Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3) (12 page)

She kissed him this time, peppering his face with tiny, playful pecks in between gasping “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, holding her a bit away from him. “I'm going to require a bit more of a thank-you than that.”

“Oh.” Her lips twitched, and she threw a leg over him to straddle his lap. Her soft center pressed against his hardness, and he wanted nothing more than to be the wizard she'd accused him of, cast a spell and watch their clothing disappear so he could slide his erection deep into her. “So that's how it'll be, hmm? Am I paying for your very lawyerly services with free rein of my body?”

“No, never that. But,” he added, nipping her bottom lip when she raised a brow in surprise, “but, I am more than willing to accept generous donations of gratitude in the form of, shall we say, physical demonstrations.”

She laughed, kissed him again, and gasped when his hand slid under her shirt. “Graham.” Her voice was unsteady. “Zach . . .”

He froze. Damn. He'd forgotten entirely where they were. “Sorry.”

“No.” She gripped his wrist hard, keeping his hand in place. “Don't stop. Just . . . be careful.”

The idea turned in his mind a moment. Staying quiet, being careful, the element of discretion . . . his blood fired and his hips twerked up just a little in response. “So, you're saying, if I do this, you can't say a word.” His hand moved slowly across her soft skin to cup her breast through her bra.
“And maybe if this happened”— he used touch alone to pull and roll the lacy edge of the cup down to free her breast, still under her shirt—“then you wouldn't moan.”

Biting her lip, she shook her head. Resolute, this woman.

“So then this won't make you gasp,” he said low, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling gently. He heard it, actually saw the gasp form in her chest, then stop with a convulsion like a trapped hiccup. Her face was red, but her expression said,
Try again, buddy.

“You're good,” he admitted, then pulled up the hem of her shirt over her breasts. “I guess if I want any sort of reaction out of you, I'll have to try harder.” Then he closed his mouth over her breast.

She made a sound then, as he rhythmically pulled and sucked, running his tongue over the peak. It was something like a keening cry, but only heard through the vibration of her chest. He placed his hand flat against her sternum to feel it again, chuckling when he felt it. The soft, plush skin of her breast fit perfectly in the U-shaped hold of his hand. He could die happily after spending an hour worshiping them.

Her fingers worked hard to pull the other cup down, and he took that as the invitation it was meant and transferred over to the second. Her back arched to press more firmly against his mouth, which pressed her center harder against his cock. He wanted so much to release his belt, pull out his cock and press into her. But not tonight.

He worried for a moment his mind had blocked out the action of his own hand when he felt a tug on his belt loop. Looking down, it wasn't his own hand, but Kara's, pulling restlessly, and futilely at his buckle and the first button of his pants. At this angle, nothing would happen but make him harder and frustrate them both. “Shh,” he soothed, and reclined back when she pressed her lips to his.

She'd been hungry for him on Sunday, in his bed. She'd wanted him, and participated fully in their bedroom activities.
But now she was ravenous. A totally different beast, and one he'd like to explore later. Now, however, when stealth and quiet were required, ravenous hunger would do nothing but wake up Zach and end the shenanigans before they got really
interesting.

12

G
raham stood, holding onto her and swallowing her gasps of shock with another kiss. Then he walked back toward the bedroom—or what he assumed was her bedroom, pausing only to open the door and walk through before shutting it behind them.

Then laid her down on the bed, straightening to admire the picture she presented. A sexy woman, her shirt rolled up over her breasts, legs opened wide in a butterfly pose, eyes hot and a little wild for him . . .

Yeah. He could get used to this.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“Because I fully intend to do what I want with you, and while making out and fooling around on second base is amusing, and easy to hide quickly, I'd rather not force you to reschedule the birds and the bees talk for Zach if he wandered out looking for a cup of water and found us doing what we're about to be doing.”

Ignoring her reaching hands, he unbuttoned her pants
and tugged, leaving her slip of underwear behind. He had plans, and none of them involved his pants being off. “Here's the thing though. These apartments, they usually don't have the best soundproofing. As in, none. You start making noise? He'll hear you. I'm not sure you can stay quiet. Are you?”

She bit her lip, then nodded. Pulling at her ankle until her butt was at the edge of the bed, he knelt down on the floor and pressed a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other.

And managed, just barely, to put up a block when she tried to close her thighs and push him out. Not happening. He raised his brows at her, questioning if she wanted him to stop. The blush that covered her throat and cheeks was adorable, but she simply closed her eyes and laid back.

He let his tongue work along the seam of her panties, dipping under every so often, then back out again. Her thigh muscles quivered with every wet pass of his tongue, but she stayed silent. When his fingers pulled back the edge to reveal her core, the quivering upgraded to shaking. He blew cool air against her hot flesh, and smiled as her entire body jerked.

But, she didn't make a sound. Damn, she was good.

The first long lick changed things. It was a soundless sound, if that made any sense. As if the entire scream had lost steam while she breathed heavily. A sound only a dog could hear, but he knew existed. He took another leisurely lap, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Yes, she was good. But he was better.

