Wilde Nights in Paradise Page 6

  “You. Owe. Me,” she repeated, enunciating each word.

  His brows lifted. “I do?”

  “Oh, yeah. You may not have been celibate, buddy, but I damn near was. It was supposed to have been just the two of us for the rest of our lives, but you took that from me. You robbed me of eight years of my sexual life. So you owe me one night.”

  His eyelids dropped to half-mast and he looked at her through his lashes. “Just one?”

  “Yes. That’s all. I’m tired of pretending I’m not still attracted to you. Since we have to live together for the foreseeable future, I want to get it out of the way now.”

  “So logical.” A slow grin spread across his face. “But, Libs, you’ve been doing it all wrong if you think one night will satisfy either of us.”

  “I haven’t been doing it at all, and that’s the problem.” She held up a finger. “One night, Jude. Take it or leave it.”

  He stood and steam rose off his chest. Weighed down by the water, his shorts hung so low on his hips that she could see the tip of his very erect penis. “Oh, I’m definitely taking it.”

  Chapter Six

  Jude hesitated, hating the way she backed up with his every step closer. He knew he looked predatory, knew she wasn’t anywhere near ready for him to unleash the full force of his desire. But, damn, he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t planned on making any advances, despite the memory of losing himself in her, which had been replaying in his mind since seeing her again. Now here she was, offering one night and maybe he was a complete jerk, but he didn’t have the willpower to walk away from that. He followed her retreat, his blood running hotter than it had in years. He was tired of denying himself what he wanted, what his body and heart had claimed as his own eight years ago.

  She backed away until she banged into the covered pool table. Which was perfect.

  “Wait.” She held up her hands, pushed against his chest as he crowded her, caging her in with a hand on each side of her hips.

  “Second thoughts already?” He leaned in and scraped his teeth along the line of her chin to her ear. “Gotta tell me now.”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe we should think…” Her words trailed off into a moan as he traced the curve of her ear with his tongue then tugged the lobe between his teeth.

  “You think too much, Libs. Always have. Just feel.”

  She tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access, and he took that as consent. He grazed the column of her neck with his lips, enjoying the trail of goose bumps he left in his wake. Her hands found his hair, tangled in the longer strands on top, and guided his head down to a much more interesting area of the female anatomy. Happy to oblige, he sucked one of her nipples through the layers of her shirt and bra, but it wasn’t enough. Too many damn clothes separated them. He need her bare skin under his hand, against his tongue.

  “You should have put your swimsuit on.”

  Resignation tinged her sigh. “I was afraid this would happen if I did.”

  “Hate to tell ya, babe, but this was gonna happen even if you were wearing chain mail.” But, damn, he did like the thought of seeing her in a swimsuit. “That little purple bikini with the silver ties at the hips… You don’t still have that, do you?”

  Libby laughed and shook her head. “Of course not. I was twenty pounds lighter back then. It wouldn’t fit me now.”

  “Mmm, I like your body now. All this soft skin here…” He stripped off her shirt and palmed her breasts. She’d always had the sexiest lingerie and he was glad to see that hadn’t changed, but right now he was more interested in the lovely mounds overflowing his palms and the rosy nipples straining toward him through the sheer white lace of her bra.

  “And here…” In a move so quick it left her gasping, he spun her to face the pool table and unbuttoned her pants. He kissed her shoulder before dropping to his knees and sliding off her pants.

  She groaned. “Jude—”

  “No.” His voice came out as little more than a rasp and he stopped her from turning back around. Having her lace-covered ass right there in front of him was so damn erotic, the sight of her curves alone almost did him in. He traced a finger over the dimples at the base of her spine, lightly down the cleft between her cheeks, and found the honeyed spot between her legs already damp for him. Standing, he kept his hand on her sex and nudged her legs further apart.

  Christ, she was so wet. His cock ached with the need to sink into her, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He wanted to make her come, wanted her legs to turn to jelly, wanted her gasping and writhing and begging before he entered her. He slipped his fingers under the edge of her panties and enjoyed the shudder that shook her so hard she had to grab the pool table for support.

  Oh yeah. She was wound so tight, he bet he could make her go off three times before he penetrated her.

  This was going to be fun.

  …

  This was completely insane.

  She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to have sex with Jude ever again, had secretly nicknamed him “Last Man on Earth” Wilde—as in, not even if he was the last man on Earth. Yet here she was, straining against his talented fingers, wanting nobody else.

  A breeze stirred the palm fronds overhanging the pool and brushed her bare skin in a warm caress, reminding her they were still outside. She experienced a moment of sheer oh-my-god-I-must-have-lost-my-mind, but then Jude flipped aside the end of her ponytail and dragged his lips up her spine, gently biting the base of her neck as his fingers dipped deeper into her sex. Her knees threatened collapse. Only his muscled arm around her waist kept her from melting into a puddle of lust at his feet.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she squeaked.

  “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” His breath was hot against her skin, and yet still sent goose bumps racing over her body. “But that’s the fun of it.”

  Fun. Was this fun? As his lips and tongue continued their exploration of her spine and his fingers dipped in and out, in and out, she swallowed a moan. Oh, yes, this was fun. And delicious. And so very dangerous.

