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Elara moans again, burrows even closer as I lick my way across the roof of her mouth before tangling our tongues together. She tastes so good, feels so good, that I want nothing more than for this moment to go on forever.

  But we’re still in sight of the gazebo opening and anyone who might wander along the path. The idea of anyone else seeing Elara like this makes me crazy, so I wrap myself around her as I move us deeper into the darkest corner of the gazebo.

  She must know what I’m doing, because she doesn’t question me. Instead, she just holds on tight, her body flowing with and against mine. The moment we’re in the dark, though, she’s on me. Her arms wrapping around my neck, her body wrapping itself around mine, her mouth hot and desperate against my own.

  The same urgency is a fire inside me. A pounding drum in my bloodstream, a stroke of lightning that I just can’t shake. That I don’t want to shake.

  Because right now, at this moment, all I want is her.

  It’s a startling revelation, and a humbling one. I love women, love everything about them and I always have. But since Allison, I’ve worked hard to keep myself safe, to keep a part of me removed from whoever I get involved with.

  I can’t do that with Elara. Can’t kiss her and hold her and fuck her tonight and then forget all about her tomorrow. She’s a craving in my blood, a need deep inside me, and I’m smart enough to know that one time with this gorgeous, powerful woman will never be enough.

  The knowledge should send me running in the other direction, should at least have me throwing a few blocks to keep myself safe. Instead, all it does is make me more desperate for her.

  Keeping my mouth on hers and my lips open so she can explore me the same way I just explored her, I strip my jacket off, drape it around her shoulders, then turn her so that her back is against the nearest wall.

  “Please,” she whimpers, pressing her sex against my aching cock, even as her hands clutch at my shirt—pulling, tugging, tearing at it in a frantic need that mirrors my own.

  To help her—and because I’m just as desperate to feel her hands on my bare skin as she is to put them there—I pull away slightly and rip my shirt straight down in a move that has the studs giving way to my impatience. The shirt’s ruined, but I don’t give a shit about that, don’t give a shit about anything but the way Elara sighs as she slips her hands beneath the parted fabric to caress my ribs and back and abdomen.

  Her fingers feels so good—she feels so good—that for long seconds I can do nothing but stand here letting her explore me as I long to explore her. I give her a few seconds, maybe even a minute, before my need gets the best of me and I take control, untying the top of her halter dress and pulling it down so I can see and touch and kiss her beautiful breasts.

  “Hey!” she complains grumpily, her short nails digging into my chest. “It’s still my turn.”

  “Later,” I tell her as I gaze at the miles of pale skin I just exposed. She’s not wearing a bra, but then she doesn’t need one. Her breasts are full and high and perfect, tipped with dark pink nipples that I am dying to taste. “I promise, you can touch me anywhere you want later. But right now, I have to—” My voice breaks as I lean forward, press hot, openmouthed kisses to her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder.

  She gasps out my name, her hands coming up to tangle in my dreads, as I kiss and lick my way from her shoulder to her breast.

  She’s even softer here, her skin cool and fragrant and more delicious than I ever imagined she would be. I pause for a moment to suck a love bite into the upper curve of her breast before finally—finally—taking her nipple into my mouth.

  She cries out then, a harsh sound that echoes through the night. Normally, I’d try to quiet her down, but right now I’m too far gone to care. Not to mention the fact that there’s a caveman deep inside me, thrilling at the noises she’s making, at the obvious proof that she’s mine. Just mine.

  Desperation is riding me hard, but I lock it away so I can take my time with her. So I can do a tenth of all the things I want to do to her. Like stroking my tongue over her nipple. Like sliding it gently around her areola. Like sucking her hard enough to have her crying out as she arches against me.

  I repeat with her other breast, the whole time relishing the way Elara’s hips are moving impatiently against my own. But when she lifts her leg and wraps it around my upper thighs, the last bit of control I have snaps.

  “I need to be inside you,” I growl against her breast. “I need—”

  “Yes,” she gasps, her hands sliding from my head to my shoulders, then down my chest to my waist where she begins fumbling with my belt buckle. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  It’s all the invitation I need. Thank God.

  I slip a hand under the silky, red skirt of her dress, then slide my fingers up her thigh until I find her underwear—and more importantly, her warm, willing sex.

  I trace the elastic leg of her panties for a few seconds, reveling in the feel of her. Soft. Wet. Hot. So hot that it takes all my self-control not to rip my fly open and plunge inside her right now.

  I settle for slipping two fingers inside the lace. For petting and rubbing along her sex until her knees buckle and she has to grab me for support. For sliding deep inside the heat of her and stroking until I find the spot that makes her head fall back and her hips thrust desperately against my hand.

  And then I do it all again.

  “Tanner!” she cries out, part command, part plea. It goes straight to my head, makes me almost dizzy with need for her. Makes me determined to give her anything—everything—that she wants.

  But first—I give a sharp tug, rip the fragile lace of her panties right off her hips. Then sink to my knees in front of her.

  “Oh God,” she cries out, her hands grabbing on to whatever part of me she can reach as I drape one of her legs over my shoulder. She’s completely open to me now, at the mercy of my eyes and hands and mouth.

