Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
She fluttered her lashes. “I think I’m ready now.”
He didn’t give her a second to reconsider. His mouth crashed down onto hers, and his hand came to rest on her belly. Anticipation skirmished with excitement as he expertly popped the front snap of her bra. Cool air washed over her puckered nipples and tightened them further. He released her mouth and, as he had at the beach, danced his lips down to one straining peak. His tongue stabbed and his lips nibbled, and she arched helplessly into his mouth.
The sweep of his large palm carried her panties down her thighs to her knees. She scissor kicked them the rest of the way off. His warm hand made the return trip to her mound, and she whimpered at the exquisite plucking of his fingers.
Apparently, once her body was primed, it took little to light the fuse. Hot and primal, need coursed through her blood. As his thick thigh slid between hers, she once again found herself hurtling toward the abyss. Her head lashed back and forth in denial, and she cried out on a wail. “Tuuuck.”
“Stay with me.” Hovering over her, his features, pulled tight with tension, swam into focus. “Stay with me, baby.”
“I’m trying. I don’t think I can.”
She panted as his hand shot out, knocking the lamp from the bed stand. The bottle of wine wobbled as he yanked open the drawer.
“They’re in my purse.”
Wrist deep in the drawer, his hand jerked about in rapid search. “What is?”
“Condoms.”
He froze and disbelief widened his eyes. “You brought condoms?”
“Kris.”
“What about her?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and growled.
“Fuck it.” His hand dug deeper into the drawer. “We’ll talk about her later.” Relief flooded his face, and he held up a foil disc. The wrapper disintegrated in his teeth, and he rolled to his back to cover himself in three fast strokes, before rising up over her once again. Supporting his weight on one forearm, he grasped his cock in the other hand and lowered his hips between her thighs.
Paused at her entrance, he watched her with eyes full of hunger and heat. “Breathe, sunshine.”
One pump of his hips was all it took. Her breath caught at the delicious stretch of her inner muscles as he slid home, and though tempting shock waves fired in a haphazard pattern, orgasm hovered just out of reach.
Dazed by the shear wonder of being joined with him, she stared at his still face. He settled down onto both elbows, and she gasped at the delicious rasp of his chest hair scoring her nipples.
“Okay?”
“Better than.”
Some of the tension left his face with his smile, but not all of it. Sweat glistened on his brow. “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
When he had a point, he had a point. She smiled and nodded.
His chest jumped on a pained chuckle. “I love that about you. You ready for more?”
Her chin bobbed in anticipation.
“Then hold on, baby, because we’re about to fly.”
He began to move, slowly at first. A sweet pump of his hips. An answering pull inside. His lips met hers and his tongue joined the dance, in, out, stab, retreat. Every fantasy she’d ever had of what it was like to be with a man was eclipsed by the reality of coming together with him. Gentle, yet strong. Giving, yet greedy, he moved over her, in her, with her. Together, they left the world behind for a magical place one soul could never reach on their own, and when ecstasy found her again, she wasn’t alone.
Chapter 19
Feet propped on the coffee table, her legs bare beneath the T-shirt she’d pilfered from Tuck’s closet, CC dipped her spoon into her bowl.
“What’s your stance on baseball?”
She turned her head. “Other than kicking your butt in the batting cage the other day, I don’t have one.” She bared her teeth in a cheeky grin.
Tuck’s eyes gleamed with silent laughter. “I cleaned your clock, little girl.” Bowl balanced in his palm, he scooped up a heaping spoonful of sugary sweet cereal and popped it into his mouth.
“Ha! Your word against mine.”
“Care for a rematch?” His mouth worked the oversized bite, crunching audibly before he swallowed. “I’ll make sure there are witnesses this time.”
She snickered. “Anytime, big guy.”
He grunted and dove in for another bite. Two hours in his bed had left them both ravenous. He’d offered to call for takeout, but she’d dismissed the offer. Tonight was theirs. She didn’t want anyone else to intrude, including the delivery boy from the Chinese restaurant around the corner. She’d almost changed her mind, however, when inspecting his cabinets proved his taste in food ran toward that of a twelve-year-old boy.
