Chapter 27

LYNN

Ican't allow myself to think about how stupid I might be for doing this right now. Kindness is apparently my kryptonite. I never saw myself getting all swoony over an athlete or someone as conventionally cool and masculine as Joey, but I was wrong. He's turned out to be everything I could ever want. And even though I'm not in a place where I'm ready for a relationship, there's nothing wrong with having a little fun with a nice guy who happens to be hot as sin and built like a Roman god—if Roman gods played baseball and had fantastic forearms and thighs like Joey's.

I knew he'd be surprised by my kiss, but it takes him no time to get on board with my new plan for passing the evening in this hotel room. His arms wrap around my middle, and he pulls me into him so our bodies come flush from knees to lips. His kisses are addictive, and his scent of sunscreen, copper, and sandalwood has my senses buzzing. Joey's hands slide from my waist to my butt, and I can feel his growing arousal against my belly. I want it. I want him. And I don't want to think about anything else right now besides Joey and how it will feel to have him inside me.

Joey's thumbs catch the waistband of my shorts and start stroking the bare skin beneath, sending my belly swinging down and then up like I just flipped upside down on a roller coaster. The friction of his calluses against my skin has a bolt of desire shooting directly to my womb.

Since I have no desire to pretend or play games now that I know what I want, I slide my hands down his back to the hem of his T-shirt and pull up. He reads my intentions, releasing my lips for only the time it takes to yank his shirt over his head, giving my hands and fingers the treat of a lifetime.

This boy is cut. My fingers skate over his skin, exploring the topography of his stomach, chest, shoulders, and back. I can't get enough of the warm, smooth skin covering all that firm muscle. It's a literal party for my hands.

It doesn't take long for Joey to return the favor and rid me of my T-shirt as well. His fingers are crafty, and my bra is only a memory as our mouths remain engaged in wet, seeking kisses. My panties are so wet, I know he'll be able to feel how turned on I am even through my shorts. While the thought might embarrass me with anyone else, it emboldens me with Joey.

My fingers continue gliding across Joey's skin as he breaks our kiss to nuzzle down my neck, trailing his lips over my pulse point and making me shiver with desire. Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin, and he pulls his mouth from my throat to ask, "Are you cold?"

"No!" I practically shout before delving my fingers into his hair and almost suffocating him by pulling his face back into my neck. I feel the vibration of his chuckle against my skin, and the sensation is dizzying.

Joey's hands slide lower until they settle on the backs of my thighs, and I let out a little yelp when he picks me up off the floor, our chests and mouths finally aligning without me having to be on my tiptoes or him having to give himself a crick in his neck.

"Your wrist!" I scold.

"Can't feel anything. Ignore it. I'm fine," he murmurs against my neck. Oh well, he should know if it hurts or not.

It's only fair that I help him, though, so I circle his waist with my legs and lock them behind his back. This brings a groan from his throat, and his hands immediately cup my ass again.

Next thing I know, my back hits the bed in a maneuver Joey somehow manages without re-injuring his wrist. My legs retain their boa constrictor hold on his body as he slides down a touch and covers one of my aroused nipples with his hot mouth. My back arches off the bed when he draws the peak in and swirls his tongue around it just right. I grasp his hair and let out a long moan that our neighbors can probably hear. But they'll just have to deal.

A wildfire spreads through my lower belly and down my thighs, causing them to tighten around him, placing my heels against his firm butt in our new position. I need my hands on that ass sometime very soon. When he bites down on my nipple, I make a sound I've never made before, causing him to let out a ragged growl before he moves to the other nipple.

But I need to feel the hardness of his arousal against me, skin to skin—to rub my aching center over him and feel his heat and thickness. I've had enough of these pesky clothes between us.

Before I become a complete panting mess without the ability of speech, I plead, "Joey, I need you." My voice is so breathy, I don't recognize it as my own. I sound wanton and needy, a candid reflection of my every feeling.

His mouth makes a popping sound as he releases my nipple, and his eyes come up to meet mine. If I thought those espresso depths were beautiful before, it's nothing compared to the wonder of visceral desire and emotion in them now. My pterodactyls have been scattered to the wind by the blazing fire sweeping through my lower region, leaving nothing but an ache and a void that only Joey can fill. I've never felt so desperate in my life, and it's both exhilarating and terrifying. I don't lose control, and right now I have zero power over my body or brain.

