Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard #4) (13 page)

Her wide eyes searched mine. “A lot of women look at you this way.”

“No, you’re wrong. Maybe they look at me the way men look at you—where it’s clear they want you, and are thinking of you sexually—but not the way you do, where it feels you can see beneath my skin.” Pausing, I added, “Besides, I’ve never been one to want ‘a lot of women.’ ”

Her smile was so radiant, I forgot whatever else I was going to say.

My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I felt unsteady. It seemed to mix potently with the alcohol, and yet I never wanted this feeling to end. I’d never experienced a rush like this. She was so close, smelling of rose water and the indescribable scent of a woman. She would fit so perfectly tucked into my chest, beneath my chin. Or riding me, with her legs around my waist, her chest slick with our sweat.

“Ruby, what are we doing?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing a little. “You’re the one who came to my room. I think we’re both a little drunk. You tell me.”

“I . . . I’d like to explore this.”

Her smile straightened into something more earnest. “Me, too.”

“But maybe tonight isn’t the night. I shouldn’t touch you.”
Maybe once I’ve said it a hundred times, I’ll believe it
. “We’ve been drinking. I want to be sober if . . .”

She closed her eyes, and the disappointment was evident on her face. And then, a transformation occurred: Ruby opened her eyes, looked up at my face, and in an instant went from guarded to mischievously coy. She turned, walking into the room a few feet and picking up a slip from the bed. “But if you
did
, how would you touch me?” she asked, folding the garment neatly before placing it in an open drawer in front of her.

I barely had to consider the question before my answer burst forward: “Desperately.” I took a step toward her.

“Roughly?”

“I—no,” I spluttered, “I wouldn’t ever—”

“I
like
thinking of you touching me roughly,” she interrupted, calming me with a smile. Another piece of fabric lay on the bed—a tank top, I believe—and she reached for it, examining the hem before she set it in the drawer, too. “Of your big gentle hands shaking, needing to touch me, and you’re so
impatient
.”

“I would be,” I admitted, and when she looked up at me, asking me with her eyes for more, I murmured, “I
am
.” I could barely catch my breath; at my sides, my hands were shaking. “I try to be careful, but it’s a wasted effort.”

She pushed the dresser closed with her hip, and took a step toward me. “You pull off my clothes before we can even make it to the bed,” she agreed, playing along as she lifted her hand, fingering the strap of her camisole, waiting for me to stop her.

I couldn’t in a million years.

Sliding her hands down over her breasts and lower, to the hem of the garment, she began to lift it up, over her head . . . and off.

My heart stopped and when it started again, it was ten times too large, ten times too fast.

Ruby dropped the silk to the floor without looking away from my face.

Her chest was bared to me, lush curves, small, pink nipples, and perfect, pale skin. I swallowed, fighting the savage tempo of my pulse. I wanted to touch her, kiss her. I wanted to lie on top of her, move inside of her.

She took one step backward, and then turned, walking away from me and over to the bed.

“Ruby.” I had no point to make. Her name was just an instinctive utterance. Nearly a plea.

“You touch my breasts like you know them.” She turned back to face me, running her hands over the swells, pushing them together, roughly pinching the blush peaks. “You
suck
them. Like you’re greedy.”

Christ
. “I
am
greedy.”

“You love my breasts. You’re filthy with them, sometimes.”

I nearly choked. Never in my life had I played such a game. “I am?”

“You are. You rub yourself all over them.”

I felt my skin flush, my body pulsing beneath my trousers at the intended meaning.
“Myself . . . ?”

“Your cock.”

My mouth watered, and I stared at her lips, imagining her kissing me there.

“But right now, you want me naked.” It was a question, innocently buried in confidence.

She hooked her thumbs in her shorts, daring me again to stop her.

I nearly had to shove my fist into my mouth to keep from groaning aloud. The drink made me bold: “I do.”

She slid her shorts down her hips, swaying seductively for me, easing the silk down her thighs. She wore no underwear beneath, and her naked form was smooth, soft. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“You like looking at me,” she said, but this one wasn’t a question. No doubt my expression telegraphed my every thought to her.

