Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (31 page)

“Now,” she whispered, close enough that she could feel the caress of his breath teasing over her skin. “If you want to
entertain
me, I can give you a suggestion.”

He dipped his head and she stared into his eyes.

Heat scorched her.

“Well?” She swayed closer as she spoke, close enough that words were all but murmured against his lips.

Taut silence slid between them and she sighed.

“Too bad.” She eased back. “Here.”

He didn’t even look down. He just continued to stare at her.

Her nipples went tight, stabbing into the sturdy cloth of her sports bra—that damn thing was practically bulletproof, it was so thick, but it was no barrier to the erect pressure of her nipples.

“Oh for crying out loud,” she muttered as he continued to watch her.

She edged sideways and leaned past him just enough to dump his wallet on the little table near the door. “You have a ni—”

*   *   *

The temptation of Hannah Parker was one he’d been able to resist, as long as she stayed away, as long as he was able to keep his vague memories of her from years ago firmly in the forefront of his mind.

She’d just shattered those memories. Gone was the painfully shy child who’d all but been Neve’s shadow. Now, the predominant image he’d have of her in his head would always be how she’d looked as she backed away from that almost kiss—her face flushed from her run, her wavy hair escaping from her braid to frame her face in wisps and her porn-star mouth curved in a taunting smile. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his peripheral vision had caught a view of her chest and that would haunt him—large nipples stabbing into her tank top and now he thought he just might die if he didn’t peel her damp clothes away and lick the sweat from her, make her damp in other ways.

As she brushed against him to dump his wallet—where in the hell had she found it—on the table, Brannon’s control snapped and he caged her up against the doorjamb, his mouth crushing against hers as he swallowed down whatever smart-ass comment she’d been about to make.

A small, startled noise caught in her throat and he held there, not ending the kiss, but not doing anything else—yet.

When her arms came up and curled around his neck, he hauled her against him.

Hannah had the body of a starlet from Hollywood’s golden years: full hips, large, natural breasts that would fill his hands to overflowing, and long, lush legs. He slid his hands down to cup her ass and yank her closer.

She made an approving sound and arched to meet him.

Before sanity completely deserted him, he pulled them both inside, spinning and using her body to shut the door. She reached for him but he caught her hips and pushed back, nudging her back against the door. When he caught her tank, he looked up, stared into her eyes. Her chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm and he couldn’t fucking wait to see get her naked.

When she didn’t do anything to protest, he pulled her tank away and then wrestled the sports bra off, too. The damn thing was like a suit of armor, double-layered and sturdy, but when he peeled it away, he could practically feel his tongue gluing itself to the roof of his mouth. She was … Brannon groaned and went to his knees in front of her, tugging her down until she half straddled him. Her skin was a warm, soft tan—all over—and he had to wonder how she managed that lovely shade of gold.

Cupping her breasts in his hands, he stroked his thumbs around the nipples, slowly, working his way in.

Hannah shivered.

“I’ve probably fantasized about getting my hands on your tits about a hundred times now.”

Her eyes went foggy.

When she went to lick her lips, he leaned in, doing it for her, licking at the seam of her mouth until she opened for him. She tasted salty and warm and she moaned into his mouth, the low, rough sound of need tripping down his spine like an audible caress.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he kissed a hot, hungry line up to her ear and rasped, “If you’re going to call this quits, now’s the time.”

Her response was to bite his lower lip.

“Up,” he ordered, wrapping his hands around her waist and urging her back to her feet. She wobbled and leaned back, resting her weight against the door as he rose.

Still staring at her, he reached out and snagged his wallet.

Luck was with him. He had one condom in there. There were more in his bedroom, too, which was good because he didn’t think one taste would be enough. Shoving the condom into one of the loose pockets of his gym shorts, he caught the waistband of her form-fitting capris.

Her eyes went wide as he dragged them down, but she didn’t move.