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her, taking a moment to soak up the sight of her in the dim garden lights. “So fucking beautiful.” Then I’m leaning forward, blowing a long, slow, steady stream of air right against her most sensitive spot.

  She cries out, a high-pitched strangled sound that makes my own need skyrocket. But this isn’t just about me, isn’t just some quickie I won’t ever think about again. I don’t know yet what this thing with Elara is going to be, or why she intrigues me so much, but I do know that this matters. For the first time since Allison, it matters.

  I lean forward, work my way across her flat stomach, kissing and licking and sucking every inch of skin that I can reach. Her hands slide over my neck, my jaw, before tangling in my dreads. She grabs on and tugs with a sharpness that sends heat racing through my body. Pleasure swamps me, threatens to pull me under, and I groan at the sensory overload before nipping sharply at her hip bone in retaliation.

  She cries out again, wobbles a little, then grabs on to me with her free hand, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she fights to stay upright. “It’s okay,” I whisper to her as I nip at her again, this time a little closer to her sex. “I promise I won’t let you fall, Elara.”

  She whimpers then, arches against me, and her obvious arousal only feeds my own. I bite at her one more time, then lave the little stings with my tongue before exploring more of her soft, gorgeous skin. More of her strong warrior’s body.

  As I do, I can’t help leaving marks, can’t help wondering what she’ll think when she looks in the mirror tomorrow morning and sees the tiny bruises on her hips, her stomach, her thighs. I want her to see them and think of me. Want her to see them and need me the way I’m afraid I’m going to need her.

  “Please, please, please,” she whimpers in the sexiest mantra I’ve ever heard. I laugh in response, delighted with her in a way I never thought I would be with a woman again. Determined to give her what she wants, I kiss my way back
across her stomach, then lower, until my tongue traces along the very edges of her sex.

  She’s shaking, her body and arms curving around me now as much for support as to hold me to her. I love that, though. Love that she’s leaning on me, love that she trusts me to hold her up when she’s this vulnerable. Love that she’s as affected by what’s happening between us as I am.

  In answer to her silent please, I move closer, press her legs apart a little more as I trail my mouth over her lower abdomen to her mons. In response, she strokes her fingers down my face, rubs the stubble on my jaw, tangles her fingers in the tips of my hair. She plays with me for a long second, and it feels so good that I feel my resolve start to crumble.

  I want to be inside her, need to be inside her with a desperation that borders on insanity. But I want this more.

  It’s a driving compulsion, this need to taste her, to watch her while she comes. To know what she looks like, what she sounds like, what she feels like when I take her right up to the edge and then fling her over.

  With that, though, a beacon shining through my own rough-and-ready need, I lean forward and put my mouth on her. Then nearly lose it myself as Elara grabs my hand and presses it against her mouth to muffle her scream.

  Chapter 15

  Elara

  Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!

  It’s all I can think as Tanner puts his mouth on me, my entire body slamming into sensory overload, my every nerve popping with pleasure at his touch. At the feel of one big, calloused hand on my thigh. The feel of warm, broad shoulders against my hips. The feel of his fingers still buried deep inside me.

  And most of all, at the feel and sound and sight of his mouth moving against my sex.

  It’s so good. It’s all just so good, that I can barely take it. It’s been so long since I’ve let someone do this to me, so long since I’ve let myself be vulnerable enough to give myself over in this way—in any way—to a man.

  But even though I’ve only known him a day, it’s obvious Tanner isn’t just any man. He’s incredible, as extraordinary off the field as he is on it.

  The thought should scare me—and it does, deep down inside where I don’t let anyone see. But right now, I can’t focus on the fear, can’t focus on the DANGER signs flashing all over my brain. How can I when my entire body is on fire with the most insane pleasure, heat streaking through my every nerve ending and vein.

  It’s been so long and it feels so good that I can’t stop myself from tilting my hips and pressing forward to give him better access. To give him everything.

  Already I’m close, so close, that I’m balanced on the edge, just about to go over. He knows it—I can feel it in the tension of his shoulders and the slow, careful way he circles my clit with his tongue. For a moment, just a moment, I can’t help wondering what he’s waiting for, why he’s holding me here on this razor edge between pleasure and pain instead of just letting me go over.

  And then he twists his fingers, sucks my clit deep in his mouth, and a whole new avalanche of pleasure pours through me. Makes my hands shake and my breath come in short, tortured gasps.

  “Tanner, please,” I manage to get out, my voice so high and strained I barely recognize it. “I can’t—”

  “You can,” he tells me, his own voice hoarse with restraint.

  “I can’t,” I tell him again. “I can’t, I can’t, I—” I break off when he presses harder against my G-spot.

  “Just a little more,” he whispers against me and even that stokes the flames, takes me higher.

  “I need—”

  His hand slaps against my hip, one sharp little warning tap that does nothing to calm me down even as it shuts me up.

  “I know what you need,” he growls. And then he kisses me, hot and wet and openmouthed, making my knees tremble and my hands shake. My whole body in overload goes nuts and I reach for him, my fingers tugging at his shirt, his hair, the bow tie hanging limply from his collar.

