Can't Hardly Breathe Read online

  "He's on his way home."

  Brock cracked his knuckles like an evil supervillian. "Good. Saves me the trouble of...chatting with him."

  She wagged a finger in his face. "There will be no harming John. He's a good guy."

  "Yeah, well, Daniel's better." Brock said the words, and Jude nodded emphatically.

  "In some areas, yes," she agreed.

  Both men gaped at her.

  "What? Don't tell me you haven't noticed his faults," she said. "Anyway. He's waiting for me at the inn." She lifted an arm in the air and in her best superhero impersonation called, "To the car! We drive like the wind!"

  Brock snorted. Jude shook his head, but his frown wasn't as pronounced as before.

  Along the way, Dorothea's nerves pitched a bona fide hissy fit. Soon she would be with Daniel. In his room. Alone. They would have sex. He would want the lights on. She would insist the lights stayed out. Would they fight?

  Other questions flooded her. Were they just going to jump each other at moment one or were they going to talk first, maybe settle a few details about their relationship?

  "Do I need to pull over so you can vomit?" Brock asked, his tone dry.

  "Yes!" she shouted, but he kept driving. "Drive to Mexico. I'll call Daniel from the beach." After she'd had a few mai tais.

  "No way." Jude shook his head. "You're going to wear our boy out so he'll finally get some sleep."

  "He doesn't sleep?"

  Neither male responded, but she didn't need their confirmation. She could guess the answer--no--and the reason. PTSD. It must be worse than she'd imagined.

  How long had he gone without a solid eight-hour rest? How much stress did he deal with on a daily basis?

  "Pedal to the metal," she said, wanting to reach him faster.

  Finally they arrived at the inn. Brock parked, and both he and Jude escorted her inside. She looked for Holly, who'd wanted to work this weekend, but found no trace of her sister. Had she already abandoned ship?

  Brock patted her bottom. "Go get 'em, tiger. Whatever you do, he'll love it."

  Was that his version of a pep talk? "Someone has to stay at reception to--"

  "We'll do it," Jude said. "Go on."

  She hugged him, then Brock, and neither returned the gesture, but she wasn't upset. They probably weren't used to shows of affection. "Thank you."

  She checked the registry for Daniel's room. Her legs trembled as she made her way up the steps to her own room, where she painted her nails glittery white. Then she did it. She marched to his room and raised her hand to knock on the door--only to pause.

  Was she really going to do this? There would be no going back.

  Well, good! She didn't want to go back. She knocked. Hard.

  The door swung open a second later, and there he was. Tall and muscled and every fantasy she'd ever had come true. His eyes were hooded, his pupils enlarged. Locks of his hair stuck out in spikes. He looked fierce. The air between them thickened, as if a storm brewed. Lightning seemed to arch through her veins, burning away her nervousness.

  She held up her hands and waved her fingers, displaying her polish. "I told John--"

  He yanked her against the hard line of his body, his lips slamming into hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. As she gasped with shock and bliss, he moved them both backward and pushed the door shut. Then he pushed her against it, crowding her personal space. Heck, she had no personal space. They were practically fused.

  He cupped her breasts and kneaded the plump flesh as his thumbs stroked the stiff peaks.

  Her desire for him intensified. His mouth--oh, his mouth. His hands. His body. I want it all. Everything he's willing to give.

  "Off." She jerked his shirt over his head. The collar snagged on the chains hidden beneath. When the material gave, the dog tags and locket fell into place. His bare chest was a bounty. Broad across the shoulders, pecs and abs rock hard; he had the sexiest navel she'd ever seen. A trail of dark hair led to the waist of his jeans, where his fly was already unbuttoned.

  Mine. All mine. She drew her nails lightly down his stomach, and he raised his head to peer into her eyes.

  "You are a delicious dinner buffet, Porter."

  He gave a husky chuckle. "Do you want to eat me up?"

  "More than anything."

  "I'd say ladies first, but I'm not feeling gentlemanly." He reclaimed possession of her mouth, his tongue owning her. His taste was incredible, everything she remembered but heightened, just like her senses. He was the incarnation of lust and pleasure...

