Author: Jaci Burton

Rick.

SEVEN

Ava shivered in the elevator.

“You cold?”

She shook her head.

“Nervous?”

“No. Not nervous.”

Rick moved in, palmed the wall on either side of her shoulders, his erection making contact with her aching pussy. She nearly died right there, shocks of pleasure centered at her clit, right where he touched her.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just get me to my room, unless you’re fond of elevator sex.”

His lips curled, and oh, God, the heat in the elevator tripled when he smiled like that. It was a good thing she had the wall at her back for support, because her legs were useless.

“I’m okay with elevator sex if you don’t think you can wait that long.”

Thank God the doors opened right then because she was just about ready to take him up on his offer. He took her hand and dragged her down the hall.

“Your room or mine?” he asked.

She’d already fished her key out of her bag. “Mine’s closer.”

He grabbed the key from her hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. She was inside, the door shut, and Rick had her in his arms a split second later. Their jackets fell to the floor. It was pitch-black in the room and she felt blind as Rick walked her backward a few steps until she hit the wall.

That’s as far as they got before his lips came crashing down on hers.

Ahh, contact. His body moved in, flush against hers so she could feel every muscle, every hard, throbbing part of him. His mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding inside to lick against hers. His hands roamed her shoulders, down her arms, stroking her hips and waist, traveling around to cup her buttocks and bring her even closer to the rock-hard heat of his cock.

His mouth did delicious things to her senses—what little senses she had left, anyway. All she could focus on was his touch, the way he tasted, the masterful way he held her—so firm and tight in his arms—and yet she sensed a strong desperation like maybe he, too, wanted this as badly as she did. Could that even be possible? Rick always seemed so laid-back, like nothing really mattered to him.

Did this matter?

When he pulled the bottom of her shirt out of her jeans and he laid his palm over the bare skin of her belly, she shuddered and tilted her head back, breaking the kiss. She needed air, some coherence, something to balance her. She felt out of control and she was never out of control. Sex had always been easy, a natural progression that arose out of dinner, a few drinks, being comfortable and relaxed with her partner.

This was anything but easy and relaxed. It was tense, agitated, crazy, a frenzy of passion and pent-up anxiety. Her entire body felt like it was ready to explode at the slightest touch—Rick’s touch. She couldn’t handle this.

“What’s wrong?”

She panted through the words. “I can’t . . .”

And then she felt Rick’s tension. He took a step back.

Oh, no. That’s not what she’d meant.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“No.” She grabbed his arms. “Wait.” She wasn’t going to let this happen again. She wasn’t going to let him slide on the brakes because she hesitated. Because she feared that loss of control.

Maybe it was good to experience out of control for once, to let someone else take charge and see what it felt like. So far, it was giddy and exhilarating, even if it did make her dizzy. Maybe it was all the secondhand pot she’d inhaled in Bo’s room.

But she doubted it. Not when Rick’s hands snaked up her bare belly, moving her shirt with them.

“You sure?”

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek.

“Yes.” She clasped onto his wrist, held him there. “Touch me.”

Her heart skittered and raced as his fingertips hit the edge of her bra and skimmed over the satin.

“You have nice breasts, Ava. I want to suck your nipples.”

His whispered words in the dark made her wet, made her clit tingle, made her want to slide her hands down her jeans and make herself come right now. But before she could do anything, he lifted her shirt, forcing her arms in the air so he could remove it.

He laid his hand on her cheek and slid his palm down her neck, along her collarbone, and to her shoulder, then walked his fingers to the swell of her breasts, caressing her with feather-light touches that made her gasp.

And then he lingered against her left breast, as if he were feeling her heartbeat. Just a slow slide of his fingers, back and forth. Maddening. And too damn slow. It was time to speed this along. She wanted him inside her right now.

She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down, then reached for the clasp of her bra.

But he was faster than her. He pushed her hand away.

“That’s my job.”

“You’re too slow.”

“You in a hurry?”

She blew out a sigh. “Kind of, yes.”

“You have an appointment?”

He was laughing at her. Dammit. “No.”

“Then why rush this? We have all night.”

“Because. I want this. I want you. I want it now.”

He slid his arms around her waist and jerked her against him. Her thighs pressed against his, her hip rubbed his erection. She reached between them and palmed his cock, measuring him, feeling the heat of him that permeated the denim. When he hissed, she knew his control came at a great cost. Somehow it made her feel better, like her frenzy wasn’t as one-sided as she’d thought.

But he obviously had much greater control than she did at the moment. And she’d always prided herself on her control. But not tonight, and definitely not right now. She went for his belt buckle, and once again he stopped her.

“Uh uh. Not time for that yet, honey. We need to relax you.”

Relax? Out of the question.

But then he distracted her by kissing her. God, could he ever kiss. She couldn’t remember any man spending so much time kissing her, and especially not so thoroughly. He pulled her ponytail holder out and threaded his fingers through her hair, held her head and plundered her lips with the intent of a pirate searching for treasure.

