The shaft of whatever the fuck it was that scorched through him almost brought him to his knees. Marina. With some other guy doing what he wanted to do to her, what he’d imagined, over and over. He’d felt violent rage inside himself before, but it was nothing compared to this.

He clenched his jaw, tried to count off the reasons why it shouldn’t have mattered to him.

He should make her walk away, turn her against him for good. If it were anyone else, it would be so fucking easy. He knew exactly what to do, what to say, but for some reason he couldn’t do it. Not to Marina.

There was some protective instinct that kicked in for her, deep inside, a part of him he didn’t think he had any more for anyone other than family. He’d thought it long buried, but it was so strong it guaranteed her protection, even from himself.

“I can give myself an orgasm,” she murmured. “But it’s not enough. Not anymore. And I think there’s only so many mediocre orgasms I can give myself.”

Roarke closed his eyes, tried to get the images that punched into his head to go away.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I don’t need that visual, okay?”

God, he was trying to do the right thing here. The right thing for her.

When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him, her gaze steady. Christ, her inexperience was obvious, so where the hell did that boldness come from?

Her bottom lip looked red where she’d bitten at it. He wanted to lick at it, have her bite his lip like that. And only his.

“You won’t go to anyone else to satisfy something—anything—that came from me. Got it?”

His voice came out rougher than he intended.

She stepped forward until she stood directly in front of him, so close he could feel the warmth from her body. He could smell her perfume. It was light and sexy at the same time and made him almost light-headed.

“I haven’t been with a woman in a hell of a long time.”

Where had that come from? And what was it? A fucking disclaimer?

“How long exactly?”

He frowned. Who asked someone that? Apparently Marina did. He’d somehow given her the impression she could ask him whatever the fuck she wanted. Most people took the hint. No talking more than necessary and no personal questions. Ever. Not her.

“I don’t know,” he ground out. “I’m not keeping track.”

And why he always felt the need to answer her, he had no clue about that either.

She smiled. Soft and hot and condescending all at once. “Sure you are.”

Yeah. Right. Of course. He had a pretty accurate idea of exactly how long it’d been and it was pathetic by anyone’s standard.

“Enough. If we do this, we do it without all the getting-to-know-you bullshit.”

God, was he really going to do this?

“Wow.” Her eyebrows went sky high. “It must really be a long time.”

“Marina—”

She laughed, the sound soft and warm. And foreign. “I’m teasing.”

Teasing? Is that what she called it? She was driving him out of his Goddamn mind, whatever it was.

“It’s going to be difficult with the crutches,” he warned.

“I might know a thing or two about crutches. I think we can figure something out.”

“I don’t have any rubbers.”

Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d bought any.

“I assumed BYO.”

He groaned. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

“Nursing is kind of like being a Scout. You have to be prepared for anything.”

What the fuck was he waiting for? Roarke tried to list off all the reasons why he had no business touching her, why he shouldn’t take what she offered. Nothing made sense, nothing stuck. Nothing he came up with was enough to cancel out the hot, filthy images he had of her. Naked. Under him. Wet. Moaning. He screwed his eyes shut for an endless second. Tight. And coming.

“Just fucking,” he ground out. “Nothing more. One time.”

She wet her lips and nodded and he swore he almost felt that swipe of her tongue against his own lips, and lower, around the head of his cock.

“Know what I want?” he forced out, the blood a roar in his ears. “Right this minute?”

“What?”

“You. On your back. Coming because my mouth is between your legs.”

Her eyes went wide and she trembled. Her saw her swallow.

Most people would have taken the hint and fucked off away from him by now. Not her. She seemed nervous, maybe even scared. Good. He was glad she was scared because the way she made him feel terrified the fuck out of him.

 

 

She was about to have sex with the hottest guy she’d ever seen.

She was about to have sex with the…

Oh God.

She was about to have sex.

Marina tried to take a big gulp of air, but it somehow got caught as a lump in her throat. And it did nothing to calm the rapid thudding of her heart. The beating was so fast, so loud, she might be in danger of passing out.

She snorted to herself. How would that look? At the prospect of her first sex in six years and she fainted?

His room was clean and stark compared to the rest of the house, but God, it was still a mattress on the floor. It should have felt seedy and cheap, but it didn’t. Anything but.

Roarke had locked up the house and maneuvered himself onto the bed. His hot gaze swept her from head to foot and she trembled from the intensity of it.