Dropping the black cloth to the floor, he braced his hands over her head and stared down at her. Her body was a wet dream. Breasts rising and falling with each breath, she stared back at him boldly and when he lowered his eyes to study her, she did the same. He could feel the heat of her gaze roaming over him and it had his cock jerking, throbbing like a bad tooth.

She reached out and every muscle tightened in anticipation. Her fingers brushed down his neck, along the line of his right shoulder before moving down to his chest. Each gentle stroke sent a jolt of sensation ripping through him, arrowing straight down to his balls.

When she slid her hand down and cupped him through his shorts, he hissed out. Fisting his hands, he held himself locked in place as she started to stroke. The thin material of his shorts was suddenly a terrible thing and he wanted them gone, but if he moved, even a muscle, his control would snap and he’d put his hands on her and this crazy ride would be over before it started.

She stroked up, squeezed, stroked down. Stroke up, squeeze …

Brannon closed his eyes.

Stroke up, squeeze …

He panted and shoved himself into her hand. She made a low, hungry sound in her throat.

Brannon opened his eyes and stared at her.

But she wasn’t looking at his face.

She was staring down, her gaze locked on the rhythm of her hand. When her tongue slid out, Brannon swore.

*   *   *

Hannah’s mind was whirling.

She could count her lovers on one hand and still have fingers left over. The lovers who had made her feel like
this
? Count of zero.

When Brannon knocked her hands away, she blinked up at him, startled. “What…?”

The question was smothered under his lips.

She heard foil tear.

Reaching up, she slid her hands up the ridged muscles of his sides and clutched at him.

He boosted her up, and automatically she curled her legs around his waist. That simple action forced her open and she whimpered as it brought her in full contact with the rigid length of his cock.

She caught her breath.

He knocked it right out of her as he drove in, one hard, deep surge that buried him inside her completely.

A strangled moan choked her.

He pulled out and then drove back in.

Scrabbling against him, she tried to ground herself.

Another deep, lunging thrust.

Hannah opened her mouth, tried to tell him to slow down, to … to … to
what
? Let her breathe? She didn’t know and before she could figure that out, his mouth slanted down over hers and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, echoing the hard, stabbing motions of his cock.

Hannah lost it.

The world exploded and fell away and she couldn’t do anything more than hang on to him. A gathering heat tightened deep down low inside her.

He caught her ass and tilted her hips, changing the angle—just the slightest shift, but it left her screaming. Or she
would
have screamed, if she’d had the breath.

It hit her hard and fast, the pleasure exploding out from her core, but it didn’t stop—it kept going and going, rippling through her with every thrust of his hips.

She whimpered his name as tiny black pinpricks swam before her eyes.

Vaguely, she heard him groan, felt the rhythmic pulsation of his cock.

His lips brushed across her cheek.

Hannah turned her face away, because she had the worst feeling she just might start to cry.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A couple of giggling teenagers probably would have attracted less attention, but fortunately for them, there was nobody around to notice as Ian and Neve half tumbled off his bike and all but supported each other on the way up to the door that led to his flat.

They didn’t make it inside on the first try.

Ian pinned Neve to the door, his hands on her waist, his mouth on hers as he whispered, “I can’t even walk through here now without seeing you, d’you know that? I see you, taste you, feel you…”

She whimpered as he kissed his way down her neck, his beard tickling and soft against her skin.

Through the silk of her dress, she felt his mouth, hot as a brand, just as devastating. He kept going, moving down and down, and then she gasped because he’d somehow caught the hem of her skirt and the petticoat, shoving them up and disappearing beneath them.

“Ian!” It came out a choked, strangled cry and when she would have spoken again, she only made a low moan, because he had speared his tongue through her damp curls and was licking her.

Dazed, she looked down.

It was somehow twice as erotic, not to be able to see him as he hid below the cover of her skirt and petticoat, his hands now gripping her hips and his mouth pressed against her aching core. He licked her again and a shudder left her shaking so hard, she would have fallen if he hadn’t steadied her.

