Chapter Twenty-Two
When Kate got back home, she found a note from Darius on her door.
We have to talk.
Worst phrase in the English language. All it did was inspire dread. Instantly in a bad mood, she crumpled the note and tossed it away. The time she’d spent with Darius in LA had sparked a fire in her—and left her wanting so much more. Was he about to put a stop to it before they went any further?
What else had she expected? She was the cynical one, after all. She was Team Sex, the one who didn’t believe in relationships that went anywhere. She’d just lectured her grandmother about that very thing.
And yet…damn.
She reached the living room and glared at the Kama Sutra rug. “Don’t tease me, you.”
“Talking to the furniture again?” Darius’ deep voice resonated across her skin, along her nerve endings.
She spun around and as soon as she met his silvery eyes, all her worries drained away. That was not the face of a man who wanted to slow things down. It was the face of a man who wanted to take her right then and there, up against a wall, on a rug, wherever, whenever.
“Hi.” Already a little breathless. Great.
“You left the door open. You really shouldn’t do that.” He advanced toward her, a frown gathering on his forehead.
“So true. Any old riff-raff could just walk right in.” She stood her ground as he reached her. Her pulse was already racing.
“Did you get my note? I have to talk to you.” His expression said the opposite, that talking was the very last thing he wanted to do.
And there went her nipples. Already perking. Jeez. She had zero self-control around this man.
He stopped about six inches from her. She closed the gap so the front of her body brushed against his. A hot shudder of lust gripped her, so intense she clenched her fists to hold it back.
His eyes darkened to a deep charcoal. “You’re making it hard.”
“Hmm, you don’t say.”
She moved her hips from side to side in search of the bulge she could already imagine.
“That’s not what I mean.” He gave a soft groan. “And now you’re making it even harder. Still not what I mean.”
“And yet…” There it was, the swell of his erection against her lower belly. She traced its outline with eager fingers. So hard and large. Pure masculine heat.
He gripped her forearm and thrust her hand away. “Do me a favor. Clasp your hands behind your back so I can put two thoughts together.”
Ahhh, so she was getting to him.
“Okay,” she murmured, doing exactly as he’d requested. But maybe he hadn’t thought it through, because with her hands interlaced behind her, her breasts thrust forward. She still wore the t-shirt she’d been working in at the farm. Not only did it have a deep V-neck, but she’d gotten mud on it, then splashed water on herself to clean it off. Basically she was a muddy mess, but that t-shirt clung to her boobs like nobody’s business.
His expression shifted and his eyes dropped to her chest. Okay then. This was working.
“Fuck it. It can wait,” he growled.
He crowded close to her and cupped a hand around the back of her neck. He used it to hold her still while he ravaged her mouth with deep, turbulent kisses. All she could do was brace her legs apart, as if she were riding swells in Misty Bay.
His scruff brushed against the skin of her cheek, adding another layer of stimulation. And then there was his scent, that deep, manly smell of wood and wool and soap. It sent her to a place of wild fantasies—naked skin in firelight, light and shadow playing over rippling muscles, silver eyes consuming her body. The way his strength surrounded her made everything else turn into vapor and disappear.
Next thing she knew, he was pulling away and claiming one of her hands to tug her toward the bedroom.
“I’d fuck you right there on that rug, but I don’t know where that thing’s been,” he said roughly. God, she loved it when he got down and dirty like that.
“Bed works. I like beds.” She sounded like Jane communicating with Tarzan. And that’s how she felt, too. Primitive and carnal.
They practically ran into the bedroom. She hadn’t set up the old ironwork bedframe yet. It leaned against the wall, waiting for her to get around to it. In the meantime, she’d been sleeping on the box spring and mattress.
None of that seemed to bother Darius. Breathing fast, he stopped next to the bed and ripped his shirt off. Two layers of shirts disappeared in one swift motion. He stood before her in all his muscled glory. The sight brought back so many memories from their night in the hotel that she literally licked her lips.
“Hello again,” she murmured as she caressed the hard curves of his chest. A soft mat of hair darkened the area between his pectorals. She found his nipples poking between the curls, and felt them tighten as she brushed her fingers over them.
This time he didn’t wait for her to take off her own shirt. He did the job himself. Underneath, she wore a sports bra that had also somehow gotten mud on it. “Do you know that every time I see mud I think of the first time we met?” His rumbling laughter added to the sensation created by his big hands as he worked her bra off her body.
When it was gone, he filled his hands with her bare breasts. “You have a little bit here too.” He flicked a speck of mud from one nipple, causing a jolt just short of orgasmic.
“I should clean off…”
“I like you just the way you are. Nothing wrong with a little mud and dirt. You’re hot no matter what, babe.” He slid his hand over her ass, under her work trousers, under her panties. Jerked her against him. A gasp wrenched from her as their bodies joined. Her bare breasts against his naked chest…so good. So good.
He worked her against him with those strong hands of his—one on her ass, one still flicking her nipple—until she thought she might come from dry humping alone. It could happen so easily, just a little more pressure right there—but she didn’t want that. She wanted all of him this time. She wanted every inch of his penis inside her.
She pulled away, their damp skin creating a popping sound as they separated. Her hands went to the waistband of his jeans and she slid the top button out of its hole. Down came the zipper, revealing the wide elastic of a pair of gray briefs.
And a thick mound of swollen flesh underneath.
To the sound of his hoarse breaths, she freed his cock from his briefs and hefted it in her hand. Reacquainted herself with its specific length and weight and texture. The dimensions of Darius. He had lots of dimensions, inner and outer, but right now she was most preoccupied with this one. His raging erection.
She sank to the mattress and put her lips to his tip. The heat of the skin there surprised her. Darius burned hot, with that big frame of his and those muscles carved out of living rock.
She opened her mouth and slid her tongue across the knobby head. Found smoothness and hard ridges, and soft veins that throbbed beneath her tongue. She lost herself in his flavor and texture, the tremor of his muscles, the sound of his ragged breathing. His thighs clenched the longer she tasted him, and she knew he must be barely hanging onto his control. That awareness added an extra layer of spice to the excitement of his cock in her mouth.
“Stop,” he finally groaned. “For the love of God. Can’t take any more.”