  He was addicting...

  He tugged at the hem of her dress, and for a moment, she felt frozen solid, her heart nothing but a block of ice in her chest. The lights were on, and that just wouldn't do. She reached blindly for the switch. Contact.

  As darkness flooded the room, Daniel froze.

  He most definitely wanted the lights back on, and she was already desperate to see his chest again. To see the rest of him. But old fears plagued her. What if he rejected her again? What if he compared her to other women? If he found her lacking...

  "I want to see you," he said, confirming her fear. His thumb brushed the pulse at the base of her neck. "I've dreamed of you."

  "I--" yes, say yes "--I'm not ready."

  He hesitated before gently kissing her lips. "I know you're scared of my reaction. I screwed things up the first night you showed up at my door, and I'll take this as my penance like a good boy. But, Thea. Sweetheart. Desire for you isn't the problem. I wanted you at 'Do you need more towels?' Thought you were the most exquisite woman on earth. Still think it. Your body was made for mine. More than that, I like you. You make me laugh, something no one else can do. One day you're going to trust me enough to leave the lights on, and I'm going to pay proper homage to these curves."

  With a cry of abandon, she wrapped herself around him. Devoured his lips and tongue.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed and, despite the dark, he had no trouble removing her clothes, ripping them away piece by piece until she was naked. Cool air enveloped her, and she shivered.

  She almost cursed as he stripped himself. She would have enjoyed opening her present, because that was what he was. A present to herself. But the only word to escape her was "Yes!" as he lowered himself on top of her.

  Fevered skin met fevered skin, burning her chill away. He kissed a path to her breasts to suck on her nipples.

  "My sweet babies. I've been missing you. Your mean momma kept you hidden. But don't worry, darlings. I'm going to give her a good tongue-lashing for it."

  She wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. Sex had never been fun, had never been playful or deliciously dirty--and never all at the same time. Sex had been a pleasure with some fondling, some thrusting and a pleasant climax before reaching her favorite part: the cuddling. But Daniel was giving her everything she'd never known she needed, and there was nothing pleasant about it. This pleasure was sharp, and inexorable, and it shot straight to her core.

  He played with her nipples until she was writhing, babbling and begging for more. And when he kissed his way down her stomach, her pleasure only sharpened. She couldn't bring herself to worry about her excess softness, didn't care. Just as long as he kept going!

  Upon reaching the scars on her abdomen, he stilled. He couldn't see the raised tissues that the fall down the steps--and the subsequent surgery--had caused, but he could certainly feel them. The blood in her veins began to cool...until he licked a scar from one end to the other. She melted against the mattress.

  He moved on without asking any questions, kissing around her inner thighs, teasing her with what was to come. Soon she was writhing once again, her head thrashing atop the pillows.

  "Daniel."

  "I swear I nearly come every time you say my name. It's those lips of yours...that breathy tone. It tells me you'll do anything I want...as long as I do you."

  "Yes. Pleeease."

  "Please what?" He rested his chin on her pubic bo
ne, his warm breath fanning her belly.

  He seemed relaxed, while she was pretty sure she'd lost the ability to form coherent sentences. She gave it a shot, anyway. Anything to get what she wanted, what she needed...what she would die without. "Taste me."

  "Taste you where?"

  She beat her fists into the mattress, saying, "You know where."

  "If you won't utter the word, then you'll have to show me."

  Determined to push her past her comfort zone, wasn't he? She slid a trembling hand down her stomach, glided her fingers through the tiny thatch of hair between her legs--he moaned--and tapped the swollen bud now crying for his attention.

  His palm found hers, and their fingers linked together. They stayed like that for several heartbeats, lost in the simple delight of holding hands, a bond being forged between them. Aches continued to escalate, plaguing her, and the fever in her blood left her molten inside and out. She drew Daniel's hand to her core and, upon contact, they both sucked in a ragged breath.

  "You are liquid fire." He lowered his head.

  She held her breath, waiting, waiting.

  Waiting.

