His headlights cut through the deep blackness of their neighborhood. At two in the morning there was barely a light on. The streetlamps were on sensors, clicking on as they drove past the stone sign for Oakwood Gardens, like a halogen arrow leading them home.
He parked his truck on his side of the driveway. Darcy pulled in after him, her coupe silent on the recently sealed blacktop. He stepped down, his work boots crunching on the frosted lawn. His breath curled in front of him, a wispy specter of heat on the cold night.
The little tree was a spotlight, a mini-me to the tree they’d worked on all night. Twin spheres of light above each of their doors was a final bit of welcome. The winter white of her coat emphasized the paleness of her cheeks. Her fair hair that wouldn’t stay in its bonds made his fingertips itch to get into all of that silk. But it was the dark watchfulness of her eyes that was his undoing. They didn’t rush. Instead, they climbed the stairs together. Her pinkie brushed his forefinger, but that was their only contact.
He dug out his keys and opened the door, backing his way in. She passed him, the whisper of wool brushing against his own peacoat. He shut the door and followed, clicking on a light. Then he tossed his coat on a chair, curling his fingers into his palms. He was as eager as a teenager, for fuck’s sake.
His hands shook a little as he came up behind her and smoothed his fingertips over the wool covering her shoulders. Her bag thudded to the floor. His knuckles grazed along her neck, the corn-silk softness of her hair tickling his wrists as he slowly drew her coat down her arms.
She looked over her shoulder, the dim light making her skin seem impossibly fragile. The freckles dusting her skin were even more pronounced. He placed her coat over the arm of the couch that bisected the room then came up behind her again. The curve of her bottom fit against his hips, her shoulders rested against his chest and the back of her neck slid into place along his. He circled her hips, his fingers tightening on the belt loops of her jeans as he finally took his first taste of her in his space.
He nosed his way along the endless line of her neck, trailing a soft kiss up to her ear. “This is what you want?”
She nodded. A small quake vibrated through her and into his chest. He twisted the denim and breathed through the urge to take. He wanted more than just clawing needs and recriminations in the morning. He’d had lifetimes of that. This woman was more than mistakes and misdeeds.
He smoothed his palm over her midriff, lifting her shirt until he found skin. She covered his hand with her own, bringing him up to cup her breast. The simple cotton burned under his palm. Or was it the bead of her nipple against the heel of his hand? She slowly swayed against him. The curve of her bottom brushed against his jeans and a little hiccupping sigh melted into him.
With his other hand he dipped down over her jeans and guided her closer. The tips of his fingers hovered over the seam of her jeans, his palm cupping and squeezing her breast as he kissed her neck. She heated under his touch like a slow candle flame that could, and probably would, burn him alive.
Tucking into the natural curve of her, he hardened against the cleft of her bottom. He unzipped her jeans, all the while teasing one nipple, then the other, through the lightweight cotton. His tugs grew sharper with each bite of her nails into his wrist as she clung to his forearm.
He drew the fleshy lobe of her ear between his teeth, the wild ocean scent of her strongest behind her ears. Her hair was full of the clean scent. It seemed fitting since the damn ocean seemed to be roaring between his ears. He dipped his fingers down into her jeans, finding more cotton and then soft, slick flesh. He groaned against her neck and pushed lower.
She rolled her head against his collarbone, her hips jerking under his touch. He held her tighter. His dick was near strangled in his jeans, but he wouldn’t stop even if his damn house was on fire. No, her house was on fire. His rhythm stuttered for a moment and he put that thought out of his mind, concentrating on her pleasure, on feeding the hunger within him into her. He wanted to hear her cry out his name. Wanted to know it was him that made her feel like this and not just a willing body.
He loved that he could bring out her laughter and her passion. He hooked the tips of two fingers deeper. Slick with her excitement, he pressed harder until the friction of his fingers made her gasp and twist against him. Her nails scraped down his arm, through the hair. “You feel so good. Hot and wet.”
She whimpered and the shudder that racked her made him ache to be inside her. To feel that clench around him. She drew her other hand up to his hair and held him tighter to her even as they both bowed under the strength of her release.
“That’s it, darlin’. Let go. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
And she was. Sweet and so goddamn responsive. She twisted in his arms, wrapping around him as she buried her face in his neck. He gripped her hips, banding his forearms around her waist. Stunned, he held her firm. “Hey, it’s okay.”
She shook her head and the sniffle of emotion surprised him. “I’m sorry.”
He buried his hands in her hair and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Don’t be sorry. You’re beautiful. That was beautiful.”
“I feel stupid.”
He leaned back, drawing her chin up. The wetness on her cheeks humbled him. This woman was so wrapped into herself, so tightly controlled, hadn’t she ever just let go? “Don’t. You’re anything but stupid.” He leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers. “Come upstairs with me.”
She ducked her head, then lifted her gaze to his and nodded.
With linked fingers they climbed the steps. At the top, she pulled to the left but he shook his head. “This way.” He drew her down the dark hallway. A tiny LED nightlight glowed from his bathroom. When he flicked the light switch inside his bedroom door, a small desk lamp lit the corner, leaving them in muted shadow. He stopped in the middle of the room, his king-sized bed at her back. He pushed her hair over her shoulder and followed the curving line of her t-shirt that dipped just below her clavicle. He trailed the tips of his fingers over her curves until he found the bottom of her shirt and lifted it.
She raised her arms, goose bumps flooding down and her nipples tightening against the smooth cotton of her simple white bra. He reached behind her, carefully unhooking it, and drew the straps down. Trying to take things slow, he took a deep breath. Her nipples were a few shades darker than the freckles that dusted her entire upper half. He cupped the pale weight of her breasts, brushing his thumbs lightly over her tight peaks.
Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted as he plucked the tips.
Going slow might just kill him.
But he was more than willing to throw himself into the fray if it extended the night.
He trailed lightly over her ribs and dragged her in, lifting her into his arms. She gasped and grabbed hold of his shoulders, hooking her ankles at his back.
He latched his mouth to her throat and a low groan escaped. “You have the longest goddamn legs. I’m going to lay you out and taste every inch before tonight is over.”
She slipped her hands into his hair and drew his mouth to hers. The kiss was hot and anything but slow. He tumbled them onto his bed. Her quick laugh made his dick even harder as she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him.