He focused on her clit, and that made her thrash her head around the bedspread like a fish on dry land. One hand clutched the bedspread as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. While he circled, sucked and nibbled, she bucked and rolled beneath him.

He inserted one, then two fingers into her warm heat, groaning himself when he felt how hot she was, how wet, how undeniably ready for him inside her. The knowledge that he wouldn't get more than this taste tonight made him want to
beat his head against the bed rail. This was about her, though, and he could resist. He'd been resisting for weeks. He wouldn't lose his mind over a night of delayed pleasure.

Crooking his fingers, he stroked her inside and out, watching her body, listening for the hitches of her breath. He forced himself to examine every vibration, every twitch. Focus on how warm her skin was beneath his palm while he held her stomach down. Notice the clenching of her muscles beneath his hand, the way she grew even more wet around his fingers, tightening in pulses. Every nuance of her existence was a clue that told him without any words exactly what she liked, what she liked more, and what was the best of all. When he found that
best of all
, he gave it everything he had.

And then she came, with the most gloriously silent orgasm he had ever had the privilege of watching. Her long, slender body writhed and moved with such grace, even under the power of a climax, that she took his breath away. Her face was a study of pain, though he knew she felt nothing remotely negative. It was the price of holding back vocally that twisted her face.

Kara's body finally relaxed, and she sprawled on the bed like a woman who had run a marathon. Replete, sweaty, utterly exhausted but with a sense of true accomplishment. The satisfied smile that tilted the corners of her mouth made him ache with the longing to crawl under the covers with her and hold her all night long.

Not now. Not yet. Sometime soon.

He kissed her once more, had the pleasure of watching her twitch in response, then settled her lacy underwear back in place. He laid down beside her, taking in the way her creamy skin was still flushed and a little splotchy, but in a cute way. Her eyes were closed, with those blond lashes spiky against her cheeks. But he was surprised to see a silvery trail of what had been tears that led from the corner of her eye down into her hair.

“Hey.” He kissed the wetness, then brushed another over her cheek. “You okay?”

“No,” she whispered, smile fading. “Not really.”

Worried, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him. She didn't sob, didn't heave. But he felt more dampness against his neck. “I . . . I didn't hurt you, did I? If I did something, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I—”

“No, of course not.” Her voice was low, but strong enough. “It's just how you . . . you know. How I didn't say a word and you still managed to . . . you know.”

“Make you come?” he said, laughing a little when she winced. “You can say it, I won't tell anyone.”

“Not just that. But how you . . . I don't know. I'm being stupid.” She rolled back on her back and wiped at her face, hiding her eyes. “Ignore me. I'm just having a moment of stupidity.”

“No, you're not. If you feel something, it's not stupid.” But she seemed to need to grapple with whatever it was solo. He hoped that changed in the future. “I should get going. I'll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead and stood, shaking out one leg a little and adjusting the front of his jeans. This would make for an uncomfortable drive home.

She glared at him from bed. “You're leaving? We're not finished.”

They were for now. “Tonight was yours.” When she just stared at him, he grinned. “I believe the phrase you are searching for is, ‘Thank you, Graham. I'll miss you.'”

She rolled her eyes, then rolled up and out of bed, pulling off her shirt and bra fully as she did so.

“I'm sorry, I couldn't hear that.” He pinched the top of her thigh as she bent over to pick up her pants. She shrieked and jumped. That made him laugh. “Oh, now we can't stay quiet.”

“You!” She swatted at him, but he darted out of reach.
When she threw her clothes in the hamper in the corner and opened a drawer, he crossed his arms to watch. She pulled out what he assumed were her pajamas—an oversized T-shirt and a tiny pair of booty shorts—and started to pull them on.

Looking supremely annoyed, with mussed up hair and a blush that seemed permanent around him, she yanked the shirt on over her head. “What's the deal? You come in here and you eat dinner and you play video games and you make me . . . you know. And then you leave?”

He thought for a moment about that. “Sounds like a decent Tuesday night . . . minus the leaving.” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he caught her around the waist, hauled her against him so she could feel his erection, and kissed her with enough passion she wouldn't doubt for a moment he wanted to stay. “If I could, I'd stay. But you don't want me to, because of the circumstances. I don't blame you a bit. So I'm not going to make you kick me out. I'm going to leave myself, before things go farther.”

“At least . . . just lie with me for a bit?” She held out a hand to him, sitting down on the bed as she did so. “Please. This is the part I like the most. When we were quiet on Sunday night, after . . . you know. Afterward, just laying together.”

How the hell did he say no to that? “Fine. A few minutes.” He toed off his shoes, thought for a moment about his cargo shorts and shirt, then decided they were sufficient enough. He crawled into her bed, surrounded by fluffy white pillows, then sighed in contentment as she curled up beside him, humming with pleasure.

