Page 26

Author: Jill Shalvis

And he liked to be experienced.

But he couldn’t think about that right now because her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes telling him that his presence affected her every bit as much as hers did him. Helpless against the pull of her, he caught her up against him and stepped over the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him.

They staggered into the entryway together, mouths fused, bumping into her umbrella stand, knocking it over as she tripped on some shoes and slammed into a coat rack.

They were both laughing as he spun her away from danger, pressing her against a little cherrywood desk and mirror. He trapped her there, and all amusement faded as she gasped, the sound full of desire.

He wanted to hear it again, needed to hear it again. Lowering his head, he kissed the sweet spot beneath her ear, along her jaw, and then the column of her neck. He spent a long moment at the hollow of her throat because, oh yeah, that’s where she made the sound again, her shaky hands clutching his shoulders.

“I was dreaming about you,” she said softly.

He was glad, even more so since he’d been dreaming of pure hell. He’d had no idea how much he needed this, her, until this very minute. “Tell me.”

“We were back at the auction.” Her fingers wound their way into his hair, giving him a shiver. “Working our way through all the furniture,” she murmured.

“Working our way through the furniture?”

“Yeah, you know…” She hesitated. “Doing it on each piece,” she whispered.

He drew back far enough to see her eyes. When she blushed gorgeously, he laughed softly. “After what we did that night, you can still be embarrassed to say ‘doing it’?”

She pushed at him but he didn’t budge. “No,” he said, pulling in her tight. “I like it.” Hell, she had to be able to feel the proof of that. “What piece of furniture did we do it on first?”

She turned her head away. “I’m not going to say now.”

He nibbled her ear. “Tell me,” he coaxed, flicking his tongue on her lobe.

She gasped. “A table.”

He grinned. “I did you on a table?”

She made a sound that was only half embarrassment now, the other half pure arousal.

“Tell me that I spread you out for my viewing pleasure and feasted on all your sweet spots,” he said.

Glowing bright red, she stared at his Adam’s Apple. “No. You, um, bent me over the table and then, you know, took me from behind.”

Yeah, good luck with finding distance now. He was hard as a rock. Maybe distance wasn’t the way to go. Maybe they needed this, needed to just go for it, to get each other out of their systems.

Yeah, that was the story he was going with. He turned them both so that she was facing the small foyer desk. “It was just a dream,” she murmured into the mirror.

“Doesn’t have to be.”

She stared at his reflection, watching as his hands ran down her arms to take her hands in his, drawing them up, up around his neck where they’d be out of his way.

The air crackled with electricity. And need. So much need. “What are you wearing beneath the robe?” he asked.

She nibbled on her lower lip.



He groaned. Her body was so close to his that a sheet of paper couldn’t fit between them. He reached for the tie on her robe. “Do you want this?”

“I—” She closed her mouth.

“Yes or no, Mallory.”


One tug of the tie and the robe began to loosen.

“Wait,” she gasped. “I—I’m…” She hesitated. “I can’t watch.”

And yet she didn’t take her hands from his neck, or her hungry gaze off the mirror, eyes glued to his fingers as they gripped the edges of her robe.

“Full access this time,” he said.

“Oh, God.” She nodded. “Okay, but I—” She broke off when he slowly spread the robe open, eyes riveted to her own body.

Which he already knew was the body of his dreams. “Mallory,” he breathed. “You’re so beautiful.” He stroked his hands up her stomach to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing her velvety nipples, wringing another gasp out of her lips. He did it again, a light teasing touch before he took his hands off her.

She whimpered.

He pulled her hands from around his neck and pushed the robe off her shoulders to puddle at their feet. Taking her hands again, he pinned them out in front of her on the table, which forced her to bend over. He gently squeezed her fingers, signaling he wanted her to stay like that.

“Ty—” she choked out, holding the position with a trusting sweetness that nearly undid him, especially when it was combined with the sexy sway of her breasts and the almost helplessly uncontrolled undulation of her hips into his crotch.

He cupped those gorgeous full breasts, teasing her nipples before skimming one hand south, between her legs.