“You’ve already seen me naked,” he drawled. “It hardly seems fair.”

“That—that was in a professional capacity.”

His mouth lifted at one corner. “Trust me, my dick didn’t know the difference.”

She shrugged off the nerves—or tried to— and kneeled on the mattress next to him. Before she could second-guess herself, she eased the shirt up over her head and off.

The fancy, lacy bra got a cursory glance.

“Considering how uncomfortable it is, you should probably lose the bra too,” he murmured.

Her hands shook, but she unhooked the clasp and let the bra slide off her arms. God, she took off a bra every day. The move should have been smooth, easy. Instead it ended up being clumsy and awkward.

The cool air washed against the heated skin of her breasts and she felt her nipples harden. She was naked from the waist up, exposed, vulnerable, yet his eyes never left hers.

“You’re nervous.”

She swallowed again against the dryness of her throat. “Duh.”

“Don’t over-think it, Marina. It’s just fucking.”

She almost snorted at that. Right. She’d never done the “just fucking” thing before.

Only then did his gaze drop. Heat exploded inside her when he pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth while he took his time looking at her. The move was sexy and hot and told her he liked what he saw. More than liked.

He sat up in a surge of movement and tugged off his t-shirt with a rough hand at the back of his neck. The move was fluid and coordinated and screamed male confidence. No awkwardness there.

The muscles, the tattoos, the scars. The sharp punch to her gut told her she was finally going to be able to get her hands on all of it. Maybe her mouth. Large expanses of smooth skin, covered with dark, stark tattoos. All hers to explore. To kiss. To lick.

He tipped her chin up so that her eyes were on his. “Marina, are you sure you—”

“God. Yes. I’m just…a little overwhelmed.” She swallowed. “Continue.”

His mouth lifted at one corner. “You’re bossy. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time. It comes in handy when dealing with rude, difficult patients.”

His gaze drifted down again and he licked his lips. “I’m going to tell you everything I’m going to do, okay?”

She nodded and then realized he couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I want to kiss you. And not on the lips.”

Oh. God.

Because he was looking at her chest. He eased her onto her back, somehow ended up on top of her, between her legs. He propped himself above her with a forearm next to her head and eased her legs wide with his thick thighs.

She could feel him through her skirt and his jeans, solid and unyielding.

She gasped when he lowered his head to her and licked her nipple with a bold, sure swipe. He pulled it into his mouth, sucking and tugging until she felt the suckling sensation between her legs, right where she ached, throbbed.

“Too much?” he murmured. His warm breath fanned her wet nipple and she shivered at the sensation.

“I… What—what was that? That thing you did, with your— What—”

“You mean this?”

He bent to her other nipple, his hot mouth closing over it completely, while he licked and flicked and rolled her nipple with his tongue. Maybe his teeth. It could have been both.

She bit her lip against the pleasure that seared a path straight down, exploding low in her abdomen and lower.

When he eased back, his gaze dropped right down where she ached, where she was hot and wet, as if he knew exactly where she’d felt the suction of his mouth.

“And when I get my mouth between your legs?”

His voice was low and rough and rumbled across nerve endings already heightened. “That’s exactly the move I’m going to use against your clit.”

Dear. God. In. Heaven.

He trailed his hot, open mouth down between her breasts and lower, the sensation of the rasp of his beard against her already sensitized skin making her gasp and tremble under him. Of course, the trembling might be because of what he was about to do, what she was about to experience.

Stuart had gone down on her, of course he had. Honestly, it’d been…okay—she guessed—except she didn’t think it was supposed to only feel “okay”. Somehow she knew when Roarke went down on her, it wasn’t going to be the same, not even in the same ballpark.

He eased his big body down over hers, lifting his mouth when he got to the skirt. A rough hand slid up her thigh and under the fabric until he’d bunched it at her waist. Cool air washed against heated skin. The muscles in her stomach jerked in anticipation when he inched the top of her panties down. And stopped.

He leaned in close, so close she could feel his hot breath against the skin of her stomach. “What’s this?”

She sighed. It’d been bound to come up, but God, did it have to be when he’d been about to rock her world? “C-section scar.”

His gaze lifted to hers, his brows low over his eyes. “You didn’t tell me you had a kid.”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” he bit out.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He hesitated for an endless second. “I don’t do the whole kid thing.”

Yeah, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard that. “I don’t do the whole prospective dad thing either, so…”

She’d never wanted to expose Sam to another man. Ever.

