Waking Up to You Overexposed

chapter 8



ONCE THE WORDS had been said, the deal struck, Candace let all her questions, doubts and worries fade away. She might not have a long-term future with Oliver, and her life might be taking her in directions she could never have imagined, but for now, for tonight at least, she intended to enjoy herself with a man who made her whole body come alive.

“I have a bed upstairs in the loft,” Oliver murmured, sliding his hand down her calf.

“I like it right here,” she said, not willing to waste the time moving, not when she was finally going to get what she’d so desperately wanted.

His approving nod said he agreed. When he reached into his pocket and withdrew a condom, she knew he’d been anticipating this moment. Considering she’d picked up a box at the drug store and had a few tucked into her purse, she couldn’t pretend to take offense. She could only be grateful.

The man was gloriously handsome at any time of day, in any lighting. But when he tugged at his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor, she had to admit he did amazing things for firelight.

His body was perfectly shaped. The shoulders so broad, the chest beautifully sculpted. Months of hard, physical labor had obviously eradicated any sign of the L.A. lawyer and turned him into a muscular god, with incredibly defined abs, a lean waist and slim hips. A light swirl of hair encircled his nipples, trailing down into a thin line that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.

She licked her lips, wanting to see where that happy trail led. But after kicking off his shoes, he stopped, leaving his jeans in place.

She pouted. “Keep going. You definitely don’t have to stop on my account.”

“We’ll get there. But fair’s fair. You’re still fully dressed.”

“You can fix that for me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He tugged the boots off her feet, then gently palmed and massaged her arches. When his fingers slipped up under her pant legs, the brush of skin on skin made her internal temperature soar. An hour ago she’d been freezing. Now she knew a spark had just ignited and she was going up in flames.

Her skinny jeans were tight, and he couldn’t move his hand nearly high enough to satisfy her, so she stretched out and began to wriggle, reaching for her waistband.

“No. Let me,” he insisted.

Still kneeling on the floor, he touched his way up her limbs, slowly, deliberately. By the time those talented fingers reached the tops of her thighs, she was groaning. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like when he finally got her undressed. Fortunately, she knew she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Please, hurry,” she whispered when he traipsed his knuckles up the strip of fabric covering the zipper.

“You’re not the patient sort, are you?”

“If you go negative-two miles an hour I might just have to kill you,” she admitted, whimpering when he reached for the button and unfastened her jeans.

“We have all night,” he insisted, not sounding the least bit prodded to speed up. “I’ve been thinking about this—dreaming about it—since the minute we met. There’s no way in hell I’m rushing through it.”

“Ditto,” she admitted. Then, being honest, she added, “The thinking and the dreaming part, I mean. I’m all about rushing.”

Fast and hard. Deep and wild. She was dying to be filled by him, possessed, pounded into and taken.

“Sorry, beautiful. It’s not happening.”

He slid the zipper down slowly. She could practically hear the teeth separating, the faint hiss competing with the roar of the wind outside, the crackling of the fire and the pounding of her blood in her veins.

When he’d finished unzipping her, she lifted her hips, shimmying to help him as he pulled the pants down, peeling them off and baring her legs. To her disappointment, he didn’t slide his hands down the front of her groin, didn’t take the skimpy panties with the jeans. But she really hadn’t expected him to. Aside from what he’d just admitted, Oliver had already proven himself to be a very patient man. He was going to take his time, go slow, wring every ounce of pleasure out of each and every experience they shared.

“I will, too,” she told herself, whispering it aloud. “I can do this.”

“You will and can what?”

“I’ll go slow,” she promised. Then he traced the tip of his finger along the elastic edge of her panties and she whimpered. “Oh, God, yes, please, rip them off. Take me!”

His chuckle was pure evil. “That’s not going slow.” He slid his finger below the elastic, scraping it into the soft tuft of curls nesting at the top of her sex, then away again.

“I said slow, not in slow motion,” she groaned, her hips thrusting up as a nameless but very familiar need took over.

“We’re just getting started,” he insisted, moving his hands to the bottom hem of her blouse.

Okay, that detour she could allow. Her breasts were aching, her nipples pointy and so sensitized her own shirt was giving her a thrill. His mouth and hands would likely send her out of her mind.

“God, you’re beautiful. It killed me not to be able to look down at you last night when I touched your breasts,” he whispered as he pushed the blouse up, revealing her tummy and her midriff. “Stay still. Let me explore you.”

Being explored sounded good. Very good. She could be the wilds of undiscovered America and he could go all Lewis and Clark over every hill, valley and stream. She just hoped those hills were her breasts, the valley her pelvis and the stream the flood of creamy desire filling her sex.

He lowered his face so he could press a kiss on her hip bone. She felt the warmth of his breath on her skin, so close to her panty line, and instinctively rose to offer him more, praying he was eschewing the hills and valleys and going for the stream.

