Take What You Want (2 page)

His voice was gruff as he pushed her hair from her shoulder. “You feel how hard you make me?”

She buried her face against his chest, buried her noises and her need. Leaving her hand curled around him, he opened his jeans. She had to let go when he pushed them down his thighs. His boxers followed the denim, and then he was there before her, naked. Long and hard and beautiful. When she touched him, his cock bobbed, and he sighed and threaded his fingers through her hair.

“Lie down, beautiful.”

There was a gentle push at the level of her hips, urging her backward. She turned away from him and walked to her nightstand to pull out a condom. She didn’t look at him as she placed it on the bed and then lay down on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, legs open. Behind her, there was a rustling, the thud of one heavy shoe and then another. The bed dipped as he climbed onto it behind her, knees between hers, one big palm on the back of her thigh. He kissed a gentle line up her spine.

Sucking on her earlobe, he framed her body with his arms, one hand on either side of her ribs, and she felt her bones turn liquid when he pressed himself against her, the long, bare line of him so hot against her bottom.

“Like this? Me behind you?”

“Yes.”

She refused to be embarrassed to ask for what she wanted. It was the only way it had ever worked with her, the last time she’d had a boyfriend. Just like this, with her face pressed to the mattress, her own fingers on her clit, and a hot body pressing into hers. The weight. The fullness.

For a second he hesitated, but then he kissed the back of her neck.

“All right. All right.”

She heard the crinkling of foil and then the low sound of his intake of breath. When he placed himself against her opening, she still reached between her legs, though. Still felt for the telltale texture of latex.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

On the next exhale, he pressed forward, and she groaned aloud with the stretch. It had been so long, and he felt so good. “Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes.”

He swore and pushed the rest of the way inside, grunting hard when he was fully buried.

How had she waited
so long
?

Collapsing down, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into the sheets. Her mouth hung open, her whole body arched to feel this. He lowered himself as he took his first, rough thrust. With his chest pressed to her spine, he surrounded her, penetrated her.
Fucked
her.

“God, I needed this,” she said, gasping through the rocking of his hips. With her one arm still tucked underneath her, she slipped her fingers through her wetness, but instead of just rubbing at her clit, she slid them lower, stroking around him, touching the thick base of him.

But then his hand was under her, too, his fingers tugging at hers. “I don’t think so.”

Before she knew what he was doing, before she could protest, he pushed her out of the way and replaced her touch with his. His fingers were big and warm, and she swore when they circled her clit.

“Lift up for me, baby.”

She did, uncurled her arms from underneath her body to brace herself. Raised her hips just enough for him to get the angle he wanted.

“Jesus Christ.” She turned her neck, hid her face more fully in the bedding. It was too intense, too shocking.

This man knew his way around a woman. He knew it well, and he showed it, sending her skyrocketing, gasping out the strangest noises of pleasure. Sounds she’d never heard herself make before.

He chuckled and sucked on her shoulder. “I told you you’d enjoy yourself.”

Drawing in a harsh breath, she twisted against him, forced her mouth to the side. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

All he did was chuckle as he buried himself again. It probably should have made her uncomfortable or cheap, his obvious experience. But it didn’t. He was here with her. It was just for one night, but she’d reap the benefits of whatever he’d done before her. She’d take what she wanted.

For once in her life, she’d take.

And he would, too. His thrusts grew faster and more erratic, and his teeth grazed the column of her throat. “You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

His words were a match to the kindling of her sex. She hissed out a hundred other curses and tensed. Tilted her hips then held her breath. He rubbed harder, fucked faster through the gathering warmth.

And then he bit down.

“Oh, God.” Everything exploded at once, her vision black and the rush of heat spreading outward from where he took her, up her spine and to her toes.

“That’s it. That’s it.” He chased her through it, only lightening his touch when she started to whimper and melt.

Hot hands on her hips pulled her even higher, lifted her until she was on her knees and he was on his behind her, thighs to thighs. Gripping hard at the indent of her waist, he pulled her back onto him, and she felt him in her throat.

“Oh, God.”

His voice was a growl, something so rough. Something that matched the way he pushed into her, that matched the slap of skin on skin. “Gonna—”

Her own sex clenched, and then there was just his long groan, his body collapsing forward and his breath against her ear.

And her name.

“Christ, Ellen.”

Somehow, through all of it, he’d remembered her name.

Her thighs shaking, she sank down to rest flat against the mattress as she tried to catch her breath. The low, wet slip between her legs was his body parting from hers, and she felt the emptiness deep inside. Already, she wanted more. Not more sex, not yet, but more closeness. More touch.

And he gave it to her. Without a spoken word, he intertwined their hands beside her head and rested his face against her neck, inhaling with her exhales and emptying as she filled. For a minute, everything was perfect.

When he finally did pull away, it was with a kiss to her cheek and a groan as he separated flesh from flesh. He stood, spotted her trash and moved to clean himself up. After reaching for the sheet to cover herself, she turned onto her side, curled her body around a pillow and watched him.

It was supposed to be just one night. And yet…

Before she could sort out the tangled mess of wanting in her head, he smiled and bent to grab for his pants. He pulled them on before sitting down on the edge of her bed. But there was a distance between them now. As if the weight of denim and cotton could be measured in miles.

