#SonOfASeacock

Colbie walked into Spence’s bathroom. The brownies were starting to wear off, leaving her tired and feeling bad about Spence. She’d gotten accidentally high, and possibly a little obnoxiously sexually aggressive, and she’d forgotten their date.

“Son of a seacock,” she said, disrobing and then bending to pick up the clothes she’d left on the floor. They were wrinkled but they’d do, she thought, just as she heard Spence speak, his voice low and gravelly, like how it sounded whenever he was aroused. “And cock isn’t a bad word?” he asked.

Whirling to him, she caught the slow scan of his eyes, making her incredibly aware of what she was wearing.

Or rather, not wearing. “Body parts aren’t bad words,” she whispered.

His expression made her hot in very specific places that she now knew he could make very happy. He scooped up the robe and handed it to her.

“Sorry,” she said, clutching it to her. “I was just going to get dressed.”

His gaze locked in on something behind her and he groaned before coming toward her.

“The mirror,” he said, his voice still a full octave lower than usual, which meant it was almost inaudibly gruff as he pulled the robe from her fingers to wrap it around her shoulders, waiting while she slid her arms into the sleeves before he belted it for her.

She craned her neck, caught sight of the full-length mirror that had most likely afforded him a hell of a view, especially when she’d bent over, and grimaced. “Holy Hostess.”

He chuckled but his eyes were heated. Very, very heated.

“I left to give you some privacy for your call,” she said. “It seemed . . .” intense “. . . private.”

“Forget the call.” He stroked her hair from her temple. “You still hungry?”

She nodded, suddenly a lot sober and also a little unsure of herself and her footing here. She’d come on pretty strong, and yet he hadn’t made a move.

But in the times that they’d been together, it’d all been magic and she wanted more of that magic. She’d hoped they’d continue to enjoy her last week in town to full capacity, but maybe he didn’t feel the same way. She didn’t realize she’d spoken that last part aloud until he spoke.

“Colbie. Look at me.”

Nope. She didn’t want to do that.

He pulled her in against him, slid his fingers into her hair, and tugged her face up to his.

She tried to pull away but . . . “Oh,” she breathed, feeling him hard as a rock against her.

“Yeah, proof positive. I want you so bad that I no longer have any blood left in my brain. By now you know that I’m not any more experienced at this navigating relationship stuff than you are, right? So maybe you could have some mercy on me for being a fumbling idiot. I was trying to be a good guy tonight.”

She found a laugh and he stared at her, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. “You think my condition’s funny?” he asked.

“No, I think we’re both idiots.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I understand your restraint and while it’s admirable, there’s something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to take advantage of me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed into him. “And I want it bad too. I get that the proof of my wanting isn’t as . . . evident as yours, but I’m quite certain you could find it if you searched hard enough.”

She was pretty sure he stopped breathing at that. And so did she. A moment ago, he’d taken a call that had plummeted his mood about a hundred degrees. She was hoping to turn that around for him. Slowly, she slid her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his abs, which made her quiver. Yum, and she paused, thinking north or south? Both, she decided, but once again he sucked in a breath.

“You’re still under the influence,” he said, voice very strained.

Poor baby. “So heroic and gentlemanly,” she murmured. Sweet, but not necessary. She was a big girl, and she was also a careful girl. But she needed this. Needed him. “I’m running at full capacity, Spence,” she promised, humming in pleasure when his hands went to her hips to rock them against his.

“How do you know?” he asked, voice not quite steady when her fingers continued to map his body . . .

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I could prove it by walking a straight line or singing the alphabet or . . .” she ran her fingers down the front of his button-fly Levi’s “. . . getting you to talk about the phone call that seemed to bother you.”

“Okay,” he said, catching her hand in his. “So you are sober.”

“Yep.” Again, she went up on tiptoes, putting her mouth to his ear. “And extremely turned on. Take advantage of me, Spence? Pretty please?”

He held on to her hands and met her gaze. “By my count, you have one week left here in San Francisco.”

This surprised her. He’d been keeping track. “Yes.”

“And we’ve knocked out everything on your list. Except for number ten.”

She stilled, her body quivering. “Number ten?” she asked, like she wasn’t clear what he was talking about.

His hot glance said nice try. “You remember. The wild, passionate, up-against-the-wall, forget-your-own-name love affair that makes you weak in the knees when you think about it.” He smiled. “But a short love affair, really short, because you don’t have time or energy to keep that level of sex up, much less maintain a relationship.”

She stared at him. “You remembered it word for word.”

