Half Moon Hill (18 page)

The isolation he’d come to Half Moon Hill for was suddenly . . . a thing that felt all the more precious for being able to
share
it with her in this moment. He liked knowing they were the only two people anywhere near; he liked knowing they could take their time soaking in every nuance of what they were about to do together. And as for time—for Duke it stood still; there was nothing but this moment. No past with its bad memories and losses, no future wrought with uncertainties or loneliness—there was only now, a moment that felt like it might just last forever if he wanted it to.

He had no plan, no particular ideas of exactly how he wanted this to go—he’d come here on pure instinct and that’s what he was still running on when he leaned in to lower a kiss to her perfect inner thigh. And when she shivered a little in response, he did, too—and the want between them was so thick and heavy that he didn’t care if she saw. He’d left her the first time they’d had sex because it had seemed like the safe thing to do, and he’d been denying himself any of her since, trying to convince himself it hadn’t mattered, that it had been two bodies moving together, two people making each other feel good, nothing more. But the truth he found himself facing as he rained still more gentle kisses on her tender flesh was that the pull between him and Anna Romo was something more than that.

And he still didn’t understand what it was, and he remained entirely uncertain if this was wise—but he’d just stopped caring about that. He’d quit asking himself questions and instead gave himself over to seeking, getting what he needed. And from her response so far, she needed it, too. Which he’d pretty much sensed already, but seeing it, feeling it, only amped up the almost brutal chemistry between them.

What did she see when she looked at him? A monster? Something or someone she wanted to keep hidden away up here where no one else could see? But even those last, hard questions fell away, too, as he rose upright on his knees, slid his hands up her outer thighs and onto her hips, and pressed inward to kiss her.

He sank deep into the kissing upon contact, pressing his tongue into her mouth, letting himself get lost in her. And before he knew it, he’d angled her supple body back and across the chair and had climbed up onto it with her, planting his knees in the soft cushion, pressing his erection between her legs as they made out.

There were moments between kisses when he looked at her and knew she felt it, too, whatever this thing was, this stark need that drove him. So strange to feel something so intense with someone he didn’t know well—but on the other hand, maybe he knew her better than he wanted to admit to himself. They’d shared some things; they’d worked together for a while now; she’d even cut his hair and shaved his face. So . . . maybe the only strange thing here was the feeling itself—the fact that he’d never known this kind of desire.

Stop thinking, damn it—just stop. And enjoy this. Feel this. Be in this—all the way.

And so that’s when Duke finally did all those things—he forgot who he was, he forgot how he looked now, he forgot anything except sinking all the more fully into the moment, the only sound the sexy old song playing in another room.

Soon his palms drifted over her full breasts—producing another shiver, again first in her and then in him—before he moved his fingers to the button on her shorts. She let out a hot gasp of excitement as he popped the button, pulled on the zipper. And then she was biting her lush lower lip, her eyes shaded with lust, and her hands were working at his belt, getting it undone, getting
everything
down there undone.

As she pushed at the waistband of his jeans, he murmured, “Lift up,” and they proceeded to shove each other’s pants and underwear down.

Even as they continued struggling out of them using legs and feet, Duke pushed up her tank top and she lifted her arms to let him take it off. When it was gone, he removed his T-shirt over his head and flung it aside as well. “Bra. Take it off,” he said. He might sound like a caveman, but he could scarcely form thoughts at this point, let alone sentences, and the bra was the last thing left and he wanted her completely naked.

She didn’t hesitate, reaching behind her back to unhook it, and a few glorious seconds later, the hot pink bra was being tossed away and her gorgeous breasts were bared plumply before him.

“Aw God,” he murmured at the sight, his longing heightened just when he’d thought there was nowhere higher for it to go—and then he sank his mouth onto one tantalizingly taut nipple. He pulled it between his lips, hard and sweet and feminine, the sexy little cry she released fueling him. As she arched for him, he could almost feel the way he suckled her stretching all through her.

