Marriage With Benefits (10 page)

Warily, she rolled, and he peeled the sheet from her as she spun, resettling it at her waist. Tank top with spaghetti straps. Not the sexiest of nightclothes, but when he lifted the dark curtain of hair away from her neck, the wide swath of bare skin from the middle of her back up to her hairline pleaded for his touch.

So he indulged.

First, he traced the ridges of her spine with his fingertips, imprinting the textures against his skin. Once he reached her neck, he went for her collarbone, following it around to the front and back again.

She felt amazing.

He wanted more of her naked flesh under his fingers. Under his body. Shifting against his skin, surrounding him with a hot paradox of hard and soft.

The stupid floor blocked his reach, so he settled for running his fingers over her exposed arm, trying to gauge whether she’d notice if he slipped the tank top strap off her shoulder.

“What, exactly, are you doing?” She half rolled to face him. “This is the least relaxing massage I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” he asked nonchalantly and guided her back into place. No way was he missing a second of unchecked access to Cia. “Someone who’s immune to my charms should have no problem relaxing while I’m impersonally rubbing her shoulders.”

“Hmpf.” She flipped back to face the wall. Must not hate it too much.

He let the grin spread wide and kneaded her neck muscles. “Darlin’, there’s no sin in enjoying it when someone touches you.”

She snorted but choked on it as his hand slid up the inside of her arm again and a stray finger stroked her breast. He needed the tank top gone and that breast cupped in his palm.

“There is the way you do it,” she rasped.

“You know,” he said, closing the gap between them, spooning her heated back to murmur in her ear, a millimeter from taking the smooth lobe into his mouth. “I don’t for a moment believe I’m God’s gift to women. Women are God’s gift to man. The female form is the most wonderful sight on earth. The beautiful design of your throat, for example.”

He dragged his mouth away from her ear and ran his lips down the column of her neck. “I could live here for a decade and never completely discover all the things I love about it,” he said, mouthing the words against her skin.

He was so hard and so ready to sink into her, his teeth hurt.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her eyes closed and her lashes fluttered, fully exposing the area under discussion. Her sweet little body arched in wanton invitation, spreading against his. He wanted to dive in, find Dulciana’s gorgeous, gooey center and feast on it.

This visceral attraction would be satisfied, here and now.

“Lucas,” she breathed, and his erection pulsed. “Lucas, we can’t. You have to stop.”

“Why?” He slid a hand under her tank top, fanning his palm out on her flat stomach and working it north. Slowly. Familiarizing his fingertips with velvety skin. “And if you use that smart mouth to lie to me again about your lack of interest, I will find something better to do with it.”

“I doubt even I could pull off that lie anymore,” she said wryly.

The admission was so sweet, he couldn’t help it.

He found her lips and consumed them, kissing her with every bit of frustrated, pent-up longing. And God Almighty, her lips parted just enough, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, reveling in the hot slide of flesh.

For a few magnificent seconds she tasted him back, triggering a hard coil of lust.

But then she ripped her lips away, mumbling, “No more,” as his thumb brushed the underside of her breast.

She bowed up with a gasp, and his erection tingled. She was so responsive, like it had been ages since she’d… He pulled his hand free and gripped her chin to peer into her eyes. “Hold up a sec. You’re not a virgin, are you?”

That would explain a few things.

He let his fingers fall away as she sat up. “My past experience is not the issue. We agreed to keep this business only.”

No. No more of this endless circling.
Business only
disappeared eons ago, and she knew it as well as he did.

“Why are you here, in my bedroom? You could have easily moved your stuff and still slept in your room. But you didn’t. Your signals are so mixed up, you’ve even confused yourself. Talk to me, honey. No more pretending. Why the roadblocks, when it’s obvious we both want this?”

She crossed her arms and clamped her mouth shut. But then she said, “I don’t like being some big challenge. If I give in, you win. Then off you go to your cave to beat your chest and crow over your prize.”

“Give in?” He shook his head to clear it. They should both be naked and using their mouths on each other. Not talking. “You better believe you challenge me. Something fierce, too, I’ll admit. You challenge me to be better than I ever thought I could be, to rise to the occasion and go deep so I can keep up. I dig that seven ways to Sunday. Feel what you do to me, Cia.”

Her eyes went liquid as he flattened her hand over his thundering heart, and when the muscle under her cool palm flexed, she curled her fingers as if trying to capture his response. She weaved closer, drawn by invisible threads into his space.

“You’re so incredibly intelligent,” he continued, fighting to keep from dragging her against him and sinking in like he ached to do. She had to choose this on her own. “How have you not figured out that gives you all the power? I’m just a poor, pathetic man who wants to worship at the altar of the goddess.”