He moved in the other direction, though, kissing his way up the indentation of her pelvis, to her belly button.

She let out a groan that was half pleasure, half frustration. Ignoring her, he continued to push her blouse up, moving his mouth after it. Inch by inch, he explored her body, licking into each hollow between every rib, testing her, tasting her, breathing her in. It was wonderful, erotic...and frustrating. She was whimpering and twisting below him, wanting him to hurry up, but not ever wanting this to end.

He reached her bra, which opened with a front clasp. She held her breath, tensing as he touched the fastener with his thumb and finger, and deftly flicked it open, revealing her curves for his most delicious attention. He paused for a moment, staring, as if memorizing every line and dip. Her nipples were tight buds, pink and pointy, obviously begging for some attention.

But when he again began to trace his mouth over her, he focused on her sternum, kissing his way right up between her sensitive breasts, his smooth cheeks brushing against the sides but making no effort to suck away some of her tension. Nor did his teasing hand offer any relief, as he simply continued those light, delicate strokes over her belly, her pelvis and her upper thighs, never giving her what she really needed.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, every inch of her burning. Her senses were so deliciously heightened the pleasure was almost pain. She’d never felt anything like it, never been so totally keyed up and ready.

Shudders coursed through her body, her muscles tensing, every inch of her aware and anxious. But he didn’t give her any relief. He was entirely focused on what he was doing. He seemed to love the curve of her collarbone, which he sampled and scraped his teeth across. He found something delightfully kissable in the hollow of her throat. Here he licked. There he pressed his face and breathed her in. Here and there, there and here.

It was wonderful. Erotic. The anticipation was beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

But she was dying. Just dying. Because every tender caress he placed on one part of her body only sent more currents of hot, electric desire to her core. Her * was so hard it ached, her sex was throbbing, all her nerve endings seemed to have bunched between her thighs.

Maybe because she’d only ever been with guys her own age, and those in the movie business, who were always on a schedule, she’d never had a lover take so much time, be so deliberate in every caress. Oliver seemed to savor every part of her he uncovered. He appeared determined to pay full, glorious attention to every inch of her body, leaving the choicest bits for last.

Her tummy and throat and, oh, the nape of her neck, adored him for it.

Her choicest bits were screaming for his attention.

“Shh,” he ordered.

“I didn’t say anything,” she groaned.

“Your thoughts are very loud, Candace.” He lifted his head to look at her, a smile of pure wickedness on his face. “I know what you want.”

“Well, mind reader, if I’ve been so obvious, why...”

“Oh, you’ve been very obvious,” he insisted with a low, sultry laugh. “And I’m looking forward to meeting your every demand.” He bent to slide his lips over her jaw, moving up until he reached her ear and traced the lobe with the tip of his tongue. “But I’d like to at least kiss you before I slide my tongue into your p-ssy and lick you until you don’t remember what planet you’re on.”

Bam. Explosion.

“Oh, God!”

She climaxed, just like that, from those words, from the weight of his hand on her thigh and the slide of his mouth on her cheek. Her whole body quaked, hot bolts of pleasure rocketing through her. This wasn’t a slow, pulsing wave; it was a tsunami, hitting her hard in every direction. As he’d insisted he wanted to, Oliver moved his mouth over hers, catching her gasps of pleasure with his lips, taking them in and swallowing them down.

When she finally regained a brain cell, she realized Oliver had somehow managed to tug her tiny panties off her hips and push them out of the way. They were tangled around her legs, and she kicked and bucked to get free of them. He helped, drawing them all the way off her.

His wickedly erotic words still echoed in her ears, and she held her breath, wondering if he would now go back to some of those choice bits for more attention. When he began to kiss his way down her body, she suspected that’s exactly what he intended.

“Oh, yes,” she groaned.

He ignored her, his mouth moving down between her breasts. But this time, thankfully, he detoured and pressed hot, openmouthed kisses on her breast. She was whimpering by the time that wonderful mouth moved to cover her nipple and cried out when he sucked it. He caught her other one in his fingers, teasing and tweaking, plumping her breast in his hand while continuing to suckle her into incoherence.

Not until he’d paid equal attention to her other rock-hard nipple did he continue his downward journey over her body. He licked a line straight down, tasting her inch by inch. He nibbled her belly, nipped at her hip bone, his lips grazing the hollow above her groin. His face brushed against the curls concealing her sex and she couldn’t stop her hips from thrusting up in welcome.

He turned her to face him, then tugged one leg over his shoulder, opening her to his hungry gaze.

“Oliver,” she whimpered as embarrassment warred with utter lust. The look on his face was so covetous, so admiring, she decided to go with the lust.

“You are absolutely mouthwatering.” He traced his fingertip over her *, then down, separating the lips of her sex, opening her for his most intimate perusal. “So pink and shiny. I love how wet you are.”

