The Chance. Робин Карр
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against his lips.
“If I let myself think about anything else, I might’ve had an injury. How fast can you get naked?”
“Faster than you, I bet.”
He raced up those stairs like lightning.
He put her on her bed and she was up on her knees, shoving his jacket off his shoulders, lifting his sweater by the hem, over his head. He took care of the shirt he wore, disregarding buttons and pulling it over his head. Then he pulled off her sweater and she flopped back on the bed, kicking off her pants.
There he stood in his jeans and boots, looking down at her. “Ho, boy,” he said. “You’re gorgeous. And you’re very fast.”
“Come on, Eric. I showed you mine. Show me yours.”
He sat on the bed and worked off his boots first. “Patience.”
“I don’t have that,” she informed him.
He pulled a couple of foil packages out of his pocket, tossed them on the bedside table, then slid down the jeans. He put a knee on the bed and let her have a look.
“Holy guacamole,” she said. Then she opened her arms and he filled them.
He rolled with her so they were on their sides, locked together with their lips while he slowly caressed her breasts and back and belly. When his fingers moved lower, she grabbed his wrist. “Eric, suit up. The second you touch me, I’m gone. I’ll be way ahead of you.”
He grinned at her and gave her lower lip a gentle nip. “The first time, anyway. I can catch up, no worries.”
Eric wasn’t always great at following orders; he didn’t get the condom right away, as she instructed. He’d spent all day trying not to think about this and the last few minutes praying he wouldn’t be too fast. That became a nonissue right away. He slid a slow, easy finger into her, his thumb brushing against her clitoris, and she went off like a firecracker, clenching and throbbing and drenching him in liquid heat. “God,” he said. “Beautiful. Beautiful.” And then he kept her going for a long, long time until she collapsed beside him, flat on her back, spent. He kissed her cheek. “Can you do that again?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered weakly.
“If you give me two things, I can die a happy man.”
“Name ’em,” she said, her eyes still closed.
“Let me have a little taste, then do that when I’m inside. Let me watch your eyes while I’m there. Blow my mind. Kill me. I’m on a hair trigger.”
Her eyes opened a slit, but they sparkled. Her lips curved in a smile. She opened her legs for him.
He slid down her body, stopping to make sure her peaked nipples got the attention they deserved, then he went farther. He kissed the inside of her thighs, but quickly. He was anxious. He was ravenous. He was ready to explode. He gave her a few licks with a gentle tongue, then a little rougher, thoroughly enjoying her moaning and wiggling against him.
He went back to her mouth. “More later,” he promised. “Laine, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever had on my tongue and I want you so bad, I think I might pass out. Tell me what you want. You can have anything you want. You own me right now.”
“Just get inside me, Eric. Before I climb on you and just take the choice away from you.”
He didn’t make her wait—he slid in slowly, luxuriated for a moment, then began to move. He grabbed her hands in one of his, stretched them over her head and moved faster, then harder, then deeper and harder. She bit his shoulder, groaned, and let him have it, throwing another climax at him. So fierce, so tight, so powerful, he let it all go with a loud moan. She was unstoppable; she was hot as lava. He came until his brain was empty and she was a limp pile of moist flesh beneath him.
“My God,” she said.
“Yeah,” he concurred in a weak breath.
He held his weight off her until he could catch his breath, then with his arms gently cradling her, he rolled them onto their sides again. He kept his mouth on hers, just pressing his lips and tongue against her lips and tongue, holding her against him for as long as he could—he didn’t want to leave her body. He thought it was very probably the best sexual experience of his life. He certainly couldn’t remember anything to compare it to. He wanted to say something emotional, intimate. Something memorable. But all he could come up with was “Are you okay?”
“No,” she said. “All my bones melted.”
He chuckled. “A-plus?”
“Don’t get full of yourself. And don’t stop trying. God, Eric. Have you always been a sex god?”
He raised up on one elbow and looked down at her. He shook his head. “I think I can honestly say, you bring out the best in me.”
“Whew. In a few minutes, I’ll think about those dumplings....”
“Screw the dumplings. I can just live on you.”
“You’ll get very thin,” she said with a smile.
“I’ll be fine. I think we need to do that again. Right away. Before we forget how that works. Damn, baby, we were very good. I think we found what we have in common.”
* * *
They made love again, then showered together and that was just another opportunity to enjoy each other’s bodies. Then they were going to dress to go downstairs to eat but were sidetracked by the bed. By the time they got to the kitchen they were weak with hunger and drunk on sex. Eric had never made love so much in one evening in his life.
They didn’t get to the dumplings until 11:00 p.m. Laine told him she thought they were probably her best ever, but the taste and texture barely registered with Eric. The only thing he could taste was Laine and he didn’t want to forget it for a second.
They sat on the floor in the great room, in front of the fire, trays on their laps, knees almost touching. While they ate, they talked. “This is a completely inappropriate question,” Laine said, “but will you tell me about all your lovers?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “There haven’t been very many. I told you, my last girlfriend was a cute little computer nerd and we lived together for almost two years. She was special in a hundred ways, but we both knew we were temporary from the start and she dumped me last summer for someone more her type.”
“How do you know when you’re temporary?” she asked.
“You tell me, Laine. You’re not married or engaged or serious—and I can’t believe every man in America doesn’t want you for his very own. And you’re here while on leave—you’ll go back to the Bureau. You won’t work out of Thunder Point, I know that. I just refuse to think about it right now. Want to tell me about your men?”
She just shook her head. “My professional life didn’t leave a lot of room for that. I was in a few relationships, short-term, with guys whose lives were just like mine, which meant high pressure, bad hours, temporary assignments, traveling a lot. But your life is different—one business, one address, not so much uncertainty.”
“I found my love mostly in cars,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not a ladies’ man. I like women, but I was busy. Busy trying to rebuild myself. Ten years is a long time to be out of circulation.”
“You said five years....”
“Five in jail, five on parole. Ten years under a microscope. I didn’t test the rules, not even a little bit. And I was nervous about forming attachments.”
“But when you were young, before jail...”
“I was a fuck-around idiot. There’s nothing more to tell about that.”
“There’s a daughter.”
His eyes actually got a little dreamy.