She hesitated, indecision and longing stamped all over her face. Whatever stopped her from jumping in—and it wasn’t dislike of being a challenge—drove the battle inside of her to a fever pitch. She spent way too much energy thinking instead of feeling and way too much time buried in shadows.

And here he was trying to help her fix that, if she’d lay down that stubborn for a minute.

“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and I like that about you,” he said. “We both know strings aren’t part of the deal. This is about one thing only. Sex. Fantastic, feel-good, uncomplicated sex. Nobody gets hurt. Everyone has fun. Sounds perfect for an independent woman with a divorce on the horizon, doesn’t it?”

“Seducing me with logic. Devious.”

“But effective.”

The curve of her lips set off a tremor in his gut. “It’s getting there.”

Hallelujah. He threw his last-ditch inside straight on the table. “Then listen close. Let me take care of you. Physically. You give to your women till it hurts. Take for once. Let me make you feel good. Let me help you forget the rest of the world for a while. Use me, I insist. Do I benefit from it, too? Absolutely. That’s what makes for a great partnership.”

He’d laid the foundation for a new, mutually beneficial agreement. The next move had to be hers. She needed to be in control of her fate, and he needed to know she could never accuse him of talking her into it.

“Now, darlin’, the floor sucks. I’m going to get in that nice, comfortable bed over there and if you want to spend the next few hours being thoroughly pleasured, join me. If not, don’t. You make the choice.”

Eight

C
hoice.

Instead of seducing her, Lucas had given her a choice. And with that single empowering act, Cia’s uncertainty disappeared.

They were partners—equals—and he’d done nothing but respect that, and respect her, from the very beginning. He got her in ways she’d only begun to realize. Domination was not part of his makeup, and all he wanted from her was to join him in taking pleasure from sex, the way he took pleasure from every aspect of life.

She longed to indulge in the foreign concept, to seize what she wanted—Lucas.

To let his talents wash away all the doubt and frustration and disappointment about Pamela and help Cia forget everything except how he made her feel. He’d stripped the complexity from the equation and, suddenly, sex didn’t mean she’d lose something.

The only way Lucas Wheeler could take a chunk of her soul when he left was if she gave it to him. She wouldn’t. Simple as making a choice. Who knew the secret to avoiding emotional evisceration was to lay out divorce terms first?

She stood and crossed the carpet with sure steps until her knees hit the side of the bed. Lucas lounged against a pillow, watching her, sheet pulled up to midtorso, bisecting the trio of intriguing tribal circles tattooed along the left edge of his ribs.

His eyes were on fire.

He was so gorgeous, and he was all hers for the night. As many nights as she chose, apparently. A shiver shimmied up her back, part anticipation and part nerves.

“You want to know what tipped the scales?” she asked, arms crossed so it wasn’t obvious her hands were shaking.

“More than I want to take my next breath.”

She eyed the length of his body stretched out in the bed. “Ironically, that you were willing to sleep on the floor.”

He laughed, and the vibration thrummed through her abdomen. “So you’re saying I had you at hello?”

“No. I’m pretty sure you had me at Versace. It’s painful to admit I was so easily bought with a designer gown.” She said it flippantly, so he’d know she was kidding.

Except she wasn’t, exactly. It was difficult to swallow how much she liked his gifts. What did that say about her?

“I’m glad one of us thinks this was easy. I’ve never worked so hard to get a woman into bed in my life.”

“An unrecoverable blow to your ego, no doubt.” She cocked her hip and jammed a hand down on it. Had she been so exhausted less than an hour ago that she could barely stand? Adrenaline and a hefty craving for Lucas coursed through her. “And it’s so funny, but I’d swear I’m not actually in bed yet. Perhaps your work isn’t done after all.”

With a growl, he flung off the sheet, sprang up from the mattress and crawled toward her, completely, beautifully naked. Her mouth went dry.

Wickedness flashed through his expression, and the shiver it unleashed in her this time was all anticipation. She absolutely could not mistake how much she turned him on.

This was all for her. Not for him. He’d said so, and she intended to hold him to it.

He rose up on his knees in front of her and extended a hand. She took it and braced to be yanked onto the bed. Instead, he held each finger to his lips and kissed them individually. By the time he reached the pinkie, he’d added licking and sucking and the rough texture of his tongue burned across her flesh.

He pressed her palm to his chest and left it there. Then, he cupped her face reverently. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”

Before she could squawk out a lame “Thank you,” he captured her mouth with his and held the kiss, lips suspended in time, and a tornado of need whirled through her womb.