  I try to hold back my pleas as long as I can, but his mouth feels so good—so good—that I can’t stop the words from tumbling from my lips. “Please, please, please, please.” I’m mindless now, my body completely out of my mind’s control as I arch against him and dig my nails into his flesh.

  He curses then, low and harsh, the words falling hot against my skin. The sensation only adds to the tension inside me, only takes me closer to the edge, until I can’t think or see or breathe anything but him. Until all I can do is feel.

  Until all I can do is crave.

  And then he does it. He twists his fingers inside me at the same time he swirls his tongue around my clit. At the same time he reaches up with his free hand and pinches one of my nipples hard enough to have me seeing stars.

  The different sensations hit me at the same time, sending me careening straight over the edge. Pain and pleasure blend together, become an ecstasy so powerful that it swamps me, shatters me, drags me under.

  “Tanner!” Lost in the maelstrom, I call out for him, desperate for an anchor in the middle of the insanity.

  And he’s there, right there, his hands stroking me, soothing me, even as his mouth takes me higher and higher and higher, until I swear I can touch the stars shining so brilliantly above us.

  When the pleasure breaks, when I finally start to come back to myself, Tanner doesn’t allow it. Instead, he fumbles with the front of his tuxedo trousers as he shoves to his feet. Seconds later, he’s pulling a condom out of his wallet and tearing it open. But when he goes to sheath himself, I push his hands away.

  “Let me,” I say, unrolling it onto him with slow, torturous strokes. I take my time, enjoying the feel of him beneath my fingers, loving the low, desperate sounds he makes and how big and long and hard he is.

  I would spend hours exploring him if I could, but the second I have the condom all the way on, he cups his hands under my ass and lifts me right off my feet.

  I’m still pleasure drunk and more than a little dazed, but even so, my instincts kick in. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders and press back against the wall for better leverage.

  Then he’s there between my thighs, blunt and hard and big. I just came, but as he probes gently at my opening, I can’t help but respond.

  I wait for him to slam into me—he’s been so patient, so careful to ensure that I’m satisfied, that I expect him to be impatient now. To be rough and hurried and to drive for his own satisfaction.

  I should have known better. Because it’s becoming more and more clear that Tanner Green doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body…and that definitely translates to sex.

  Because instead of slamming into me, he hesitates. Leans forward until his lips are right next to my ear and then whispers, “You’re so damn beautiful.”

  And then he’s pressing kisses—soft and light and sweet—to my cheeks, my jaw, the sensitive spot behind my ear. Those kisses, combined with his obvious care and the feel of him right up against my core, take my arousal up another notch. Then another and another as he continues to kiss me, continues to whisper sweet and lovely things to me.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him when I can’t take it anymore. “I’m ready.” I arch against him in an effort to show him just how much I still want him.

  He groans a little, a dark, desperate sound at the back of his throat. Then he’s thrusting forward gently until he’s buried about halfway inside me.

  “Okay?” he grinds out, and I’m so grateful for his care. Especially since I can feel him shaking from the effort it’s taking to hold himself back.

  “Yes,” I whisper as I lean into him. I press my mouth to his in a kiss that is as soft and gentle and real as his concern for me. “Please. I want to feel you inside me.”

  That kiss is all it takes to snap his control like a twig—thank God. He thrusts into me then, balls deep and so hard that it has my back s
lamming against the wall. He starts to apologize, but I grab him by the jaw and snap out, “Don’t,” right before I drag his mouth to mine. I’m still wet, still turned on and more than ready for anything he wants to give me.

  He gets the message, because he starts to move, hips pistoning against me over and over again. It feels so good—he feels so good—that I never want it to end. Especially when pleasure crashes through me a little more with each stroke, lighting up my nerve endings and dragging me back to that place where I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel.

  “Fuck!” Tanner growls, even as he lights my body up like the Super Bowl halftime show, his fingers digging into my hips as he holds me in place. “You feel so good.”

  Again I expect him to slam into me, even brace myself for it. But again he surprises me. Because instead of letting himself go, he brushes more kisses over my face, my neck, my shoulders—any place he can reach. Only when I squirm against him, trying to get closer, does he finally relent and begin to thrust into me with the strength and the power I’ve been waiting for.

  My need ratchets up with each stroke and soon, too soon, I’m on the brink of coming again. But I don’t want to go over alone this time, don’t want to lose myself in the ecstasy without him.

  Tightening my inner muscles in a long, slow caress, I do what I can to take him as high as he’s taken me. I brush my thumbs across his nipples, whisper how much I want him in his ear, tighten around him a little more with each thrust. It works, too, because he groans and finally, finally, lets himself slip the tight leash he’s kept on his control.

  “Kiss me,” he commands, moments before his mouth slams down on mine.

  I do, pulling his lower lip between my teeth and nipping at him as he’d done to me earlier. I want more of him, want all of him, and I’m determined to make him give it to me now instead of later.

  Relishing the way his whole body tightens against me, I bite him again, a little harder this time. The shock of pain must be what he’s been waiting for, because just like that, it sets him off. He comes with a growl, his whole body slamming down on mine.