Wicked Pleasures. Tori CarringtonЧитать онлайн книгу.
moment they closed the front door, they’d come together like a couple of thirsty travelers, kissing and tearing at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to the bedroom.
And now here they both stood, about to fulfill what had begun the instant their gazes met at the club last night.
Regina’s fingers skimmed around the girth of his erection and then firmly grasped him. The air hissed from his mouth at her confident touch. She moved her hand, causing his hips to buck involuntarily.
He wanted to be inside her. Now…
He drew her closer, kissing her deeply, reveling in the feel of her taut nipples against his chest, her hand trapped between them. He skimmed his fingers down her back and over her firm bottom, then sought out her shallow channel from behind. He groaned without sound. So wet…so ready…
“Protection,” she rasped.
He continued kissing her. “What?”
“Condom. Do you have one?”
God, she tasted like ripe fruit. “No. Don’t you?”
She made a low sound and then stepped back, leaving him practically panting in front of her.
“Oh, hell. You’ve got to be kidding me.” He ran his hands over the top of his close-cropped hair several times in barely concealed agitation.
This wasn’t happening. Not twice in as many nights. If he were a superstitious man, he might think the Fates were trying to tell him something. But he wasn’t and even if they were, he had no intention of listening.
“There doesn’t happen to be a drugstore that delivers, would there?”
Her laugh released a bit of his pent-up need. “Nope. Although that’s a good idea. Think of the business they’d get.”
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn.
He reached for his jeans that were near the bedroom door. Leaving her standing there, looking so ready to be made love to, had to be the most difficult thing he’d done in a good long while.
“Where’s the closest place?”
“About a mile up the road.”
“Of course. It couldn’t be up the block, could it?”
She reached for her clothes.
He caught her hand. “Don’t.”
She blinked at him.
He scooped her up and deposited her on top of her bed. God, but she looked so incredibly sexy, her honey-brown hair tousled around her face, her mouth swollen from his kisses, her breasts full and accessible. It was all he could do not to beg her to go without protection just this once.
“Don’t move a muscle,” he said.
Her laugh was almost gigglelike, touching something inside him.
He couldn’t have moved any faster for the door had he broken into a run.
REGINA LAY BACK against her bed, listening as the door slammed closed behind Linc. She smiled and snuggled deeper into the bedding, squeezing her thighs tightly together, delighting in the tiny shivers that swept over her skin.
She felt giddy and high and feverish, and none of it had a thing to do with alcohol. She skimmed her hands over her hypersensitive breasts, catching her breath at her immediate response to her own touch. Her nipples were so hard and achy. She swallowed, edging her right hand down her trembling abdomen. She spread her thighs slightly and slid her fingers into the damp tangle of curls there. She stretched her neck, realizing she could come so easily…
She slowly drew her index finger the length of her shallow crevice, unable to remember the last time she’d been so wet and needy. Correction, unwilling to. All she wanted to think about was the here and now. And Linc…
She recalled their interaction last night in bits and pieces, but nothing had prepared her for holding his length in her palm tonight. So long, so big…
She groaned as the tip of her finger dipped into the pool of heat between her legs. Her heartbeat quickened and just like that she achieved orgasm…
6
LINC WAS SWEATIER when he finally returned to Regina’s apartment than after his morning ten-mile run when the air temperature was at least twenty degrees hotter. He let himself into her apartment, tearing into the box of condoms he’d just purchased as he strode toward her bedroom. He should probably climb into the shower first, but…
The hell with a shower.
He stopped in her bedroom door. She was right where he’d left her. Beautiful, bare…and fast asleep.
For the second time that night, he let out a string of curses.
This was not happening…
He stood in the doorway for a long moment, taking in the way her hand rested on her upper thigh, the curve of her breasts, the sound of her soft snores.
He knew she’d been on the job since early that morning. He also knew she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. And, of course, worry over what had or had not happened had probably worn her out on top of the physical stress.
He thought about catching that shower and then climbing into bed next to her, rousing her from sleep. But considering they barely knew each other, he decided that wouldn’t be much better than taking advantage of her while she was intoxicated.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn.
He quietly put the half-opened box of condoms on her nightstand and then reached to push a soft curl from her brow before covering her with the top sheet. She was so out of it, she didn’t move a muscle.
Moments later he stood outside her door, battling back the urge to go back inside. He thought of a handful of phone numbers he could call, but no matter how much he wanted release, he only wanted it with the woman sleeping in the apartment behind him.
Another run, maybe. Yes. And a nice, long, cold shower…
TWO DAYS LATER, Regina tightened her boxing gloves and then gave the punching bag another one-two whack. Over the past year and a half, she’d taken nearly every self-defense class available. Then, at the health club she’d joined, she’d stumbled across boxing classes. The physical activity made her feel better somehow. One of the pros suggested it was like aiming darts at a picture of someone unlikable…but better. She agreed.
Especially now.
She still couldn’t believe it had happened again. She’d woken Sunday morning to find herself pretty much in the same position Linc had left her, a box of condoms on the nightstand along with a note: “Didn’t want to wake you.” He’d signed it simply “L” and included his phone number.
She’d beat the pillow down and then gone to the gym to do a better job on a punching bag.
She couldn’t even allow herself to entertain the idea of calling the number he’d left so she might apologize.
At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see her again.
She lost focus and the bag swung and hit her in the shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance.
“You’re supposed to hit it, I think, not the other way around,” Vivienne said from the doorway of a connecting room filled with other fitness equipment where the majority of club members worked out.
Regina caught the bag and then wiped the sweat from her brow with her bare forearm. “Every now and again I like to let it think it stands a chance.”
“Speaking of hitting things, you ready to hit the showers?”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
Thankfully, Vivienne hadn’t mentioned Friday night again, both of them back into the regular workweek swing of things. Viv