Smoking Holt (6 page)

And then, as the storm settled, as she
melted beneath him onto the bed. When he slipped out and pulled her into his arms, a tiny whimper escaped her lips.

Never. Never before had she know
n such bliss.

She doubted she ever would again.

At some point, t
hey fell asleep.

Bella had no idea how that happened, but when she opened her eyes again it was morning. They still lay crossways on the bed where they’d collapsed. Sometime in the night, Holt had covered them both with a blanket, and brought pillows around. He cradled her gently, spooning her back. His arm was a heavy weight on her hips.

He shifted, making her suspect he was awake and had been for a while, just waiting for her to rouse. She moved restlessly, though she hadn’t intended to do so. Something long and hard and warm surged against her buttocks.

“Good morning.” His
voice rumbled through her, scratchy with sleep, or perhaps worn thin by his growls the night before.

She tried not to stiffen and failed.
“Morning,” she muttered.

Honestly
. How could a man’s morning breath be so tantalizing? It skated over her cheek as he bent to kiss her. She turned her head and the kiss landed on her ear. He nuzzled. Shivers of delight slid through her. Her body softened. Heat pooled in her belly.

H
e stroked her breast through the blanket. Even through that thick fabric, a bolt of electricity slammed her when he nudged her nipple.

Just nudged the fucker, for God’s sake.

She’d always had the hots for Holt. Always. But that didn’t mean she was easy.

He should at least have to try a little harder. Other men had to.

Hell, some men had to try for hours to get her to this point. All he had to do was fucking
breathe
on her.

If that wasn’t confirmation of how dangerous this guy could be, she didn’t know what was. 

Last night, in the grip of lust—and whiskey—she’d imagined she could have him, take him, fuck him once. Yeah. Once. That would be enough. Then she could walk away knowing—finally knowing—what it was like.

This morning, her resolve was not so strong.

Not with him cradling her in his arms and stroking her nipple and nuzzling her ear. His damp mouth trailed over her neck, leaving a warm trail that sent shivers through her as it cooled. His teeth scraped that one spot, just at her nape—the one that made her all achy and soft.

It annoyed
her that he’d found it so easily when others had failed. Some of her lovers had
never
found that spot.

It was as though he knew exactly what to do to turn her on, and he did it. Unrepentantly.

She gasped as he whipped back the covers and turned her over. Sometime in the night he’d removed her bra. She was naked. He dipped his head and took a nipple into his mouth and—before she could so much as protest—sucked.

A whimper slipped out.

She tried to swallow it, but couldn’t. It was far too insistent.

She should stop him. Really. She should. They weren’t doing this again. Couldn’t. Shouldn’t…

He found her nest and he dandled her clit, rubbing it in a circular motion with just the right amount of pressure. Her thighs parted.

Maybe a moment. Just a moment more and then she’d stop him.

He slipped deeper, easing two fingers into her pussy. They slid right in. She could tell she was wet. Soaked. He groaned and the sound vibrated through the nipple in his mouth. He nibbled it. She clenched him in a tight grasp.

Something—possibly a tiny orgasm—walked through her.

It couldn’t be an orgasm. Not even a tiny one. She wasn’t easy. Not
that
easy, anyway.

But when he raised his head and locked gazes with her and shoved in another finger, working her, rubbing her, massaging her just where it counted, she realized she was wrong.

She was that easy.

She came in a flood. A flood of sensation.

It was one of the sweet ones. A lazy, effortless early-morning orgasm that rose up like a gentle tide and swamped her.

And all the while—the whole time he led her, guided her, skillfully drew her along—he watched
her, a scorching intensity simmering his chocolate brown eyes.

She came beautifully.

He’d wanted to see that. He’d had a glimpse
last night, when she came on his lap, and again when she’d glanced at him over her shoulder as he’d been buried in her cunt. But this—this was different. Face to face. Almost nose to nose. He could see it all, playing over her delicate features. The confusion, the resistance and then, finally, the acceptance and release. 

And she was
glorious in her release.

Once she was done, once her body had ceased to tremble and he had soothed her, he drew back and brought his fingers to his lips. Tasted her.

He shuddered. Yes. This was her. Bella. Her essence.

His cock
twitched. He needed her. Again.

Then again
, he’d awakened needing her.

He
levered up, preparing to cover her, to slip inside, but before he could, she leapt from the bed.

“Oh no,” she said, raking her hair. It was wild and long and unkempt. He loved it. “We can’t. We shouldn’t have…”

His gut clenched. He’d suspected this. Expected it. Nothing with Bella was ever easy. But he’d be damned if he would make
this
easy for her.

He leaned on his elbow and watched her hunt for her clothes in a room strewn with clothes. “Shouldn’t have what?”

She whirled on him with a frown. “Shouldn’t have…” she waved a hand toward the bed. Toward him. “
That
.”

“Fucked?”

“Yes! Fucked.” She found her t-shirt and pulled it on. He hated seeing her breasts disappear, but they were still pretty damn splendid, cradled in cotton. “We shouldn’t have fucked. I was…” He smiled because he knew what was coming. “I was drunk.”

“Are you saying I took advantage of you?” Might as well go on the offensive.

She froze. Her gaze flicked to him. Her lips parted. Damn. Those lips. He’d love to feel them wrapped around his cock right now.