  Lick!

  She screamed his name.

  He licked her again and again, as if ravenous. "Never tasted anything so sweet. You're like warm honey. My honey."

  His words...his actions...his sheer masculinity...he surrounded her, drove her need higher, branded her; every part of her responded to every part of him. No doors in her mind remained shut. No windows in her heart remained closed. She was open to him, her every secret fantasy laid bare before him.

  He urged her knees farther apart. As far as they could go. Leaving her vulnerable.

  "I bet you're real pretty here," he said, his voice strained. He ran a finger through her wetness, and she cried out. "I'm going to be on you every damn day." He sucked on her.

  The more she writhed, the more pressure he applied, driving her wild.

  "Now, Daniel. Darling," she managed to say as she panted. "I don't want you thinking I'm complaining about your technique. It's perfect. You're perfect. But if you don't get to the main event, I'm going to use up all my energy during the opening act."

  He stopped. Stopped! Then he released a heavy sigh. "Well, hell, Thea. You know I'm a slave to challenges. How am I supposed to live with myself if I can't make sure you enjoy the main event more than the opening act?"

  The truth suddenly became very clear. She wasn't going to survive the night.

  He got back to work, licking and sucking with an almost brutal determination. Her mind fogged; they were the only two people in existence, this moment the only time that mattered. She struggled to catch her breath, her every pulse point trapped in a wild frenzy, her body nothing but sensation and flame.

  Her climax took her by surprise. One second she was grinding against his face, the next she was screaming at the ceiling, her muscles convulsing.

  When she came down from the glorious high, Daniel was poised above her.

  "I think you're ready for the main event, sweetheart."

  The thought of having him inside her, of two beings remade into one, filled her with a longing so intense, she forgot all about her satisfaction. That had been the appetizer. She needed the full meal.

  "I am, I really am." She raked her nails down his chest. "Promise."

  "Unless you're too tired?" he asked as if she hadn't spoken. "Yeah, you're probably too tired." He straightened, as if to leave her.

  She clasped his forearms, holding him in place. "You stop your teasing. You prove you can give me more--give me better. Now."

  "Yes, ma'am." He pierced her with a single finger, and her hips bolted off the bed. Then, as she raced toward another stunning climax, her sensitive inner walls clenching around the digit, he added a second one, stretching her; she was so wet, the glide remained easy.

  So close, but not yet close enough. "I'm ready?" A question when she'd intended to make a statement.

  "Not yet."

  She whimpered.

  He chuckled, the fierce sound broken by threads of tenderness. "We're together now." In. "A couple. You know that, right?" Out.

  Diabolical man! "Yes. Together. Couple."

  In. He hooked his finger, and she gasped, her hips once again bolting up of their own accord. "There will be no dating other people." Out.

  "No...others...swear."

  He was merciless, continuing to torture her, still thrusting in and out, slowly, so danged slowly.

  Two could play this game. She reached between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his thick, hard length. It was so wide her fingers couldn't meet in the middle, and so deliciously long. No wonder he hardly blinked about the micropenis comment. He had a macro!

  She stroked him, her movements awkward and untried, but he didn't seem to mind.

  He praised her. "You're making me feel so good, sweetheart, but it's time for the main event. Only because you've been waiting on it, not because I'm desperate."

  If she hadn't been so agonized, she would have laughed.

  He left the bed with a strained "Just grabbing a condom. Or six."

  Right. Good. But as a modern woman, she had responsibilities of her own. "I've only ever been with Jazz. He's my ex. And after our divorce I got tested. I'm clean. Are..." Wow, this was difficult. "Are you?"

  Silence. The bed dipped and Daniel hovered over her, a beam of moonlight filtering through a crack in the curtains and spotlighting him. His expression was infinitely gentle.

  "I'm proud of you. You did the right thing. Always ask."

  The words gave her pause. Why would she need to ask him again when--

  Realization dawned. Always ask her future lovers. He might have agreed to date her openly, but he'd been serious when he'd said they wouldn't last. A sick feeling churned at the bottom of her stomach; she ignored it. He wanted her, and he wanted the world to know she belonged to him. That was enough. For now.

