Bound and Determined (18 page)

She gasped at the sensations, burning, pressure, pleasure. Still, Rafe had filled her equally. A glance at his erection, now right in front of her, confirmed the comparison.

Kerry repeated the motions again, finding a rhythm and depth that pleased her. Pleased? Heck, drove her mad. Thick pleasure rose and swelled, threatening to crest and overtake her like a riptide to a drowning victim.

“Touch yourself,” Rafe whispered, caressing his way up her torso to palm her breast. “Show me how you drive yourself wild.”

His inflaming words arced through her, burning away any shyness. Caught up in the fervor, she lowered her fingers to the pale thatch of curls between her legs and swirled them over her clit. Rafe watched, his eyes darkened with approval, with a promise to drive her higher.

“Yes,” he whispered against her ear. “You’re so damn sexy.”

Need flowed through her body. Her muscles clasped the dildo, her gaze helplessly locked on Rafe’s, knowing he watched every movement. Her thighs trembled with effort. So, so close . . . She groaned. The fact Rafe appeared to grow harder with every stroke only sent her toward the precipice faster.

He bent and captured her lips then and plunged his way inside, deep, deep in her mouth. She tasted the sizzle of desire in his kiss. The bite of his fingers into her hips, the crash of his mouth on hers, the ragged drag of air into his lungs—those all paled in comparison to the feral, sexual promise in his gaze when he pulled away, panting hard.

Kerry didn’t want to come alone, which was a serious possibility unless she did something soon.

When he stood before her, rolling each of her pointed nipples between his fingers, Kerry did the first, most effective thing that came to mind: She lowered her mouth to his cock. His musky scent mixed with the water sluicing all around her.
The tang of salt rasped on her tongue. And his groan . . . as wonderful to hear as a favorite song.

“Oh, Kerry. Oh, yeah, babe. That’s it.” His sizable hands slipped into damp hair, wrapping strands around his fingers, guiding her up and down. “So good.”

Encouraged by his verbal appreciation, she ran her tongue on the underside of his erection, slipping over the engorged head. Swirling, licking, savoring, she sucked him until her cheeks hollowed, until she saw his thighs tremble. Until he stiffened against her tongue.

Suddenly, he groaned and withdrew his penis from her mouth. “Gotta be inside you. Now.”

With his left hand, he reached out of the shower and grabbed a condom from the counter. With his right, he extracted the big red toy from her body and tossed it to the tiled floor with a clatter. So close to orgasm, she cried out. Rafe’s look silenced her. His nostrils flared as he devoured her with a silver gaze so intent, anticipation licked like fire up her spine.

Here stood a man who wanted her, a man who would not take no for an answer, a man who intended to possess her so thoroughly she would never forget it. The thought made the tension in her belly ratchet up a notch.

“Rafe—”

“Gotta feel you tight and slick. Gotta get deep into you.” He tore open the condom’s packet and sheathed himself. In one quick motion, he turned her around, her back to his chest, and lifted her leg until her foot rested on the bench.

Like this? Would he really take her like this? Kerry’s heart beat with a wild rhythm as her body throbbed in time. Finding her next breath definitely took a backseat to getting Rafe to touch her, fill her. The sharp arousal in her belly gouged her restraint. The ache . . . God, she needed him inside her, around her, whispering his every desire in her ear.

His fingers found her clit at the same time Kerry felt the head of his penis meet her slick opening. She whimpered and lowered herself down as much as her bent knees would allow. Her greedy body clasped onto the head of his thick stalk, trying to suck him inside. Those fingers circling the button of nerves above her entrance had her crying out his name.

With a firm grasp on her hips, Rafe surged up in one quick
thrust, stretching through pliant muscle and tissue. He drove home, all the way, his tip probing at the entrance of her womb. In this position, she felt him everywhere, stretching her wide with a delicious bite.

Rafe withdrew slowly, so slowly it was pure torture. Then he rocketed back inside her, grazing her tingling, ultrasensitive flesh. Then he slanted the shower head in front of her, right at her clit. The pound of the warm spray hit the needy bud with a steady, insistent rhythm. She gasped at the staggering sensation. Her head fell back against his shoulder.

