Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(10)

“What are you doing, Erin?”

Roaring. Battering. Her hands flew to her ears to muffle the noise, but it didn’t work. She couldn’t draw a full breath. Connor stood in the dark, shirtless above black sweatpants, talking to her. None of his words broke through. She lurched toward the window and looked out onto the avenue running in front of the building, trying to breathe, but the guarantee of escape didn’t help this time. Connor’s heat at her back should have alarmed her. When the noise got this loud, the fear this great, it took her a long time to come back from it. Miraculously, though, his heat was absorbing it. Taking the weight off of her. Her body sagged back against his in relief, but she batted his arms away when they tried to close around her. Too much. Too soon.

“What do you need?”

His voice bathed her ear with a feeling so delicious, she felt it down to her toes, alleviating anxiety as it went. More…she needed more of him. In her own way. Even as Erin turned to face him, she had no idea what would happen until she saw his concerned face, his masculine lips hovering above hers. “You’re fighting it off,” she whispered. “I thought it was the window.”

“I don’t understand, sweetheart.” He looked frustrated, but not with her. More because he wanted to comprehend. His fingers touched the glass. “Don’t you have a window in your room, too?”

She shook her head. “It’s a mirage. There’s a trap set for me.”

Motherf*cker. Why couldn’t she say what needed to be said? The words weren’t coming out right. He was going to think she was crazy. Just like everyone else.

Connor was silent a beat. “Tell me what you need.”

Erin leaped, no idea where she would land. “Take. I need to take.” Yearning struck her in the belly, thick and undeniable, but it teamed with regret. “But I can’t give anything. I—”

He cut her off with another step. Closer. So close. But not touching. Light spilled in through the window and highlighted his strong jaw, clenched so tight. His chest and arms, carved with muscle, should have been forbidding, but the smell of freshly rubbed wood and pine, combined with his quiet strength, made him a haven. He stood without moving and let her look him over, not trying to rush her into a decision or make her mind up for her. It made her need him even more. Her flesh pulsed between her legs, nipples tingling behind the material of her shirt. It had been so long since she felt desire of any kind, and it crashed through her now, obliterating the fear. She had no choice but to cling to it. To him.

Erin slid her fingers around his biceps, sucking in a breath when they flexed hard under her touch. She reversed their positions, bringing his back up against the wall. Frustration was evident in every line of his body. Leashed restraint. She was the one leashing it, along with her own fears. This wasn’t the type of man who let a woman handle him. The power in that settled over her like a thick cloak. She pressed his hands, palms down, against the wall and implored him with a look. No touching. His only acknowledgment was a tightening of his muscles. Bracing himself.

She didn’t, couldn’t, waste another second. The craving to touch, to release, was growing and she needed to appease it before it took her over. Connor watched through fevered eyes as she unsnapped the button of her jean shorts and let them fall to her feet. She could see the outline of his substantial arousal through the sweatpants and moaned into the silence. That was for her. He was aroused for her. Wearing only her panties and T-shirt, she grabbed on to his broad shoulders and hiked her legs up around his waist.

“Fuck.” The back of his head hit the wall. “Fuck.”

“Oh, God.”

Her hips circled once and she whimpered, wanting to get closer and unable to. She needed pressure right there. It ached so badly. Connor seemed to comprehend her predicament or share it with her because he braced the breadth of his shoulders against the wall and pushed his hips out, tilting them at the perfect angle. “You won’t let me touch you, Erin? You sure as hell better ride me rough for the both of us.” He gave an upward thrust of his hips. “My cock is big and angry because you made it that way. That makes it your responsibility. Move.”

Erin dug her fingernails into the muscles of his shoulders and started bucking her hips. The fact that he could support her weight and the frantic movements of her body made her burn with lust. Intense hunger radiated from him, scorching her, forcing her to move faster. Her writhing motions, the back and forth of her hips, caused a groove to form along the seam of her damp panties, widening with her every movement to cradle Connor’s erection. If the thin material of her panties and his sweats were to vanish, he would have been inside her in a heartbeat. They were that close to being joined.

“Look at you. Grinding that little * on me.” His voice sounded raw, heated. “I’d fill you with every goddamn inch so quickly, you’d scream for me to take it back out. Maybe it’s better this way, giving just your clit a ride. But know that I’d like to be pounding you full of me, Erin. Full.”

His words should have made her nervous, but reassurance shone in his eyes, swirling through the heat. No matter what came out of his mouth, he wouldn’t break his silent promise. Thank God for that, because Erin’s thighs were starting to shake violently, the beginnings of exhilaration firing in her belly, lower. Oh yes, lower. Her panties had grown so wet, the cotton had taken on a different texture and it dragged perfectly over her clit. She gripped his hips with her thighs and bucked faster, faster. A new sound filled her head, sending the other one running with its simplicity. I need him and he’s giving me what I need and I need him and he’s giving…