Chapter Sixteen
This situation would end in disaster, and yet Rhett was moronic enough to march into the storm. With his internal logic crushed to dust, all sorts of wild thoughts flew free, like if he went about this right, maybe Pepper would be there tomorrow, and the night after and after and…
“Jesus.” He slid his hands under her cotton nightie, and his fingers explored the lacey edge of a pair of tiny panties. Her hips were cool in contrast to the heat of her secret skin. She gasped when he sucked her earlobe. He had her right where he wanted, but the joke was on him because if he was an island, she was a wave, washing away his rules, his need for self-control.
The flimsy strings of her briefs snapped between his fingers. “Shit.” He slapped her underwear on the kitchen table. Red lace?Shit.“I can’t do this.”
“You’re kidding.” She tugged up one of her straps, half-undressed, wholly exposed. Her eyes were huge, bright, shining like a sun-shaft through clouds. A man could blind himself to common sense if he wasn’t careful.
“Not here. Not beneath a damn kitchen table. I don’t want to take advantage and—”
“Nope.” The sun disappeared. “Youstop.” She grabbed a bunch of his sweatshirt and yanked. “Don’t feed me BS lines, Rhett Valentine, not when you’ve broken my underwear.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said helplessly.
“Objection.” She held up a finger. “Leading the witness. The truth is that you don’t want to hurt yourself.” She traced his cheek’s clenched muscle, staring like if she strained hard enough she could glimpse his soul. He averted his gaze.
“Whoever you were with last did a heck of a number on you, huh?”
“That was a long time ago.” His voice was a pained whisper, a voice so raw it was almost unrecognizable as him. “Ancient history.”
“You miss her?” she asked carefully, too casually.
“No.” He met her gaze dead on. The best way to erase any flicker of doubt was to stop the bullshit and give the truth. “But…I do miss feeling.”
Her eyes softened as the seconds passed. Finally she seemed to reach an internal decision. “So why not start again?” She plucked the string of his hoodie. “By feeling me.”
The lightning-quick flash of relief shocked his heart back onto beating. “You’re gorgeous, you know that, right?”
She ducked, her hair falling like a soft curtain, blocking her face.
That wouldn’t do.
“Hey.” He reached and pushed the soft tendrils back. “If we do this, I intend to do a lot of looking. That’s the deal. I look when I want, where I want, up close and personal.” He moved his attention to her neck, loving the way she hissed when he traced his tongue over her pulse point, sucking the trace of salt off her damp skin.
“So we’re doing this?” she groaned, fingers locking into his hair, pulling him closer. “A secret summer fling? Right here, right now, not in theory, but in point of fact? End it in a clean break?”
“Yeah.” He tore himself away and glanced around the cramped galley kitchen. “But not here.” His chest rumbled with a deep, primitive reverberation. “When I get you naked for the first time it’s going to be in a bed.” He forced himself to admit the hidden truth. She deserved that much. “The way I’ve been dreaming about since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
***
What was life? Nothing made sense. Ten minutes ago Pepper was engrossed in the gloomy English moors, now she was getting whisked off to her bedroom. She framed Rhett’s head between her hands, his scruff tickling her palms. “One more idea.”
“Got to say, I’m liking our brainstorming sessions.” He settled her onto her bed while doing something interesting with his mouth to her nipple through her cotton nightgown.
“They’re Nobel Prize–worthy. Oh God!” A swoosh went through her stomach as he worked his hand over her breast, plumping the skin until it was taut and aching. He skimmed again. More pressure this time. More everything. Then lower. Lower. Lower.
“Ah. God.” She licked her lips, her vision dimming at the perimeters.
“You doing okay down there?” There was a dark purr beneath the gentle teasing. No skimming this time. Pressure. Firm, circling sweet, sweet, pressure. Tension built as he massaged her in an unhurried and relaxed rhythm.
She brushed fingers over her lower lip and let a trembling moan of pleasure suffice an answer. Hot diggity, he had skills. Most guys went at it like they were sandpapering a wall or pressing a panic button.
He nuzzled the side of her neck. “You smell incredible, you know that, right?” His grin grew wicked. “Do you taste that delicious?”
He slid down and where to look? Would everything appear magnified with the glasses? Or fog up or, oh! He tossed the frames on the bed and pressed firm, the flat of his tongue swiping away any worries.
His tongue speared into her wet heat as he pierced her with the heat in his gaze. He wanted to do it. That much was clear, as he closed his eyes and nuzzled in, all insistent pressure, taking until she had no more to give, reduced to slicked sweat and churning thighs, hips tensing on the edge of release, body begging, begging for more.