She reached down, blindly seeking the support of his shoulders. Her hands slipped off his shoulders twice before she found purchase and then she started to move against him.

He responded with a low, hungry growl.

She felt it vibrate all the way through her.

The climax was hard and fast and when it ended, Ian stood up.

She would have said something but he was already kissing her now. “Now,” he muttered in one of the brief pauses.

“Now?” she asked, dazed.

He boosted her up and she forgot how to breathe as he drove inside her.

“I told myself,” he panted against her mouth. “I told myself I’d have you here, like this … just like we would have been that night…”

Arms curled around his neck, she clung to him.

Her heart raced, keeping time with the driving, deep thrusts and when he drove her into a breath-stealing climax, she thought maybe, just maybe, this was the closest thing to bliss she’d ever known.

*   *   *

Something soft brushed her skin.

Light teased her eyes.

“Are you waking up there?”

Neve jolted upright, a gasp lodging in her throat.

She let it out in a wheeze when she found herself staring into Ian’s eyes.

Ian.

She swallowed and looked around.

Ian’s bedroom.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

She was with Ian in his bedroom. She’d spent the night with him.

“That look on your face, Neve. It’s devastating me. Second thoughts already?”

She opened her eyes, a denial rushing to her lips only to stop when she saw the teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re terrible,” she said, reaching up to touch his mouth, his beard soft and silken against her palm. She’d gotten to experience firsthand just how fantastic that beard felt, rubbing against her belly, her thighs—so many parts of her, because it seemed Ian had been determined to brand her with his mouth.

“I’m a desperate man,” he corrected. “I had heaven in my bed last night and I’d be nothing if I discovered she regretted it already.”

“Heaven.” She snorted. “You’re the biggest flirt I think I’ve ever met.”

He held out a cup of coffee. “Perhaps. But it’s no less true. There are times when even I have no words but the truth to give.”

She glanced at the coffee and accepted. “I … um. I guess that means you had a good night.”

“No.”

She bobbled the coffee and he steadied her hands.

“Nuh…” Swallowing, Neve searched his face. “No?”

“It wasn’t
good
. I consider it a good night if I come home after a hard day’s work and can put my feet up a bit.
Good
is a pale shadow of what last night was.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Spectacular is a wee bit closer. Amazing. Earthshaking … life-changing.”

She rolled her eyes and took a drink from the coffee while blood rushed to stain her cheeks. “You have low standards if last night was life-changing.”

“No.”

The hardness in his tone had her looking up.

He took the coffee away and she scowled at him. He tumbled her back down on the bed. His weight pinned her down, but she didn’t even have a chance to consider fear. With a featherlight touch, he skimmed his lips over her jawline, up to tease the soft skin behind her ear.

“You need to have a better opinion of yourself, Miss Neve,” he said softly.

He lifted his head and peered down into her eyes and she felt her heart stutter to a stop. Ian cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips. “Although I guess I’m not being clear. I think my life started to change the very moment I saw you staring at me down in my pub.”

Neve had had her heart smashed on, ripped out, and thrown away. She’d had people talk about her, talk down to her, through her. She didn’t think she’d ever had anybody talk to her as if she was something so … treasured.

“You break my heart when you look at me like that,” Ian said.

He rubbed his lips over hers.

Unable to say anything, she curled her arms around his neck and tugged him closer.

That, at least, she was starting to understand. The rub of his body on hers, the feel of his strength as he surged inside her. “Make love to me,” she whispered.

*   *   *

Ian could have said a hundred other things that had started to change, all starting the very moment he’d looked at her, but seeing the sparkle in her green eyes, the wet shine of tears, and hearing those words, there was no other thing he could do, other than give her what she wanted.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said, reaching up to flick open the buttons, one at a time, baring more and more of her lovely form. “I think I want it back.”