Carly Phillips - Brazen

"Oh, yeah? Then prove it."

"Fatal error," he growled, and reached for the spaghetti strap on her shoulder.

Beneath the sexual innuendo, the flirtation and the seduction lay deep emotion. Sam knew it. She'd bet Mac did, too. The thought didn't scare her as much as it should have considering how much still lay in their way.

The elastic straps held her arms prisoner against her side. Not that she couldn't move if she wanted to, but considering the hungry, possessive look in his eyes, why would she want to?

Charcoal eyes bore into hers. "Never dare a man on the edge."

She grinned. "Is that what you are?"

With one finger, he traced the scalloped lace covering her cleavage. "I don't know, sweetheart. You tell me."

She dared a look downward. His erection seemed to bulge and grow larger beneath her heated stare. "I'd have to say you're right." Her tongue darted out, moistening her dry lips.

He exhaled a low growl. "Do that again."

She licked her lips, and Mac ran his finger over the moisture she'd created. He tasted salty and male, and just touching his skin with her tongue caused a tight pulling sensation between her legs.

"And all this self-control is costing me a lot, wouldn't you say?" he asked.

"I… yes."

He placed his wet finger over the mesh covering her nipple. She moaned. He rubbed back and forth, increasing the friction until a rigid peak formed under his touch. As if there were a string connecting her breasts to the damp heat between her legs, she felt the tugging stretch and expand and she clenched her thighs together to ease the strain.

"Not that I mind, but at least one of us ought to take advantage, wouldn't you agree?"

At this point, she'd agree to anything he said or did. He seemed to sense how quickly he'd brought her to the edge and yanked the lace cup down, revealing her to his sight, exposing her for his mouth. His hand began a rhythmic kneading motion of her breast at the same time he clamped his lips over her rigid nipple. She caught a glimpse of his dark hair against her white skin and felt the coarse strands against her flesh.

This was right. She knew in that instant, she belonged to him. The knowledge freed her mind in a way she hadn't allowed all week. He nipped with his teeth and soothed with his tongue until she couldn't stand the unfulfilling pressure. She needed him inside her, completing her, but the pulsing, pounding wouldn't be denied.

Grabbing his wrist, she shoved his hand between her legs. He gave one upward thrust with the palm of his hand against her swollen heat. That's all it took and Sam climaxed, a huge wave washing over her, causing her to shake with unrestrained passion and need. Though he'd taken the edge off her desire, she still felt swollen and empty. Needy because she'd come without him inside her.

"You know that self-control I mentioned earlier?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

She forced her eyelids open. "Yes."

His slate eyes appeared black. "It's gone, Sammy Jo."

With what Sam thought were extremely nimble fingers under the circumstances, Mac freed the clasps on both her shoulders and the garters. He tore the garment off her with much more ease than she'd put it on. She would have been annoyed, if she didn't want so badly to be naked beneath him.

His briefs went flying. He put on protection faster than she'd thought possible, and finally she felt his weight on top of her. Flesh to flesh, he was warm, strong and solid, everything she'd ever wanted and never had the courage to dream of.

His arms bracketed her head. "Look at me."

Not a difficult request, Sam thought. She focused on his face, the dark, deep-set eyes, the intense stare, high cheekbones and firm lips she'd grown to love.

"And remember," he muttered. Without warning, his hands lifted her hips and he thrust deep, penetrating her with one hard push.

She gasped in surprise, then trembled when emotion took over. He hadn't filled her with himself, he'd become a part of her. She didn't know when it had happened, nor did she care. Lifting her hips, she accepted him completely, her gaze never leaving his as his body fused with hers, deeper than she'd thought possible.

So this was love. It was something beyond knowledge, something you experienced and felt in combination or not at all. She moistened her lips and moved her mouth over his, slowly, erotically, so she knew he tasted her.

His harsh groan filled her ears. When his mustache scraped her skin, she moaned, bucking against him.

"Sweetheart, you're killing me. I wish I could wait, but I…" He exhaled a groan. "I can't."

"Then don't," she murmured against his lips.

He moved inside her, once slowly and then with quick penetrating thrusts neither could control. Sam felt each one in her heart, as if by joining bodies, their hearts and souls had connected as well. She'd needed him so badly, and apparently he'd felt the same. He climaxed at once and she tumbled right after him, falling headlong into waves of sensation and pleasure.

They lay in silence. Only the sound of the rain hitting the pitched roof broke the comfortable stillness that hovered between them. "I didn't know it was going to rain," she murmured. She tucked her head against the curve of his arm and shoulder.

"It's been known to happen." Inanities seemed appropriate about now, Mac thought. After what they'd just shared, words would fall short. They lapsed back into a quiet understanding.

"What's your full name?" she asked softly.

Her words took him by surprise. He'd have thought she'd rather retreat than move forward. But he preferred her curiosity to any sort of backslide.

He played with the ends of her hair, brushing them against her cheek. "It's Ryan. Ryan Mackenzie."

"I'd never have guessed. And who called you Mac?"

He shrugged. "My mother liked the name Ryan. My father called me Mac. No rhyme nor reason. It just was."

He felt her smile against his arm. "I like them both," she murmured.

Not about to let an advantage slip by, he said, "Your turn, Sammy Jo."

She sighed. "Samantha Josephine… Reed."

"The first two are a mouthful, hmm?"

"Yes. But they're refined and classy, or so my parents thought. Image is important in my family. Which is why my father's problems seem so insurmountable to him." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, they called me Samantha, and as a result, so does everyone else."

"Except me."

She laughed. "Except you."

If image was so important to her family and friends, his perceived background, his bartender job, might be what was bothering her. He didn't for a minute believe she didn't accept him for who he was. Who she thought he was, he reminded himself. But she might know she'd have a difficult time explaining their relationship to her father and her friends.

She had nothing left to prove to him. He loved her and believed she loved him. He ought to just let her off the hook. "Look, Sam."

She eased herself on top of him. "We have an hour or so left till sunrise. Do you really want to spend it talking?" she asked.

Her warm body spoke to his. Renewed desire surged through him. "As difficult as it is to say, yes."

"But I don't. I need this time together." She pushed his hair off his temple and touched her forehead to his. "Without pressure, without… anything but us." She brushed a kiss over his cheek and then on his lips. "I need you, Ryan."

He groaned. He could have resisted anything but his first name coming from those lips. He reached for another condom on the nightstand. By his count, that made four.

If she wanted to wait, he'd wait. He knew where to find her.

Mac finally fell asleep near dawn, and Sam crept out onto the balcony to watch the sun rise over the distant mountains. Even the incredible beauty, the deep hues of yellow and burnished red glowing against the increasingly blue sky, couldn't hold her interest. Her gaze kept straying back to the man inside.