The Reality of You (17 page)

Chapter 19

Surprisingly,
the room was plainer and smaller than the others we had passed. Done in
various shades of pale blue and with
white wainscoting, the room also seemed less elegant than the others did. In
the middle of the room sat a high, four-poster bed covered in a white duvet.
The rug on the floor was light blue. The antique furniture had been
whitewashed. The plainer decoration had me guessing that this had been his room
since he was a boy.

As I stepped inside,
I noticed the desk on the far side along with a corkboard of pictures above it.
The pictures drew me closer, but the snap of the door shutting and then Reese’s
grasp on my arm stopped me from making it to the corkboard.

When I turned
around, the look on his face—the pure hunger of his expression, the intensity
of his gaze—twisted my stomach in knots. Hot, kinky knots. Of course, I
suddenly had two left feet, tripping over one another, and instead of
gracefully going with the pull of his gasp, I stumbled and fell into him.

He caught me by the
arms, his fingers digging into my skin. His eyes flashed with a deeper
intensity as we stood centimeters apart.

“Seriously?” I
asked, pushing on his shoulders.

My awkwardness
turning him on was starting to annoy me. Plus, I
was
as nervous as all heck. I’d been intimate with two of my
previous boyfriends but after months of dating. And now, after a long dry
spell, this seemed to be moving way too fast, even for horned-up me.

He studied me, his
eyes blazing. “Most women are intent on seducing me with a calculated,
premeditated sensuality.” His hands slowly glided to my back. “But
you’re
all wide eyes, nerves, and
jitters.”

“How attractive,” I
muttered.

“I find it
exceedingly attractive, actually refreshing.” He gently yanked on my ponytail
until my face tipped toward his, his eyes roaming over my features. When he
lowered his head, my mouth tingled in anticipation. Instead of my lips, his
mouth wandered along my neck, causing electric tingles of lust on my skin as he
nipped and bit skin. “I’ve been waiting for this.” He kissed me behind the ear,
soft and slightly wet. “It feels like fucking forever to be with you.”

My knees buckled
while Fangirl squealed. I wasn’t sure which had my legs feeling wobbly more,
the rush of warm breath that seemed to travel into my ear then straight between
my legs or that he’d said
that
word—a
word I’d never heard him say—but I became total melting goo. This was it. This
was what I’d been wanting months for, and his lips on my skin along with his
words had me speeding past nervous into must-have want.

His firm mouth
followed the path of my jaw, and I swayed in his embrace. “I’m trying to hold
back…go slow…” His words trailed off as his lips rounded my chin.

My fingers dug into
his muscled shoulders. I tried to tug him closer, much closer. Excitement
brimmed inside me, flowed in my veins like an injection. “Ah, yeah, I don’t
think slow is going to work.”

He paused then stood
up fully, his eyes meeting mine. They burned into me for one long second, and
thousands of images I’d imagined over the last months sizzled across my brain
at his hot look. My gaze had to burn as hot as his while those images flickered
lust through my head. Want pounded in the air between us until he grasped me by
the hips, slammed me into him, and covered my mouth, slanting his mouth back
and forth over mine, grinding his lips and hips against mine.

And I stopped
swaying. My hands coiled into his hair. I kissed him back with the built-up
desire of watching and wanting and daydreaming for seven months, matching the
fierceness and demand of his kiss.

Along the onslaught
of his tongue and lips, his hands were everywhere—curving around my waist,
hugging my hips, moving down my back, and sliding under my shirt. The feel of
his palms gliding on my back, his fingers gripping my skin, sent me into
overdrive. My fingers dug into the back of his neck in an almost death grip, my
nails most likely breaking skin.

He tore his mouth
from mine and his eyes blazed down at me. He spun me around, the backs of my
thighs hitting the edge of the bed. His mouth devoured mine again, and his
hands pushed up my sweater. My hands pushed up his shirt, desperate for the
feel of him. As if on the same passionate cue, our mouths broke apart for about
three seconds and we each shed our shirts. Our mouths remolded together, fierce
and biting and sucking, as our hands traveled and gripped and pressed over
skin. My mouth was under the pulsating demand of his. His muscled skin was
under my palms. And I was on lust cloud a-zillion.