Like how I wanted to climb over her, be as greedy and filthy with her body as she suggested.

Like how I wanted to do something as innocent as touch the slickness between her legs with my fingers.

Swallowing heavily, I told her, “You’re the only thing I want to look at, darling.”

Ruby lowered herself onto the bed, pushing her body to the middle of the mattress, and then lay back, letting her knees fall to the sides. “So . . . look.”

Without shame, I stared between her spread legs. Blood pounded in my ears and I leaned against the armoire for support. “
Christ
.”

She ran her fingers up her legs, from her knees to her
thighs. And then, while I watched, she ran the fingers of one hand along the wet skin of her sex.

“You like to taste me, too,” she whispered.

I could only swallow and nod.
Nothing in the world would pleasure me more
.

“But you tease me.”

I looked up at her face upon hearing the pout in her voice, feeling my brows draw together. “I do?”

“Yes,” she whined sweetly. “It’s awful. You make me beg for your mouth on my clit.”

Her . . . clit?
I wiped a palm down my face, dizzy. All of this—all of it—was spinning so quickly out of control. “What . . . that is to say,
how
do I do that?”

Offering a tiny one-shouldered shrug, she said, “You kiss my thighs, and my lips just here.” She circled her fingers between her legs. “You lick where I’m wet, too.” Sliding her index finger lower, it soon glistened with her arousal. “See where I get wet?”

I nearly pitched forward onto the bed. My voice was barely audible: “And quite.”

“But that’s how you tease me. You never lick me here.” She moved her fingers higher, circling her clitoris only once. “At least not until I’m nearly crying for it.”

I took a step closer to the bed. “That seems a bit unsporting of me.”

Ruby giggled, tipsy, smiling up at me. “It does, doesn’t it?”

With blood pounding through my veins, I began to feel the power I had over her body.
Simply look at her
. It was impossible to ignore how she was responding to this. “But it’s only because I love the flush of your skin when you start to need it, darling.”

Her lips parted, letting out a sharp exhale. “But I
do
need it.”

“No . . . you still only
want
it,” I corrected her. “And I rather like the taste of your thighs instead.”

Her hips lifted from the bed, fingers obediently moving to her thighs.

My heart hammered against my sternum. I wanted so much to join her in this game. “Your breasts are perfect.”

She moaned, closing her eyes.

“I always keep one hand on your breast while I kiss you here.”

“You do,” she agreed, sliding a hand up her torso, cupping her breast in her palm. “I love that. But your teasing makes me crazy. Please let me feel you.”

“Just a glancing kiss, my darling.”

With a relieved moan, Ruby grazed her fingers over her clitoris again, crying out.

“Let me slide my tongue into you.”

Her eyes flew open and she watched my face as she eased her finger inside. I watched it disappear, in and out of her, before looking up at her face. She seemed almost on the verge of tears.

I was lost in the game, drugged by the sight of her. I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t anyone I knew. She made me this way. “Do I love your taste?”

With apparent effort, she said, “You know you do.”

“It makes me wild, doesn’t it? Makes me . . .”

“Hard,” she finished for me.

I laughed, stepping so my knees touched the mattress, only a foot away from her. Bending, I placed a hand beside each of her hips, careful not to touch her. “I’m already painfully hard, darling. I was going to say it makes me
possessive
. Makes me want to fight any other man who’s ever tasted you.”

She let out a softly ragged breath. “You’re hard?”

“Well, look for yourself.”

Her eyes dropped to the zipper of my trousers, seeing the ridge pressing there.

“Let me see,” she said, licking her lips.

I shook my head but ran my hand over the front of my zipper, letting her see the shape of me.

Christ. What is happening? What am I doing?

“Not tonight,” I whispered.

She started to sit up, mortification slowly cooling her expression.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to stop,” I assured her quickly. “I’m barely hanging on, Ruby, please don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“Is this okay?” she asked. Her cheeks pinked, sobering.

I nodded, not wanting her to break this moment. “It’s more than okay. It’s a bloody dream.”

“I want to touch you,” she said, barely audibly.

“You can’t.”