She gulped. No lover had ever examined her so frankly, or spoken so bluntly. That thick note of hunger in his voice said he meant every word he said. This man knew how to use language, all right—he seduced her with every word he said. She’d bet he was wicked in the courtroom. And more wicked in the bedroom.

“This is so pretty,” he mused as he thumbed her *, rolling it around. He slipped a finger into her channel, drawing a low gasp from her. “And so is this. I can’t decide which I want to taste more.”

He was apparently the decisive sort. Because not ten seconds had passed before he moved his head between her thighs and went down.

When he buried his face in her sex and began to devour her, she saw stars. She clutched him, twining her fingers in his hair as he lifted her other leg and draped it over his shoulder. Her limbs were practically wrapped around his neck, but he didn’t seem interested in going anywhere else, so she left them there and focused on the incredible sensation of his mouth against her plump, swollen lips.

He devoured her, licking into her, making love to her with his tongue. She was gasping as he moved up to her * and gently sucked and stroked. Back and forth he went until she was arching, twisting, helpless against her body’s intense reaction.

This time, when she came in a heated rush, he didn’t stop what he was doing. He went right on pleasuring her, focusing on her * while he slid his fingers deep into her and worked some magic on a spot high inside. Tears formed in her eyes, and she was whimpering as another orgasm washed over her.

Now he finally seemed satisfied. He gently lowered her legs and kissed his way back up her body. Still dazed, she only regained her senses when she realized he was pulling away to stand up and unfasten his jeans.

This was worth her full, utmost attention.

She caught her lip between her teeth and watched him, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning who was finally going to get to open her biggest present.

“Wow,” she whispered when he peeled away his boxer briefs.

Because big didn’t quite describe him. His cock could be described with three of her favorite adjectives: long, thick and rock-hard. It jutted out, proud and male and hot. That river between her legs threatened to turn into an ocean just at the sight of him.

“I’ve been walking around like this since the night you slammed me with the frying pan.”

“Feel free to get even by slamming me with that,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly, but he soon stopped laughing. Because Candace wasn’t satisfied with just looking. She had to touch him, feel all that silk-encased steel.

She sat up straight. Scooting to the very edge of the couch, she parted her thighs to make room for his legs and leaned close to his naked body. Close enough to cast warm breaths of air over him, her lips hovering an inch from all that luscious maleness. But she didn’t go further, not quite yet. She wanted him as out of his mind with desire as she’d been.

Groaning, he twined his hands in her hair. Candace knew she was tormenting him, but knowing from very recent experience that anticipation was wonderful, she didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, she reached up and traced her fingers over his cock, from the top down the long back, to the sacs beneath. She cupped them gently, hearing his gasp and feeling his hands tighten in her hair. The position was incredibly intimate. He was as physically vulnerable as a man could make himself, and she was conscious of the trust that must require. Obviously, given how men loved to be blown, the benefits had to outweigh the risk. And this time, she was finding herself truly looking forward to something she’d usually viewed as an item to check off a list during foreplay.

Not with him. Him she wanted to taste. Oliver she wanted to please.

She continued to breathe deeply, evenly, loving the musky scent of man that filled her nostrils. Wrapping her hand around as much of him as she could hold, she stroked him, up and down, squeezing lightly, knowing by the way his pulse pounded in his groin that his heart was racing.

Needing to smooth the glide, she lifted her hand and traced her fingers across the top of his cock, moistening them with the arousal seeping from the tip. Curious, she drew a finger to her mouth and licked the moisture from it.

“Jesus!”

She heard pure desperation in his voice. Casting a look up through her bangs and seeing Oliver’s hungry expression, she knew she’d pushed him to his limits, and finally licked her lips and moved in for a deeper taste. He was definitely too big for her to take him all the way, but she did her best, taking the bulbous tip into her mouth and sucking gently.

“Oh, God, yeah,” he groaned, pumping the tiniest bit, as if a slave to his body’s demands.

She didn’t mind. He tasted delicious—warm, a little salty, ever-so-smooth. The act was incredibly intimate, and she loved hearing his groans of pleasure as she sucked him as far as she could, laving him so he could glide more easily.

He didn’t allow it to go on too long, not nearly as long as he’d pleasured her. Within a few minutes, he’d gently pushed her away.

“I want in.”

The blunt demand made her shiver with excitement. He reached for her, drawing her to her feet, and she wasn’t quite sure where they were going. When he lifted one of her legs so she could rest her foot on the arm of the couch, she got the picture.

He paused to tear open the condom packet and slide it on—it was a wonder the thing fit. When he was sheathed, he drew her into his arms, covering her mouth and kissing her deeply. His erection was a powerful ridge between their bodies, and she arched toward it, needing him desperately.

“Please, Oliver,” she insisted.

