She wanted to press her thighs together, to do something about the desire burning there, but she couldn't move. Maybe she didn't want to.
He abandoned her right leg for her left. "You like to ride me," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "You find that rhythm, and my God, it's all I can do to keep it together." He pressed a kiss to her calf and worked his way up her thigh. "You love having your nipples sucked. And when you feel my teeth on your skin, you come undone."
She felt certain she'd broken a sweat, probably from laboriously raising the height of his pedestal. All thoughts of getting over him vanished, leaving in their wake a wet little puddle of want. Too late, she realized there was no way she could walk away from this encounter unscathed, but she could sure as hell walk away first. Before he could.
The next time he wanted to feed her one of his stupid lines, he'd have to find her.
He crawled over her, sending her backward on the bed with the power of suggestion. Hovering-depriving her of his weight-he leaned in to press kisses to her neck. His cheek grazed her jaw, teasing, leaving her to clutch the duvet to keep from seizing him.
"Chloe?" he whispered.
"Mmm?"
"I'm sorry I hurt you."
The words still carried that husky, sexy tone, but they weren't at all what she'd expected. She took a steadying breath, unsure whether or not she welcomed the break in momentum. This encounter had disaster written all over it. But where her mind still entertained doubts, her body craved his touch. And in her heart, she knew he hadn't remembered those things about her to get her in bed.
He remembered because he cared, and that brought on a whole new kind of hurt.
Her own warning came back to her-something about this being a bad idea-but the chastisement dripped with a sugar-coated haze of euphoria. Forget falling for him … she was in bona fide spelunking territory, and the closest thing she had to protective gear sat too far away in rolled-up neon latex.
The past year came rushing back. One in which she'd doubted herself, closing the door to all things romantic because of the blow he'd dealt her confidence. She hadn't moped or felt sorry for herself-not after the first few days anyway-but she had neatly sidestepped any chance of falling victim to those feelings again. Or she had until Lila's blind-date nonsense.
Knox touched her face, his impossibly tender caress coaxing her back to the present. To the hotel room, to the possibilities of an impeccably made bed and a past she was far too willing, in that moment, to forget.
He drew closer.
She had all the time in the world to resist. She knew this because the pause from the moment she realized he was going to kiss her until the moment it happened felt like an eternity. But she wouldn't have resisted if she could have, and the second his lips touched hers, she was lost. He cupped her face, lowering his mouth until it melded with hers. Her lips parted out of pure breathlessness, and he met her open kiss by nipping her lip, waiting until she smiled to press his tongue deep inside.
She had had enough hovering. With both hands fisted in his shirt, she pulled until his weight finally settled deep against her, all the parts lining up as if they were made as one. His taste, so familiar it curled her insides. One kiss, bold but not frantic, stoking, with every sweep of his tongue, a fire she had no chance of surviving.
And damn him for making her think it was worth the risk.
Chapter Three
God, she was gorgeous.
Knox had memorized everything there was to know about Chloe, but the paintings in his mind gave no justice to how deeply he craved her presence. Her body seemed to demand his touch, but those deep blue eyes watched everything, shouting questions for which he had no answers.
She wanted to know why he'd left. And why he'd come back.
Even after all this time, she had a way of overtaking him. He wanted to consume her. He wanted her hair between his fingers, to feel her body tighten around his in release, to sweat and shout and breathe all she was to him. He wanted to turn the bright, clear hope in her eyes dark with passion, to steal the pleas from her lips and leave her incoherent with desire.
But for all he wanted, he couldn't give her what she needed.
He was no Prince Charming. Not by a long shot.
Chloe's sleek dark hair fanned over the bedding, the rich hues making her eyes look bluer than ever. Her dress, which flirted with her thighs when she stood, offered a glimpse of the intimacy he so often craved.
He hadn't intended on getting her into bed, but once he'd laid eyes on her, he wanted nothing more. He'd missed her. Missed how unbelievably right they'd been together, even as he'd run from it. He'd screwed up leaving her as he had, but she'd yet to impale him with one of those incredibly sexy mile-high heels. Whatever she allowed him now was worth the risk.
He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb dragging across her lip when he stroked her. Hot, thick tension splintered into flames when she opened her mouth enough to nip at his thumb. The plume of desire that shot through him made the room waver, but the gravity shift didn't stop him from leaning down to catch her lip between his teeth.
She gasped, her breath a wisp against his mouth, but she remained soft and willing under his weight.
Time seemed to stop and funnel all of its energy into this one moment. She was giving him a chance-one he hadn't earned. One rife with complications he didn't need. But now that he'd touched her, the chance was one he fiercely craved.
He leaned into another kiss, almost too late. She'd already clutched him, pulling him the last inch to meet him with her mouth parted. In the face of her aggression, he quickly realized he was in way over his head. She met the raised stakes gamely, licking and sucking his tongue, just like she had his finger. And other things, once upon a time. The memory left him throbbing.
Suddenly ravenous, he kissed her deeper, tasting strawberries and the tang of the alcohol from her drink. He ransacked her hair with his hands, dragging her closer as if he could somehow save her, save himself by gripping every erogenous inch of her breathtaking body.
"Knox … " Her fingers curled at his nape. Eyes shining with emotion, she drew him back in, her mouth speaking all the forgiveness he needed. For now.
He yearned to be everywhere at once. He longed to feel everything, to somehow memorize her anew with his touch. He hungered to sample her skin, to taste what he was doing to her. His own body begged for release, but what he wanted most was to pleasure her, to give back pieces of what he'd taken away.
He pushed up on one arm, hating the distance he put between them. Moving quickly, he averted her attempt to reach for his zipper and relegated her hands to a position just over her head, holding her wrists captive with a firm but gentle grip. He pressed his thigh between her legs, leaving her to squirm against him. He trailed kisses from her ear to her neck and collarbone. When he could no longer resist, he nudged her dress out of the way with his nose and sucked, deep and hard, on her breast, sweeping her hardened nipple with his tongue.
Her sharp breath ruffled his hair. Every whimper that left her luscious lips filled him with a deep satisfaction that could be outdone only by the feel of her body hot around his. That was something he wasn't sure he could take, but at the rate he was going, he might not get the chance. Even with her hands bound by his, every supple move she made seemed to caress and taunt him. Release threatened to crash with the destructive force of a storm surge. Just the thought of spilling himself deep inside her was enough to send him over the edge, but he forced himself away from the cliff.
This had to be about her.
He switched from one breast to the other, trading deep, hard pulls for a light tease of his tongue. The tip danced around the swollen bud, lapping gently. When she seemed to relax, her cries giving way to whimpers, he again turned the tide, biting and licking intensely.
Somehow, she broke the confines his grip and managed to rip his shirt free of its buttons. Shoving aside the torn garment, she ravished his bare skin, her fingernails raking his back with trails of pleasure he'd likely feel for the better part of a week. With her legs wrapped solidly around his hips, he had little means of escape from the exquisite contact of her body. But some inner piece of long-forgotten sainthood demanded he try. Chloe believed in romance, and he would ruin her fantasy if he opened his mouth to do more than close it again on some delectable piece of her.
But he would not-could not-put an end to this unholy feast. She trembled in his arms, and even in the warmth of his mouth, her nipples pierced his tongue with rigid arousal. His touch left a trail of gooseflesh over her thighs, her shivers contrasting wildly with the heat nestled against the front of his slacks. A string of profanity grazed his lips where they crept against her skin. More.