherwise free, he held her gaze.

Her eyes were dangerously blank.

“Charlotte, it’s Gabriel.” His heart twisted inside his chest, his anger at what had been done to her as violent as his need to protect her. “The man who wants to love you every possible way there is on this earth, but who will never hurt you.”

No response.

He repeated his name, reminded her that they were just playing, trying to figure out what worked for them. “Come on back, Ms. Baird. It’s no fun playing solo when I can do it with you.”

“Gabriel.” A whisper so husky he could barely hear it, but it was there: his name on the kiss-swollen plumpness of her lips. “Gabriel.” Shuddering, she collapsed against him like a frightened kitten.

The wet he felt against his neck the next second threatened to break him. “Why are you crying?” he growled, almost curving his hand over her nape before he remembered that was a danger zone.

Instead, he shifted her onto her back again and, staying on his side, collared her throat. “Quiet.”

Jerky sniffs, one hand lifting to wipe away her tears. “Sorry.”

“You can cry whenever you want,” he said. “But you damn well don’t do it because you’re beating yourself up. Understood?”

Her eyes glittered. “I told myself I was done with the memories, done with fear.” As much anger and frustration as self-directed disappointment rippled through her words. “But my brain won’t listen!”

“Charlotte.” She drove him crazy. “You have my f*cking hand at your throat.” Tightening his grip to make his point, he kissed her, used his teeth, his tongue, until she moaned and kissed him back as hotly. “How exactly,” he said when they came up for air, “do you think you messed up?”

Tiny vertical lines formed between her eyebrows. “Stop snarling at me,” she said, lifting one hand to fist it in his hair.

“I’ll stop when you begin to listen to reason.” He moved the hand on her throat down to her stomach, caressing her as he kissed her again. Her ribcage was so delicate under his touch, her breasts exquisite through the fine lace of her bra. “We’re not going to do everything in one night, and what the hell fun would there be in that anyway?”

Making an aggravated sound in her throat, she pulled at his hair. “I said stop snarling at me.”

“You have a temper, Ms. Baird.”

A scowl. “I have to, with you around.” Shoving at his chest, she pushed him to his back. “I want to do things to you now.”

His cock, already rock hard, jerked to attention. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She straddled him low on his thighs, the view a gorgeous one, especially since her hair had started to come out of that bun. When her hands went to his buckle, he sucked in a breath. Her teeth sinking into her lower lip in sexy concentration, she undid the belt and stripped it off to throw it on the floor, clever fingers on the fastenings of his pants.

He cooperated when she moved down his body, taking his pants and underwear with her. Dumping his clothing on the floor, she straddled his thighs again, her eyes on the hard length of his cock.

“I don’t know how this gets inside me,” she murmured, capturing him in her small, competent hands.

He groaned.

A small, wicked, slightly shy smile on her face, Charlotte began to jerk him off. His eyes closed, his hips rising toward her. He wasn’t the least prepared to feel the hot wet of her mouth close over the head of his cock.

“Fuck!” He had his hand on her nape before he could stop himself, his actions instinctive.

Tearing it away when she went stiff, he groaned and fell back on the bed with his arms thrown wide. “Well, f*ck. Now you’re not going to suck me off, are you?”

Muscles easing to softness again, Charlotte sat up, stared at him. Her pulse was erratic in her throat but her lips, they held that tiny, wicked smile. “That’s all you’re worried about?”

“Charlotte, when you have your mouth anywhere near my cock, my brain cells turn into gibbering idiots.”

She laughed, ran her nails down his chest. “You have to behave.” A playful statement, but there were shadows in her eyes.