I lost my bra
somewhere between a nip on my bottom lip, another tug on my ponytail yanking my
head back, and hot bites down my throat. Head back in abandon, palms
frantically molding the contours of his shoulders, I hadn’t realized my bra was
gone—even though he must have tugged it from my arms—until his wet mouth closed
over my nipple.

Whoza. I about hit
the roof at the contact. Instead, a pant escaped me as my hands found his
luscious ass. When his mouth moved to my other breast, I inadvertently jerked
him between my legs. And bingo, he not only landed on the right spot but
appropriately ground against me. If I’d thought his mouth on me was hot, his
mouth on me
along
with the sweet
pressure of his erection was a fucking bonfire. The hold on my ponytail,
keeping me in place, fanned the fire.

And Kara considered
my ponytails lame. Fail Kara. Major fail. Because at this moment, my ponytail
was scorching awesome.

Seriously, I was on
the brink of an orgasm from the feel of his skin, his teeth tugging my nipple,
and the friction between us. It
had
been a damn long time. But before I lost it, Reese’s hand let go of my
ponytail, his teeth released my nipple, and his mouth crushed mine again as his
hands went for the elastic of my running pants.

We were moving fast,
fast, fast.

And I liked, liked,
liked.

I followed suit,
reaching for the buttons of his jeans. The kiss turned more frantic as we both
tugged at each other’s pants, staggering and swaying. Of course, in all of the
excitement, I lost my footing and fell back onto the bed.

Elbows digging in
the soft mattress, body half off the bed, I breathed heavily and watched him,
took a mental picture of him bending and tugging off my pants. His face was
painted with harsh lines of lust. Dark lashes fanned above his cheekbones as he
dragged my pants past my knees. While his hands moved rapidly, concentration
caused a slow crease to mar the skin between his eyebrows where a dark lock of
his hair touched. His parted lips, releasing a hiss as he dropped my running
pants to the floor.

“Damn, Naomi,” he said
from between clenched teeth. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Even though my name
on his lips had me pausing, I couldn’t help but blush. Yeah, I had only packed
skimpy panties. The ones he was staring at were a tiny, black triangle of lace on
elastic. And other than my socks and tennis shoes, that’s all I was wearing.

Those dark lashes
slowly rose as his eyes roamed over me. When he got to my face, the heat of his
gaze overwhelmed me. “Beautiful. Definitely worth the wait,” he said, pushing
my legs apart. He leaned forward, brushing his nose lengthways down the center
of the lace panties.

Um, whoa. My fingers
dug into the soft duvet. I was going to hyperventilate from the sight of him
between my legs, the touch of his nose, and his deep breath. He continued the
journey upward, dragging his lips across my stomach, between my breasts, all
the way to my mouth, where the wild kissing and chaotic groping continued. As
with my bra, I was clueless of the loss of my panties until the glide of his fingers
along my slit had my hips jumping off the bed and banging into him.

“Stay still for a
moment,” he demanded, rearing back to watch his suddenly slow torture.

He held me down with
one hand on my hip and tormented me with the slow, knowing slide then rotation
of his fingers. Motionless, my legs spread wide and my feet planted on the edge
of the bed, I panted and moaned, my wet flesh pulsating under his caress while
his narrowed eyes observed my quivering skin. Holy hell, I didn’t know what was
hotter, his touch or his gaze.
 

When Reese’s hands
left me, a whimper escaped me, but he drank the end of it in with a deep kiss.
Then, the long-forgotten but familiar sound of foil tearing crinkled into the
room. His arms brushed my open legs as he put the condom on. He broke the kiss,
his lips hovering above mine, his breath warming my face. His palms slid up my
thighs, and he came closer until I felt him pressing against me, almost in me.

A harsh breath
escaped me at the intimate touch.