He’d love to feel anything wrapped around his cock right now. It
ached like the devil.

He threw back the covers and stood, noting with pleasure that her attention fixed on just that.

“Are you? Saying I took advantage of your inebriated state?”

She swallowed. Forced her
attention to his face. “N-no.”

Relief trickled through him. Although he knew it wasn’t true, it mattered to hear her admit it.

“But we shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

She blew out an impatient breath and picked up a pair of jeans, shoving her legs in. He nibbled on his lower lip. They were his jeans.

They looked damn cute on her, but they were way too big.

She realized her mistake, kicked them off and growled something under her breath as she found her own. He waited until she had her armor on to repeat his question. “Why not?”

She glared at him. Her lips worked. “Because, Holt!”

“Not an answer. Why should we not have fucked, and might I add, rather magnificently, last night?”

Her lashes flickered. “Magnificently?” A small voice.

“
Rather
magnificently.”

She threaded her fingers together and pursed her lips. “We don’t even like each other, Holt.”

He quirked a brow. “We covered this Bella. We like each other plenty.” He waved at the bed. “Plenty enough.”

“You’re a Dom.”

“We covered that too.” He stepped closer, because her arguments were waning, her expression softening. “You took the lead last night. I did everything you asked. And that worked out pretty good.”

She crossed her arms
. Her breasts thrust out. He disciplined himself to focus on her face.

“I didn’t ask you to smack my ass.” She flushed as soon as she said it.

“No you did not.” He paused, giving her a moment to think about it before he added softly, “Did you hate it?”

Her flush turned a rosy red. “I— That’s not the point.”

“It is exactly the point. If you hated it, if you told me never to do it again, I would not. On that you have my solemn vow. And that goes for everything, Bella. If you told me never to do this again,” he cupped her breast and thumbed a nipple. “I would never do that again.” He drew a slow circle. Her nipple swelled to a hard point. “Do you want to ask me not to do that again?”

Her lips parted. Her eyes dewed. “I—”

“Or this?” He found and stroked that spot on her nape. As he knew she would, she shuddered. “Do you want to ask me not to do that again?”

“Holt—”

“Or this?” He kissed her. Slowly. Softly. A light drag of his lips over hers. Maybe a hint of tongue. She tipped up her chin and followed him when he retreated. “Just say the word, Bella. Just say the word and I will never do any of that again. But know this.” He held her steady, so she couldn’t look away. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for years. I want you like I’ve never wanted another woman.”

Her lips parted as though she would refute this claim. He did not give her the chance.

“I would do anything for a chance to be with you. In whatever way you see fit. Do you understand?”

She
swallowed. Nodded.

“Do you feel the same? Would you like to explore—whatever this is—with me?”

He waited, on bated breath, for her answer.

He hoped she said yes.

Bella stared at Holt, her pulse thudding a manic tattoo.

She got it. She totally got it. She totally understood why a woman would curl up at his feet and give him anything. Offer him everything.

A part of her rebelled at the concept of being a slave to any man, but a greater part of her, a hungrier part of her, craved it. It whipped through her like a howling wind.

Hunger—no, more than that—yearning for this man.

Did she want to explore this insanity, this burning, roiling, festering ache—an ache she’
d carried with her for far too long? Yes. Hell yes.

But the word caught in her throat. So she merely nodded.

Heat skirled through his eyes. A little of the tension eased from his expression. But his lips firmed. “Say it, Bella. I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Holt.”

Before she’d finished, before the last consonant of his name escaped, he yanked her into his arms, hard against him. His mouth covered hers and he consumed her with a needy kiss.

When he raised his head, they were both breathless. Lust sizzled through her veins. Her nipples were taut, her pussy dripping. Why she had bothered to get dressed was a mystery.

He pressed a quick buss on her forehead. Then a longer one, murmuring something to himself as he made his way along her hairline. It sounded like,
“Excellent.”

She thought he was going to strip her then, whip off her shirt and toss her onto the bed. He looked like he wanted to
. His cock certainly looked like he wanted to. But he didn’t. He stepped back and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Let’s have some breakfast,” he said.

She gaped. “B-breakfast?”

He grinned. “
Trust me, Bella. We’re going to need our strength.”

He made pancakes from the gluten-free mix in the pantry and fried up bacon while she cleaned up the mess on the patio. The whiskey bottle had leaked all over the deck and her cigarettes were a soggy mess so she got a trash bag and threw it all away. Then she made the coffee while he finished up the food. They didn’t speak, but for once, the energy between them wasn’t awkward in the slightest.

Bella found herself stealing glances at him while he cooked, but who could blame her? While he’d pulled on his jeans, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. And with every move he made, his biceps rippled
beneath velvety nut-brown skin.

She loved that he was so tall and muscular. He made her feel like a petite doll. She rarely felt petite.

Normally she would never eat a whole pancake, but his were so good, she had two. And the bacon was to die for. She ate all her slices and then, to his gentle ribbing, stole some of his.

She’d worry about her diet tomorrow.

When he finished eating, he slid his plate away, cupped his mug and looked at her across the table. Though they sat apart, that broad width between them, their feet had tangled throughout the meal. Bare feet tangling, she decided, was very sexy.

“So we should talk,” he said.

“Okay.” She took one more bite of pancake and set down her fork. “About what?”