His kisses mesmerized her, made her tingle all over, but they didn’t relax her. If that was his intent then he failed miserably. She heard the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, felt her heart beating erratically against his chest, and her legs trembled so much that if he hadn’t been holding on to her she might have fallen. This—this was not relaxed. Did he have any idea what his kisses did to her?

And when he pulled his lips away from her mouth and kissed his way down her neck, using his tongue to lick her throat and nibble at that oh-so-tender spot on her shoulder, goose bumps broke out on her skin. And she was anything but cold. She was hot. On fire. Her nipples were hard, tight points of tingling pleasure, just waiting for his touch, his mouth, anything that would give them relief, because with every movement they brushed against his shirt—his chest—only torturing her more.

He stepped back and reached for the clasp on her bra, unlatching it and baring her breasts. Cool air slid over her nipples, but it was no relief from the heat blasting her body. She held her breath, needing his touch right there. And when he slid his hands over her breasts, his thumbs gliding over her distended nipples, she couldn’t hold back the moan of exquisite pleasure that escaped her lips. The rough contact of his hard, calloused skin against her soft nipples sent shocks of sensation straight to her pussy. She arched her back for more.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” Her response had come out as no more than a whisper, a soft plea in the darkness. It was all she could voice. Her throat was dry, raspy from panting.

He put an arm around her back and swept another under her legs, lifting her, carrying her toward the bed. The room was pitch-black, the drapes drawn so no moonlight or neon from the Strip showed through. She didn’t know if she liked that they couldn’t see each other, or if she’d prefer the soft light of the room so she could see his face.

But this way, they had to rely on their other senses—on sound, on feel, on scent to guide each other.

He set her down on her feet next to the bed. She reached for his shoulders, laid her palms over his chest—a solid wall of muscle. She flexed her fingers in, then curled them, grabbing his shirt to lift.

This time, he let her, raised his arms so she could take off his shirt. After she discarded it, she laid her palms flat against his chest again. It was smooth, bare, and she let her hands discover his chest, his shoulders. Boulders of muscle that she traversed with her hands and fingertips, learning his body like she was reading a road map. His body was warm, hard all over. She wondered what he did with his time besides ride around the country. No man built like this spent all his time on a bike. He either worked out or worked physically for a living.

And now she could see the benefit of slowing down, of not being in so much of a rush for sex. How else could she get to experience the thrill of discovering his body, of running her hands over every plane, every muscle, sliding her hands down his arms and back up again, feeling the goose bumps rise on his flesh? It was such a heady experience, and empowering to realize that her touch elicited a reaction in him, gave him chills.

She rose on her tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her nipples scraped his flesh and she couldn’t resist sliding them back and forth, even though the sensations aroused her to the point of madness.

Rick pulled her hips against him. His erection seemed harder than ever, if that was possible.

“You trying to tease me, woman?”

“You’re teasing me. It seems only fair to return the favor.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He pushed her, then, and in the dark she had no balance. Good thing she felt the bed against the back of her knees because she fell against the mattress, waiting for Rick to fall on top of her.

He didn’t. He was on the floor, pulling her boots off, pressing kisses to her feet as he gently removed each sock.

Her toes curled and she shuddered out a sigh. Okay, so maybe the tense frenzy she’d initially felt had dissolved into a puddle of delicious arousal now. Maybe Rick had been right about taking their time to enjoy the moment.

She hated being wrong.

He rose and undid the button on her jeans, and with a slow slide drew the zipper down. He tugged at the waistband and she lifted to help him as he drew her jeans down her legs.

That left only her panties. But he didn’t take those next. He leaned in, and she felt his warm breath caressing her bare belly.

“You smell good. Like cookies and hot sex.”

She smiled even though he couldn’t see her. “That’s an interesting combination.”

“It makes you special. No one I’ve ever known smelled like cookies and sex.” He pressed a kiss to her rib cage, and she shivered. When he went higher, just below her breasts, she stilled, not wanting to do anything to make him stop.

He didn’t stop. He cupped her breast and his lips covered one aching, desperate-to-be-sucked peak. Her body nearly shot off the bed at the first lash of his tongue against the sensitive bud. He curled his tongue around it, flicked it, then sucked, gently at first, then harder, and she could have cried it was so damn good. And by the time he moved to the other breast and lavished equal attention on it, she arched her back to feed more of her starved nipples into his mouth.

And just as he’d done since they’d come into the room, he took his time, seeming in no hurry to move south, to fuck her, to do anything other than play with her breasts and nipples.

The man was inhuman, his obvious intent to drive her to the brink of insanity—and over.

“Rick. Please.”

He lifted his head. She could only make out his silhouette in the darkness, but she knew he was looking at her.

“What do you need?”

How was she going to voice what she needed when she didn’t even know? “More.”