Which is why I don't protest when Joey unpeels my legs from around him and goes down on his knees at the side of the bed. His fingers work the button of my shorts loose before he yanks them and my panties down in one quick motion, leaving me completely naked on the bed.

That's when I decide I need to get my wits about me—and fast—if I'm ever going to have my way with this man. To that end, I knife up in bed.

"No, stay where you are," he instructs with a jaw so tight I'm afraid he might crack something.

When I go for the button of his jeans, I barely get it loose before he grabs both my wrists with a strength that surprises me. This boy is keyed up.

"We've got all night," he says in that deep rumble I love so much. "I want to taste you."

Mother mercy. I've never had someone speak so explicitly about their desires. Of course, I've only really been with boys, not men. I'm beginning to understand the difference, and it's an imperative distinction.

I pretty much collapse back onto the bed at Joey's statement, my limbs suddenly not feeling so eager to hold me up. His lips trace a path up my right leg and down my left as his calloused hands caress me, and then I feel the light stubble of his chin tickling my inner thighs. He hauls my thighs over his shoulders in one quick movement, and then his mouth is right there. Thank you, Jesus.

My back arches right off the bed, my heels digging into his shoulder blades now, as I moan into the quiet of the room. I think I hear him whispering as he licks and nuzzles my center, but I can't be sure. And there's no way I'm interrupting him to ask because right then his tongue delves inside me, and a shiver of ecstasy consumes my entire body.

"Fuck, you taste good," Joey rumbles when he comes up for air, never giving me a moment of reprieve as his fingers take over where his tongue left off. They twist and swirl, working me into a frenzy that has only one place to go.

When his tongue rejoins his talented fingers, it's only seconds until my cry of release bounces off the hotel room walls. And it's not a dainty little sigh; it's a full-blown damn-that's-fucking-hot pronouncement. Joey groans in satisfaction and licks my center like he's searching for the last drops of hot fudge at the bottom of a sundae bowl. It's only then I realize I've been yanking and pulling his sweat-dampened hair the entire time, possibly rendering him prematurely bald in spots.

Before I can do so much as apologize or regain my breath, he releases my legs and stands, shucking his jeans and boxers and releasing his hard cock for my eyes to feast. He's thick and long, impossibly hard, and my mouth begins to water. I've never in my life had my mouth water at the sight or thought of a man's cock. It's like I've contracted some fever that makes me want to gobble a man up in one bite. Best sickness I've ever had, bar none.

I'm too busy admiring his penis to notice he's produced a condom from somewhere until he says my name. "Lynn." My eyes dart up to meet his, and I find two warm espresso pools gazing down at me with molten desire. "Are you good?" His rumble has a healthy dose of gravel now, and I feel it everywhere.

I know what he's asking and can't nod fast enough. I want him inside me like I've never wanted anything before. He doesn't waste time rolling the condom on his length and then climbing on the bed to settle his weight over me.

His elbows fall to either side of me, supporting his weight as his eyes roam my face and his thumbs brush my cheeks. For some strange reason, tears spring to my eyes, but I refuse to have anything cloud my view of his face so close to mine while our naked bodies align. My fingertips skate down the muscles and ridges of his broad shoulders and back until I slide one down to reach between us and take him in my hand. When my knees fall open, he takes over, notching himself at my center and nudging into me with care.

"You don't need to be gentle," I tell him, and he takes me at my word, pushing forward until he's half seated. We both groan at the sensation before he pulls out and thrusts back in, fully inside me now. My head falls back, my eyes closing, so I can focus only on my sense of touch for this brief moment.

I'm more full than I've ever been, but I need him to move. I need friction and pressure along with this delicious fullness.

Joey reads my mind and pulls halfway out before thrusting all the way in again. Then he begins to establish a rhythm, one that works me up into a panting mess once more. The strokes that began carefully quickly increase in power and abandon, the sounds of our bodies connecting drawing in another of my senses. Joey's scent of clean sweat and spice engages my sense of smell next, so I open my eyes to watch the intensity in his gaze as he powers in and out of me. The only sense left is taste, so I lift my head and capture his mouth in a kiss that has me seeing stars.

He's captured all of my senses now, tying me up with his entire presence, his whole being, and as my second orgasm of the night begins to wash over me, I fear this man might be capturing something else I'm not ready to give—my heart.