After licking the spoon clean, he tipped the bowl to his lips and drained the remaining chocolate flavored milk. He sat up to set them on the coffee table, then flopped back with a satisfied sigh. “Some friends of mine are playing tomorrow. I thought you might enjoy a game.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Will there be people there?”
He flashed a grin. “A few.”
“I’m serious about taking the challenge to the next level. How can I judge my progress if I never put myself out there? How few?”
“Enough, and I promise they’ll be within arm’s reach.”
The reminder of their agreement, and of the clock ticking down to its conclusion, dimmed her pleasure in the moment and she looked away. Regrets were for another day. Her gaze fell on the double doors at the far end of the living room. She pointed her spoon. “Where does that go?”
He bumped up his chin. “If you’re done with that, I’ll show you.”
She slipped one last spoonful of the sugar coated Os into her mouth and set aside the bowl.
He stood and held out his hand. She put her palm in his, and he pulled her to her feet. Light flooded the large studio when he flipped a switch. She’d expected a gym. Maybe some free weights and a treadmill. The woodworking shop was a complete surprise.
He wandered over to a high table and ran a hand over a partially built box of some sort.
“You build furniture? Here?”
He shrugged and dusted his hand on the drawstring pajama pants riding low on his hips. “The shop is soundproofed, and it has its own ventilation system, but it’s not technically necessary. I do everything by hand. No power tools. Working with my hands relaxes me, and it’s a good workout. You’d be surprised at the muscles used by swinging a hammer or sliding a plane.”
She stepped to the far end of the table and swept a fingertip over the surface, leaving behind a squiggly line in the film of fine dust. “That explains the sawdust.”
He leaned a hip against the table and crossed his arms.
She curved her lips in a smile. “The day I met you. You smelled like cinnamon and sawdust. I thought you were a carpenter.”
Straightening away from the table, he dropped his arms and stalked toward her. A familiar twinkle lit his eyes. “You smelled me?”
He kept coming forward, but she held her ground. The bare expanse of his chest fanned the simmering coals of desire, and she lifted her chin. What the hell. It was only one AM. By Manhattan standards, the evening had just gotten started, and she could think of several delicious ways to spend the next few hours.
She tugged the tiger’s tail. “And
tasted
you. It would have been difficult not to, what with your tongue in my mouth.”
He stalked closer, wicked promises glittering in his eyes. “The tongue has a lot of interesting uses.”
She gulped. Oh, hell yeah, it did. She melted into his arms as they wrapped around her, and she spoke against the lips that brushed hers. “Oh, yeah. Like what?”
His dark smile said he meant to show her, and over the remainder of the night, he did.
* * * *
“You seem a little tense. What’s wrong?”
CC shot Tuck a glance where he sat on the other side of the limo’s backseat. Dropping her at her condo this morning, he’d warned her to be ready by three. The car service limo pulled up to her curb two minutes early, and when she asked why he wasn’t driving, he’d introduced her to Edward, who apparently drove him occasionally, then made an offhand comment about afternoon traffic.
“You mean, other than my mother coming to town to pester me into seeing my father and Ronald insisting I enter a piece into a show the Art Council is running? Not a thing.”
“You forgot to add being exhausted after a horny wide receiver kept you awake most of the night.”
There
was
that but, surprisingly, she didn’t feel tired in the least. Sated, energized, and greedy for more, but not tired. And if he thought she was going to stroke his ego by telling him so, he’d have to be disappointed.
He chuckled when she turned away.
“Why would an art show be a problem? Isn’t that how you artists make a living? By selling it?”
She pursed her lips and turned her head slowly, but before she could comment on how art shows usually meant meeting a bunch of strangers, she blinked at the familiar spirals of the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge flashing by the window beyond his shoulders. “Where are we going?”
“The Stadium.”
She gaped at him. “
Yankee
Stadium?”
“You agreed we’d go to a game.”
“Well, yeah, but I thought you meant a little league or sandlot game. I pictured a smattering of locals on metal bleachers, not a stadium full of Yankee fans.”
“What do you have against Yankee fans?”