She moved against him, her body grinding rhythmically beneath him—and maybe he should have just let her keep going, but they were so close already that he couldn’t resist the urge to lift slightly, readjust, and push his way inside her ripe body.

She cried out again at the firm, smooth entry—and God, she was wet and warm. Never had it been so obvious to him that their bodies had been made to fit together perfectly.

And then he was moving in her, thrusting, driving, and she was panting, moaning, their gazes unabashedly locked, and Duke knew a downright primal connection with her. Damn, all along, he’d thought he’d been having good sex with women—hell, he’d
known
it—but this . . . this eclipsed anything he’d ever experienced.

Soon he yearned to see her towering over him, riding him as she’d done once before on the couch in the front room—he wanted to make her come. Planting his hands solidly on her ass, he said, “Hold on to me tight,” and when she locked her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, he turned them over in the chair until she straddled him.

“Oh God,” she breathed. “I feel you so much more this way.”

He liked that. Enough to thrust up into her, wanting to make her feel him even deeper, and loving the stark, high-pitched sigh that echoed from her. Their eyes met, her look wild, and he said, “Ride me, baby.”

Anna couldn’t quite believe this had happened—when she’d least expected it. And if she’d let herself examine it very closely, she’d have felt weak for giving in so easily when she feared it could only lead to heartache.

But that was why she didn’t let herself examine it. That was why she just reveled in it, soaking up the pleasure Duke delivered for all it was worth. If this was all she could have of him—his body, sex—well, looked like she’d decided she would take it. And at least in the moment, it felt far, far better than denying herself.

Her body was in control of her now, anyway—she’d succumbed completely to Duke Dawson’s charms. Even if
charms
seemed . . . an unlikely word to use in relation to her biker in the woods, he definitely possessed them. In a hard, sexy sort of way.

As she moved on him, the pleasure inside her mounted, rising higher and higher—and when he leaned in to take the peak of one breast back into his mouth, oh God. Sweet release was only a few heartbeats away and she didn’t try to hide it. Her breath grew more shallow, her eyes fell half shut, her passion overrode anything happening in her brain. She was lost to sensation, her body filled with it, her senses overcome with it—and then she toppled headlong into the oblivion of orgasm. Her cries of ecstasy filled the room, briefly drowning out the record that still played nearby.

Oh God, I thought I’d never get to feel this with him again.
And that somehow made it still sweeter, hotter. And yet . . . she didn’t know if there would be a next time, either—and that simple knowledge made her ride out the climax with even more indulgence, made her wring every conceivable ounce of pleasure from it she could.

And as she met his gaze in that moment, she wondered if he could see what she felt—
I just gave all of myself to you.
Never before had she realized that . . . maybe up to now, she’d never really done that with a guy. Even guys she’d been crazy about. Even Bryant, her college boyfriend and the only guy she’d ever really loved. Maybe before this moment, even in the heat of sex, she’d still been concerned about . . . confidence, control. Maybe she’d never let herself go so completely before, even in the midst of orgasm. God. Wow.

She’d never felt so . . . vulnerable. Or so very . . . open.

Trust
. Just like she was learning to feel for her brothers and her friends, she’d given that to Duke tonight without even weighing it.

And, not quite ready to keep facing that scary reality, she collapsed softly against him, letting her head come to rest on his shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the soft skin of his neck, like once before.
We all have soft spots. Each and every one of us. Whether figuratively or literally. Even Duke Dawson. Even me.

They stayed still and silent for a moment, their bodies still connected, until finally Duke leaned slightly to rasp in her ear, “I love watching you come.”

She sucked in her breath. Whether or not he’d seen how truly wide she’d opened herself to him, he’d liked what she’d given him. And that drove her to kiss him, hard and passionate—and then he was kissing her back, just as wildly, and then they were moving together again, hard and insistent, his hands on her hips, pushing her down, down, down onto him, forcing small shrieks of pleasure from her throat.

Until finally he surprised her by then lifting her up, off him, until they were no longer joined—and she’d never felt more empty, meeting his gaze with shock to say, “Wh-why?”

