Everywhere and Every Way(75)

Then stopped.

He’d taken off his shirt. Ripped off was a better term, since the material barely survived his savage striptease. Morgan looked at the mass of bunched muscles defining his pecs, the washboard abs from hard, sweaty work instead of a climate-controlled gym. Skin baked brown from the sun, a light dusting of gold-brown hair scattered over his chest and narrowed to a mouthwatering line disappearing past his waistband. One snap of his fingers released the button on his denim cutoffs. Never taking his gaze from her face, he approached the bed, studying her as if going over his plan to ravish her.

In that moment, Morgan melted like hot lava, helpless to prevent anything and everything he wanted to do with her. Those eyes gleamed with raw satisfaction, catching her innate surrender as she knelt on the bed and made no move to stop him. No move to escape.

“Do you know how many bad things I want to do to you?”

She shuddered. Licked her lips. “Then do them.”

A vicious curse escaped his lips. And he was upon her.

Morgan never had a chance. This was no slow, step-by-step seduction plan. It was as if the moment they touched, only instinct survived, a desperate need to connect in every primitive, physical form. Her blouse vanished in seconds, her bra was flicked open, and then his soft lips closed over her nipple, tugging, licking, sucking. She writhed underneath him and pulled down the zipper of his shorts, shoving her fingers into the opening with little finesse to stroke and cup the hard, thick length of his cock.

He uttered her name like a prayer, but instead of getting naked fast, he kept his solid attention on her breasts. Tugging her nipples in a rhythm to his own private melody, he teased and tortured until her breasts were so sensitive, a cry trapped in the back of her throat. Pain and pleasure blurred into a fine line. “You’re so damn pretty,” he said, watching her reaction as he licked the tight tips. “You taste like coconut cream pie.” She hissed as he worked his mouth lower, swiping his tongue over the curve of her belly, fingers curled around the band of her proper linen pants. “I can’t wait to taste you. Make you come. Fuck you so hard, you’ll never remember another man’s name.”

Arousal trickled down her thigh. Already poised on the edge of orgasm just from his words, Morgan panted, fighting for sanity. “I can’t take much more.”

“Neither can I. Lift up.”

Her hips rose, and as he wriggled her pants down her hips, her mind suddenly sprung to awareness, reminding her of the final desperate measure she’d taken to make sure she didn’t sleep with Caleb Pierce tonight.

“Wait! Oh, my God, please wait!”

Morgan shot up. Cal tilted his head back. Pupils dilated with lust, mouth damp from kissing her, his gorgeous hair mussed up from her fingers raking through the strands, he was sex incarnate and every woman’s fantasy. “You okay, baby?” he asked roughly. His breath came in ragged pants, but he held himself under control, gauging if she was about to tell him she had changed her mind or wanted him to stop.

“No,” she moaned. His fingers tangled with hers, and he waited patiently. In that moment, her respect and trust for this man flooded her in waves. Even with a throbbing erection and a brain probably fogged by arousal, he stopped. He pushed when it was right, yet was man enough to back off at the first cry of no. He’d never do anything she didn’t want, and that made Morgan ache for him even more.

“Did you change your mind? I want you, Morgan, but only if you want me just as bad. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know!” she sobbed. “But I did something because I didn’t want to sleep with you tonight because I got spooked and thought it would be better to keep my distance but I don’t know how to tell you and I’m so embarrassed!”

He cocked his head, his gaze drilling into hers. “Talk to me. Good, bad, I want to hear you. What you want, what you don’t, what you’re scared of, what makes you feel good. I want to hear it all.”

The heat from his skin wrapped around her. His scent was pure primal mating, and here she was with hairy legs, dying to part her thighs and take everything he had to give. Shaking with need, she burst out the truth before she lost her nerve. “I didn’t shave my legs!”

Morgan shut her eyes, refusing to look at him. She’d reached the height of humiliation. She was the spiller of female secrets, and the population would never forgive her.

“Baby, open your eyes. Look at me.”

She groaned but slowly peeked at him. Pure amusement danced in his eyes, tugged at his lips. But he looked straight at her when he spoke. “You thought that not shaving would keep you safe from me?”