  "I'm clean," he said. "If you're on birth control..."

  "I'm not." There'd been no need.

  "Condom on, then."

  He would have gone without one if she'd been on the pill?

  He must have registered her surprise. "I always wear one. Haven't had sex without one. But one day I want to go bare with you."

  Forget her upset. Her heart swelled with love for him. He might think they were doomed, but he trusted her not to betray him.

  "I can't get pregnant," she admitted. "Well, that's not one hundred percent accurate. I can, maybe, possibly, but it would be a one in a million chance."

  She expected him to ask questions. Instead, he caressed her tattoo, infinitely tender as his fingertips brushed her skin. Then he ripped open the foil packet and slid the latex down his length.

  "One in a million is still a chance," he said.

  If only. "Bet you're one of those fools who thinks he'll win the lottery."

  "Someone has to. And you're about to get lucky, so I don't know why you're complaining about the odds."

  She giggled even as she reeled. Apparently she could laugh while agonized. "Get inside me. Now, now, now!"

  He parted her legs, got into position--and thrust home. Her hips arched to meet him, and she cried out. Oh, the perfection of being filled by him. Her nails sank into his hair and back. The first two strokes burned her, stretching her too wide, but then, oh, then...the magic happened.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DANIEL HAD ENTERED a state he'd never before known: all-consuming desire. It drove him. It raged inside him, contradicting itself every other second. Go fast. Go slow. Contentment and satisfaction beckoned him. Come closer... He was going insane, surely, but he'd never been happier. Thea was wrapped around him, hot and wet. No, soaking.

  She was soft, and she smelled absolutely amazing. The taste of her sweet, sweet honey still flavored his tongue. He would have given anything to turn on the lights, but she wasn't ready and he wasn't going to push. Not again. He wanted this to be good for her. No, perfect for
her, so she would come back for more. So she would always come back for more.

  Always?

  As long as they were together.

  He shifted to hook his arms under her knees, forcing her legs to widen, her body to take him deeper. In the dim lighting, he could just make out the crests of her nipples. Those little cotton candy treats. He leaned over and ran one through his teeth.

  As she gasped his name, going slow ceased to be an option. He hammered into her once, twice. Her breasts jiggled under his gaze, and it only fueled his desire. He slid a hand down the inside of her thigh, pressed his thumb over her swollen bundle of nerves.

  "Yes! There!" she cried.

  He thrust and rubbed, thrust and rubbed. Each action provided a different stimulus, but as he moved faster and faster, the sensations blended into one. She moaned when he applied more pressure, her inner walls constricting, and pleasure ripped through him. She was close; he could get her closer.

  He began to thrust harder, faster, until he was a jackhammer. Utterly unstoppable. The legs of the bed scraped against the carpet. Mattress springs creaked. As he peered down at this woman who had obsessed him, a primal sense of possession took root.

  "Daniel, Daniel, Daniel," she chanted.

  He cupped and kneaded her breasts, pinched her nipples. Her hips writhed as she made delectable sounds he would forever savor. She was the most spectacular picture of feminine pleasure he'd ever beheld.

  "Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you."

  "Yes, yes. Feel you."

  He spread his fingers under her ass and lifted, his groin taking over for his thumb, rubbing as he slammed into her core, again and again. She screamed, her entire body bowing. Her inner walls squeezed him just right, and he could hold back no longer. He roared as he jetted into the condom.

  When she collapsed on the mattress, he collapsed beside her.

  "I think we had another earthquake," she rasped.

  He laughed. Gathering enough strength to get up and dispose of the condom was difficult, but somehow he managed. The separation--though short--bothered him. He crawled back into bed and, after draping one of her legs over his and turning her hips so that they rested against him, he tucked the cover around them, sighing with relief.

  She settled her head on his shoulder. "Is the puppet master done?"

  "Never." He skimmed his fingers up and down her spine. "Now that we're boyfriend and girlfriend--and one hundred percent exclusive--I expect golden milk every morning and every evening."