Had to Be You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (13 page)

He’d been doing all right . . . Okay, he’d been barely holding on, but then he’d made the mistake of looking into her eyes and, shit, all bets were off. Rocki’s eyes dragged him in, took all his good intentions—all thoughts of gentle lovemaking—and threw them under a cross-town bus. What he saw was wild need, raw down-and-dirty want, and lust so elemental it incinerated the thread with enough heat to melt steel.

He lost himself in Rocki, in the way her body grabbed on to him and drew him in as strongly and urgently as her eyes had, obliterating every ounce of his control. She single-handedly unleashed the part of him no one had ever dared to tempt. He lost all finesse, all gentleness, and let go. He slid his hands under her ass, changing the angle and went deeper, harder, and sent her over.

Slater was too far gone to give her a breather. He rode out her orgasm and then drove her right back up. He needed her as mindless as he felt; he wanted her as overwhelmed, as out of control, as raw.

She pulled him down and dragged her teeth over his neck and then, simultaneously, nipped his shoulder, grabbed his balls, and clenched her inner muscles, shooting him across the finish line with an intensity he’d never known. He thought she joined him, but he was in the midst of an orgasm so incredible, his vision blurred. He collapsed on top of her and thought he might have blacked out for a second . . . or ten. He wasn’t really sure. He knew he should roll over, but his muscles were not yet responding to his brain’s commands. Rocki might just have fried his hard drive.

He felt her laughing . . . from the inside out. “Wow. I guess the only thing left to say is, ‘Welcome to Fantasy Land.’”

Rocki lay pinned to the bed and stared at Slater, who seemed in no rush to move, which was okay because she was still having delicious mini-orgasms shooting through her that were strong enough to curl her toes and were as good as any orgasms her past lovers were able to elicit.

“Slater?”

“Hmm?”

He rose on his elbows, taking some of the pressure off her chest and, in doing so, slid farther into her, shooting off another round of toe-curling flutters that had her rolling her hips and groaning.

“Don’t you dare start. I’m calling a time-out for sustenance. We had a deal, remember?”

Rocki kissed a puckered spot on his chest and wondered what had caused a scar like that. “Is it my fault round one has yet to end?”

“Sweetheart.” He kissed her soundly but ended it way too soon. “Round one ended a while ago.”

“Says who? It seems to me that things are anything but over.” She clenched her inner muscles and if she wasn’t mistaken, the way his dick seemed to jump up and take notice, and the groan that followed proved her point, stealing her breath.

Slater moved as if to pull out, but she still had her legs locked around him so he couldn’t really go far. “Rocki.” His voice dropped the octave and a half lower to what she’d labeled his bedroom voice—that voice alone was enough to get her going. “You promised.”

“I promised I’d try to eat,” she said, nuzzling his neck, drinking in his scent, and getting more turned on by the minute. “That’s the best I can do. Tension goes right to my stomach—”

He slid back in, either to tease her or to start round two—God, she hoped he’d given up his quest to feed her. “Sex is a great tension reliever. You should have no problem eating now.” He took her mouth in a kiss so hot she experienced a full-body sigh—every part of her relaxed and melted into the kiss. And the next thing she knew he slipped out and then rolled off her. “I’m starved. So how do you want it?”

“The sex?” She scooted a little closer.

“No, dinner. Do you want to go down to eat, or do you want dinner in bed?”

“In bed?” What was it with him and food?

Slater rolled off the mattress and headed, bare-assed, to the bathroom before Rocki could get her head together enough to even sit up.

He came back, and pulled his jeans on, tucking himself in carefully.

“I can come down and help.”

A smile quirked one side of his mouth and all she could think of was everything that mouth had done to her; she was ready for more. “Oh, no. You’re too much of a distraction. Stay here, stay naked, and I’ll be right back with food. If you’re good, I might even eat my dinner off you.”

She crawled toward the edge of the bed and focused on the growing bulge in his pants. “If I’m bad can I use you as a plate? Just the thought of it makes having to eat much more appealing.”

Slater’s eyes darkened and his stomach tensed as if he were waiting for a punch to the gut. “You’re a definite distraction.” She kneeled on the bed, and he tugged her against him for a kiss that didn’t end the way she wanted it to. “Sweetheart, you can eat off whatever you want but you’d better eat. Believe me, you’re going to need the calories.”

He grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it on as he headed out the door. The man looked as good going as he did coming. Rocki threw herself back against the pillows and, for the first time in forever, she actually followed instructions. It was amazing what sexual satisfaction could do to a person.