“I’m not looking for a potential father for Samantha. I’m not even looking for a relationship. At all. Probably ever.”

“Then what?”

She swallowed. “You know what. Touch. Pleasure. I…”

“That I can guarantee.”

God. Confident much? She jumped when he bent and closed his mouth over her through her panties, arching against the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue, shivering when he scored her with his teeth.

“You smell fucking incredible.”

He yanked her panties down her thighs, as far as they could go with her legs wedged open and put his mouth to her again, this time without any barrier. Only hot, wet heat.

He licked her with bold, thick strokes, sucking gently against her until she couldn’t hold in the moan that tore from her. It was low and loud and she was pretty sure she’d never made a sound like that before. The scrape of his soft beard against her thighs, the sensitive flesh between her legs, heightened everything his tongue and teeth and lips were doing.

Marina sucked in a breath, another, but nothing helped, she couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t control the flood of sensation that threatened to engulf her, drown her.

She rocked her hips into his mouth, the movements frenzied and uncoordinated, but she didn’t care. She threaded fingers into his hair to hold him to her. His tongue flicked against her clit, over and over until she couldn’t do anything but put her head back, close her eyes and give herself over to him.

She whimpered, tried to move back from the intensity, the pressure, the pain of pleasure. He spread his fingers wide over her abdomen, holding her back down against the mattress, holding her still for his mouth so that she couldn’t escape his relentless tongue. Not that she wanted to. Not really.

The orgasm when it came was hard and intense. And over way too fast. The sharp slam of pleasure burned through her like wildfire, but her legs kept shaking and she couldn’t make them stop. Because it hadn’t been enough. Not even close.

She opened her eyes as Roarke yanked at the opening of his jeans, shoved them and his underwear down his legs and kicked them off.

His eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed, his features drawn in hard lines of stark need. And his lips. They were wet. With her.

And then the shaking had no chance of stopping. Because he was naked. All the way naked with that hard honed body and flexing muscles.

Oh. God.

If a guy’s penis could be perfectly formed, his was. It was long and thick, smooth and—she swallowed—hard.

His mouth kicked up at the corner. “I thought you said you’d seen plenty before? In fact, you’ve probably seen a bunch today already. Am I right?”

“Yes, but…” She licked her dry lips. “Not, you know, like that. Of course, some patients get erect. I told you that, right? But it’s… Well, they’re not usually…”

“What?”

“So… big.”

Roarke choked out a sound.

“Or, you know…thick.” Her eyes dropped to his dick again. “Or smooth looking and—”

“Okay, I got it.”

“Or about to be deep inside me.”

“Marina,” he groaned.

He tugged her panties the rest of the way off and grabbed the rubber she’d given him. He rolled it on with an economy of movement that told her all she needed to know about his level of experience. As if she’d needed any further proof after the tongue action. Even with the rubber on he looked—

“It’ll fit.”

Her gaze shot up to meet his and heat rushed into her cheeks. The lopsided smile was sexy and sinister all at once and made him look younger.

“You can read minds too?”

“Only yours.”

Marina gulped when he moved up and over her again. She loved his thighs. They were thick and heavily muscled. Sprinkled with dark hair. Like tree trunks only hella sexy. And when he pushed her legs wide with them… Oh yeah.

She clutched at him, at his massive biceps as he braced himself over her. His muscles were so solid, her nails barely made any dent.

This was happening. To her. Right now.

“Marina.”

She opened eyes she hadn’t been aware she’d screwed shut. He was close, so close she could see each of his eyelashes, the different colored blues in his eyes, the tiny scar above his eyebrow she’d never noticed before.

“Breathe.”

She let out a long breath and then sucked in another when he eased into her an inch.

“Okay?”

She nodded.

He stretched her—slow, careful—until he was deep. She sighed at the sliding pressure, the pleasure that followed, so intense she wanted to close her eyes and revel in it. But she wanted to watch him more. The way his eyelids flickered with his own pleasure. The way his jaw clenched each time he’d pushed forward. The way his gaze hadn’t left hers.

He moved his hips a fraction. She whimpered at the shaft of pleasure that radiated deep inside and he stilled.

“It’s…”

There was no way she could get any words out, no way she could even put into words the sensations that coursed through her.

“Yeah,” he bit out. “I know.”

She shifted her hips, a test, but it caused him to move against her, deep inside. “You—you’re bigger than my husband.”