Tunneling farther inside her, Rafe shaped a calloused hand over a taut breast, pulling at the hard point of her nipple. Every roll and pinch shot arrows of sensation straight between her legs. His lips moved on her neck, nipping gently, sending shivers of thrill down her spine. Kerry rocked back against him in silent pleading.

“You feel me inside you?” He nipped at her lobe, breathed over her neck.

“Yes,” she moaned. “God, yes.”

“There’s nothing like this.” He grabbed her hips and began pistoning in and out of her. “Nothing like the feel of you hot and tight and mewling when I get deep inside. Come for me.”

With his words and the feel of his hard body claiming her in a relentless pound of pleasure, Kerry’s arousal soared. As every inch of him poured into her like liquid lust, he ignited all her sensitive nerve endings. Her heartbeat roared in her ears so loudly, it drummed out the pounding of the water, everything around her except Rafe’s panting demand.

Tighter and tighter the pleasure strung, coiling into an orgasm so violent, she wondered if she’d survive it. The power of it built and built, towering above anything she’d ever known. Her body throbbed for release. Even her pebbled nipples pleaded into the warm haven of his hand.

“Oh, Rafe.” She was on fire, burning . . . consumed. “More.”

And he obliged.

His next thrust buried him so far inside her, Kerry could nearly taste the overwhelming rapture. Hard and heavy, he filled her faster than lightning, branding her. The mounting orgasm screamed just under her burning skin. It was going to swallow her whole, and she wanted it more than anything.
Behind her, his chest heaved with effort. He grew harder still and doubled his effort, filling her fiercely, deeper with each jackhammer stroke.

Every time he filled her, Rafe stole away her sanity. As the tension escalated again, Kerry whimpered. And then she exploded, disintegrated, fell apart in his arms as the pleasure swept her away to the oblivion of ecstasy. Rafe pulsed inside her contracting walls, tightened his fingers on her, and shouted out his release.

Lava-hot pleasure spiked again, and Kerry could only soar with it as the exquisite sensations burst through her. She cried out, the stars alighting in her vision, bright, exhilarating, full of promise.

Then the stars faded. She exhaled once, twice, trying to catch her breath. Heck, trying to remember her name.

A minute passed, maybe two. Neither moved.

Doing her best to ignore the sudden vulnerability that crowded her worse than shoppers at a Christmas Eve sale, Kerry concentrated on the now lukewarm water pelting her shoulders. But the need for Rafe to hold her overwhelmed her and would not go away. Somehow, he’d possessed her so thoroughly, he had laid bare her soul. She felt too open, completely without defenses, as if the only thing that would heal her now was his touch.

As if he felt her yearning, Rafe planted his palm on her abdomen and curled his body around hers in something close to a hug. Grateful for the contact, she closed her eyes and sank back against him. Even as the water cooled a degree more, his warmth seeped into her. Tears pricked the tired sockets of her eyes.

She shouldn’t think about what would happen later, not today. But later she wouldn’t have this anymore. Rafe would be gone from her life as quickly as he’d entered it.

“You amaze me,” he whispered as he turned off the water, then planted a gentle kiss on her shoulder, on her neck.

She amazed him?
He
was the one who dared her within the safety of his arms to scream with pleasure until her throat felt raw, then left her emotions spilling out of her like a wound in need of a tourniquet. Talk about amazed. Tears scalded her eyes as he continued to plant slow, sweet kisses along her
shoulder blade, her nape. Besides the fact his half-hard penis was still lodged inside her, he’d connected their bodies from shoulder to ankle, as if he wanted to touch every part of her. His body heat combined with steam in the shower cubicle, the slight rasp of his body hair everywhere, and the tender stroke of his fingers over her belly, overwhelmed her.

Why was he so gentle? When he was like this, stopping the fantasy that Rafe was her man was impossible. He made it too easy to pretend he cared, that they could have a future. She had no defenses against him. The possibility of falling in love felt a little too real.

Oh, God. Was she sinking slowly, giving her heart to him bit by bit? Another tear fell.

No, no, no. This was just sex. The emotion must stem from the suddenness, the unexpected jolt of the naked connection between two sexual partners. That had to be it. She knew next to nothing about him except that he was intelligent, sexy as hell, and liked to sleep in the middle of the bed. That didn’t add up to love. Lust? Oh, yeah. With him, she could see a major orgasm addiction being a problem. The tears, they had to come from lack of sleep, of food.
Of common sense,
that pesky voice told her.