“H—here? We really shouldn’t…”


“No,” she whispered and then spread her legs, giving him more room.

Dipping into her folds was pure heaven, and he groaned when he found her very wet. His fingers trailed her own moisture over her, exploring every dip and crevice, until she was undulating again, her fingers white-knuckling their grip on the table, her eyes closed, her head back against his chest.

“Watch,” he reminded her.

Her eyes opened and locked on the sight of her own body, naked, bent over the table, his tanned hand on her pale breast, the other slowly, languidly moving between her legs. “Oh,” she breathed. “We look…”

“Hot.” He slid a wet finger deep inside her, and she gave an inarticulate little cry, straining against him.


“Tell me.”

“In me,” she gasped, breathless. “Please, in me.”

“Come first.”

Giving her another slow circle with his thumb, he watched as she shuddered, still holding obediently onto the desk’s edges for all she was worth. He could feel her tremble as the tension gripped her and added another finger and some pressure with his thumb, nibbling along the nape of her neck to her shoulder. Strung tight, she breathed in little pants, her spine and ass braced against him, her arms taut, her face a mask of pleasure.


“Right here with you,” he assured her, and sent her skittering over the edge. She cried out as she shattered, and would have dropped to her knees if he hadn’t caught her.

“Now,” she demanded breathlessly. “Right now.”

Not one to argue with a lady, he stripped, grabbed a condom from his pocket and put it on before pushing inside her.

She cried out again. With one arm supporting her, his other hand found hers where it gripped the wood, and he linked their fingers. She was still shaking from her orgasm. Bending over her, pressing his torso to her back, brushing his mouth against her neck, he tried to give her a moment. But when she pressed her sweet ass into him, restless, he began to move, stringing them both up this time. She took each thrust, arching her back for more, insistent demand in her every movement.

Not so shy now, he thought with a surge of hunger and a rather shocking possessive protectiveness.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from her, even as his every single nerve ending screamed at him to let go and come already. The fire she’d started in him was flashing bright, the ache for her tight and hard in his gut. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on, but then it didn’t matter because she went rigid and skittered over the edge again, her muscles clenching him in erotic, sensual waves.

It was not enough.

It was too much.

It was everything.

Gripping her hard, he growled out a heartfelt “oh fuck” and buried his face in her hair as he followed her over, coming so hard his legs buckled.

He managed to gain enough control to make sure his knees hit the hard wood floor and not hers. He turned her to face him and pulled her tight, nuzzling her neck. After a minute, he pulled back to look at her.

Her smile tugged a helpless one from him as well. “Good?” he asked.

She traced a finger along his lower lip. “That’s a pretty weak word for what that was. I bet you could come up with something better.”

He nipped gently on her finger. “I’m more of a show-not-tell kind of guy.”



“So…” she said, softly. “Show me.”

Chapter 13

Forget love—I’d rather fall in chocolate!

Mallory didn’t know what had brought Ty to her in the middle of the night, or what he’d planned on doing, but sitting in her entryway naked was a pretty damn good start.

Or finish.

She blushed as he bent in to kiss her, and he laughed softly against her lips as if he could read her mind. To distract them both, she trailed a finger down his chest, over a hip, and found an unnatural ridge. She took a look at the jagged scar that ran the length of his body from groin to knee, and she stilled in horror for what he’d suffered.

She realized that she was all comfy cozy, cuddled up against his chest. The position couldn’t possibly be comfortable for him. “Is your leg okay?”

“I can’t feel my leg right now.”

She laughed breathlessly, relieved at the lessening of the sudden tension in his big, battle-scarred, perfect body. “Good,” she said. “I know it gives you pain from the car crash.”

“The pain’s faded.” He paused, then grimaced. “And it wasn’t a car crash. It was a plane crash.”

She controlled her instinctive gasp of horror. “You survived a plane crash?”

“That wasn’t as bad as the several days that went by before rescue.”

“Oh, Ty,” she breathed, feeling her throat tighten in pain for him, trying to imagine it and not being able to. “How bad was it?”