“Iknow,” he assured her.
And then he showed her that he spoke the truth by bending his knees to more fully align their bodies. He released one of her beautiful ass cheeks to slowly slide his hand down her thigh, stopping at her knee. Pulling her leg high around his waist, he opened her to him, stepping forward to put himself right where he wanted to be.
Bull’s-eye!
All the hairs on his body lifted, his balls pulled up tight, and his dick throbbed when her sultry heat seeped through both their jeans to brand him. Knowing thathehad done that to her, thathehad made her hot and wet, was an erotic victory.
“You’re so hot,” he whispered against her ear. “So fuckin’ hot, Chels.”
Then she did the most amazing thing. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the deck at their feet before she wrapped her arms around his neck and hopped up, both her legs circling his hips. He supported her full weight, and despite her short stature, she wasn’t a dainty thing. She felt solid and warm and alive and…like a deliciously sexy, grown-assedwomanin his arms. Which was enough to have him threatening to shoot off like a damned geyser in his pants.
She made everything so much worse—or better?—by proceeding toride him.
“Yes, Chels,” he breathed between deep, tongue-twisting kisses. “Keep doing that.”
He helped her by palming her ass and thrusting his pelvis in counter rhythm to her pumping hips. The boxes behind them rattled and banged against the bulkhead. He hadn’t dry-humped a woman in…how long? Since freshman year in college, maybe?
Holy shit. He had been missing out.
“Oh my,” she whispered against his lips.
Oh my, indeed, he thought. As in…oh my God! Oh my, yes! Oh, my sweet girl, don’t stop what you’re doing.
The friction was amazing. The heat of her. The sultry wetness of her was almost enough to—
The big engines came to life, cutting off the sound of Chelsea’s moans of pleasure. Above deck, Rusty wasted no time piloting the catamaran away from the dock. The minute the boat hit the open water, the choppy currents of the Channel caused the deck beneath Dagan’s biker boots to roll. With Chelsea’s added weight, he was thrown off balance.
Cursing, he stumbled backward, tripping over his jacket and hitting another stack of boxes. When the crates threatened to tumble over, he was forced to take a knee.
The deck heaved again as Rusty tacked strongly to the port side, and Dagan found himself flat on his back with Chelsea rising above him like a dark angel. Her golden eyes glinted down at him. Her hands flattened on either side of his head. And a smirk tugged at her kiss-swollen lips.
“Well, I’d say it’s about damn time.” There was laughter in her voice.
He wanted nothing more than to drag her down for another kiss, to thrust his hips against her and restart that delicious friction. Instead, he squeezed her thighs and asked, “About damn time for what?” For him to take off all her clothes and make hot, sweet love to her? If so, he most definitely agreed.
“About damn timeIended up on top after one of our duels.” She winked saucily, and the freckles on her nose once again reminded him of flecks of cinnamon. He wanted to kiss every one of them.
The metal decking was cold against his back, but she was so incredibly warm against his front. Her ripe breasts hung down so that just the tips brushed his chest. “Is that what we’re doing?” He quirked a brow. “Dueling?”
“I’d say that what we had going back there”—she hooked a finger over her shoulder toward the stack of boxes he’d pinned her against—“definitely qualifies as a good bit of thrust and parry.”
He couldn’t help it. He chuckled. Only Chelsea could make him hot as hell one minute and laugh out loud the next.
“Well, for the record, you’re welcome to climb on top of me any time your heart desires. As for the thrust and parry…” He made sure the grin he shot her was wholly devilish. “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
He expected her to come back with a witty quip. She rarely let him get in the last word. But instead, her smile dimmed as if she’d reached inside herself and flipped a switch. “What are we doing, Dagan?”
He gave her thighs another squeeze. “I would think that’s obvious.” But just in case she needed more clarification, he thrust his pelvis at her while using his hands to drag her hot, sweet cleft backward along his steely length.
Oh yes, he thought a little deliriously.There’s that glorious friction.
“Holy Moses.” Her eyes rolled back, and her throat worked over a hard swallow. “I can’t think when you do that,” she said.
“Isn’t that part of the fun? Letting your body take over for your brain?”
“Lord, yes.” Her voice was thick with desire. Desire thathehad put there. He was tempted to beat his chest King Kong–style. “But I…” She stopped and opened her eyes. He was once more waylaid by the golden glow of her irises. Those eyes had always done a number on him, reminding him of a sleek, sexy jaguar. And now he knew how appropriate that comparison was. From what little they had already done together, he could tell she would be a wildcat between the sheets. “But I don’t understand,” she finally finished. “I always thought you didn’t…well…you didn’tlikeme.”
What was she? Crazy?
