All Over You (Unforgettable You, Book 1.5) (7 page)

“
This is me, Becca. I know you.” He doesn’t come across as arrogant or smug. Everything about him now is just really intense, especially his voice and the way he’s looking at me. Like he knows me better than I know myself.

Well the girl that had been head over heels for him is gone for good and he needs to accept that.

“
I’m not saying I don’t have
any
feelings for you. Despite everything, I do. You were my first real relationship and I have a lot of fond memories of our time together. But if you want to know the truth, those feelings aren’t—um—you know—physical, at least not anymore. And you know what? I’m tired of being angry with you and hating you because I don’t. I
do
know that there’s no going back for me and I hope you can accept that.”

Usually, I can’t lie for shit but when I have to, I must say, I’m pretty damn good. This is definitely a rise-to-the-occasion kind of situation. That was always the one way he could get to me. Sex. But I’d like to think it was more than that for him. It certainly had been for me.

“
Then tell me to stop.”

Right, I hoped he’d forgotten that part, the words I’ve yet to say that will send him away for good. Funny, I can lie and tell him I don’t want him physically anymore and that I’m over him. But the words he needs to hear that will completely sever the ties can’t seem to make it past my constricted throat.

“
You won’t say it or can’t say it?” he asks, watching me intently.

I’m not exactly sure what it is that won’t let me lie about this so I say nothing. Safer just to remain silent just in case I’m not as good an actress as I need to be.

A rueful smile curls the corners of his mouth as he places his hands on his muscled thighs and pushes to his feet. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, right? If you don’t want to be with me, it’s not like I can force you.”

The band that seems to have my chest in a grip tightens so it’s hard to breathe past the disappointment and heartache. That’s it? He’s leaving without putting up a fight? Again.

“
C’mon, at least walk me to the door,” he prompts when I sit there unmoving.

I’m trying to come to grips with the fact that it’s really over between us. No more Scott. Damn, somewhere along the way I turned into one of those girls. You know the kind who says the opposite of what she feels. The kind who begs a guy to stop when she really wants him to roll her over with his charm and persistence. In Shakespearean terms, the lady who doth protest too much. In everyday terms, a crazy person.

I’m that girl.

My bones feel ancient as I rise to my not-altogether-steady feet. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I walk around the coffee table toward him.

For heaven’s sake, Rebecca, you’d better not make a complete ass of yourself and cry.
Definitely not with Scott here watching me like a freakin’ hawk, his gaze penetrating and, no doubt, seeing entirely too much. Seeing things I don’t want him to see.

“
What’s wrong?” he asks softly. “This is what you want isn’t it?”

I swallow and try to come up with something clever to say but my biggest fear is that one word out of my mouth and my voice will betray me and the tears I’m holding at bay will fall.

Emotion clogs my throat when my name escapes his lips on a whispery sigh. Then he’s drawing me into his arms and cradling my face in his hands, tilting it up until we’re looking each other in the eye.

“
God, Becca,” he whispers on a sigh. His heated gaze dips to my mouth before he lowers his head and kisses me.

A part of me is telling me to push him away—knows that would be in line with what I’ve been saying. Unfortunately, the part of my brain that controls my body has me closing my eyes and parting my lips in complete and utter surrender.

The second his lips touch mine, my resistance crumbles and the reasons we’re not together don’t matter anymore. It’s been a year since a kiss has done this to me; made me dizzy and relieved at the same time. Never mind the hunger and desire clawing at my insides.

His kiss is devouring, his tongue probing, sliding and tangling with mine. As wild as it is, it’s not enough. I moan my pleasure into his mouth, my hunger growing, bordering on all-consuming.

My heart is pounding in rapid-fire beats and I can’t get close enough. Lifting my arms, I rake my fingers through his silky hair until I’m clasping the back of his head. God I love his lips, the way he kisses me. Sometimes it’s soft and teasing and other times—like now—hard and demanding like he can’t get enough, but always with a hunger that burns red-hot.

As we go at it, teeth nipping and tongues sucking and licking, his hands coast down my sides, skimming my waist until he’s cupping my butt and pulling me flush against him. I can feel his erection hard against my stomach. Moisture immediately floods my core and without giving thought to reason, I’m pressing back against him, urging him on.

“
Oh God,” he gasps, breaking the kiss. The heat in his eyes sears me, rendering me nearly incoherent with lust.

In the silence broken only by the harshness of our out-of-control breathing, we stare at each other, almost like we’re soaking each other in after spending the last year apart.

The next thing I know, I’m being hoisted up in his arms. My legs wrap around his waist as if it’s the most natural thing to do. I bury my face in his neck, scattering frantic kisses down the length, kissing and sucking on his beautiful pale-gold skin. His response is a groan that vibrates against my chest. My legs tighten around him and I moan with need at the hard press of his erection against my sex as he carries me from the living room down the hallway.

In my room, he lowers a dazed me to my wobbly feet and begins to take off my clothes. Actually, it’s more like tear them off, his impatience evident in his not-quite-steady hands and the speed that my cotton v-neck is whipped clean over my head and discarded on the floor. Blazing eyes devour my breasts as he fumbles with my zipper. In seconds, my blue jeans are bunched around my ankles and I’m aiding in the effort by kicking it the rest of the way off.

I’m sure that if my body wasn’t buzzing with desire and my center wasn’t clenching in anticipation, I would have felt self-conscious about standing in only my thong and bra while he’s still fully clothed. My only thought is that I want him naked. I want him inside me.

“
Take off the rest while I watch.” His voice rough with lust, his eyes glitter hotly as he does just that.