“What do I have…?” She squinted at his innocent smile. “Don’t be obtuse. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, I do, but you’re the one who said it’s time to ramp up your test, and you won’t get over your fear of crowds without facing them. The way to best a beast is head on.”
“Thanks for the psychological pep talk, Dr. Freud.”
He laughed and she groaned, doing her best to ignore her racing heart.
“Relax. Like at the concert, the crowd will be watching the field, not you.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Unless we end up on the Jumbotron somehow. But don’t worry. If that happens, I promise to give you mouth to mouth.”
Instant panic tripled her racing heartbeat.
“That’s not funny,” she grumbled.
His secret weapon dimples made an appearance. Okay, maybe it was a little funny, and she appreciated his attempt to make her laugh, but his humor didn’t lessen the familiar contracting of her trachea.
Her gaze snagged on the hulking form of the stadium in the distance. “I’d prefer testing it somewhere less crowded, if you don’t mind.” She swallowed a whimper. “Like Times Square.”
Without warning, he slid across the car’s bench seat. His mouth was on hers before she could object. Instantly, his cinnamon and sawdust scent assaulted her, filling her nostrils and expanding her lungs. A low hum of pleasure sounded in his throat just before he lifted his head.
He smiled at her. “Better?”
She nodded silently.
“Breathe, CC.”
She sucked in air tasting of him, sniffing strongly to prove the point. “I
am
breathing. How else would I know you’ve been working in your woodshop?” He dipped in for another kiss and she stiff-armed him. “But I’ll be able to do a better job of it if you back off a little.”
He chuckled and complied. She scooted closer to the car door and clamped her fingers around the armrest. God, she’d be naked and on her back in no time if he kept up those magical kisses. After last night’s marathon of indulgence, one would think she’d be too sated to get worked up. He was right. She
was
greedy.
The car exited the highway toward the stadium, and her fingernails made indentations in the sleek leather armrest. He turned to look at her, and she knew she was pale. Couldn’t be helped, not with the looming prospect of facing down fifty thousand people front and center in her mind. “This is a bad idea.”
“You said you were ready.”
She met his steady gaze. “I know, but—”
“Relax, sunshine. I’ve got your back.” His gaze slid over her chest before popping up to twinkle at her. “And your front.”
She scowled as the demon drug heated her insides. “I haven’t jumped out of the car to escape, have I?”
He eyed her hand on the door. “You look like you might be considering it.”
She yanked her hand back, tucking it into her lap. The fact that she hadn’t jumped from the car was evidence of the incredible progress she’d made in facing her fears, and the knowledge lit a fire of excitement in her belly. While her heart thundered in her chest, she was still here, and not because of an abstract promise she’d made on her last birthday. She was here because she’d somehow begun to believe in herself. She had Tuck to thank for the transition, at least partially, but after her complete caving to his agenda last night, she wasn’t about to hand him another victory by admitting it.
“Fine. Have it your way. But if you end up having to schlep me out of the stadium over your shoulder after I’ve fainted, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
Blue heat sprang to life in his eyes. “I think I can handle you, and since I can’t imagine anything sweeter than getting my hands on your hot little body again, I can’t say I’d mind doing a little schlepping.” He winked and tugged on his ball cap disguise.
When she bit her lip, he sighed.
“I’ll take it off later, if you want, once you’ve settled down a little, but first we have to run the gauntlet to our seats.”
Edward pulled the car to the curb, and Tuck turned away. She craned her neck to peer out the window and nearly chickened out at the mass of bodies streaming toward the entrance. The gauntlet? God help her.
Thanking Edward, Tuck accepted his card for the return trip, then held out his hand. The palm she placed in his was clammy. He lifted a brow, assisting her from the car, then tucked her fingers in the crook of his arm. She slipped on her sunglasses, and almost immediately they were swallowed up by the teaming rush of fans entering the stadium.
She made use of her breathing technique. In and out, slow and easy, but no one gawked. No one stopped short, then rushed forward to ask for Tuck’s autograph, or even seemed to note his presence. The tight band of anxiety loosened around her chest, and she began to think she might just survive the afternoon.