Slow Heat Read online

  As if he read her mind, he slid his hands down her arms to her hips, and then up again, over her ribs, then higher, to her shoulders, where from the inside of her jacket, he nudged it off, down to her elbows. With her arms caught, his palms swept down again, covering her breasts, his thumbs rasping over her nipples, which wrenched a gasp from her and another heartfelt groan from him.

  “Not enough,” he muttered. “Not. Even. Close.” He worked open the buttons of her blouse, murmured a wordless thanks when he found a front hook on her bra, and flicked it open. With an inarticulate sound of hunger, he bent his head, nibbling the full curve of a breast as he crushed the hem of her skirt in his fingers.

  “Wade.”

  He looked up, eyes bright and intense.

  She took a deep breath and searched her mind for a single coherent sentence. She had nothing. Less than nothing. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

  Face still serious, he pulled her skirt up. “Let me know when you remember.”

  And up . . .

  When her skirt was bunched to her waist, he tilted his head down to take in her boy-cut panties and let out a rough breath. “God, look at you.” He ran a finger over her hip, then beneath the silk, his other hand joining the fray, and then he was cupping her bare bottom in those big, warm, callused hands, hauling her up so that her legs could wrap around his hips.

  “I don’t—” She broke off as he rocked his hips, nudging his sex right up against the already damp crux of hers so that she cradled him between her thighs. “Oh, God,” she managed on a rough exhale of breath as he tightened his grip on her and rocked again, his tongue tangling with hers.

  She really had no idea what she’d been about to say, none. Maybe that this quick, aggressive, possessive style of his was over the line, that he was pushing her too hard too fast, taking her where she hadn’t wanted to go again, but the truth was that it had a thrill rushing through her, exciting her to the very tips of her curling toes.

  And she did want to go there with him. So very much.

  He had his big body pressing her to the wall as he rocked to her, and she clung to him, breathing like she’d just run a mile. She didn’t know how she could want him like this, but she did, and every shift of his hips brought her closer to the edge, and that edge was in sight. Gasping, she gripped the front of his shirt. “Wade—”

  “I know. Christ, I know . . .”

  Suddenly terrified with the depths of what he was wrenching from her, she tried to shake it off, tried to hold back, but he kissed her hard, bringing her focus back to him. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said against her mouth. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel anything, when I can see that you do.” His fingers slid down, finding her hot and wet, and he tore his mouth from hers to groan as he dipped into that heat. “When I can feel you.” Lowering his head, he watched as he stroked her right where she needed him, right there with her.

  “Wade.”

  “Good?”

  She gripped him tight, hips oscillating. “Don’t stop . . . Please, don’t stop—”

  “I won’t. I’ve got you, Sam, I’ve got you.” He kissed his way to her ear, then sucked her lobe into his mouth, still working her with his fingers.

  She pressed her head back hard against the wall as her muscles quivered, tightened. She gripped his biceps, tightening when he gently outlined her, then scrapped a callused thumb over her with exactly the right pressure, making her gasp and cry out. “Omigod, I need . . . I—”

  “I know,” he whispered hoarsely against her mouth, his own breathing coming hard and fast. “Let go. I want to feel you.”

  Her gaze flew to his. He was watching her, his eyes dark and tightly in focus.

  On her.

  He wanted her to come, wanted to see it, feel it, because it turned him on to watch her, and though it shouldn’t have, that knowledge turned her on as well.

  Let go, he’d said. And she did. Her muscles still rippling and quivering when he reached between them to unbutton his pants.

  “Condom,” she managed to say.

  He went still, the “Oh, shit” look in his eyes unmistakable. During their elevator tryst, she’d admitted to being on the pill. But he’d also had his bag and had been able to access a condom, which they’d also used. She shook her head in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you came to a wedding without a condom? You?”

  He groaned. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t get laid every damn weekend. Not anymore.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “I’m still on the pill.”

  He stared right back. “I know you’re going to laugh your ass off, but I’ve never had sex without a condom. Ever.”

  And he’d just had a full physical. She knew this because all the guys had, as they always did before spring training.

  The sound of his zipper rasped loudly. Apparently it was full speed ahead.

  He gave her a beat to disagree with the chain of events. When she didn’t, he bent his head and licked, sucked, and kissed his way over her collarbone to her breasts, paying special care and homage to her nipples until she was practically whimpering for more, which he had no problem giving. One shove and his pants slid down enough to free him. She stroked his hard, impressive length, reacquainting herself with what had for a few glorious hours in Atlanta been her favorite part of him.

  He sucked some air in through his teeth, and with a quick scrape of his fingers slid her panties to the side, ripping another appreciative growl from his throat at the view he gave himself. “Wrap your legs around me, Sam—God, yeah, like that.”

  And then, with his eyes burning, holding hers prisoner, he pushed into her, big and thick and so perfect she cried out, the sound so dark and needy she bit his throat to keep herself quiet.

  “Oh, Jesus.” His breath hissed harshly in her ear. “You feel good. So damn good.”

  She’d have thought herself spent, but one stroke and she was right back on that perilous edge. It was shocking, disturbingly so, how he did this to her, how he turned her inside out, exposing her like no one else ever had or could, but in that moment, she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. “Wade.”

  “Right here, I’m right here, Sam, right with you.”

  She could feel it, feel him, and every time he pulled back and thrust into her, grinding his hips to hers, she whimpered for more, so filled by him, stretched so tight she could hardly stand it.

  “Again,” he whispered, bending his knees to better align them as he surged into her. Lowering his head, he set his open mouth on her shoulder, kissing his way back to her ear, using his tongue and teeth as he moved within her, murmuring something wordless, the low, hoarse tone conveying the emotion, and that was it for her.

  It came from deep within her this time, his name ripped from her throat as the sensations crashed over her. From far, far away she heard him follow her over, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he slapped a hand on the wall behind her to keep them both from sinking to the floor in a tangled heap.

  It took her a moment to realize he was completely supporting her with muscles that were still trembling, and she opened her eyes and met his.

  He ran the tip of his nose along her jaw as he let her legs slide down his body, holding her until her feet hit the floor and she nodded that she was okay.

  When she wasn’t.

  Turning from him, she tried to put herself back together, but her bra was hopelessly tangled in her blouse and she had to pull both off to start over.

  The knock at the door galvanized her. “Um . . . just a second!” Horrified, she skipped the bra, dropping it to the counter to yank back on her blouse and her jacket, figuring it would have to do. She slipped into her heels, straightened her hair, and with a breath to fortify herself, turned to grab her bra.

  Wade had rebuttoned and zipped, and was standing there silent, studying her.

  “My bra,” she murmured, moving close to him again because he had his hand in his pocket and she