Wreck the Halls

“I’m the one saying please.” He hooked an arm around the small of Melody’s back, drawing her high onto her tiptoes. The position curved her spine, the hard tips of her breasts lifting closer, closer to his mouth. Just before he could take her nipple into his mouth, he let out a shuddering breath. “Don’t let me come, Mel.”

“Okay,” she managed, a little confused. Maybe . . . because they hadn’t talked about birth control yet? But her thoughts scattered and she couldn’t focus on anything except for the hot, panting breaths against her nipple. The incredible tide of pleasure that rose when his tongue lightly grazed her right nipple, then again, more firmly this time, long savoring licks until his lips closed around the bud and sucked, a groan issuing from his throat.

An acute gathering started beneath her belly button. So fast. Too fast?

Her thighs jerked together to stem the tide of pleasure, but his hips blocked them from closing and she whimpered, worried, excited, disbelieving. Was she going to have an orgasm from having her nipples sucked? No, no. No, surely not.

He watched her with glittering eyes while trailing his tongue from one puckered peak to the other, his tongue batting the sensitive bud, then taking it into his mouth with a hard punch of his hips, a surge of need seeming to travel through his frame. Her back flattened to the wall once more and her toes hovered above the ground, the hard surface anchoring her while his left hand twisted in the side of her thong. She could sense a struggle taking place in him, as if he wanted to tear off the undergarment. The suction of his mouth ceased briefly, his stiffness so insistent now that she couldn’t help moving against it. Riding up and back on the tented seam of his sweatpants, moaning when he moaned, that gathering in her belly pulling tighter.

Oh God.

Oh no. Not yet.

“Is that how you want to get off? Grinding through our clothes?” He angled his hips for her, looking down, biting his lip and grunting over what he saw. The up and back drag of her sex, the probable wetness of the silky material. The way she couldn’t seem to help it, her hips and thighs flexing with the effort to writhe on top of his thickness. Faster, faster. “Or, Christ . . . do you want me to get a condom?”

How did he make that word sound so sensual? “D-do you always use them?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled roughly, forehead rolling side to side on hers, lower body moving, moving. “Although God knows I wouldn’t want to with you.”

“Me either. I’m okay to go without if you are, but . . . maybe not yet . . .”

“Yeah, Mel. More than okay. But we do what you want, when you’re ready. So don’t stop what you’re doing, baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. Don’t stop. We can keep it hard like this as long as you want.”

She cried out, palmed her breasts. She’d never done that before. Her breasts had never been this connected to the core of her, but they were now. The fiery tingle in her nipples was turning as unbearable as the one between her legs and all she could do was pinch them to lessen the pain, the strain, but that only made matters worse. More urgent.

She was so close. And the power of letting go with another person was almost shockingly intense, but letting go with Beat, specifically? A singular sort of happiness rose within her like a giant bubble, preparing to burst.

And then he tugged the elastic of her panties away from her mound, seeing her bare sex for the first time and gritting his teeth, chest shuddering. “Goddamn, Peach. Are you on the pill, just in case? Pulling out of that pussy is going to be torture.”

“Yes,” Melody gasped—and promptly lost her head.

The fact that Beat looked up the second she peaked only made the climax sharper, more concentrated. She whimpered, the sound breaking into a long, wailing moan while surge after surge of unimaginable pleasure ripped through her body, rattling her spine against the wall, the utter euphoria making her teeth clench painfully. The perfection of the orgasm stole her breath, and she couldn’t control her actions. Not for long, shuddering moments, as her breath sawed in and out. And not only hers.

Beat was still looking her in the eye, his expression one of . . . surprise? Dread? Awe?

She couldn’t think clearly enough to tell. Only knew she wanted him to leave the planet, too. She wanted—needed—him with her on the journey.

“I want you to come, too,” she whispered, panting. “Please.”

Conflict and regret seemed to weigh him down. With a whispered apology, suddenly Beat was lowering her to the ground with his own shaking hands, backing away from her with a perspiring, heaving chest. “I’m sorry, Mel. Fuck.”

Her orgasm-muddled mind struggled to play catch-up, but his words carried back to her from only moments before. Don’t let me come.

When he’d made that request, she’d been too overwhelmed by him to examine it.

Now, with him moving farther and farther away, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d been deprived of something. Rejected. Her stomach dropped to her knees, hands moving quickly to cover herself back up with the shirt. A jagged hiccup rose in her throat and she quickly swallowed it, lunging for the guest room door, loss and a lack of closure making her feel light. Too light. Untethered.

As soon as she closed the door, she heard his footsteps carrying him to the spot outside of the guest room. “Mel. Let me in.”

“No.” She worked to modulate her voice. “It’s okay.”

Something full, like his forehead, bumped the door.

“Everything is fine. I’m just ready for bed.”

“Everything isn’t fine, Mel.”

“It is. I promise.”

A few seconds ticked by. “I’m sorry I couldn’t . . . that I don’t know how to share that with you. If I could be with anyone when it happens, it would be you.”

Melody’s throat was too tight to respond. Feeling painfully exposed, she climbed into bed and wrapped herself in the covers, burying her face in the pillow. What had just happened? Had her orgasm turned him off? Had she been too eager? Had she come across as desperate? That last one made her cringe into the pillow.

A few seconds later, Beat’s heavy footsteps carried him back to his bedroom, the door shutting with a note of frustration, leaving them separated by more than one kind of wall.





Chapter Fifteen





December 16



Beat paced in front of his apartment door. 5:50 a.m. and Melody still hadn’t come out of the guest room. He could hear her moving around in there. What was her plan? Walk out at six on the dot so they would be on camera and not have to talk about what happened last night?

He’d approached the door once already with the intention of knocking, so they could have a face-to-face discussion without the glowing red light blinking two feet away and Danielle’s pen scratching on her clipboard. But what the hell could he say to make the situation better? He needed to figure it out, because they had eight more days in close quarters—and he really should be less grateful and turned on thinking about that. Hours spent together in the back of a dark SUV. And later tonight, more chances to be alone.