Slowly, he angled his head and parted her mouth with his lips, and heat poured into her body. His tongue found hers, gliding forward and back in a sensuous dance.

Her nails dug into his rock-hard chest, scrabbling for purchase to keep her off the carpet. The kiss went on and on and stoked the flame of desire higher and higher in her belly.

Slow. It was all about slow with Lucas, and it was exquisite torture. She needed more, needed him now.

She broke away and reached for him, but he shook his head. His hands skimmed up her arms and down her back, came around to the front again, and both thumbs hooked the hem of her tank top. Gradually, he drew it skyward as he watched her from below half-closed lids.

“You’re, um, not going to make me get in the bed?” she asked hoarsely.

“Nope.” He pulled her top free from her raised arms and tossed it over his shoulder, and then he encircled her waist with an arm to draw her closer, his gaze ravenous as it traveled over her bare breasts. “You chose not to get in bed. I choose to take care of you right where you’re at.”

Her nipples rubbed his naked torso and beaded instantly and fire erupted in her womb, drawing a moan from deep in her throat. If he kept whispering that whiskey-smooth voice across her bare skin, it wouldn’t take long to rip a verbally induced climax out of her. But she hoped for a hands-on approach.

He obliged her. One hand glided to the small of her back and pushed, jutting her breasts up and allowing him to capture a nipple with his tongue in a searing, swirling lasso.

She gripped his shoulders, lost in a slow spiral toward brainlessness as he sucked and laved at her sensitive flesh.

He switched sides and treated the other nipple to his magically delicious mouth. When he skated hard teeth across the peak, her legs buckled. Why hadn’t she gotten in bed?

His hand delved inside her shorts, along her bare bottom. His fingers slipped into the crevice, lifting her and crushing her to his torso, supporting her.

The shock of Lucas touching her
there
had her gasping, but a solid pang of want swallowed the shock.
“Madre de Dios.”

Lucas groaned against her breast. With it still in his mouth, he mumbled, “I love it when you talk dirty.”

A throaty laugh burst out of her. “It means mother of God, dingbat.”

“I don’t care. Anything you say in Spanish sounds dirty. Say something else.” He licked his way down her stomach and bit the tie on her shorts, pulling the strings loose with his mouth.

“Quiero que ahora—”

And then her brain shut off when he yanked down her shorts and panties. He turned her and pressed her spine to his torso, settling her rear against his hard length. His firm arm snaked between her breasts, locking her in place, and his clever fingers slid down her stomach to find her center.

He mouthed her throat and rubbed the hard button between her folds until she squirmed against the restraining band of steel disguised as his arm.

One finger slid inside and then two, in and out, and her head rolled against his shoulder in a mindless thrash. So good, so hot. So everything.

His heavy arousal burned into the soft flesh of her bottom, thrilling her. His thumb worked her nub in a circle and the sensuous onslaught swirled into one bright gathering point against his fingers. She came so hard she cried out.

The ripples tightened her inner walls around his fingers, and he plunged his fingers in again and again to draw out the climax to impossible lengths until, finally, it ended in a spectacular burst.

Lucas had just ruined her for any other man.

Too spent to stand on her own, she slumped in his arms and her knees gave out. The additional weight must have caught him off guard, and she pulled him down with her. In a tangle of limbs, they hit the carpet, and Lucas laughed as he rolled her back into his arms.

“There you have it,” he said into her hair. “Now we don’t have to lie. Next time someone asks why we got married, you can truthfully say we fell for each other.”

A giggle slipped out and cleared the fog in her head, along with any lingering tension from being with Lucas, naked and exposed. His ability to bring the fun was unparalleled.

He picked her up and laid her gently on the bed.

“The first one is for you,” he said, eyes crystal clear blue and dazzling. “The next one is for me.”

“That’s fair.” She cleared her throat. He deserved more than she knew how to give him. “Lucas? I’m nowhere near as um…practiced at this as you are. However, I promise to give it my best shot.”

She dragged an elbow under her to sit up but he knocked it away. She flopped back on the tangle of sheets and watched as he straddled her, powerful thighs preventing his gorgeous body from crushing her.

All of him was beautiful, but in this position, the really good stuff lay at eye level. She didn’t hesitate to look her fill and reached out to run her palms along his legs. So hard and so delectable.

“No.” He shook his head. “
Your
next orgasm is for me. The first one doesn’t count. It’s only to take the edge off, and, honey, you were wound tight. I barely touched you and you went off like a Roman candle.”

