Rock Her (Crimson Romance) (13 page)

She set the arrangement on the table and turned to him.

They watched each other silently.

Every rational thought flew out of her head. Each time she looked at his mouth, she remembered how it looked locked on her bared breast in the cab, his unique citrusy masculine scent, the feel of his silky hair in her hands.

But then yesterday he ran. Maybe he wasn’t interested in being with her after all.

She could never read him and especially not now. She avoided his scrutiny, dropping gaze to his shoulders, then followed the lines of his long sleeved henley — blue, accentuating his gorgeous eyes. Her gaze dropped to where the shirt ended, at the fly of his well-worn jeans. She took in his lean hips encased in denim …
Oh. My. God
.

She raised disbelieving eyes to his hot blue ones, now drowsy with lust, mobile mouth tipped up in a sheepish smile.

“It’s totally out of my control,” he admitted.

She couldn’t help it; she looked down again, shocked. He laughed and stepped closer.

“It happens around you all the time.” His expression intent. “With little or no provocation. Sometimes when I smell you … ”

The hot rush of blood swept up her neck and into her cheeks.

The hand that reached out to stroke her face shook slightly as it cupped her jaw and guided it up to him. He gave her a smile, that sexy, crooked grin, before his lips met hers and she felt that craving, the ache of arousal, now familiar. Her eyes closed, pleasure streaked through her as his lips explored her face, the sensitive areas on her neck, stroking, teasing, leaving a burning trail of sensation. Her heart, already racing, accelerated as his lips moved to the pulse in her neck.

She threaded her fingers through his thick hair and urged him back to her lips. What had been a lazy seduction caught fire as their mouths met, tongues tangling. His body, taut with tension, pressed against her, large warm hands swept downward, lingering on her hips, tugging them more tightly against him. Her hands drifted to the hard muscles in his shoulders, the ridges of his abdomen. She pulled his soft cotton shirt out of his worn jeans and paused, savoring the feel of the hot, bare skin at his waistline.

His breath hitched and her hands continued, more slowly, nervous now over his jeans, the throbbing hardness beneath the soft cotton. He sucked in a breath and pulled his hips back, giving her more room to caress him. She stroked hard, the feel of his thick swelling erection under her hands making her tremble. He groaned against her mouth, swept her up in his arms and carried her down the hall. She pulled her head away, only long enough to direct him into her bedroom. He set her on the floor next to the bed and lifted her dress. She raised her arms as he yanked it over her head, until she was only clad in panties and bra. He shrugged off his shirt, then pushed off his underwear and jeans in one swift motion.

Over six feet of aroused, hungry, naked man stood in her bedroom. His body was formidable; strong, well-defined shoulders, a tapered waist, narrow hips. She reached out to rub between his nipples and feel his chest, only slightly rough with hair. He stood unmoving while she tentatively explored him. Her hand trailed down to his hips, to the indentation where his waist met his lower abdomen. Kate ran her fingers there and he flinched and inhaled sharply. She glanced up at him and his gaze seared her. She looked to her hands, above his huge, thick jutting cock, heavy with desire, she slowly wrapped her hands around it and stroked, felt it leap and pulse. Alec let out a gasp and his entire body shuddered. This was really going to happen.

He pulled her gently toward him, correctly interpreting her concern.

“Second thoughts?” he asked gently, lips playing at her cheeks, her forehead.

“No,” she got out, breathless.

He leaned back and stared at her, his eyes fierce. “You’re beautiful.”

She looked away, suddenly shy, overwhelmed by the feel of his naked body pressed against hers. She shivered from the heat. His hands went around her back and unclasped her bra; she shrugged it off, eager to press her aching breasts to his chest. She was barely aware of him stripping off her panties, but she did feel his hand slowly, gently, spread her legs, one finger rubbing where she was hot, slick, and aching. She moaned and clenched her thighs, trapping his marauding hand. He gentled her with a deep kiss, his other hand trailed down her back. Her thighs relaxed and his long fingers stroked, coaxed and finally, slowly he pushed one finger into her. She jerked, panted and laid her head on his chest while he worked magic with his fingers.

