Olivia Gates - Best of Desire

Her body burned in response to his words even as her mind blared a warning. Tony had felt the increasing connection too, and it scared him. So he’d tried to run her off with the crude offer of sex on the table.

Well too damn bad for him, she wasn’t backing down. She’d wanted this, him, for too long to turn away.

Ten

He’d wanted Shannon back in his bed, but somewhere between making a sandwich and talking about eggs, she’d peeled away walls, exposing thoughts and memories that were better forgotten. They distracted. Hurt. Served no damn purpose.

Anger grated his raw insides. “So? What’ll it be? Sex here or in your room?”

She didn’t flinch and she didn’t leave. Her soft hand stayed on top of his as she looked at him with sad eyes behind her glasses. “Is that what this week has been about?”

He let his gaze linger on the vee of her frothy nightgown set. Lace along the neckline traced into the curve of her breasts the way his hands ached to explore. “I’ve been clear from the start about what I want.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

Sliding from her chair, she circled the table toward him, her heels clicking against the tile. She stopped beside him, the hem of her nightgown set swirling against his leg. “Don’t confuse me with your mother.”

“Good God, there’s not a chance of that.” He toppled her into his lap and lowered his head, determined to prove it to her.

“Wait.” She stopped him with a hand flattened to his chest just above the two closed buttons. Her palm cooled his overheated skin, calming and stirring, but then she’d always been a mix of contradictions. “You suffered a horrible trauma as a child. No one should lose a parent, especially in such an awful way. I wish you could have been spared that.”

“I wish my mother had been spared.” His hands clenched in her robe, his fists against her back.

“And I can’t help but wonder if you helping me—a mother with a young child—is a way to put her ghost to rest. Putting your own ghosts to rest in the process.”

Given the crap that had shaken down in his past, he’d done a fine job turning his life around. Frustration poured acid on his burning gut. “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“What you told me this afternoon and tonight brought things into focus.”

“Well, thanks for the psychoanalysis.” His words came out harsh, but right now he needed her to walk away. “I would offer to pay you for the services, but I wouldn’t want to start another fight.”

“Sounds to me like you’re spoiling for one now.” Her eyes softened with more of that concern that grated along his insides. “I’m sorry if I overstepped and hit a nerve.”

A nerve? She’d performed a root canal on his emotions. His brain echoed with the retort of gunfire stuttering, aimed at him, his brothers. His mother. He searched for what to say to shut down this conversation, but he wasn’t sure of anything other than his need for a serious, body-draining jog on the beach. Problem was? The beach circled right back around to this place.

Easing from his lap, she stood and he tamped down the swift kick of disappointment. Except she didn’t leave. She extended her hand and linked her fingers with his.

Just a simple connection, but since he was raw to the core, her touch fired deep.

“Shannon,” he said between teeth clenched tight with restraint, “I’m about a second from snapping here. So unless you want me buried heart deep inside you in the next two minutes, you need to go back to your room.”

Her hold stayed firm, cool and steady.

“Shannon, damn it all, you don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t want any part of the mood I’m in.” Her probing may have brought on the mood, but he wouldn’t let it contaminate her.

Angling down with slow precision, she pressed her lips to his. Not moving. Only their mouths and hands linked.

He wanted—needed—to move her away gently. But his fingers curled around the softness of her arm.

“Shanny,” he whispered against her mouth, “tell me to leave.”

“Not a chance. I only have one question.”

“Go ahead.” He braced himself for another emotional root canal.

She brought his hand to her chest, pressing his palm against her breast. “Do you have a condom?”

Relief splashed over him like a tidal wave. “Hell, yes, I have one, two in fact, in my wallet. Because even when we’re not talking, I know the way we are together could combust at any second. And I will always, always make sure you’re protected and safe.”

Standing, he scooped her into his arms. Purring her approval, she hooked her hands behind his neck and tipped her face for a full kiss. The soft cushion of her breasts against his chest sent his libido into overdrive. He throbbed against the sweet curve of her hip. At the sweep of tongue, the taste of caramel and her, he fought the urge to follow through on the impulse to have her here, now, on the table.

He sketched his mouth along her jaw, down to her collarbone, the scent of her lavender body wash reminding him of shared showers at his place. “We need to go upstairs.”

“The pantry is closer.” She nipped his bottom lip. “And empty. We can lock the door. I need you now.”

“Are you su—?”

“Don’t even say it.” She dipped her hands into the neckline of his loose shirt, her fingernails sinking insistently deep. “I want you. No waiting.”

Her words closed down arguments and rational thought. He made a sure-footed beeline across the tiled floor toward the pantry. Shannon nuzzled his neck, kissed along his jaw, all the while murmuring disjointed words of need that stoked him higher—made his feet move faster. As he walked, her silky blond hair and whispery robe trailed, her sexy little heels dangling from her toes.

Dipping at the door, he flipped the handle and shouldered inside the pantry, a food storage area the size of a small bedroom. The scent of hanging dried herbs coated the air, the smell earthy. He slid her glasses from her face and set them aside on a shelf next to rows of bottled water.

As the door eased closed, the space darkened and his other senses increased. She reached for the light switch and he clasped her wrist, stopping her.

“I don’t need light to see you. Your beautiful body is fired into my memory.” His fingers crawled up her leg, bunching the frothy gown along her soft thigh, farther still to just under the curve of her buttocks. “Just the feel of you is about more than my willpower can take.”

“I don’t want your willpower. I’m fed up with your restraint. Give me the uninhibited old Tony back.” Her husky voice filled the room with unmistakable desire.

Pressing her hips closer, he tasted down her neck, charting his way to her breasts. An easy swipe cleared the fabric from her shoulders and he found a taut nipple. Damn straight he didn’t need light. He knew her body, knew just how to lave and tease the taut peak until she tore at his shirt with frantic hands.

His buttons popped and cool air blanketed his back, warm Shannon writhing against his front. Hooking a finger along the rim of her bikini panties, he stroked her silky smooth stomach. Tugging lightly, he started the scrap of fabric downward until she shimmied them the rest of the way off.

Stepping closer, the silky gown bunched between them, she flattened her hand to the fly of his jeans. He went harder against the pleasure of her touch. Shannon. Just Shannon.

She unzipped his pants and freed his arousal. Clasping him in her fist, she stroked once, and again, her thumb working over his head with each glide. His eyes slammed shut.