She moaned. “That was a demonstration of ‘barely’?”

With a wicked smile, he laced their fingers together and drew her arms up above her head, manacled her wrists together with one hand and slid the other hand down the length of her side from shoulder to hip. “Oh, yeah. There’s much, much more. But this time, I get to pick where you’ll be, and it’ll be right here, where I can watch you.”

He began to touch her, watching her as he did, and his heavy-lidded stare unnerved her, even as it heightened the sensations of his hands and mouth on her bare skin. He did something sinful to every inch of her body until she couldn’t breathe with the need for him to fill her.

Why
had she resisted a man with Lucas’s skill for so long? There wasn’t a whole lot of taking pleasure necessary when he gave it so freely. How selfish was she that she stingily lapped it up?

After what felt like hours of lovely agony, he settled between her legs and his talented mouth dipped to the place he’d pleasured with his fingers. With his lips and teeth and, oh, yes, his tongue working her flesh, he drove her into the heavens a second time.

His eyes never left her, and her shuddering release intensified with the knowledge that he was watching her, taking his own pleasure in hers. The manifestation of the power he spoke of, the power she held, was exhilarating.

“Enough,” she gasped. “I admit it. You were right. I could have slept in my room, but I guess part of me wanted you to force the issue. So I could keep pretending I’m not attracted to you. No more pretending. I want you. Now.”

“That might be the sweetest confession I’ve ever heard.” He rose up over her and captured her mouth in way-too-short, musky kiss. “But we have all night. And tomorrow night. So, slow down, darlin’. Half the fun is getting there.”

“How is it not making you insane to keep waiting your turn?”

He laughed and threaded his hands through her hair in a long caress. “Good things come to those who wait. Besides, I’m dead center in the middle of my turn. Every nuance of desire flashing through your eyes turns me on. Every moan from your mouth is like music. I could watch you shatter for hours.”

Hours?
Dios.
She should have read between the lines a little better when he blew off the pregnancy issue back by the pool. “You, um, do plan to eventually get around to a more traditional version of sex. Right?”

“Oh, you better believe it, honey. Later.”

Later. She loved later.

Sacrifice and selflessness had ruled her for so long, it felt incredible to let go. To let Lucas take care of her. To be greedy for once and wallow in pure sensation and pleasure instead of shoving aside her needs for fear everything she depended on would be taken away in an instant.

How freeing to have it all on the table and be given permission to just have fun.

*

For all his talk, Lucas almost lost it—again—during Cia’s third climax.

She was beautiful, like Mozart at sunrise, and she was so sensitive, he set off the third one accidentally by blowing on her. She cried out his name and exploded, bowing up with that awesome arch to her back, and an answering pulse grew stronger in his gut.

He clamped his teeth down hard to keep his own release under control. His muscles strained, aching with the effort it took not to plow into her sweet, sweet center right then and there, no condom, just her and unbelievable satisfaction.

The battle stretched out for an eternity and, for a moment, he feared he’d do it. He rolled away and fixated on the oscillating ceiling fan above the bed, willing back the crush of lust.

This little fireball he’d married was not going to break his self-control. Never mind that he’d invented this game of multiple orgasms to demonstrate this was nothing but sex between two people who were hot for each other. To confirm that this insane attraction wasn’t as strong as he’d imagined and that there was nothing special about this particular woman.

Somewhere along the way, the scent of Cia’s arousal and the total surrender in her responses eliminated his intentions.

She fell back onto the pillow with a sexy sigh, lifting her breasts and making his mouth water. “You melted my bones that time. As soon as I can walk, I’m going to make you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had in your life.”

That pulled a chuckle out of him, though it hurt clear to his knees to laugh. “The benefits are good enough to reverse your stance on making a man coffee, huh?”

“I cannot believe there wasn’t a picket line of your ex-lovers at the courthouse the day we got married.”

Yeah, he knew a trick or two about pleasuring a woman, and his genuine enjoyment of it helped, but this was a far cry from how he normally went about it. Nothing about this affair with Cia remotely resembled how he normally interacted with a woman.

How did he explain that to her when he didn’t get it, either?

“You’re funny. There are more women who would be happy to read my obituary notice than would be upset I married you.”

She snorted. “I doubt that. But as your wife, I believe I have the right to claim a few privileges.”

If he breathed through his mouth, he couldn’t smell her lotion anymore, and the lack eased the pain a tiny bit. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Like the right to say it’s later.”

Without another word, she flipped and crawled on top of him, sliding up the length of his body, hot as a lava flow, and whipping his crushing need into a frenetic firestorm.