Jaci Burton (12 page)

lips across hers. Feather light, the shock to her senses was

electric, more powerful than if he’d bruised her with a

demanding, hard kiss. It left her wanting more . . . much more,

charging her nerve endings with tiny pinpricks of awareness.

Her body felt alive, needy. And with each slow slide of his

mouth across hers, she was the one who felt drugged, drunk,

and al she’d had was two sips of beer. It wasn’t alcohol

driving her haywire. It was Rick, making her forget where she

was, even who she was. Al she could think about was

grabbing onto his leather jacket and drawing him closer,

throwing her leg over his so she could rub her pussy against

his thigh.

She was wet, the denim of her jeans pressing her panties

into her moist flesh, making her aware of how much she

wanted him, wanted this. When he pul ed away, Ava glanced

over at the bed.

Lacey’s jeans were off. So was her bra. Rachel was naked

and Nathan’s mouth was latched onto one of her nipples.

Bo had moved Lacey underneath him and ground his jean-

clad body against her, his hands al over her breasts while he

kissed her.

The sensory overload was too much, the decadence

exciting her to boiling point. She couldn’t take anymore of this.

She turned to Rick. “Take me out of here now and fuck me.”

He stood, offering his hand to pul her up.

In that split second she caught sight of his erection visible

against his jeans. She shuddered and tilted her head, licked

her lips.

Rick grabbed his jacket, hers, and walked them out of the

room without a word. Real y, there was nothing to be said. The

others were too engrossed in their own passion to even care .

. . or notice . . . that they were leaving.

And Ava was too intent on Rick to care about saying good-

bye. There was only one thing she wanted now.

Rick.

A
va shivered in the elevator.

“You cold?”

She shook her head.

“Nervous?”

“No. Not nervous.”

Rick moved in, palmed the wal on either side of her

shoulders, his erection making contact with her aching pussy.

She nearly died right there, shocks of pleasure centered at

her clit, right where he touched her.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just get me to my room, unless you’re fond of elevator sex.

”

His lips curled, and oh, God, the heat in the elevator tripled

when he smiled like that. It was a good thing she had the wal

at her back for support, because her legs were useless.

“I’m okay with elevator sex if you don’t think you can wait

that long.”

Thank God the doors opened right then because she was

just about ready to take him up on his offer. He took her hand

and dragged her down the hal .

“Your room or mine?” he asked.

She’d already fished her key out of her bag. “Mine’s closer.”

He grabbed the key from her hand, unlocked the door, and

pushed it open. She was inside, the door shut, and Rick had

her in his arms a split second later. Their jackets fel to the

floor. It was pitch-black in the room and she felt blind as Rick

walked her backward a few steps until she hit the wal .

That’s as far as they got before his lips came crashing

down on hers.

Ahh, contact. His body moved in, flush against hers so she

could feel every muscle, every hard, throbbing part of him. His

mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding inside to lick against

hers. His hands roamed her shoulders, down her arms,

stroking her hips and waist, traveling around to cup her

buttocks and bring her even closer to the rock-hard heat of his

cock.

His mouth did delicious things to her senses—what little

senses she had left, anyway. Al she could focus on was his

touch, the way he tasted, the masterful way he held her—so

firm and tight in his arms—and yet she sensed a strong

desperation like maybe he, too, wanted this as badly as she

did. Could that even be possible? Rick always seemed so

laid-back, like nothing real y mattered to him.

Did this matter?

When he pul ed the bottom of her shirt out of her jeans and

he laid his palm over the bare skin of her bel y, she shuddered

and tilted her head back, breaking the kiss. She needed air,

some coherence, something to balance her. She felt out of

control and she was never out of control. Sex had always been

easy, a natural progression that arose out of dinner, a few

drinks, being comfortable and relaxed with her partner.

This was anything but easy and relaxed. It was tense,

agitated, crazy, a frenzy of passion and pent-up anxiety. Her

entire body felt like it was ready to explode at the slightest

touch—Rick’s touch. She couldn’t handle this.

“What’s wrong?”

She panted through the words. “I can’t . . .”

And then she felt Rick’s tension. He took a step back.

Oh, no. That’s not what she’d meant.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“No.” She grabbed his arms. “Wait.” She wasn’t going to let

this happen again. She wasn’t going to let him slide on the

brakes because she hesitated. Because she feared that loss

of control.

Maybe it was good to experience out of control for once, to

let someone else take charge and see what it felt like. So far,

it was giddy and exhilarating, even if it did make her dizzy.

Maybe it was al the secondhand pot she’d inhaled in Bo’s

room.

But she doubted it. Not when Rick’s hands snaked up her

bare bel y, moving her shirt with them.

“You sure?”

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek.

“Yes.” She clasped onto his wrist, held him there. “Touch

me.”

Her heart skittered and raced as his fingertips hit the edge

of her bra and skimmed over the satin.

“You have nice breasts, Ava. I want to suck your nipples.”

His whispered words in the dark made her wet, made her

clit tingle, made her want to slide her hands down her jeans

and make herself come right now. But before she could do

anything, he lifted her shirt, forcing her arms in the air so he

could remove it.