His eyes still dripped with heat, want, as he soothed her with a “Shhh,” then lifted her off him further and maneuvered around her to get to his feet.

She instinctively started to turn toward him, her knees still planted in the easy chair, but he said, “No, Daisy—stay like you are.”

And as his hands came back to her hips from behind her, she understood they were only changing positions—and that was when he thrust smoothly back into her waiting body, and it was like getting back something she’d lost, something she couldn’t do without, like being made whole again. She gasped her pleasure as heat infused her cheeks. She could feel him more
this
way, too. She bit her lip and arched her ass toward him, still ready to give of herself to him like never before.

After that, it was utter abandon—coming from him as much as from her. He drove into her welcoming flesh again and again, each stroke vibrating through her entire body, the sensations stretching all the way out to her fingers and toes. She cried out at each, still in a state of total surrender to the moment, to the heat, to Duke himself.

Another cool night breeze wafted through the window just behind the chair, lifting the thin curtains she’d hung there, and also lifting her hair as it seemed to kiss her bare skin. As Cathy’s old records continued playing in the next room, Anna caught a glimpse of the moon out the window—a perfect half moon glowing in the night and tilted to one side—and she thought she’d never felt so much at once. Or maybe she’d just never
let
herself until now.

Duke’s raw warmth and masculinity seemed to shroud her, folding in all around her as she closed her eyes, closed out some of the sensation, to better concentrate on the part that came solely from him. She felt the blood slowly drain from her cheeks, as if the rest of her body needed it more right now, to withstand what he delivered so powerfully—until his grip on both her hips tightened and he murmured, “God, baby—God. Now.”

And then his plunges into her grew even rougher, harder, and she clenched her teeth and loved every second of knowing he was coming in her, and that she’d taken him there.

D
uke didn’t question what would happen next or even consult Anna about it—when they were done, he just took her hand and said, “Come on.” Then he led her, both of them still naked, to the stairs that led to her bedroom.

Her pretty giggle trilled in his ear. “What—you’re not gonna carry me this time?”

“You’re heavy,” he said, then tossed her a sideways glance to let her know he was kidding.

She used her free hand to playfully slug him in the arm as they climbed the polished wood steps.

Entering her bedroom at night, then lying down with her there, was different than before. Maybe it just felt more natural to be getting under the covers in the dark with her now—or maybe he’d been envisioning her here at night, taking that beautiful body to bed. A small, dim lamp threw a shadowy light across the room, and he was thankful neither of them had bothered to turn it off—he liked seeing her next to him.

“What do you wear to sleep in?” he asked without weighing it.

“T-shirt and cotton shorts usually,” she said. “Or a cami if it’s hot.”

Beneath the covers, she snuggled against him and it felt good. “No fancy lace nighties?” he asked.

She peered over at him. “No. Why?”

He gave his head a short shake. “I don’t know—guess I just thought you seemed like that kind of girl. Or you did last summer anyway.”

“I guess I used to be, now that I think about it. I have a lot of that kind of stuff—just haven’t worn it in a while.” She met his gaze again. “Are you disappointed? That I don’t wear lacy stuff every night?”

He shook his head once more. “Nah. I bet you’re cute as hell in your T-shirt and shorts. And
hot
as hell in your lace when you decide to wear it. Shit—guess I don’t much care
what
you wear ’cause you’d make anything look good.”

From the look that passed through her eyes, he thought she liked the compliment. Though a soft grin stole over her. “Then why’d you ask?”

He shrugged against the pillow. “Guess I just wanted to be able to picture you here, what you’d look like going to bed at night.”

She bit her lip, appearing somehow both bashful and sexual at the same time, and he thought she’d liked that bit of honesty, too. Leaning her head back slightly, her eyes lit with amusement, she asked, “And what do
you
wear to sleep in, Mr. Dawson?”

“Depends,” he said. “Sometimes underwear. And sometimes nothin’ at all.”