  Crazy. This was all so crazy and she didn’t do crazy. She did safe. Secure. Steady.

  Boring.

  “You’re thinking again,” Jude said. He cupped her chin in one big hand and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip before drawing her toward him for a kiss that swept her up, shook her around, and spit her out in the land of impossible things.

  She sucked in a sharp breath when he finally let her mouth go. “I’m not in Kansas anymore, am I?”

  That devastatingly sexy grin of his spread across lips still damp from their kiss. “Nah, Dorothy, but this is no dream. This is the real deal and if you want to stop—well, damn, it might kill me, but I’ll walk out that door right now and call one of my brothers to play bodyguard.”

  Her heart gave an unexpected lurch at the thought, which should have been all the proof she needed to back off and tell him to do exactly that. She’d probably be safer with one of his brothers, both physically and emotionally.

  Instead, she found herself tracing his lips with her fingertip. Lips that so easily offered a smile. Lips that knew exactly how to make a woman scream with pleasure. Lips she had dreamed about more often than she wanted to admit even to herself. “If I say no, you won’t stay?”

  He shook his head. “Now that I’ve had I taste, I don’t trust myself to be a gentleman and keep my hands off you.”

  “You’ve never been a gentleman, Jude Wilde.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly,” she echoed. Turning in the circle of his strong arms, she lifted herself up to sit on the pool table and wrapped her legs around his waist. If she was going to do this, she was throwing caution to the wind for one night and going all out. “So why start now?”

  His answering grin was slow and sensuous. His hands were not as he wrestled her out of her panties and fumbled with her bra. She never remembered him fumbling before. He’d always been so sure of himself, so steady that it
surprised her to see the tremble in his fingers. But then she had no interest in his fingers save for the deliciously wicked things they were doing between her legs again. He leaned in for a short kiss, sucked her lower lip into his mouth as he pulled away.

  “Lay back,” he whispered. “I want you in my mouth.”

  Her heart tripped, stuttered, and she was pretty sure she no longer knew how to breathe, but none of that mattered because he was staring at her like she was a feast and he was a man starved. She let him push her back, the padded, leather-like cover on the pool table cool against her bare skin. He gave a hum of male appreciation as his palm skimmed the front of her body, his gaze following until he found the soft curls at the vee of her legs. He slid two fingers into her again and shut his eyes, groaning as if in pain. She saw his hips pump almost involuntarily.

  “You’re still dressed,” she managed between gasping breaths as his fingers continued their slide.

  “For now.” His voice was nothing but rasp and the thrill of it made her muscles quiver. He was on the edge, just barely holding his desire in check. What she couldn’t understand was, why? Jude Wilde never held back. Everything he did was in your face, in the moment, carpe diem. So why was he reigning himself in now?

  “Jude.” She waited until his lust-drunk gaze met hers, then deliberately opened her thighs, touched herself, and enjoyed the hitch in his breath while he watched. “You want your mouth on me? I’m waiting. Taste me.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and if that look in his eyes got any hotter she’d be walking away from this with scorch marks. It would be worth it, though.

  So worth it.

  Jude dropped to his knees, hooked her legs over his shoulders and found her with his mouth. At the first lap of his tongue, she came in one hard spasm, thighs quaking, back arching, her cry echoing around the garden. And still he didn’t stop, didn’t let her ease back to earth before he sent her into orbit again.

  Definitely worth it.

  In a surge of movement, as if he couldn’t stand to be outside her a second longer, he surged to his feet, shed his shorts, dragged her to the edge of the table, and fisted himself in one hand, guiding his head to her entrance. With a hard thrust of his hips, he drove deep inside her.

  “Wait,” she managed even as she lifted to meet his thrusts. “Condom.”

  “I’m clean,” he said between clenched teeth, pumped his hips again, and pleasure coiled tighter within her, curling her toes.

  “I know. It’s not that… Oh, God, that feels so good.” Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head and she almost said to hell with it…but one thought stopped her. Pregnancy. She did not want a child with a man who acted like a child himself most of the time. She was lucky she hadn’t ended up pregnant and alone eight years ago, and she wasn’t going to take that risk this time around.

  She smacked her hands against his chest. “Jude, wait. We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.”

  A stream of colorful curses fell from his lips and she instantly regretted the lost connection when he left her and ran into the house. He was back a moment later and slapped a string of condoms—at least a half dozen—onto the pool table.

  She laughed. “Now that’s wishful thinking.”

  “You said one night, not one time. I plan to make the most of it.” He ripped one open with his teeth, rolled it on, and found her again in one long glide. Slow, torturous thrusts and it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want slow and sweet from him. Didn’t want gentle. She wanted sweaty, down-and-dirty, bed-rocking, flesh-slapping sex and wound her legs around his waist, lifted her hips, dug her heels into his back.

  Spurred him on. Faster, harder.

  He gave her exactly that until the sturdy pool table wobbled and creaked and sweat slicked both of them.