His eyes narrowed. “A suggestion? You don’t mention him, you don’t even think about him, when I’m inside you. Deal?”

She nodded, couldn’t do anything else at the deep, dark look in his eyes.

“And he’s your fucking ex.”

“Roarke—”

“No more talking.”

It was impossible anyway, because he started to move, deep, even strokes that stretched her wide with each inward thrust and had her own hips rising to meet his.

Marina gripped his massive biceps. “Slow—slow down,” she gasped.

He stilled above her. “Why?”

“I—I want to savor the sensations, I want to be able to remember what everything feels like, I—”

“Marina,” he groaned. “It’s getting to the point where I won’t be able to slow down so tell me right now if you’re with me or not.”

She licked her dry lips. “I am. I so am. But—but I’m close.” She closed her eyes, tried to take a breath, tried to stop her body from flexing around him. He sucked in a breath when she failed. “I just… I just want it to last.”

There was no telling when she’d ever get another chance like this. With a guy who was built like he was. She still felt stretched to the max, impaled on his thick length. Who wouldn’t want that to last? And who could blame a girl for wanting to imprint it on her memory so she could play it over and over in her mind later?

She gasped when he ground his hips against her, pressing against some place inside her nothing and no one had ever found before.

She trembled when he lowered his lips to her ear and his hot breath fanned against her cheek, down her neck.

“No one said you only get to come once.”

Oh God.

“But we’ll take it slow.”

“Okay,” she managed. She sighed, her breath fluttering out on a shaky exhale.

“Next time.”

Her stomach clenched. “But you said—”

He pulled out and then slid back in, all the way, the thrust causing her to tense and whimper.

“Neither of us believed me when I said we’d only do this once. Not really. And now? I haven’t come yet, but I know when I do, it’s going to blow the top of my fucking head off.”

Marina didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t think, only feel. So she did what she could, which was gripping him hard, panting so that she could get enough air, and moaning “Oh God” over and over in time to his heavy thrusts into her.

 

 

Roarke screwed his eyes shut tight, tried to think about something mundane, boring, anything to cancel out the sensation of the tight, hot clasp of her body around his cock.

He felt the tingle at the base of his spine, the tightening in his balls and knew he was close. So fucking close. But there was no way he was going to let go, not until she came screaming his name. Actually, he’d settle for just the coming part. And hoped it was soon.

He looked down at her. Big mistake. Her eyes were almost all the way closed as if she could barely keep them open and God, those whimpers.

She was so fucking gorgeous, nothing held back in her expression. He couldn’t wait to watch her when she came because it was going to be fucking epic. Almost from the first moment he’d seen her, he’d imagined this, fantasized about it. Marina. Under him. Taking him deep.

She was looking at him through her lashes. He didn’t usually like being watched, but from her it was a turn on, ramping up his hunger, his need to pleasure her.

He fought the urge to thrust harder, to use his thighs to nudge her legs further apart, to pound into her faster.

Shit just got real because he really wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. He eased himself up, draped her legs over his thighs, hoping like hell the visual stimulation alone wasn’t enough to send him over because in this position he could see both the soft jiggle of her tits and his cock sliding in and out of her.

He used his thumb to rub over her clit, spreading her moisture over the tight nub, bit back a groan when she tightened around him.

“Roarke.”

“I’m here,” he managed. Barely. He was holding on by a fucking thread. Maybe a miracle.

“I’m…”

She bit her lip, threw her head back, arched up against him.

Fuck. Yeah.

She was going to come and he had a first row seat. He clenched his jaw, locked his back teeth together and kept his thrusts steady, picking up the pace a fraction when she moaned.

Her body fisted around him. Hard. He gasped at the sensation, his thrusts faltering for a split second until her hips began pistoning against him, jerky and uncoordinated, until her legs began to tremble.

How he held it, he’ll never know. It helped that she’d dug her fingers into his side. The pain was sharp. And welcome. He gritted his teeth and thrust through her orgasm, watched her face as pleasure burst through her, on and on, as her body convulsed under and around him.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His hands were shaking. Fuck, his whole body was shaking, balanced on the knife-edge of something he knew he’d never experienced before. He waited until her breathing slowed, until her eyes started to open before he grasped her hips hard and rolled with her until she was on top of him.

The move sent him deep. She put her hands on his chest for balance, dug her nails into the muscles there as she sat up.

“God, Roarke, that was…”

Yeah. Fucking incredible was what it was.