His jaw clenched at
the sound, but his lips twisted into a sardonic grin. “Is this finally a go
then?” he asked in what I guessed was supposed to be a sarcastic tone, but he
sounded hoarse.

“Oh, hell yes,” I
said, wiggling my ass to the edge of the bed, wanting him so very badly.

His grin twisted and
his hands hit the bed on both sides of my head. He pushed forward, entering me
in one hard thrust. Holy incredibleness. He’d been waiting for what felt like
forever. I’d been wanting for what seemed like forever, and just the feel of
him inside me was worth the wait. I let out a harsh breath. We stayed there
motionless, him above me, our inhalations mixing, our bodies discovering the
feel of each other.
 

Then he started to
move. If I’d thought the kissing and groping had been wild, this was insane. We
went from fast to furious. The bed creaked. My legs wound around him to meet
each of his pounding thrusts. My hands gripped his biceps, my nails scraping
him. His harsh breath, his taut face, the crease that reformed in the middle of
his forehead, his obvious pleasure increased mine.

Keeping up the fast
past, he rose up. Standing at the edge of bed, he brought my legs over his arms
and his hands cupped my ass. The angle pushed him deeper, so wonderfully deep.

“So. Fucking. Worth.
The. Wait,” he ground out in between thrusts.

I could only
half-nod, my back bowed off the bed, my mouth caught in a moan. The momentum
somehow increased, and turned into crazy-good insane. A hard, fast rotating
plunge from him pushed me over the edge and I actually screamed like a porn
actress, but this wasn’t acting. Oh, no, it was the real came-like–a-nympho
deal. Reese’s orgasm soon followed with him groaning and falling on top of me,
his mouth releasing a long rush of air.

We lay immobile,
Reese’s head on my chest, both of us panting, both of us sweaty, both of us
drained.

“Holy shit,” I
blurted when I could fully breathe.

His chuckle rumbled
across the skin of my chest. “Though not eloquent, quite correct.”

“Eloquent? It’s hard
to be eloquent wearing just socks and sneakers.”

At that, Reese
pushed up, and I noticed that he was still wearing his jeans—they’d been pushed
down—as he zipped and buttoned them. He pointedly took in my nakedness, and I
suddenly had the urge to cover myself. His gaze stopped at my shoes.

“Perhaps not
eloquent, but hot. And to think some guys have a thing for heels.” His fingers
lightly brushed the top of a sock before he put out a hand to help me up. “They
don’t know what they’re missing,” he said, towing me up.

Standing naked next
to him—except for my feet and ankles—and holding hands, I became more
self-conscious than I had under his perusal while lying in bed. Edginess had me
wobbling.

He watched the
tenseness shift across my face. “I need to change in to some running clothes.”
He let go of my hand and bent to pick up my clothes. He gestured to the doorway
next to the desk while handing me the clothes. “The dressing room and bathroom
are through there.” He leaned forward to grasp the back of my head. After
gently kissing my forehead, he asked, “Meet me in the kitchen in fifteen?”

I nodded then
watched him leave. My forehead tingled as I staggered into the bathroom. Though
the last hour had turned my brain to mush, I was very aware that I’d just had
sex with Reese Jordon, aka Hot Chocolate Superpants.

Me, Reese, and sex.

Insane.

After having tried
to daydream about it for months, the reality of it made me feel like I’d landed
in fantasyland. I floated on a satisfied sexual cloud. My feet practically
hovered above the cool tiles. Until one word—callous—entered my brain and
chucked me from my fantasy cloud.

Internally repeating
my mantra—
Callous, callous, callous
—I
cleaned up and got ready for our run. I repeated the word, but several things
were making it hard to be callous. First, Reese’s easygoing attitude. The
hardnosed asshole I’d dealt with in Puerto Rico seemed to be melting away more
each time we met. The fact that he’d been left parentless as a boy simply broke
my heart. And then that kiss on my forehead, so tender, so sweet. Dammit, I’d
expected sizzling sex—which I’d so gotten—but tenderness?

I paused yanking up
my pants.