•   •   •

S
later hit the kitchen at a run. He gathered the food, beers, a bottle of white wine and a wineglass, stuffed napkins and forks in his back pocket, and was out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom in less than three minutes.

He didn’t know what it was about Rocki but, damn, she had a way of fogging a man’s mind—she was all-consuming. He just hoped it was something that wore off after a few go-arounds, because if not, he was in real trouble. But then, as far as trouble went, Rocki was the kind he wouldn’t mind having over and over and over again.

He pushed the door open with his bare foot, amazed to find Rocki right where he’d left her, all spread out like a freakin’ wet dream. He set the beers down on the bedside table, handed her the wineglass and bottle, and put the plates right on the bed. “Eat fast.”

“I’m missing my plate.” Shit, the way she looked at him had him swallowing hard and ripping at the buttons on his pants.

He stripped and climbed into bed before she even got the cork out of the wine bottle.

She didn’t bother with the glass. A woman after his own heart. Then she proceeded to feed him and eat her entire dinner off his stomach. By the time she’d eaten her fill, he was messy and hot and hard and more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Next Rocki slid between his legs. She had one hand wrapped around his dick, the other around the neck of the wine bottle. She took a swig of wine and then slid her mouth over him. Cold wine, hot mouth, just the right amount of tongue and teeth and he almost came right then and there.

He definitely hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected her to revel in her ability to drive him to the edge. And he certainly hadn’t expected her to have him at her mercy. Shit. When exactly had he lost all control of the situation? Right at that moment he was tempted to beg. He was in serious trouble and she knew it. She hummed around his dick and shot whatever control he had left. He dragged her off him before he lost it completely. “God, tell me you’re clean and on the pill.”

“Yes, and yes.”

She sucked his tongue into her mouth as she slid over him.

He’d never had sex without a condom before. Not once. He had never known what the hell he was missing, but then maybe it was just having sex with Rocki that made everything more extreme. Hotter, wetter, tighter, and so damn soft—Rocki had a way of turning up the volume on everything.

She had amazing rhythm and moves that had him praying he could hold on just because he didn’t want this to ever end. She was so beautiful and everything about her was a turn-on—the sounds she made as she rode him, the way she took what she wanted but gave with the same intensity, the wonder that flashed across her face as she climaxed, drawing him deeper, and the way she looked into his eyes and kissed him as if she wasn’t close enough to him. They were connected in every way possible.

It was the kiss that drew him in, strung him out, laid him bare, and then breathed new life into him. It was the kiss that sent him flying over the edge. It was the kiss that shattered whatever resistance to Rocki he’d possessed. It was the kiss that made him feel things he didn’t know existed, had no way to label, and scared him to his very core.

•   •   •

R
ocki collapsed on Slater, incapable of any further movement. She’d either just hit her sexual prime, or the combination of her and Slater was seriously explosive. She wished she knew if that was a good thing or not. Right now, she considered herself lucky she still had the energy to draw breath.

When he’d gone downstairs for their dinner, she’d told herself that their first time together had been a fluke. But if she’d learned anything since, it was that whatever they had was no fluke, and round one wasn’t nearly as incredible as round two. If round three got any better . . . She might not survive but she’d have one hell of a story to tell when she got to the pearly gates.

She kissed his chest and slid her tongue over the puckered scar. “How did you get this?” She ran her finger over it.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been there for as long as I can remember.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” He slid from beneath her. “We should probably get a shower. I don’t know about you, but I’m sticky.” He finished his beer and cracked the second. “Thirsty?” He held the bottle out to her.

Okay, she could take a hint. “No, thanks. I had quite a bit to drink earlier, remember?” She licked her lips and was relieved when he smiled.

“Oh yeah. That’s not something I’m likely to ever forget.”

Just like a man; he’d remember a blow job but not whatever caused a two-inch puckered scar on his chest. “Let me just call the hospital and check on Jax.”

Once she talked to the nurses and found out that Jax was resting comfortably, Slater set his beer on the bedside table, and then pulled her along with him as he rolled out of bed. “Let’s get a shower. I’ve wanted to see you wet for the last two days.”

“That long, huh?”

“Sweetheart, thirty-six hours is a hell of a long time when you consider we’ve been practically connected at the hip. You have no idea how many times I’ve pictured you wet and soapy.”

“Ah, a window into the male mind. Unfortunately, it appears to look more like a porn flick than anything else.”

The naughty smile she was beginning to love slid over his face. “You have no idea.”