He smoothed unsteady hands down each of her firm thighs, bit back a savage smile when she sucked in a breath. Her hair was tangled, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark and dazed with pleasure, the hard points of her nipples a deep red.

She looked as if she’d been well-fucked. And beautiful. So beautiful.

Every muscle in his body was held tight, as if something was going to break at any minute. And maybe it was. The level of control he needed not to give in and drive into her uncontrollably—taking his own release—might just kill him. But he’d damn well wait until she caught up again.

All at once she frowned. “You didn’t—”

“No,” he ground out. “You don’t get to come just once, remember?”

“Oh, Roarke,” she sighed.

“I need…”

God, what did he need? He needed to come. He needed to explode with her heat around him. And yeah, if it made him an arrogant ass that he wanted to make her come again for him, so be it.

She bit her lip, used her leverage on his chest to move against him. It was tentative, exploratory, but he was way past the point of being teased.

“Move.” A low groan he had no hope of holding back was torn from him. “God, move.”

That was as much as he could manage. He crushed his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips and guided her movements until she was sliding along his length, hot and tight.

She sucked in a harsh breath when he found her clit with his thumb again. He rubbed, flicking back and forth, controlling the pressure until she started to pant. Her lids drifted closed and God, she started to make those whimpering sounds that meant she was close.

And then her features tightened, her body freezing for an endless second before she moaned, convulsing hard around him. Again.

Only when he knew for absolute sure she was coming, did he let go. He clasped her hips in rough hands, screwed his eyes shut and slammed up into her, once, twice, a third time before he exploded, long and deep, throbs of pleasure so intense it felt like pain sizzled through every nerve ending in his body.

He groaned, flipped her over until she was sprawled under him, driving into her hard, over and over, until the pulses finally stopped, until the roaring in his ears quietened, until he could finally string a coherent thought together.

Roarke blinked, tried to control his breathing, the thundering of his heart that threatened to burst from his chest. He hated not being one hundred percent aware of his surroundings at all times and in those few seconds of mindless, powerful pleasure he hadn’t been. He hadn’t taken so much as a fucking aspirin in years, not willingly, yet Marina just might be the most potent drug he’d ever experienced.

She’d stripped him down until he was raw and open and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

He’d wanted hard and fast and impersonal. Instead, it’d been anything but. And fuck…missionary? He’d never thought he’d get so worked up over straight-up, vanilla sex. But it’d felt right. With her.

Her legs were still wrapped around him, still trembling, tiny movements he could feel against his thighs. The scene of their sex hung heavy in the air and he fought the urge to inhale, to inhale her. Instead, he forced himself to pull out, gritting his teeth as her body clenched around him when he withdrew.

“You okay?”

She was still fighting for breath, hadn’t opened her eyes yet.

“Marina?”

“It…didn’t suck.” Her voice was hoarse, low, the words sounding as if they were forced out.

He frowned. That was it? Was he that far out of the loop that he wasn’t good at this anymore? She’d come that time, he was sure of it. Right?

“What—”

“I—I just need a minute.”

She opened her eyes, but turned her head to the side rather than look at him.

A minute?

“For what?”

He grasped her chin, turned her back to him. Had he been too rough, too fast, too…something?

“Marina…”

Everything in him stilled when her eyes lifted to meet his.

“I didn’t know sex could be like that, okay?” she whispered.

“Like what?”

But he knew. Mixed in with the satisfaction, she looked as shell-shocked as he felt. And it shouldn’t have been like that. He shouldn’t have felt anything beyond a physical release. So, okay, he’d known that release was going to be fucking epic, but dammit he shouldn’t be…feeling.

“Like—like… Oh God.” She sighed—slow and soft—and the sensation went straight to his dick. Which should have been impossible.

“You never said if we screw and it blows my mind, that I couldn’t call you. Right?”

He felt some of the tension ease from his muscles. How did she do that? Tie him up in knots and then unravel him just as fast?

It’d been the best sex he’d ever had—hands down. And not because it’d been so long since he’d been with a woman. Not because he’d been primed to go off like a fucking rocket. Not because he barely remembered what it felt like to come anywhere else except in his Goddamn hand. No. It was because of her. She’d crawled in under his leave-me-the-fuck-alone armor when he wasn’t looking. This thing they had? Yeah, he’d be an idiot to think it was merely physical. The problem was how the hell did he get her back out while he still had the chance?