“Ah, God,” he groaned. “You are so tight.”

She held onto him for all she was worth. Every sense was completely overloaded — the feel of his smooth skin, his hard cock pressed to her belly, fingers stretched and stroking, building an insistent ache within her. She trembled, legs weak. She didn’t want to come this way. Not the first time. He withdrew his hand and she yanked his hips toward her, insistent, but he turned her away from him to pull back the duvet. She climbed onto the bed and lay, naked, excited, and unbearably aroused. He reached down to his jeans on the floor and pulled out a gold foil wrapped packet. He tore it, then rolled it over himself with trembling hands, the mattress dipping as he joined her on the bed.

He opened her knees with gentle hands, and she watched him tower over her; she heard his shuddering breath. Arching her back, she closed her eyes. He knelt between her legs, his hair roughened thighs spreading her smooth pale limbs still farther apart. The tip of his arousal stroked her slick cleft, and she pushed down with her hips, desperate to pull him in. She shook in earnest now. Nervous, excited, inflamed.

He planted his forearms on the bed and slowly, slowly moved inexorably forward. Despite her arousal, she gasped and tensed at the thick, hot, almost uncomfortable intrusion. She opened her eyes, met his hot blue gaze. He froze, panting, waiting, giving her time to accustom herself to his body. She shifted, trying to ease his entry and he groaned her name. Her hands went to his hips and she held him, gazes still locked, he withdrew. With an unintelligible curse, he thrust in to the hilt. A helpless cry escaped her at the sudden discomfort and they both tensed.

He dropped his head into the curve of her neck, his body heaving and damp.

“God. Kate,” he said through a groan.

Slowly, he moved, giving her time to accommodate him. He took her lips, licked inside her mouth, ate at her. The discomfort passed. She knew only the insistent throbbing ache. He stroked all the way out, then slowly back in. Her legs locked around his hips and she arched to meet his thrusts. He quickened the pace, and she clutched at him, mindless, gasping. With a sudden hard thrust he sent her over the edge and she came apart with a low scream, her legs nerveless now, quivering. His hips bucked against her. She was only vaguely aware of his big body shuddering over hers as he pumped wildly into her, then came with a long, low guttural sound.

She lay still and limp under him, his weight mostly supported on his arms. He hung his head, until his forehead touched the damp flesh over her racing heart. She smelled the musky odor of sex and man, felt the intermittent pulse of her body, closed her eyes, exhausted, sated, and buoyant.

• • •

Slowly, careful not to wake her, Alec moved to his side, her hips tucked against his, still inside her, unwilling to withdraw from her body. One arm pillowed her head, the other stroked her silky skin from waist to thigh absently. Despite his experience, that was unequivocally the most intense, shattering, humbling moment of his life. He’d intended to prolong her pleasure, see to her satisfaction not once, but several times. Instead, it had taken every ounce of self-control to hold off. He had come right on the heels of her orgasm, and he considered himself fortunate that she had come so quickly. He had been out of control from the onset. The hunger, the all-consuming passion, the intensity of the whole experience left him stunned. She was clueless, of course; he swallowed a groan. She probably thought sex was always like that. Oh, the irony. Being with her took everything he thought he knew about sex, and turned it on its head.

“Kate,” he murmured, and as she shifted, still fast asleep, he felt a wave of tenderness toward the beautiful girl in his arms. He’d never felt anything remotely like it, nor did he have any idea what to make of it. Now, lying in her bed, with her wrapped around him, his feelings were impossible to ignore. This was different. She was different. He racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever felt this tender affection and wonder for another soul. It was like being stripped bare. He closed his eyes and willed it away.

One week of joy. Joy interrupted by Alec’s frequent trips to Los Angeles for pressing work matters, but joy nevertheless. Alec felt like a school kid experiencing his first crush. They could not keep their hands off one another. Insatiable. Insane. Yet humbling and tender. Happiness had dulled his initial fears of being so emotionally exposed to her.

“You’ve never asked me about my sobriety,” he said. Kate was lying in his arms and they were having a lazy morning. Between his work in Los Angeles and her work/sleep schedule, it was tough to find enough time to be with her.

