Make Me Yours. Katee Robert
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resist, and it came on too quickly to do anything but let go and see where it took them.
Becka nipped his earlobe. “Let’s get out of here.”
“One thing before we go.” He walked them back until his shoulders hit the brick wall, away from the people already disappearing through the door into the hotel. It took several long minutes before the sidewalk cleared of the wedding guests. All the while, he studied Becka’s face, the dark fringe of her lashes, the curve of her lower lip, the way her breath caught when she met his gaze.
Aaron cupped her jaw and tilted her face up to claim her mouth. She tasted minty, a burst of freshness as intoxicating as the woman herself. Becka went soft in his arms, melting as she opened for him, her tongue eagerly meeting his, stroke for stroke. As if she’d been as impatient for this moment as he’d been.
She’d called him a distraction.
She was the distraction—one he wasn’t sure he could afford.
He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to regain control. “Let’s go.”
“How far is your place?”
A forty-minute cab ride.
Too far.
Inside the building, a burst of laughter trailed down to them. Perfect. “About twenty yards.”
She laughed. “That works. I don’t want to wait anymore.” She grabbed his hand and towed him back inside the building. They bypassed the entrance to the ballroom where the reception was being held and headed for the main desk.
Ten minutes later, they stumbled through the door to a room and slammed it behind them. Aaron guided Becka to the bed and laid her on top of it. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, the line of her heart-shaped bodice. She was fire in his arms, arching to meet his mouth, her hands busy on the front of his shirt. She shoved it down his shoulders, and he released her long enough to shrug it off. Aaron tugged her dress up over her head.
Need shot through him, rushing his movements even as part of him wanted to slow down.
To savor every moment.
He stopped short, drinking in the sight of her. She wore nothing but a silk thong in show-stopping pink. Against her pale skin, the neon color practically glowed, just as brilliant as her hair. Aaron traced the rose tattoo nestled on the inside of her left hip, noting the thorns circling the full petals of the flower, and then he smoothed his hand up her taut stomach to her high breasts. She was lean, every muscle defined in a way that spoke of serious time spent in the gym. “Strong little thing, aren’t you?”
“Well, I’m a spin and TRX instructor, so that goes with the territory.”
He bracketed her ribs with his hands and then cupped her breasts. “Maybe I’ll take one of your classes sometime.”
Becka laughed even as she twined her hands over her head, offering her body to him. “Honey, you wouldn’t last ten minutes.”
“Think so?” He lightly pinched her pale pink nipples, gauging her reaction. Her sharp inhale only fanned the flames within him. He needed her. Now.
“I know so.” She grinned. “But let’s be honest—there’s only one kind of exercise we’re interested in right now, and it doesn’t have a single thing to do with a bike. Now, stop teasing me and take off your pants.”
BECKA COULD BARELY breathe at the look on Aaron’s face as he ran his hands over her body. Learning. Reveling. Worshipping. It left her feeling off center, as if this was more than some horny wedding sex between two single people who’d never see each other again. She covered her uncertainty the only way she knew how—brazenly charging forward. “You’re still wearing pants.”
“Don’t rush me.” He lifted her farther onto the bed and lay next to her, his head propped on his hand. She started to protest, but Aaron cupped her pussy and she forgot whatever she’d been about to say. He stroked her over the silk of her panties, his blue eyes arrested on the spot he touched her. The slick fabric lent an erotic edge to the slide of his fingers. “Spread your legs.”
She obeyed instantly. Becka normally preferred to take charge of her sexual encounters. She knew what she liked and had no reservations with demanding exactly that. Most guys found it sexy as hell and—more importantly—it ensured they both had one hell of a good time.
Aaron wasn’t going to let her lead this encounter. She’d known it from the second he commanded her not to drink any more that night. And the kiss... God, that kiss had been claiming in a way she wasn’t prepared to deal with.
Doesn’t matter. I’m a grown-ass woman. I knew what I signed up for. I can handle it.
That didn’t stop a shiver from working its way through her body as he traced her opening through her panties and moved up to circle her clit. This wasn’t the rushed fucking she’d prepared herself for. He touched her as if she meant something beyond a mutually satisfying night. “Stop that.”
Aaron met her gaze, his hand stilling. “Problem?” There was no anger in those blue eyes, just a kind of knowledge that said he already knew what her protesting was about and didn’t give a damn.
“Don’t make this into something it isn’t.” He didn’t respond other than to slide his hand back down to cup her again. Possessively. She swallowed hard, fighting not to rub against him like a wanton thing. Focus. “I’m just here for the sex.” For the desperately needed distraction.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re just here for the sex.”
“That is literally what I just said.”
“I heard you.” His thumb dipped beneath the edge of her thong. “Becka, if you think this night is going to end before I’ve stroked, tasted and fucked you until we’re both damn near comatose...” He shook his head in mock sympathy even as he kept up that teasing stroking beneath her panties, not quite where she so desperately needed him.
“I signed up for that.” She gritted her teeth in an effort to keep still. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Do you want me to stop?” The arrogant tilt of his lips said he already knew the answer. She hated that he was so sure of her, hated even more that he was right.
Becka smacked his hand away from her and shoved his shoulders, well aware that he allowed her to tumble him onto his back. She was strong for her size, but he had a good six inches and fifty pounds on her. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them over his head, and he let her do it. “I don’t want you to stop.” She shifted, dragging her breasts against his bare chest. God, he’s breathtaking. All I want to do is rub myself all over him like some horny teenager. She pressed down against his cock and had to bite back a whimper.
“Come here, Becka.” The way he said her name was almost a purr, a soft coaxing that was no less a command than all his others tonight. “Give me your mouth.”
She kissed him, telling herself she did it because she wanted to and not because part of her quivered with need at the rough growl in his voice. He tasted like the scotch he’d been drinking at the reception, and it went straight to her head. She forgot she was supposed to be in the dominant position, to be driving this encounter, to be the one calling the shots. Instead, she released his wrists and cupped his jaw on either side, losing herself in the feel of his tongue sliding decadently against hers, his lips hard and unyielding and yet giving her everything she needed.
It was too much.
He kissed her like this meant something.
She didn’t want him to be right.
She leaned back, desperate to put some distance between