He dragged her to the bathroom and it took only a few minutes for her to get a very accurate picture of what his fantasy entailed, and it was a hell of a lot more than just her wet and soapy.

By the time they dried off, they’d drained the house’s hot water tank, they were both pruney, and Rocki couldn’t remember ever being more relaxed, exhausted, and sexually satisfied.

Six hours later she was rudely awakened from the most erotic dream she’d ever had by what felt like an earthquake, only to find out what would qualify as a six-point-five on the Richter scale, wasn’t an earthquake at all. It was Slater.

Rocki didn’t know what was going on, other than she was in bed and Slater was shaking like he was deep in the throes of a nightmare. “Slater?”

Daylight crept through the window. It wasn’t sunshine, just the usual winter early morning when the sun doesn’t really rise, the world just grows light.

“Slater, wake up.”

His face looked pale and his eyes raced beneath his lids, every muscle in his body tensed.

She reached across his chest, grabbed his arm, and tried to shake him awake.

“No!”

The next thing she knew, she was beneath two hundred pounds of a wild-looking Slater.

He had both her hands pinned to the bed, and his wide hazel eyes stared into hers.

“Slater. You’re okay.”

She watched the realization of what happened slam into him. He went from crazed, to confused, to horrified. “God, did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” He’d scared the crap out of her, but then she was more afraid for him than for herself.

He tried to pull away but she wasn’t going to let him go that easily.

“Stay. Tell me what happened.”

The man above her seemed to deflate before her eyes and his head sank to rest on her chest. “Shit, Rocki, I wish I knew.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“When?”

“When you ran out of the hospital, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Yet you’re not answering the question.”

“I would if I knew how. If I understood what the hell happened, it wouldn’t freak me out so much. One second I was holding you and the next—” He shook his head. “I don’t know if it was a memory or a freakin’ nightmare. I just saw this bright light, and people wearing what looked like surgical scrubs looking down at me.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know. It was just a flash. I remembered being scared to death and in pain. Then it was gone. I just don’t get it.”

“Where was the pain?”

“Everywhere.”

She slid her finger over the scar on his chest and he jumped. “It sounds like a flashback. You said you didn’t remember how you got this.” She kissed the scar. “Maybe being in the hospital is dredging up old memories. It happens.”

He let his weight come down on her and nibbled on her earlobe as he slid between her thighs. “Not to me.”

She didn’t bother telling him that it
was
happening to him. He was just fighting it. “Oh, that’s right. You superhero types are so tough—nothing ever gets to you.”

“Nothing does.” He slid his hand under her thigh and lifted her knee.

His erection teased her entrance and she held back a groan. “I can see that.”

“Good.” He stared into her eyes as he slid into her with exquisite slowness. “Nothing gets to me. Except you. It had to be you.”

Rocki didn’t know if he thought that was a good thing or not, but couldn’t ask since she’d lost all ability to speak coherently.

His kiss was possessive, powerful, brutal—dragging her through his torment and into the heat. Slater had a way of stringing her so tight she vibrated like a tuning fork. He took her to places she hadn’t known existed, he made her feel things she’d never felt, and when he looked into her eyes, she seemed to absorb his need, desperation, pain, and fear. He might not be able to speak the words, but he didn’t need to. When it came to sex, they were on the same wavelength, they could communicate without words, and they could give each other what the other desperately needed. And right now, he needed to consume her, and she let him.

The feeling running through him into her sent her heart stuttering in her chest and brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t contain them any more than she could stop the waves of orgasm crashing through her—too fast, too intense, too much. She buried her face in his neck and did her best not to blubber. God, she was so overwhelmed, and he drove her even higher, as one orgasm rolled into another without so much as a break. He gripped her hips, raised her, and threw her headlong into something so cataclysmic she lost it completely.

Slater cursed, groaned her name, and stilled, huffing into her neck.

Tears rolled down the side of her face and no matter what she did, she couldn’t stop them. She wanted to push him off her and wipe her face. She wanted to run, because this wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t prepared for anything like this. She was supposed to be having hot sex and, last she checked, hot sex did not include tears and overwhelming feelings. It didn’t include anything but scratching an itch.

“Hey, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Shit, shit, shit.

He raised himself off her and brushed her tears away.

Before she could stop it a sob escaped.

“It’s okay.”

“No . . . it’s . . . not.”

He shushed her, brushing away the tears streaming down her face. “Making love sometimes breaks down the dams—it’s a physical and emotional release.”