Her eyes moved to my face. “Ever?”

“Shh,” I murmured, leaning back over her. “I’m kissing you between your legs; how can you think of anything else right now?”

With her eyes glued to mine, she began to stroke herself again, slowly, as if waiting for me to tell her exactly what to do.

“That’s it. Let me suck on you, yes . . . just there. I want to hear you come.”

Ruby arched off the bed, her fingers sliding in tiny, tight circles. “I . . . I . . .”

“So soon?” I whispered, fighting every urge I had to bend and suck at the skin at the hollow of her throat that was only beginning to glisten with sweat.

“I’m insane for you,” she choked.

“You feel so good on my tongue,” I murmured. “My senses are full of you.”

The sight of her was unreal; easily the most erotic vision of my life. Her thighs were soft and toned, spread before me. I would only need to bend down and put my mouth on her to make this game a reality. I pressed my palm against my trousers, and moaned.

Her eyes flew open as she came, lips parted, voice tight and desperate.

I knew in that heartbeat I would never get the sound of her orgasm out of my head, the little gasping noises, the sharp cry.

Her entire chest flushed, nipples tight as she lazily
touched herself, smiling up at me. I was envious of her fingers, sliding around such luxuriant slickness.

“Let me touch you?” she whispered. “Please.”

“You
are
touching me,” I told her, leaning back over her again. “Your hand is stroking me.”

A teasing smile played at her lips. “My
hand
? That seems a pretty sad gesture of reciprocation.”

“Well.” I shrugged. “It so happens your mouth is greedy for mine at the moment.”

Understanding bloomed in her eyes. “Oh.”

“You love to taste yourself on my tongue.”

Her eyes flamed, lips parting in a sharp burst of air. “I do.”

“I love to indulge you,” I told her, and she nodded. “Besides, you love the weight of me in your hands.”

Ruby’s throat moved with the frenzy of her pulse. “I do,” she said, breathless and wild. “And I could kiss your demanding mouth for days.”

“You do sometimes.”

“God, why aren’t you
inside
me?”

I smiled at the sound of her sweet, gentle whine. “Because we haven’t made love yet.”

Her eyes went wide at this sudden reveal in our strange, surreal little game. “We haven’t?”

I shook my head. “We’re waiting.”

She laughed, and the sound was so sweet I nearly bent to taste the echo of it on
her lips. “We do everything else?”

I nodded. “Nearly.”

Her eyes were still so wide, so genuinely hungry when she asked, “What are we waiting for?”

“To be sure.”

And finally, I reached my thumb out, sliding it back and forth over the skin of her bare hip.

“Sure about me?” she whispered.

I stared at her sweet, full lips, the tiny anxious furrow to her brow before telling her, “Sure about
me
. Sure about all of it before I can’t turn back anymore. I don’t take any of this lightly.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I can wait.”

Truth had settled in. And how odd, too, that it happened after the most erotic vision of my life. I felt unsteady, as if the past twenty minutes had been a dream.

It could have been awkward; we were coworkers and only last week she’d been a stranger to me. Now she was completely naked and had just masturbated while I spoke to her. It could have been the most terrifying moment of my life. But with the alcohol in our blood, and satisfaction loosening her body, it wasn’t.

I grew brave enough to slide my palm over her hip, cupping it.

She reached down, covered my hand with hers. “How do we sleep together after we’ve done this?”

“With me curled around behind you,” I said and then swallowed thickly. “You fit into me perfectly.”

“But you never wake me for sex.”

“I wake you to touch you again, because
I’m insatiable for you, but not yet for that.” Did she understand? Or did it make me odd that, in this day and age, the idea of sex changed things? Meant something?

She closed her eyes, moving her hands to rest over her pounding heart. “Do you know how much I want to feel you?”

“I do know,” I told her quietly.

“I hope you kiss me someday.”

I swallowed, reality pressing back in. “So do I.”

“Do you always kiss me good night when you leave?” she asked, returning to our game. Her eyes, so wide and vulnerable, warned me to be careful. They told me, maybe, that even Ruby herself didn’t know how careful I needed to be with her heart.