Shut up!
she silently told it.

Falling in love with someone as unattainable as Rafe made playing in traffic look downright brilliant. And she wasn’t stupid. After all, he came from money, was geographically undesirable, and probably had more women clinging to him than road kill has flies.

Falling in love had probably never crossed his mind—and it shouldn’t. As a couple, they were as inconceivable as a sumo wrestler modeling for Victoria’s Secret.

There, now she felt better. Really. And if she kept telling herself that enough, maybe it would eventually be true.

“You okay?” he asked.

Kerry gathered her thoughts long enough to nod and hoped he would mistake the tear that rolled from her cheek and onto the forearm he’d slung across her chest for mere water. If he found her crying, she’d be more embarrassed than the time she’d had to wear a secondhand dress on her first day of high school.

“Fine.”

“If I pushed you too far, I’m sorry. With you . . . I lose my mind.”

If she wasn’t careful, with him . . . she’d lose her heart.

Another soundless tear tracked down her cheek. Another dribbled to her chin. Her throat ached as she held the rest in. How could she keep opening herself to him again and again?

Yet how could she refuse him after promising him forty-eight hours of commitment-free sex?

F
rowning at Kerry’s weirdly quiet mood, Rafe set her omelet on the table, along with a piece of toast. Both times now she’d been reserved after sex.

That same thing had happened once before, years ago, with a college girlfriend. Rather than deal with her emotional crap, which likely would have filled a pair of Samsonites, he’d stopped calling.

Failing to solve the puzzle back then meant he now had to guess Kerry’s problem. Normally, he wouldn’t bother. But with her, something was . . . different. More intense inside, beyond the pleasure he derived from the sex—though he felt plenty of that. Some unusual connection jumped between them when they touched. And even after the sex, he was loath to release her, to let go of that link, even if he didn’t understand it.

Shoveling his hands through damp hair, Rafe grimaced and tried to guess at Kerry’s feelings. Guilt? Regret? She didn’t seem the type who’d drown in self-recrimination. Fear? Nah, none manifested in the heat of the moment. Insecurity? While most modeling agencies would find her too curvaceous for
Cosmo,
Rafe thought her body was perfect. Maybe he ought to tell her so. Or was she sad because she’d wanted her first lover to love her? Ouch.

If he was smart, he’d give up guessing, wait until her mood passed. Or he could just focus on Mark and leave Kerry be.

Other than his brain, the rest of him thought that idea sucked. For now, she was all his. He wanted her. No way he was going to give it up because she was feeling moody.

“Breakfast,” he called down the hall.

The bathroom door opened, and Kerry stepped into the hall, wearing his slightly rumpled dress shirt, which brushed the tops of her thighs—and a plastic smile, sans those dimples he adored. As she approached, he let the fact she was dressed slide for the moment and focused on her slightly puffy eyes. Had she been crying? His guess, yes. The thought made his gut churn, as if he’d eaten something rancid.

“What’s wrong?” He took her hand as she hovered at the edge of the little kitchen.

Right on cue, her Tupperware smile appeared again. Gently, she pulled free. “A little tired. Hungry.”

Yeah, and he was Santa Claus’s cousin, twice removed.

Since asking if she was okay had only earned him the equivalent of “fine,” obviously it was time for Plan B. He just had to think of it first.

“You cook?” she asked, looking at the steaming food, pale brow raised.

“A man’s gotta eat. Too much fast food is like throwing garbage down your body. I’m no gourmet, though.”

She hesitated. “Did your mother teach you before she passed away?”

“No. I taught myself out of necessity.”

“Good skill to have,” she murmured as she retreated to the little two-seater pine table against the wall, eyes downcast.

Rafe stayed silent as he watched her with a frown. Something wasn’t right. “What are you thinking?”

Weird. Normally, he didn’t care what anyone thought. If they wanted to share, fine. If not, well, most of the time the thought wasn’t earth-shattering anyway. Why was she different?

“Nothing.” She punctuated that word with another fake smile and began picking at her omelet. For a supposedly hungry woman, she wasn’t eating much. In fact, she seemed more withdrawn now than when she’d first entered the kitchen. Because he wouldn’t talk about his mother?