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Zeke
Just the opposite, he thought.
The more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her. And imagining her body splayed out before him, a perfect blank canvas upon which to permanently engrave his mark? It was pushing him to the limits of his self-discipline.
He knew he should grab her and go. But what he wanted to do and what he should do were completely at odds with one another. She was a job. A package. Nothing more.
Except she was.
So caught up was he in his mental battle that he neglected to realize she’d come up behind him. The touch of her delicate hand on his forearm was like a brand, shooting through him with a white-hot fire.
He tensed and held himself in check. Discipline.
“Would it be so bad, spending another day here with me?” she asked softly.
He said nothing. He was a man on the edge. He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead and thought about the engine specs of the Harley he wanted to get someday.
“I see,” she whispered, disappointment heavy in those two simple words. “I just thought ...”
Whatever she thought, she didn’t share it with him. She sighed and removed her hand, and then began to walk away.
Something snapped. You can’t suddenly became why not, and in that moment, he needed her to finish that sentence.
She was about to take her second step when he whirled around, put both hands around her waist, and lifted her onto the counter.
Her pretty eyes widened, and she inhaled, her delicate hands clutching at the edges of his shirt, her slim, toned thighs pressing against his hips.
“What did you think, Robin Hood?” he growled.
She looked into his eyes, then tugged at his shirt, demanding he lower his torso closer to hers. But he was much bigger and stronger, and he held himself firm. If he went down that rabbit hole, he wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon. Yet he couldn’t move away. He was enjoying the feel of her legs around him, the scent of soft, warm woman drifting up and intoxicating him. Those big, clear eyes gazed at him with a combination of heat and desire that laid waste to his honorable intentions.
Rather than be discouraged, she ramped up her efforts. She shifted her legs upward, wrapped them around his waist, and squeezed, and she used the grip she had on his shirt to lift her butt off the counter and press her lips to his.
His hands instinctively went to support her. The moment his palms filled with the weight of her ass, his tethers snapped. He pulled her closer, taking control of the kiss.
She tasted sweet and tropical, like pineapple and coconut. Smelled like heaven. And she kissed him back as if her life depended on it.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she confessed breathlessly, pulling away just enough to speak the words.
“Yeah?” he replied, his voice thick and husky. “What else have you been wanting to do?”
Her grin was positively wicked as her nails scraped down his chest and over his abs, pausing meaningfully at the clasp of his jeans.
“Do you really want to know?”
Fuck yes, he wanted to know, but he couldn’t say the words. He grunted instead.
For some reason, that seemed to delight her. Her lips were on his again. One hand slipped around his neck; the other slid down between them and into his jeans. She exhaled with the sexiest purr he’d ever heard when she cupped him and traced his length.
“Robin ...” he hissed. Her touch was magic, sending shock waves of desire flooding through him.
“Aggie,” she whispered. “My name is Aggie. Say it.”
“Aggie,” he complied, internalizing the significance to unpack later. Much later.
Her hand was small but strong, and the pressure she exerted was exquisite. In a matter of moments, her shirt was off, and she was arching backward, pulling his hair as he feasted on her surprisingly lush breasts.
The desire to be inside her raged inside him, almost frightening in its intensity. Now that he released the reins, want and need collided in a massive surge. Images flooded his mind, filling it with all the things he hadn’t allowed himself to think about the last few days, things that had nevertheless plagued his subconscious every time he let his guard down.
Her breasts weren’t the only things he tasted. By the time she’d cried out his name twice, he was ready to explode.
Thank God he’d spotted the box of condoms in the bathroom.
He carried her there next, his only thought to experience her next orgasm while deep inside her. The moment he wrapped his package, he took her right there on the vanity.
He had known it would be good. He hadn’t realized how good. She fit around him as if she’d been made specifically for him. Hot and wet and tight, she was the very definition of heaven. She raked her nails across his back, squeezing, beckoning, demanding more.
