“Yes!” she shouted, but he kept driving. “Drive to Mexico. I’ll call Daniel from the beach.” After she’d had a few mai tais.
“No way.” Jude shook his head. “You’re going to wear our boy out so he’ll finally get some sleep.”
“He doesn’t sleep?”
Neither male responded, but she didn’t need their confirmation. She could guess the answer—no—and the reason. PTSD. It must be worse than she’d imagined.
How long had he gone without a solid eight-hour rest? How much stress did he deal with on a daily basis?
“Pedal to the metal,” she said, wanting to reach him faster.
Finally they arrived at the inn. Brock parked, and both he and Jude escorted her inside. She looked for Holly, who’d wanted to work this weekend, but found no trace of her sister. Had she already abandoned ship?
Brock patted her bottom. “Go get ’em, tiger. Whatever you do, he’ll love it.”
Was that his version of a pep talk? “Someone has to stay at reception to—”
“We’ll do it,” Jude said. “Go on.”
She hugged him, then Brock, and neither returned the gesture, but she wasn’t upset. They probably weren’t used to shows of affection. “Thank you.”
She checked the registry for Daniel’s room. Her legs trembled as she made her way up the steps to her own room, where she painted her nails glittery white. Then she did it. She marched to his room and raised her hand to knock on the door—only to pause.
Was she really going to do this? There would be no going back.
Well, good! She didn’t want to go back. She knocked. Hard.
The door swung open a second later, and there he was. Tall and muscled and every fantasy she’d ever had come true. His eyes were hooded, his pupils enlarged. Locks of his hair stuck out in spikes. He looked fierce. The air between them thickened, as if a storm brewed. Lightning seemed to arch through her veins, burning away her nervousness.
She held up her hands and waved her fingers, displaying her polish. “I told John—”
He yanked her against the hard line of his body, his lips slamming into hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. As she gasped with shock and bliss, he moved them both backward and pushed the door shut. Then he pushed her against it, crowding her personal space. Heck, she had no personal space. They were practically fused.
He cupped her breasts and kneaded the plump flesh as his thumbs stroked the stiff peaks.
Her desire for him intensified. His mouth—oh, his mouth. His hands. His body. I want it all. Everything he’s willing to give.
“Off.” She jerked his shirt over his head. The collar snagged on the chains hidden beneath. When the material gave, the dog tags and locket fell into place. His bare chest was a bounty. Broad across the shoulders, pecs and abs rock hard; he had the sexiest navel she’d ever seen. A trail of dark hair led to the waist of his jeans, where his fly was already unbuttoned.
Mine. All mine. She drew her nails lightly down his stomach, and he raised his head to peer into her eyes.
“You are a delicious dinner buffet, Porter.”
He gave a husky chuckle. “Do you want to eat me up?”
“More than anything.”
“I’d say ladies first, but I’m not feeling gentlemanly.” He reclaimed possession of her mouth, his tongue owning her. His taste was incredible, everything she remembered but heightened, just like her senses. He was the incarnation of lust and pleasure...
He was addicting...
He tugged at the hem of her dress, and for a moment, she felt frozen solid, her heart nothing but a block of ice in her chest. The lights were on, and that just wouldn’t do. She reached blindly for the switch. Contact.
As darkness flooded the room, Daniel froze.
He most definitely wanted the lights back on, and she was already desperate to see his chest again. To see the rest of him. But old fears plagued her. What if he rejected her again? What if he compared her to other women? If he found her lacking...
“I want to see you,” he said, confirming her fear. His thumb brushed the pulse at the base of her neck. “I’ve dreamed of you.”
“I—” yes, say yes “—I’m not ready.”
He hesitated before gently kissing her lips. “I know you’re scared of my reaction. I screwed things up the first night you showed up at my door, and I’ll take this as my penance like a good boy. But, Thea. Sweetheart. Desire for you isn’t the problem. I wanted you at ‘Do you need more towels?’ Thought you were the most exquisite woman on earth. Still think it. Your body was made for mine. More than that, I like you. You make me laugh, something no one else can do. One day you’re going to trust me enough to leave the lights on, and I’m going to pay proper homage to these curves.”
With a cry of abandon, she wrapped herself around him. Devoured his lips and tongue.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed and, despite the dark, he had no trouble removing her clothes, ripping them away piece by piece until she was naked. Cool air enveloped her, and she shivered.
She almost cursed as he stripped himself. She would have enjoyed opening her present, because that was what he was. A present to herself. But the only word to escape her was “Yes!” as he lowered himself on top of her.
Fevered skin met fevered skin, burning her chill away. He kissed a path to her breasts to suck on her nipples.
“My sweet babies. I’ve been missing you. Your mean momma kept you hidden. But don’t worry, darlings. I’m going to give her a good tongue-lashing for it.”
She wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. Sex had never been fun, had never been playful or deliciously dirty—and never all at the same time. Sex had been a pleasure with some fondling, some thrusting and a pleasant climax before reaching her favorite part: the cuddling. But Daniel was giving her everything she’d never known she needed, and there was nothing pleasant about it. This pleasure was sharp, and inexorable, and it shot straight to her core.
He played with her nipples until she was writhing, babbling and begging for more. And when he kissed his way down her stomach, her pleasure only sharpened. She couldn’t bring herself to worry about her excess softness, didn’t care. Just as long as he kept going!
Upon reaching the scars on her abdomen, he stilled. He couldn’t see the raised tissues that the fall down the steps—and the subsequent surgery—had caused, but he could certainly feel them. The blood in her veins began to cool...until he licked a scar from one end to the other. She melted against the mattress.
He moved on without asking any questions, kissing around her inner thighs, teasing her with what was to come. Soon she was writhing once again, her head thrashing atop the pillows.
“Daniel.”
“I swear I nearly come every time you say my name. It’s those lips of yours...that breathy tone. It tells me you’ll do anything I want...as long as I do you.”
“Yes. Pleeease.”
Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)
Gena Showalter's books
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