He was back between her legs before she could answer. “Hungry?” It was a sensually loaded statement, his hands pushing up the sunny yellow of her dress to bare her thighs.
Teeth sinking into her lip and lower body clenching, ísa said, “Yes.” It came out husky, her eyes locked on his mouth.
But he didn’t kiss her this time, his attention on other matters.
Dipping his head, he hooked his fingers on either side of her panties and slid them down her thighs and off. ísa’s toes curled at the scandalousness of being panty-less on her desk with a deliciously sexy man between her thighs.
When he tucked the panties into his pocket with a wicked smile and said, “I’m keeping these hostage,” she melted.
Feeling more than a little wicked herself, she reached for his belt, undid it with quick hands. He oh-so-cooperatively took off his T-shirt for her. ísa leaned in to lick at his chest while she undid the top button on his shorts. He was salt and heat and Sailor, and he scrambled her brain cells.
His bigger, warmer hands colliding with hers as she stroked him through the fabric. A nip of her lower lip. “Foreplay?” He reached into the back pocket of his shorts.
“Let’s save that for a bed.” Tonight, ísa just wanted him inside her. “Did you—?” She gasped as he pushed her hands behind her and together.
Handcuffs snicked into place a second later. Something soft and lush caressed her wrists. Pink, she’d glimpsed pink. “I ordered a strong pair for you.”
“Bring it on, spitfire.” His smile slow, he pulled out the thick length of his erection.
It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Sailor.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip. “Tell me you have protection.”
He was already pulling a thin foil packet from his wallet. “I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Skin shimmering with heat, ísa watched him get naked.
Dear Lord. The man was like a sculpture of raw masculinity. All ridges and valleys and skin kissed by the sun. The odd scar here and there. Those phenomenally gorgeous tattoos that spoke of his history and family.
Honed muscles that flexed with every movement.
And he was all hers. “I want to spend an entire day in bed with you.” It came out throaty, like she was a sex kitten on steroids. “With my hands and my mouth all over your ridiculously beautiful body.”
“That could be arranged.” Shooting her a grin that said he was in favor of the idea, he sheathed himself with quick hands.
Then he was back between her thighs and—after an erotically rough stroke with his fingers to check her readiness—pulling her forward to oh-so-slowly sink the thick heat of himself inside her. She moaned, the inability to touch him, to do anything to control him, causing her muscles to flutter in warning of the primal pleasure to come.
Then he began to talk. “You are so perfect, ísa, so hot and tight around my cock.” A flush across his cheekbones, his eyes glittering. “I fucking love your body.” His hand palming her breast through her dress, squeezing. “So damn sexy.”
Utterly helpless, ísa watched him luxuriate in her body, his muscles bunching and unclenching as he claimed her in rolling thrusts that hit nerves inside her she hadn’t known existed. When he kissed her, she arched into the contact. “Sailor.”
“That’s it, spitfire.” His mouth on her throat, one of his hands gripping her wrists just above the handcuffs while the other closed over her thigh. “Talk to me.”
“You’re scrambling my bra— Oh.”
Rising at her shuddering moan, he gripped her jaw with one hand and took another ravenous kiss before drawing back and speeding up his thrusts without breaking eye contact. “You want me to grind deep, ísa?” His demonstration had her inner thighs quivering. “Or do you want it faster?”
The untamed eroticism of him took her to the edge. “Anything you want,” she said, her chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm. “Slow, deep, fast, I don’t care. Just keep going. I love how thick and hard you feel inside me.”
“You are going to kill me,” he said with a groan before pressing the pad of his thumb against the taut bud of her clitoris.
ísa’s body spasmed in an intense pulse that would’ve had her falling to her back if Sailor hadn’t hauled her against him.
“Next time,” he gasped in her ear as he pumped into her with relentless force, “we have to remember to move the cactus.”
ísa’s shoulders shook even as her body clamped ever tighter around him. She’d never thought she’d laugh during an orgasm, but she did and it was glorious. Especially when she lifted her head and saw that Sailor was grinning.
Limbs lazy in the aftermath of the orgasm, ísa decided to even the playing field. Leaning forward, she scraped her teeth down the flat nub of his nipple.
His groan of completion was harsh, his fingers digging into her thigh.
28
Lovefests, Face Slapping, and Strawberry Chocolates
THE REST OF THE WEEK passed by at the speed of light for Sailor as he dove into the Fast Organic project in earnest. He barely took a break and ísa didn’t have time to come by the site, but they met in the dark hours of night, loved each other into exhaustion. Yet no matter how fiercely he stroked her, claimed her, he knew she didn’t yet trust him. Not the way he needed her to trust him.
It was as if she were mist he was trying to capture.
Well, if she was, he thought with a scowl as he shoved a spade into the earth, he’d build a better mist trap. He was not going to give up on the best thing in his life.
Come Friday and he’d managed to pull enough hours through the week that the weekend was his—and he intended to spend that time coaxing his skittish redhead into his arms for more than a night at a time. Sailor wanted ísa to be his, the need a bone-deep one. Some things a man knew. And Sailor knew ísa was meant to be his.
He also knew he was fighting a lifetime of pain inflicted on her by the very people who were meant to love her. If Sailor could strangle her parents, he would. Since he couldn’t, he’d just have to love her so well that she’d risk her heart. Risk trusting a man who had demons that would drive him for years yet.
Sailor knew he wasn’t a dream man. He was scarred inside in ways that didn’t show, was haunted by a childhood that had been softened by what had come after, but nothing could erase the anguish of the five-year-old child he’d once been. Nothing could wipe away the primal determination threaded through his psyche.
He was no perfect Prince Charming.
But he was a man who would love ísa forever if she just gave him the chance.
Because she was it for him. For now and always.
After cleaning up that night, he drove to the Crafty Corners HQ, his intention to talk ísa into that long-delayed cookie-bar date. Her car was still in the lot. He’d parked his truck and was about to get out when he spotted her leaving by the front door. His entire body smiled.
Jumping out, he called her name as he jogged toward her.