Kelly came awake slowly, her senses alive, her skin tingling at the warmth that surrounded her. There was no momentary fear, no surprise. Rowdy was holding her. She could feel him wrapped around her, spooned against her as though she had been made for the position.
She was aware of something else as well as she lay there, her body tucked into his. He was hard. His erection pressed against the crevice of her bu**ocks, a thick intruder, waiting. She bit her lip, stiffening in his arms, her muscles tightening. Pleasure and fear combined inside her. And the pleasure was stronger. The culmination of what felt like a lifetime of fantasies and needs rose inside her, blocking the fear, pushing it back until nothing mattered except Rowdy.
“Easy, baby.” His voice was drowsy, calm. “It’s just a hard-on.” He snuggled against her, tucking her closer to his chest as her hands gripped the bedspread and she fought to level her breathing.
“I hate to say this,” she wheezed. “That’s not a hard-on, Rowdy. That’s a baseball bat.”
His snorted chuckle vibrated against her back, and only pressed his erection closer against her rear. She stiffened further.
“Want me to move? I’m pretty comfortable right now.”
Oh, she just bet he was. She forced herself to breathe deeply, to push back the panic threatening, building in her mind. This was Rowdy and he wouldn’t hurt her now.
“You’re thinking it to death,” he murmured and he rubbed his chin against her hair. “Scared?”
“Of your baseball bat?” She fought for humor rather than hysteria. “I don’t know, Rowdy, I hear you’re pretty fond of it. Lots of practice and all.”
She felt his hand move, his fingers running over hers, sending tingling spirals of heat to build beneath them.
“You’re a little minx,” he growled at her ear, a velvet-soft sound that rippled through her senses. “That wasn’t very nice.”
A grin tugged at her lips at his chastising tone. She relaxed against him, feeling her body conform to his, settling against hard muscle and aroused heat.
“I’m not nice, remember?” Her eyes closed as he chuckled at her back. It was an old argument going back years before. It usually occurred whenever she told him what lousy taste he had in women, and pointed out their faults in vivid detail.
“I do remember.” His lips smoothed over the top of her head, the caress sending trailing fingers of pleasure to wash through her body. The slightest caress, no matter how subtle, had the power to make her tremble. “You have a mean wit sometimes, Kelly.”
She gave an amused snort at that. “I just didn’t care to tell you the truth, Rowdy.”
His girlfriends weren’t exactly the kind of woman he brought home to dinner. As a matter of fact, he had never brought a woman home to dinner. Kelly would never have been able to tolerate that. She wondered if he had known that.
“Do you remember when you were seventeen, and you bought that scrap of material you called a bathing suit?” he mused softly.
She remembered the bathing suit, bought specifically in the hope of teasing him past the control she always hated so much.
“I didn’t think you noticed.” She turned her head, staring up at him, close.
His eyes were darker, tiny pinpoints of emerald glittered in the sea green iris, mesmerizing her, filling her vision. And his lips. Her eyes darted to his lips, so close. And she knew how they felt rubbing against her own, firm and warm, stoking fires inside her she hadn’t imagined existed.
“I noticed,” he whispered, his voice rougher now. “All summer. I think my c**k still has the imprint of my zipper on it.”
His hand stroked up her arm, his palm creating a heated friction that had her nerves prickling with awareness. She could still feel his erection like heated iron resting against the crevice of her rear, but his lips drew her.
“Are you going to kiss me again, Rowdy? Anytime soon?”
“Maybe.” The seductive croon had a shiver racing through her.
“When?” Now would be a good time.
“When do you want me to?” His hand slid from her arm to her stomach and rested there.
She felt his fingers, long, broad, resting against her, with nothing between them. And they were moving, slowly easing above her hips, passing her abdomen until his hand rested on the bare flesh of her midriff.
“Now.” God, if he didn’t kiss her she was going to die from the need of it. “You distracted me last night. I didn’t get to feel it real good.”
“My little Lolita.” His lips lowered, brushed against hers. “How long have you been teasing me now?”
“Since I was nine?” She breathed a laugh against his lips.
The first day she had seen him. He had been as handsome as sin and a god in her eyes when he saved her from a bully in that park.
“Hmm. I was fifteen. You were the sweetest little girl. Staring up at me with those big gray eyes so full of tears because that bully had taken your hair bow.”
“And you got my hair bow back.” She was panting for breath, her lips brushing his with each word.
“I got your hair bow back.”
He took her breath. His lips captured hers in an all too brief, fiery kiss. No tongue, no more than a taste of him on her lips before he drew back.
“Rowdy…” She reached for him, needing more, aching for more. “That’s not fair.”
His fingers played against her midriff, rubbing in slow sensual circles, creating little starbursts of sensation that exploded in her sex. Her ni**les were on fire, begging to be touched, caressed. His hands were so close, the heat of them warming the tight, aching mounds.
She stilled against him as his h*ps shifted against her rear once again.
“I’m not scared of you,” she whispered, staring into his eyes, fighting to keep her own open. “I’ve never been scared of you, Rowdy.”
“Yeah, you are,” he whispered, his eyes darkening. “I can see it in your eyes, in your face.” A somber smile touched his lips. “But that’s okay, baby, you won’t be scared for long.”
She opened her lips to speak, then stared at him in astonishment as he rolled from the bed and flashed her a wicked smile. A teasing smile, before bending over and picking up his discarded sweats. He pulled them over his legs, covering his nakedness and the full, engorged length of his erection.