J Ward - Crave

“Isaac…” The groan was strangled and then cut off altogether by a gasp as his palm swept between her legs and cupped her sex.

He rubbed her in tight circles as he flicked his tongue, and only the raging need to have him inside gave her the focus she needed to go for his nylon sweatpants. Shoving the waistband down, she kicked off her loafers, hooked a toe, and peeled them all the way off.

No boxers. No briefs. Nothing in the way.

Wrapping her palm around his thick shaft, she stroked him and he moved with her, counterthrusting to increase the friction. And the sound he made… holy heavens, the sound he made: that growl was all animal as he inhaled against her breast.

Grier sat up, his lips popping off her breast, and with a curse, she all but ripped her yoga pants and her panties off. As he gripped himself and stood his erection up, she restraddled him and sat down, lowering herself onto him, joining them together, moving his windbreaker up so she could get to more skin. The feel of him kicked her head back, but she watched his reaction, hungry to see what he looked like-and he didn’t disappoint. With a great hiss, his teeth clenched and he sucked in air through them, the cords in his neck straining, his pecs popping up into tight pads.

As she took over and set the pace, it was as if she were owning him in some primal way, marking him with the sex.

“God… you’re beautiful,” he panted as his hot eyes watched her from lowered lids, tracking the movement of her breasts as they peeked out from between the shirt and the crammed-down bra cups.

He didn’t stay down for long, though. He was fast and strong and sure as he sat up and kissed her hard, pushing in even deeper and holding her to him. At first she panicked that he was stopping again, but then he burrowed into her neck and spoke to her.

“You feel so good.” His Southern drawl was low and husky and it went straight into her sex, heating her even further. “You feel…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but slipped his big palms under her to lift her up and down, his massive biceps handling her weight as if she were nothing but a toy-

She came so hard she saw stars, a bright galaxy exploding where they were joined and sending a shower of sparkling light throughout her body. And just as he’d promised, he didn’t stop this time. He went rigid and jerked against her, his arms shooting around her waist and tightening until she couldn’t breathe-not that she cared about oxygen. As he twitched inside of her and shuddered against her, she sank her nails into his black windbreaker and held him.

And then it was all over.

As their breathing slowed, the stillness afterward was much the same as the departure of that great, sourceless wind: oddly traumatic.

Silence. God… the silence. But she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I’m sorry,” he bit out roughly. “I thought this would help you.”

“Oh, no… I-”

He shook his head, and with his tremendous strength lifted her off his body, separating them easily. In a quick move, he set her aside, yanked his waistband back up, and reached for a clean towel. After he gave the thing to her, he settled with his back against the cupboards and put his knees up, arms balanced on the tops of them, hands hanging loose.

It was then that she noticed the gun on the floor beside where they had been. And he must have seen it at the same moment she did because he grabbed the weapon and disappeared it into the windbreaker.

Squeezing her eyes shut briefly, she cleaned up quick and redressed. Then she settled in an identical pose next to him. Unlike Isaac, however, she didn’t stare straight ahead; she looked at his profile. He was so beautiful in that male way, his face all angles and bone-but the weariness in him bothered her.

He’d lived on the edge for too long.

“How old are you really?” she asked eventually.

“Twenty-six.”

She recoiled. So that was the truth? “You seem older.”

“I feel like it.”

“I’m thirty-two.” Still more silence. “Why won’t you look at me.”

“You’ve never had a one-night stand. Until now.” Like he’d cursed her in some way.

“Well, technically, it’s been two nights with you.” As his jaw clenched, she knew that wasn’t a help. “Isaac, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t I.” He cleared his throat.

“I wanted you.”

Now he looked at her. “And you had me. God… you had me.” For a brief second, his eyes flared with heat again, and then he refocused on the cabinet in front of him. “But that’s it. It’s over and done with.”

Okay… ouch. And for a guy who seemed bitched that he’d indoctrinated her into the one-night club, you’d think his conscience would feel better if they did it a few more times.

As her sex heated again, she thought… they’d just see about the “over and done with” part.

“Why did you come back?” she asked.

“I never left.” As she felt her brows flare, he shrugged. “I spent all day in hiding across the street from you-and before you think I’m a stalker, I was watching the people who were-and are-watching you.”

As she blanched, she was glad for the darkness in this valley of cabinets and cupboards. Much better for him to think she was holding it together. “The white strips were put there by you, weren’t they. Your muscle shirt.”

“It was supposed to be a signal to them that I’d taken off.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Why haven’t you married?” he asked abruptly.And then he laughed in a hard burst. “Sorry if that’s too personal.”

“No. It isn’t.” All things considered, nothing seemed out-of-bounds anymore. “I never fell in love. Never had time to, really. Between chasing after Daniel and my work… no time. Plus…” It seemed at once perfectly normal and completely foreign to speak so candidly. “To be honest, I don’t think I ever wanted anyone that close to me. There were things I didn’t want to share.”

And it wasn’t like she was hoarding her family’s name or position or wealth. It was the bad things that she kept to herself-her brother… and her mother, too, if she was honest. Just as she and her father were both lawyers and very focused, the other two in the family had suffered from similar demons. After all, just because alcohol was legal, didn’t mean it couldn’t destroy a life as much as heroin did.

Her mother had been an elegant drunk for all of Grier’s life and it was hard to know what had put her there: biological predisposition; a husband who disappeared regularly; or a son who at an early age started to walk the path she did.

The loss of her had been just as horrible as Daniel’s death.

“Who’s Daniel?”

“My brother.”

“Whose pj’s I borrowed.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “He died about two years ago.”

“God… I’m sorry.”

Grier glanced around, wondering if the man-er, ghost-in question would choose now to show up. “I’m sorry, too. I really thought I could save him… or help him save himself. It didn’t work out that way, though. He, ah, he had a drug problem.”

She hated the apologetic tone she always assumed when talking about what had killed Daniel-and yet it crept into her voice every time.

“I’m really sorry,” Isaac repeated.

“Thank you.” Abruptly, she shook her head as if it were a saltshaker that had caked up. Maybe this was why her brother refused to talk about the past-it was a terrible downer.

Switching gears, she said, “That man? Back at your apartment-he gave me something.” She leaned up and patted around for the Life Alert, finding it under the sweater she’d taken off after the first fight with her father. “He left it in my trunk.”