Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

“I think Miss Mathis has fantasized about me, too.” He pinched her nipples, gently at first but increasing the pressure.

As she cried out, needy, so danged needy, he fit his lips over one and sucked through the shirt. Pleasure...so much pleasure. She was almost blind with it. It clouded her mind, razed her nerve endings. Clawing at him, writhing against him, she gasped incoherent words.

He pulled back the slightest bit—too far!—and lifted his head. He frowned down at her. “Thea?”

“Please,” she begged, the scene forgotten by both of them, it seemed. “Please, don’t you dare stop!”

His gaze slid over her, heated. “Just from a kiss? Sweetheart, you’ve just made me the luckiest man on the planet.” He reclaimed her lips in a frenzied, possessive clash, everything she’d felt before suddenly magnified.

He played with her breasts, pinched her nipples and rub, rub, rubbed his erection between her legs. It was a sensual assault, every inch of her consumed by every inch of him...by pleasure. Her panties were soaked.

At any other time, such extreme arousal might have embarrassed her. Today? She would gladly strip and present him with the damp material as a gift. Just as long as he kept doing what he was doing!

“So close,” she gasped out. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop! You do, and I’ll flunk you. I swear I will.”

The bastard stopped, not easing off but stilling abruptly. She cursed him, beat at his shoulders.

He laughed, the sound strained, his features drawn tight with tension. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

His stride long and strong, he carried her across the room. When he lowered her onto the coat she’d dropped earlier, her legs remained wrapped around him.

As he rose to his knees, his dark hair was rumpled around his face. His lips were kiss swollen and red, his teeth gritted. The passion she felt for him? He felt for her, she realized. He’d said the words, of course, but she’d never quite believed him until now, when there was no mistaking the truth.

She wasn’t just a challenge to him; she was an object of great desire. Her. The overweight college dropout. He liked her.

“Take off your shirt,” he commanded.

She ran her bottom lip through her teeth—I can still taste him—and shook her head. “No. My clothes stay on.” He’d rejected her nakedness once. She wouldn’t give him another opportunity. What if his passion for her died?

“Thea—Miss Mathis.”

“Not unless you turn out the lights.” The thought of having his naked chest pressed against hers was a temptation unlike any other.

“To turn out the lights, I’d have to let you go,” he said, and ripped his shirt over his head. The dog tags and locket she’d seen before still hung around his neck and clanked between his muscled pecs.

Am I drooling? “Yes, but only for a moment.”

“A moment is too long.” He traced his fingers over the waist of her jeans. His knuckles brushed her navel, and she groaned. “You are so damn beautiful.”

Was she? The question came automatically, and for the first time, it annoyed her. She was!

Braced on one hand, he pulled the tie from her hair and spread her dark curls around her face. Then he traced a fingertip from her brow to her shoulder, following a trail of freckles.

The task seemed to mesmerize him. It unraveled her.

“Daniel.”

“Yes, Thea. Yes.” He kissed her again. Deep and soul-wrenching.

She clung to him. As he arched his hips again and again, fanning the flames of her desire, she arched her own, caught up in the moment, the sensations.

“That’s the way, sweetheart. Keep doing that.” As he spoke, he rolled over, putting her on top of him.

They continued to grind together. He flattened his hands on her lower back, careful to remain above the waist of her jeans, and guided her into a counterclockwise rhythm. The sound of their shallow but heavy inhalations filled the room.

A single rational thought intruded: this is a lot more than a kiss.

Yes, and she would care. Tomorrow. “More,” she commanded now. One climax. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Then they could return to being friends. Not that he’d accepted her offer of friendship.

I don’t want to be your friend, Thea. I want to be your lover.

He quickened his pace, every thrust wonderfully aggressive and frantic. Still that agonizing pressure continued to build inside her...until her body felt stretched to the max. Any second now...any moment...

“Daniel!” Her body convulsed against his. She bit the cord running from his neck to his shoulder to stop a scream from escaping. Too much! The pleasure was too much. A little quake erupted in each of her cells—millions of little ones produced a massive one. Her inner walls constricted, her bones seeming to melt.

As her teeth sank deeper, Daniel roared. He stiffened beneath her and thrust once, twice more before collapsing on the floor.

The timer on his watch beeped.

She tried to catch her breath...tried to fight the reality of what she’d just done. And with whom she’d done it.

Perhaps Daniel sensed her growing wish to leap to her feet and run away, because he rolled her over, placing her beneath him, effectively trapping her.

His features were languid and content, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.

She stared at him, fascinated. I did this to him. Me. And in turn, he had stoked a need over a decade old, filling her with delight. No one, ever, had looked at her like that, not even Jazz.

“You are the first woman to make me come in my pants,” he told her with a laugh, and he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. “Didn’t even happen when I was a horny teenager.”

“Maybe that’s my superpower,” she said, unsure where the words were coming from. Why fight it? “Everyone has a superpower, you know.”

“So...you’re Spontaneous Combustion Girl?”

She giggled like the schoolgirl she’d never really been and covered her mouth. Could I be any less cool? “Actually, I’m the belt buckle riding champion of the world.”

His sparkling eyes brightened, reminding her of a starless black sky framed by molten gold. “I guess that makes me Cowboy Creampants.”

Another giggle escaped.

Wow! She couldn’t believe she was sprawled on the floor with Daniel Porter. After they’d both climaxed. In their freaking pants. They were acting so at ease with each other. It was weird and nice and completely disconcerting.

“So when should we get married?” she asked, deciding to tease him.

The color vanished from his face, leaving him ashen. “I...uh... Married?”

“You do want to marry me, right? I mean, you don’t kiss a woman like that unless you’ve got forever-after plans.” Maintaining a serious expression proved difficult. Maybe she could handle the aftereffects of a secret affair, after all. Right now, she wasn’t upset by his dismay but highly amused.

Just wait until the afterglow wears off.

“I’m thinking next winter, around Christmastime,” she added. “But you better not think you can get away with combining my anniversary present with my Christmas present. You do, and there will be blood.”