He gave her everything.
Because after today, he’d never have another chance.
* * *
Zeke traced the pad of his finger down the curve of her spine, then flattened his hand against her warm skin to fully experience the sensation of her delightfully lush hips. He wondered if they would show signs of how tightly he had gripped them when she had ridden them both into ecstasy.
Closing his eyes, he created an intricate, fine-lined design in his mind that would fit her curves perfectly. He fantasized about running the needle over her pristine skin and then covering her body with his, branding her inside as thoroughly as he had outside.
The fantasy would have to remain just that—a fantasy. He’d already crossed a line by sleeping with her. But he could walk away from that, difficult though that would be. If she wore his art, that would be a permanent connection between them, and that, he couldn’t allow.
They’d spent most of the day naked and finding new ways to pleasure each other. They’d started in the kitchen and worked their way around the luxurious chalet, taking a detour to fuck on the open-air balcony before eventually winding up in the master bedroom.
She was exquisite and desperate, as eager to give as to receive. He guessed it had been a long time for her too. Living the kind of lives they did, finding someone to share intimate moments with was a challenge.
Correction: finding someone worthy to share intimate moments with was a challenge.
“Are you hungry?” he asked lazily.
She hummed and peered up at him with contented eyes. “I’m guessing you are, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
He was. Famished in fact. A man couldn’t exert that much energy and not be.
She laughed, stretched up his body, and planted a kiss on his lips. “Go on then. I’m going to get a shower.”
The thought of her naked and soapy and wet was enough to make him reconsider his immediate plans. Then, his stomach growled loudly, overriding his semi. He liked to think he was a virile man, but she’d pushed him to his limits, and he needed sustenance.
“Go,” she urged.
She pushed off the bed and padded into the en suite. He watched, appreciating the view, then sighed and went into the kitchen.
He raided the fridge, pleased to find some prime steaks among the items she’d had delivered. He selected two, then turned the flame on the built-in grill to preheat it. He wasn’t a material guy by nature, but if he ever had a place of his own someday, he would definitely have one of those.
Zeke found some potatoes and cut them into thick slices as well, and then he dumped them into a cast iron pan with more of the onion and pepper stash he’d raided that morning. As the vegetables sizzled, he cracked open a beer and took a moment to appreciate the situation.
He was warm and clean and not in immediate danger, about to fill his belly after indulging in a marathon of great sex. Days like this didn’t come along often. It was important to appreciate them when they did.
A soft ding sounded from nearby. Her laptop was still on the coffee table, where she’d left it earlier. Curious, he opened the lid, surprised when the screen lit up without requiring a password.
He clicked around, feeling a sense of panic when the screen went black and a skull and crossbones appeared with the message, Self-destruct sequence initiated.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he murmured, slamming the lid closed.
He heard her soft laughter and found her grinning at him from the archway. Her hair was wet. Her skin was dewy. Her eyes glittered with mischief and amusement. She was, in that moment, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
And she didn’t seem concerned in the least.
“It’s not going to self-destruct, is it?” he asked.
“No. There’s no reason for it to. It’s a conduit, nothing more.”
“A conduit to what?”
“Information. You don’t actually think I’m stupid enough to keep anything on my laptop, do you? That smells fabulous. Did you make enough for me?”
The abrupt change in topic wasn’t lost on him, but he was in too good of a mood to spoil it.
“Maybe. You do eat meat, right?”
She smirked. “After today, how can you even ask me that?”
A memory of her on her knees just hours earlier sent a wave of heated arousal crashing over him in a red haze. The woman would be the death of him.
Triumph flared in her eyes, and she turned to peer into the frying pan, nodding her approval. “Smart man. Anything I can help with?”
“No, I got this.”
She grabbed her laptop and settled on the sofa where she’d been the night before. She sat down in a cross-legged position, and her fingers began flying over the keys. She frowned at the screen several times, then stared blankly off into the distance, as if deep in thought.