When he touched her, put his hand on the covered curl of her calf, it felt as tentative as their first brushes, and she shivered, knowing what was next. It was what she’d planned for. Hoped for even.

So she projected the same false confidence that had been her hallmark all night. “Early morning tomorrow?”

“No.” He frowned, and something in her heart fell. He rubbed her leg with one hand and his eyes with the other. “But I didn’t bring my contacts case.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The memory of a perfect fuck soured. Surely someone who could touch a girl like that would have a little more creativity when it came to escaping from her.

If he saw her disappointment, he didn’t acknowledge it. Just lifted up one corner of his mouth and slid his palm up higher to her knee. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers, parted them and sucked gently.

“Any time.”

He rose and finished redressing, then turned away. He hesitated for just a second in her doorway, looking over his shoulder, meeting her eyes with a stare that was too intense to hold. She blinked once. And when she looked again, he was gone.

Chapter Two

Sunday

As he lay in bed the next morning, there were precisely two things Josh Markley couldn’t figure out: one, what the hell kind of game Ellen Price thought she was playing at. And two, why the hell he’d let her play it. With him.

He chuckled to himself and turned over onto his back. Actually, the second part wasn’t all that hard to nail down. He could still smell her on his skin, could still feel the memory of her flesh against his fingertips and pulsing around him. After three years of watching her out of the corner of his eye—idly admiring but never catching her attention, never approaching—he’d have been a fool to pass up his chance.

So when she’d introduced herself, acting as if she’d never seen him before in her life, damn right he’d played along. Even when she’d made as if he was a student somewhere else, just home for the break. When she’d lied and said she was a waitress. And especially when she’d invited him to her bed.

She’d been about to invite him to stay the night there, too. He was sure.

As he sat up and fumbled blindly for his glasses, he cursed himself again. What kind of idiot left a mostly naked woman because he didn’t want to sleep in his contacts?

“An idiot who’s never worn contacts before, that’s what kind.”

He slid the thick frames onto his face and blinked as the world came into focus. The usual mess of his basement “apartment” stared back at him, and he groaned and rubbed his eyes.

He could have woken up in
her
apartment. Right this moment, he could be between her thighs again, kissing his way up her neck as he pushed inside.

With that thought, he stumbled out of bed and to the adjoining bathroom to start up the shower. Turning, he met his own reflection, and for a minute, as he waited for the water to heat up, he studied himself. He didn’t
look
any different. He pulled off his glasses and squinted. Did they really make that big of a difference?

I guess they did for Clark Kent.

Shrugging, he stripped and pushed the shower curtain aside, then stepped in under the spray. The heat of the water felt good on his muscles, but even a hard scrubbing couldn’t wash away the parts of the night that had felt sordid. Casual and anonymous.

He still couldn’t figure it out.

The first time he’d seen Ellen, she’d been sitting on the edge of the fountain outside the lecture hall. It had been late spring, their freshman year. And she’d been so beautiful. So sexy and yet so removed from what was going on around her.

He’d hardly spoken a dozen words to her in the years since, but his first impressions had held true. She was serious and quiet, studious and demurring. Last night, though…last night she’d been a succubus in a short skirt, and with her brazenness, she’d brought out a side of him he barely recognized in himself. Just thinking about lifting her up onto her knees and taking her from behind like that…

The memory made him ache, made his cock fill and swell. With a curse, he reached out and twisted the knob on the shower to all cold, then hissed as the freezing water poured over him. It cleared his mind and calmed him down. Teeth chattering, he counted to thirty before turning the water off completely. Still shivering, he got out and dried himself off.

He found his contacts case exactly where he’d left it the night before, and with the same carefulness he’d used the first time, he got the clear circles into his eyes. He stared at himself again. His vision was sharper than it had ever been in glasses, but he still felt like he wasn’t really seeing himself—or the situation—clearly.

He still didn’t know what Ellen was doing.

All he knew was that he wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

“So, any plans tonight?”

Josh swallowed down the big bite of meatloaf he’d been working on before answering. “Yeah. Nothing big. Just out with some friends.”

Well, one friend. He hoped.

His mother hummed and gave his dad a sideways glance. “Really? I thought most of them had gone home for the break.”

She’d made the same intimation the night before.

“Most,” he agreed, looking down as he scooped up a forkful of potatoes.

That was the thing about talking to his mom: it was always best to answer questions as simply and as vaguely as possible, especially when it came to his social life. His parents were the ones who had said they wanted him to have the full college experience, even if they insisted he live at home. But that didn’t mean they wanted all the details.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to give any to them.

His father cleared his throat. “Anything interesting in the mail today?”

Josh had to stifle his groan. It was a clumsy subject change, and one that just led from one awkward topic to another.

His mom gave a tight smile and glanced at Josh out of the corner of her eye. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Just junk,” Josh agreed.

That was true enough—about today’s mail anyway. The letters his dad
really
cared about had been intercepted weeks ago, and were all hidden away safely into the top drawer of his dresser. He’d have to deal with those soon. Before April fifteenth, for sure. But they could wait a little longer. Definitely until after this weekend’s trip.

He speared another bite and asked, less than subtly, “So how’s stuff at the office?”

His dad always loved it when he showed an interest in his practice. Sure enough, he took the bait, starting in on some explanation about a patient as Josh let his mind drift. To those damn letters and what he was going to do about them. To school. Classes.