Kate shrugged. “It seems personal. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“This feels pretty personal.” He trailed his fingers over her abdomen, and she shivered, pressing herself against his body.

“What? Sex? Personal? This is casual,” she instructed him and pressed her lips gently to his. Her scent, the feel of her hot skin, he would never get enough of her.

Disconcerted, he pulled back to look into her face.

“Kate, seriously? You have to know that
this,
” he gestured to their entwined bodies, “is not casual.” He blew out a slow breath “The sex part is … ” he paused, searching for the right words, “unbelievable. It’s like some cosmic joke that the most intense sex of my life is with a virgin.” He shook his head and captured her lips.

A long time later, she brought the conversation back to his sobriety. “So tell me.”

“I don’t want to, but I think you need to know. I hate that I was an idiot for so long. I hate that I have days and weeks, hell, years missing from my life. A life full of holes.”

She rolled over on top of him and met his gaze. “I think you are looking at it the wrong way. You are focusing too much on the holes and not enough on what you accomplished. So tell me what made you finally quit the drinking and drugs,” she insisted.

“People had been trying to get me to quit for a long time, Kate. People I cared about, people I didn’t. Toward the end, I’d wake up every day so sick, in pain. I couldn’t function, couldn’t make music. It was hell.”

She held him close. “I know something about addiction,” she said calmly, “we see addicts of all shapes, sizes, and stages in the hospital. I’m not judging you. I know it’s a disease and I know it’s hard.”

He squeezed her. Most people who thought they understood addiction didn’t. Anyone who referred to addicts as “recovered” clearly didn’t. Temptation waxed and waned but was always there. As a nurse, Kate probably did understand addiction better than most, but nowhere near the way someone who loved an addict in the throes of their disease did.

“I’d known plenty of people in my business, friends, acquaintances, some talented people who overdosed. I knew where I was headed, and I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I didn’t make the connection.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’d promise myself and other people I’d quit, but I used every day for years. I’d suffer through a few hours of painful sobriety, maybe most of a day occasionally, but withdrawal from the alcohol and the assortment of stuff I was on … well, it was pretty bad. Then, eleven years ago, Neal overdosed and died. I wasn’t there when it happened.” He stared at Kate. “I know there are all kinds of ridiculous stories and conspiracy theories about what happened to him, but that’s all bullshit. He was an addict. He overdosed. End of story.”

She met his eyes. He couldn’t hold her gaze and covering his face with a forearm, he continued.

“Cooper was the most insanely talented person I ever met, and the most unhappy. And that’s saying something in this business. He was cruel drunk, wretched sober, and yet you could overlook his utter lack of charm because he was this exceptionally gifted musician. He could go days without sleeping, just composing. He was most of the reason we were so successful at least initially. And he hated every minute of it, the accolades, the fame, all of it.” He grimaced and uncovered his eyes. “He was so disgusted with celebrity and commercial success, I had to be the front man.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I became the face of Bliss. I was a more visible member of the band than Neal in many ways, in the press, with public relations. People who were serious fans knew Cooper was the creative genius, but to many people, I was the face of the band.”

“I thought that was because you have such a great, er … .look,” she said.

He frowned and rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Nah, Cooper hated it, I loved it. The money, the fame, the interviews, long discussions about the ‘craft’ all of it. Well, I loved it at first.”

“What’s not to like?” she agreed. “Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Although I think I remember reading something in college about absolute power corrupting absolutely … ”

“John Acton.” He sat up and pulled her into his lap.

“Hmmm?”

“That quote. ‘Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely’. He also said ‘Great men are nearly always bad men’. He was talking about political power and tyrants, but I found it meaningful.”

“Do you want anything?” he asked, finally aware they had missed dinner. “Hungry? Thirsty?”

“No.” she said, quietly. “Finish your story.”

He nodded. “It was great for a few years. We had our music, more money and fame than any of us had ever dreamed of. Critical acclaim. Then the life started eating at us. All of us to some degree, but Cooper and I imploded.” He stroked her shoulder absently.

“That part sounds pretty horrible,” she admitted.