He laid his hand on her cheek and slid his palm down her

neck, along her col arbone, and to her shoulder, then walked

his fingers to the swel of her breasts, caressing her with

feather-light touches that made her gasp.

And then he lingered against her left breast, as if he were

feeling her heartbeat. Just a slow slide of his fingers, back

and forth. Maddening. And too damn slow. It was time to

speed this along. She wanted him inside her right now.

She grabbed his wrists and pul ed his hands down, then

reached for the clasp of her bra.

But he was faster than her. He pushed her hand away.

“That’s my job.”

“You’re too slow.”

“You in a hurry?”

She blew out a sigh. “Kind of, yes.”

“You have an appointment?”

He was laughing at her. Dammit. “No.”

“Then why rush this? We have al night.”

“Because. I want this. I want you. I want it now.”

He slid his arms around her waist and jerked her against

him. Her thighs pressed against his, her hip rubbed his

erection. She reached between them and palmed his cock,

measuring him, feeling the heat of him that permeated the

denim. When he hissed, she knew his control came at a great

cost. Somehow it made her feel better, like her frenzy wasn’t

as one-sided as she’d thought.

But he obviously had much greater control than she did at

the moment. And she’d always prided herself on her control.

But not tonight, and definitely not right now. She went for his

belt buckle, and once again he stopped her.

“Uh uh. Not time for that yet, honey. We need to relax you.”

Relax? Out of the question.

But then he distracted her by kissing her. God, could he

ever kiss. She couldn’t remember any man spending so much

time kissing her, and especial y not so thoroughly. He pul ed

her ponytail holder out and threaded his fingers through her

hair, held her head and plundered her lips with the intent of a

pirate searching for treasure.

His kisses mesmerized her, made her tingle al over, but

they didn’t relax her. If that was his intent then he failed

miserably. She heard the sound of her own blood rushing in

her ears, felt her heart beating erratical y against his chest,

and her legs trembled so much that if he hadn’t been holding

on to her she might have fal en. This—this was not relaxed.

Did he have any idea what his kisses did to her?

And when he pul ed his lips away from her mouth and

kissed his way down her neck, using his tongue to lick her

throat and nibble at that oh-so-tender spot on her shoulder,

goose bumps broke out on her skin. And she was anything but

cold. She was hot. On fire. Her nipples were hard, tight points

of tingling pleasure, just waiting for his touch, his mouth,

anything that would give them relief, because with every

movement they brushed against his shirt—his chest—only

torturing her more.

He stepped back and reached for the clasp on her bra,

unlatching it and baring her breasts. Cool air slid over her

nipples, but it was no relief from the heat blasting her body.

She held her breath, needing his touch right there. And when

he slid his hands over her breasts, his thumbs gliding over her

distended nipples, she couldn’t hold back the moan of

exquisite pleasure that escaped her lips. The rough contact of

his hard, cal oused skin against her soft nipples sent shocks

of sensation straight to her pussy. She arched her back for

more.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” Her response had come out as no more than a

whisper, a soft plea in the darkness. It was al she could voice.

Her throat was dry, raspy from panting.

He put an arm around her back and swept another under

her legs, lifting her, carrying her toward the bed. The room was

pitch-black, the drapes drawn so no moonlight or neon from

the Strip showed through. She didn’t know if she liked that

they couldn’t see each other, or if she’d prefer the soft light of

the room so she could see his face.

But this way, they had to rely on their other senses—on

sound, on feel, on scent to guide each other.

He set her down on her feet next to the bed. She reached

for his shoulders, laid her palms over his chest—a solid wal of

muscle. She flexed her fingers in, then curled them, grabbing

his shirt to lift.

This time, he let her, raised his arms so she could take off

his shirt. After she discarded it, she laid her palms flat against

his chest again. It was smooth, bare, and she let her hands

discover his chest, his shoulders. Boulders of muscle that she

traversed with her hands and fingertips, learning his body like

she was reading a road map. His body was warm, hard al

over. She wondered what he did with his time besides ride

around the country. No man built like this spent al his time on

a bike. He either worked out or worked physical y for a living.

And now she could see the benefit of slowing down, of not

being in so much of a rush for sex. How else could she get to

experience the thril of discovering his body, of running her

hands over every plane, every muscle, sliding her hands down

his arms and back up again, feeling the goose bumps rise on

his flesh? It was such a heady experience, and empowering to

realize that her touch elicited a reaction in him, gave him

chil s.

She rose on her tiptoes and wound her arms around his

neck, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her nipples

scraped his flesh and she couldn’t resist sliding them back

and forth, even though the sensations aroused her to the point

of madness.

Rick pul ed her hips against him. His erection seemed

harder than ever, if that was possible.

“You trying to tease me, woman?”

“You’re teasing me. It seems only fair to return the favor.”

“We’l see about that.”

He pushed her, then, and in the dark she had no balance.

Good thing she felt the bed against the back of her knees

because she fel against the mattress, waiting for Rick to fal

on top of her.

He didn’t. He was on the floor, pul ing her boots off,

pressing kisses to her feet as he gently removed each sock.

Her toes curled and she shuddered out a sigh. Okay, so

maybe the tense frenzy she’d initial y felt had dissolved into a