“It doesn't feel right,” she admitted softly, tracing the hem of his T-shirt with her fingertip. “That I got so much and you got nothing.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He kissed her again, tenderly. “Don't you know watching you get what you want is exactly what I want?”

*   *   *

KARA
woke to the alarm, as she did every morning. She purposefully set it ten minutes early so she had one snooze button's worth of extra time before she had no choice but to leave the warm comfort of the covers and the softness of her pillow.

Except her pillow was hard this morning. It was firm, barely yielding as she pushed her hand to it to gain leverage to roll over and hit her snooze button. And it grunted.

Her pillow grunted . . .

Oh, sweet Jesus.

“Graham!” she hissed, bolting up straight. “Graham. Oh my God, we fell asleep!”

“Yeah,” he said, not opening his eyes. “You made me lay down.”

“You have to wake up!” She pushed at his torso. It was as effective as shoving at a boulder.

“I will, chill out.” He stretched his hands above his head, which made the shirt ride up his stomach. All that golden skin, warm and inviting and . . .

“Zach will wake up in ten minutes.
Getupgetupgetup!
”

“No, we just . . . no.” One dark eye cracked open, glanced around. “We were out for five minutes. Ten, max.”

“We were out for almost eight
hours
. Up.”

“Damn. Okay, I'm up. Where are my shoes?” he asked, rolling out of bed. “They're, okay, here.”

She walked with him to the living room, then stood gaping when he paused long enough to sit on the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Shoes. I don't think I should walk barefoot out of here. Gross. Can I hit the head before I go?”

“No, I . . . oh God,” she whispered as she heard Zach's door open, then the door to the bathroom. “Throw your shoes down.”

He looked up, bewildered, from tying the first shoelace. “I just got it on. Wha—okay!” he said when she glared. “What now?”

“Sun salutation. Now. Now!” she whispered harshly as he stared at her dumbly. Were all men this stupid in the morning, or just him? “Get up and salute the sun or so help me, God . . .”

“Okay, okay.” A smile pulled at his lips, but he managed to roll it back before standing and following her lead. They were in the first lunge when Zach walked in, scratching his belly, a confused look on his face.

“Graham?”

“Hey, bud.” He rolled up from the first lunge, moving as Kara did into the second. “Ready for school?”

Bewildered, Zach looked down at himself, still dressed in the clothes from the night before. “No?”

“Ah. Better get a move on.” His voice muffled as they worked into a back arch.

“Mom?”

“Graham's just getting a little extra yoga in this morning before practice,” she said, feeling breathless.

Her son seemed to take that at face value, with a shrug. “Okay. See ya for breakfast then,” he told Graham, then went back to his room and shut the door to change.

Kara collapsed on the carpet, covering her face with her hands. “I can't believe that just happened.”

Graham chuckled and rolled over to her, kissing her gently on the cheek. “C'mon, it's funny.”

“Says you.”

“Yup, says me. And look at the bright side.”

When she looked at him through her fingers, he was grinning down at her. The shadow of growth covering his face, combined with his naturally swarthy skin and white teeth, gave him the look of a pirate. “What bright side?”

“I'm getting a home-cooked breakfast out of the deal.”

She punched his arm and rolled out of reach.

*   *   *

“MUFFIN
me,” Reagan demanded as she walked into the training room that morning. At Marianne's narrowed gaze, she sighed and retreated back a few steps to kick off her heels and slip her feet into the fuzzy blue slippers by the door. “I need the energy. I had quite the rude awakening this morning.”

“Is that what Greg calls his penis? The Rude Awakening?” Marianne snickered when Reagan rolled her eyes. “Come on, it was funny. But shush, we're not talking about your Rude Awakening. Kara has a muffin-worthy story.”

“Not just muffins. Chocolate muffins,” Reagan said, inspecting the baked good she'd stolen from the basket on Marianne's desk as she sat on the second table. Unlike Kara, who was stretching—oh God, felt so good—Reagan sat primly in her sharp pencil skirt and tailored shirt. The effect of a high-powered businesswoman was ruined only by the blue slippers, which she wore under silent protest, but in accordance with the training room rules set by Marianne. “You have a chocolate muffin story. Do tell.”

“I was just waiting on you to stop primping and get your fabulously dressed ass in here.” Kara took a breath, then stopped. “Nobody is out there, right?”

“One Marine is. It's weird though,” Reagan said thoughtfully. “He's just sort of sitting in the middle of the gym, reading a book. Nobody else is here yet because we're the only two crazy enough to get here this early. Now spill.”

“He can't hear us?” Reagan and Marianne both shook their heads. “Okay then. Graham came over last night for dinner, just the three of us.”

“Aww,” Reagan interrupted. “That's so cute.” When Marianne sent her an evil glare, she shrugged. “What? It is.”

“He's great with Zach. He really is. And then he forced me to go off and do something for myself instead of cleaning
the kitchen. He made Zach help, but not in a super condescending sort of way. Total hero worship. He's great with him.” Just thinking of the private conversation she'd eavesdropped on in Zach's room made her warm.