His eyes were badass sexy as he let go of one of her hands to reach for the bow he’d just tied at her waist, slowly pulling on it until it gave. The robe loosened and her nipples went hard.

“Be sure, Colbie,” he said, his mouth against hers. “Be real sure.”

She slid her hands into his hair. Having this man inside her again? Knowing that these memories would have to keep her warm in the months ahead back in New York? She’d never been more sure of anything in her life. “One hundred percent,” she said and shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to the floor.

“Oh, Colbie.” His voice was like velvet as he pulled her in closer, his hands skimming down her back to cup her ass. “Missed this.”

“It’s been like twenty-four hours.”

“Felt like a lifetime. You’re so warm and soft.”

“Soft?”

“It’s a good thing,” he murmured, dipping his head, letting his hot open mouth skim along her throat, her shoulder. “The very best thing. You’re gorgeous.”

She squirmed. “Are you going to talk all the way through this?”

He huffed out a soft laugh and took a bite of her shoulder. “Yeah. I think so. Look at you.” One big warm hand skimmed up her ribcage and cupped a breast. “You’re perfect.”

“Not . . . perfect,” she managed.

“Perfect to me.”

The words melted her. It was also hard to argue with him with his hands caressing her so deliberately. She was about three inches from coming and he hadn’t even lost his clothes yet.

That had to change and quick. She got his shirt open and shoved it off his broad shoulders so that she could touch him skin-to-skin. He shucked his pants and when he was as naked as she, he snaked an arm around her waist, lifting her up against him so that her legs could encircle his waist. Then he took them on the move.

“Where are we going?”

“My bed,” he said. “The bathroom counter isn’t going to do it for me.”

“Too hard?”

“Too cold.” He took a couple of long strides and threw them both onto the bed. “You’re not going to get cold on my watch,” he said in a thrillingly rough voice.

“No? What am I going to get?”

“Lucky. Very lucky.” He lowered himself over her until every part of them was touching and then finally, he kissed her. And not the light teasing kisses from before. This kiss was raw and shattering and intense, the kind of kiss that stopped hearts and melted brains, as his hands roamed her body, igniting fires everywhere they touched. He urged her thighs open, skimming a light touch over her heated flesh, and she nearly burst into flame right then.

“Spence.”

He slowed. Pulled back the heat with deliberate control and she almost cried. She tightened her hands into his hair and tried to direct him but he just gave a low knowing laugh.

He knew what he was doing, and then to prove it, he did it again, taking her to the very edge before pulling back.

“I hate you,” she finally gasped.

“No, you don’t. I’m heroic and gentlemanly,” he said, giving her back her own words.

Not that there was anything gentlemanly about what he was doing to her with his mouth. And especially when the more desperate she became, the more patient he became. He’d memorized her body, or so it seemed. He knew exactly where and how to touch her to make her putty in his hands. And where to not touch, apparently determined to make her beg to be finished off. “Son of a bumblebee, you’re missing on purpose!”

With a deep laugh, he dragged his mouth along her body again, slow, hot, deliberate kisses, his systematic torment of her body leaving her writhing against him until finally he let her go, let her come apart at the seams, shattering into a million pieces.

While she was still panting and staring up at the ceiling in shock at how out of control he’d had her, he crawled up her body and brought his lips back to hers.

“You still coherent?” he asked, pushing her hair off her damp forehead.

“No,” she said, gasping for air. “But don’t let that stop you.”

At some point he’d found a condom. Then the mouth that had just taken her to heaven slowly curved as he made himself at home between her legs, the question in his eyes.

Because she couldn’t speak, she nodded and tightened her grip on him. “Yes.” God, yes. Now. Yesterday. Tomorrow.

Always . . .

Shoving that thought deep, she gathered him into her arms, arching up to meet him halfway. He didn’t close his eyes and neither did she, so they stared at each other, their breath blending as he entered her.

“How about now,” he murmured. “Still with me now?”

“Stop asking questions and move!”

His shoulders shook with laughter, but he did as she asked. He moved. And sweet mother of pearl, how the man moved. In a shockingly short time, he had her crying out for him, sensation and emotions slamming blissfully together as their bodies did the same. And this time when she lost control, he finally did too.

After, when he went to shift his weight off her, she tightened her grip on him, not ready to let go yet. With a wordless comforting murmur, he slid an arm beneath her, rolling until he was on his back and she was all but poured over him.

Get up and go downstairs to your place, her brain said. Before you get used to this.

Oh please just one more minute, her body said.

And her body won.