He gave her what she wanted, tilting her toward him and nudging into her curls. She was slick with want, her body opening in welcome. He eased into her, bringing ecstasy with him. Candace began to breathe in shallow little gasps as he filled her, inch by delicious inch. He was so thick, hard and hot that she felt every bit of him as he possessed her.

As if he realized that her whole body was melting, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing herself to sink fully onto him. As he impaled her, she threw her head back and let out a low, guttural cry of pleasure.

He began to thrust slowly, sinking deep, then drawing away. The man’s strength surprised her. He seemed completely comfortable bearing her weight as they gave and took. She answered every stroke, clenching him deep inside, knowing by his shudders that he felt and enjoyed every squeeze.

Soon, the frenzy built. He drove faster; she cried louder. She clung to his shoulders, and he backed her against the wall. The leverage made things deeper, hotter, and he drove into her again and again, losing himself to the passion.

She was lost to it, too. Lost to everything but this moment, this man, this act, and giving all she had to bring them both to the pinnacle of delight. When she reached that peak, climaxing yet again, she held on tight and let him drive deep to attain his own.

* * *

WAKING UP THE next morning and seeing his bedside clock flashing, Oliver realized the power had come back on at some point during the night. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered if it had remained off. He and Candace had created plenty of heat on their own, both down in front of the fireplace, and again later in this bed.

This small bed.

He had never been more aware of its size until now, when he felt her curled up against him, one slim leg entwined with his, her arm draped across his waist, her head on his shoulder.

He liked small beds, he decided.

He liked them a lot.

And he especially liked waking up to find her in bed with him, twined around him like she needed to touch as much of him as she could while she slept.

The light sifting in through the window said the storm had passed and the day appeared sunny and bright. There were a million things he could work on, but he had the feeling he was going to want to skip them in favor of making love to this beautiful woman again.

He had her for one week and one week only. He had no idea why those had been her terms, or what the secret was that she hadn’t wanted to share. Last night, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t given a damn. Now though, he couldn’t deny he was curious. But not curious enough to push her and risk losing out on what time he had left with her.

It was going to be a week he would never forget. And one she would never forget. He’d make absolutely certain of that.

“Mmm...good morning,” she murmured.

He glanced down to see her looking up at him, yawning and blinking against the bright sunlight.

“Hi.”

She curled her arm tighter, tucking her leg a little more intimately, and cuddled close. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a man who’d run a marathon,” he admitted. “Something zapped all my strength last night.”

“I think that was me.” She might have been a cat for the satisfied purr in her tone.

“I told you the night we met that you should come with a warning label.”

“What would it say?”

“Caution: combustible female. Approach only when wearing protective gear.”

She giggled against his chest and traced a lazy hand down his stomach. “You wore protective gear last night.”

True, though he wished he hadn’t had to. The very idea of being buried inside her, skin to skin, was incredibly appealing. Unfortunately, he might never get that chance. Their relationship was very new, and short-term, and that kind of trust and intimacy usually didn’t happen right away.

“What are you thinking?”

He had to be honest, so he told her the truth.

She quivered delicately and he saw a warm flush suffuse her cheeks. “Mind reader.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m all for being responsible, but the truth is, I’m on the pill and I thought about throwing those condoms into the fireplace last night.”

“It was probably best for us to talk about it first. I’d never put you at risk—you know that, right? I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“After last night, didn’t I prove I trust you?”

Oh, she definitely had, lowering her guard and surrendering herself to him in every way a woman could. Of course, he’d done the same. It was the most intimate he had ever been with anyone, which made the idea of him only having her for another week all the more untenable.

No strings. No emotions. That was the deal. And really, it was for the best.

Somehow, though, it was getting harder to remember that.

“And for what it’s worth, I haven’t been around the block a whole lot myself. In fact, before last night, it had been over a year since I was with anyone.”

“Have men in Los Angeles gone blind, deaf and lost their sense of smell, taste and touch since I was away?”

She giggled, the sound cute and unusual for her. “Well, I don’t usually go around asking guys to sniff me, and when I tell them to bite me, it’s not a genuine invitation.”

He couldn’t resist sliding down and nibbling her neck.

“So you’re saying?” he asked as he moved lower to kiss her chest, delighting in those perky, pouty nipples that cried out for attention.

She groaned and wrapped her legs around him. “I’m saying I want you inside me. Right now. Unless that’s a problem for you.”

It wasn’t.

He immediately moved between her parted thighs and tested her readiness with his fully engorged cock. She was wet and warm, soft and yielding. So ready.

“Absolutely not a problem,” he muttered as he buried himself to the hilt.

The sensation was blissful, all sweet heat and moisture, and he closed his eyes, giving in to the pleasure. Then they began to rock together, bathed in the morning light, connected in every way possible.

And not for the first time, he began to wonder how on earth he was ever going to let her go.