  Tension wound so tightly inside Libby she thought she might pop like a container under too much pressure. She bit the inside of her cheek, determined not to cry out again. They were in the middle of a city and although the stone fence and jungle-like garden blocked all views from the street, they did have neighbors. The whole block didn’t need to know what they were up to tonight. But then Jude leaned forward, changing the direction of his thrusts as his lips closed over one beaded nipple and tugged.

  And that was it.

  The climax ripped a scream from her throat. After one more deep thrust, she felt him tighten up, felt his erection jump as he joined her, roaring with his own orgasm.

  Jude collapsed, but caught himself on his arms before crushing her. He stared at her for a long time as his breath sawed from his lungs, his gaze searching hers for... something. She didn’t know what.

  “Christ,” he whispered. Finally shutting his eyes, he leaned his damp forehead against hers as shudders continued to wrack his body. “Oh, Christ. I can’t get enough of you. I can’t get enough.”

  He lurched upright, pulled off the condom, and grabbed another.

  “No way. You can’t possibly…” Shocked, she watched him roll the second condom into place over his straining erection. Even more shocking, she felt herself going wet again, responding to his need, her sex tender but plumped and ready for him. “Jude, if we keep this up, I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

  When he lifted his head and grinned at her with the devil in his eyes, she decided walking was overrated anyway. She reached for him, wrapped her hand around his length, and guided him to her. He caught her legs in one arm, hooked them over his shoulder and drove into her like a man possessed, but she was right there with him and she didn’t last long.

  This time, she didn’t worry about the neighbors hearing.

  Chapter Seven

  She couldn’t move. She was never going to be able to move again. And she was perfectly okay with that.

  As the first rays of sunlight peaked through the trees and dappled the sex-rumpled sheets with dancing shadows, Jude lifted his head from the pillow where he had collapsed after the latest round of wall-pounding sex. His breathing still hadn’t quite settled—for that matter, neither had hers—and his hair stuck up in charming bed head spikes. Probably didn’t help any that she had spent hours last night tugging at it, dragging her fingers through it. All that dark, rakishly long hair was soft as a kitten’s coat and she couldn’t get enough of it. Even now, she had to fight the urge to run her fingers through the strands one more time.

  Scowling, he squinted toward the wall of windows. “Shit,” he muttered and stuffed his face back into the pillow, muffling another curse.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s morning.”

  Libby watched the palms in the garden sway to a gentle morning breeze. Tried to tell herself that the bitter mix of emotion in the pit of her stomach wasn’t disappointment. “Yes, it is.”

  “So it’s over.”

  She rolled her lips together and made sure her voice was steady before speaking. “Yes. It’s over.”

  “Unless…” He turned his head on the pillow. Brows raised over hopeful eyes the same color as the morning sky outside the window. “We make it a full twenty-four hour deal?”

  Tempting. But if she gave in, she’d always give in. She was well aware she had a weakness where Jude Wilde was concerned and she couldn’t let it get the better of her. Not again. Living through that heartbreak once in a lifetime was enough, thank you very much. “No. One night. That’s all.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He sighed and pushed himself upright, swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “All right.”

  All right? That was all he had to say? Just…all right? She’d expected a protest, possibly a fight. At very least, a complaint. Not this easy acceptance. He had to be plotting something devious. “What are you up to, Jude?”

  “Right now, I’m going to shower. Unless you want it first?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay. Shower, then I’m gonna eat something and crash for a couple hours. It was a long night.” He spoke of it as if he’d spent the night at work,
on a stakeout or whatever else he and his brothers did at that security office, rather than making love to her.

  No, she corrected herself. Sex. There had been no lovemaking between them—nothing gentle or tender and that was exactly what she’d wanted. So she had no reason to feel hurt about his blithe compliance with her wishes. None whatsoever. The burning sensation behind her eyes was just from lack of sleep.

  Jude stood and stretched his arms high over his head, his back arching, arms and shoulders flexing. God, he had a magnificent body. All sinewy muscle with just a faint dusting of dark hair in all the right spots. Highlighted by the sunshine, his body was a gilded work of masculine art that no straight woman in her right mind would be able to resist.

  And that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? No woman could resist him and he used that power to his full advantage.

  An intricate tribal tattoo followed the entire length of his spine and flared out into broken angel wings on his shoulders. A pair of dog tags hung from one wing, a pair of ballet slippers from the other, and on closer inspection, she realized it wasn’t some abstract tribal design picked off the wall of a tattoo parlor. It had meaning, symbolized something important to him.

  “Are all those swirls words?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, confusion lining his forehead until he realized what she was referring to. “Yeah.”

  She squinted. Without her glasses, it was impossible to read from this distance, but when she tried to scoot across the bed to get a better look, he turned around.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Okay. Sore subject. Even as curiosity niggled at her, she promised herself she wouldn’t ask about the tattoo again.

  Jude crossed to his still-packed bag and unzipped it. “I know I said we had to share the bed, but I was just being an ass. You can have it. I don’t mind the couch.”

  Another surprise. What was this, Invasion of the Body Snatchers? “Uh, okay. Thanks.”

  He found a pair of shorts and a shirt, tossed them both over one shoulder, and straightened. “What?”