At the moment, I’m so turned on and feeling every single day of my yearlong sex hiatus, if he’d told me to go to the moon, I would have donned a spacesuit no questions asked. But this is easy, taking off two scraps of cotton and lace. Even easier is drowning out the warning bells in my head telling me I’m heading down a road of no return. My body’s in charge and it wants what it wants and tonight, there’s no denying it.

So while he’s watching me with the sexiest predatory look in his eyes and tugging off his shirt, I unhook my bra in the back and smooth the straps from my shoulders one at a time until my demi-cup lace of nothingness lands soundlessly on the floor.

In the midst of getting his zipper over his very noticeable—and sizeable—erection, Scott pauses and swallows, his eyes glued to my bare breasts.

“
Fuck.” He says it reverently and I take it as the coarse compliment it is.

Scott doesn’t move faster than when sex is on the line, mutual orgasms the ultimate prize. Currently he’s working at lightning speed to get himself out of his jeans.

I don’t know what affects me more, the look he’s giving me that has my body humming like a live wire or the way he can’t seem to get out of his clothes fast enough to get to me.

To further torment him—and because I know how much he loves it—I hook my fingers through the lace-edged sides of my thong and with a seductive swivel of my hips, shimmy them off.

Scott’s reaction to me naked? He growls deep in his throat and the throbbing between my legs intensifies.

His jeans and boxer briefs are removed in a single blurred motion. I barely have time to fully appreciate the sight of muscled pecs and ripped abs before he’s on me. Seconds later, I’m on the bed and on my back with one six-foot-one aroused male on top of me.

My legs instinctively part to accommodate him between them as his mouth crashes down on mine. This kiss is rougher, pure carnal heat in the wet tangle of our tongues.

With my mouth deliciously occupied, I claim free reign of his body, my hands all over him, exploring the sculpted length of his back, his tight butt and as much as I can reach of his gorgeous chest. His hands aren’t idle either, gently squeezing my breasts as his fingers toy with my nipples.

Arousal, razor sharp in its intensity, roars through me, leaving me drowning in sensation. Floundering helplessly in it.

After drugging me with his kisses, he abandons my lips and tracks a path of open-mouthed kisses down my cheek, along my jaw and down my neck. His journey proceeds along to my aching breast, his tongue batting at the peaked nipple until I can’t take it anymore. Whimpering, I press down on the back of his head to encourage him to take me inside his mouth.

I can feel his smile against my breast as he resists a little longer; enough time to get in a few more swipes before ending the torture and sucking the tip deep into his mouth.

The pleasure pulsing between my thighs is so acute, I seriously begin to wonder if it’s possible to pass out from too much pleasure.

I’m willing to risk it.

I wrap my legs around his hips, opening myself up to him.

“
Scott. Scott. Scott.” The breathless chant of his name is an anguished plea, a demand, encouragement.

He tears his mouth from my breast and frantically grabs for the condom he’d apparently placed on my nightstand when clearly my mind must have been occupied with other things. Coming swiftly up onto his knees, he rolls it on with only a minor interruption—when impatient
me
tries to help him with the task.

“
Baby, let me do this,” he says, panting. “I don’t want to go off before I get this thing on.”

Me either.
My hand returns to his waist, kneading the warm hardness.

When he finally has the condom in place, I think I know exactly how things will proceed from this point on. I am so wrong. With a move that would impress wrestling enthusiasts around the country, his big hands scoop me up by the waist, flipping me over until I’m over him and he’s lying on his back staring up at me.

“
You go on top,” he grounds out from between gritted teeth. “Ride me.”

At his sexy-as-hell command, another rush of moisture pools in my sex. Then he lifts me and lowers me slowly onto him. My eyes drift closed as the sensation of him filling me, inch by inch, becomes too much. The pleasure is excruciating and I’m torn between wanting to savor it and rushing it to completion.

Although I’m on top, that doesn’t mean I’m in charge. Once he’s completely buried inside me, his hands on my hips direct my movements, lifting me and then pulling me down
hard
as he counters by thrusting up into me.

My breath leaves my mouth in a
whoosh
of air and I’m gasping, my sex contracting tightly around him. My hands find purchase on his shoulders and soon I find the rhythm, lifting, coming down, rolling my hips. As I feel the impending orgasm rushing at me, my pace increases until it becomes frantic and out of control. In a blinding flash, it slams into me and I’m thrown, soaring and convulsing in indescribable pleasure.

I’m floating down from my incredible orgasmic high when I’m suddenly flipped over again, Scott now above me, still inside of me, his face contorted like a man in pain. Lacing his hands through mine, he pins my hands beside my head as he drives into me over and over again.

When he comes, he comes hard and long; his head thrown back, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes squeezed shut. It’s a deliciously sexy sight and one I’ll never forget. Have never forgotten.

CHAPTER SEVEN

R
EBECCA

Fresh off one of the most intense orgasms of my life, I’ve only just gotten my breathing under control when the sound of the front door opening and closing easily penetrates the paper-thin walls of the bedroom. Sexual satiation immediately gives way to panic as I turn and look at Scott now sprawled out beside me.

Damn, he looks good, hair mussed and gloriously naked. But how the hell am I going to explain him in the apartment—in my room? There is no explanation beyond the obvious.

God, I’m so weak. Weak. Weak.

“
Scott, you have to go,” I say, unable to keep the urgency from my voice.

After a beat of silence, understanding flares in his eyes. He pushes up onto his elbow and slants a glance over at me, his expression having lost its sated and relaxed look.