Chapter Seventeen
Before they’d even reached the cabin, Caitlin had ripped off her gloves and unbuttoned her coat. Not wanting to waste a second of the time they had left, she was overcome by an overbearing sense of urgency so intense, she felt like she didn’t have enough oxygen—which was probably a good thing, because oxygen was flammable, and at the moment, she was on fire.
She left the door open, flinging her coat, hat, and gloves in the general direction of the coatrack, barely missing Beau as he headed to the rug in front of the fireplace.
Taylor stepped inside and closed the door behind them, locking it with a sharp click followed by a low, sexy chuckle of genuine amusement. “You in a hurry?” he asked. There were little smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes that made him even more handsome.
She ripped her shirt off over her head and his smile transitioned to a look so heated she almost fanned herself. Taylor Blankenship hit all the right checkboxes. He made her feel sexy and smart, and oddly, he made her feel like she had control. Not being in charge of him, necessarily, but having a say. Like he valued what she thought and wanted. And she liked it. A lot.
Yawning, Beau stretched and then curled up on the rug.
With what appeared to be great concentration and self control, Taylor leaned back against the door and folded his arms over his chest, which she noticed was rising and falling quickly, rather than in his usual slow, relaxed rhythm. Good. So she wasn’t the only one fired up.
When she unbuttoned the top of her pants, the zipper stuck. Dammit. So much for feeling in control. She tugged futilely and groaned with frustration.
He came close and squatted down in front of her, studying the zipper. “There’s fabric stuck in it. Want help?”
She nodded, afraid that as horny as she was, her voice would come out two-packs-a-day deep and husky. Well, that or like a dog squeaky toy, which wouldn’t do at all.
After a few tries, he freed the fabric and looked up at her, question clear in his eyes.
“Yes.” And of course, her voice came out two-packs-a-day-husky, just like she’d feared. He didn’t seem to mind it, though, because he made a deep, happy noise as he unzipped her pants in one smooth motion…with his teeth.
Damn.
She had to get out of her clothes. Her sense of urgency was ridiculous, like getting naked was a life-saving strategy. And based on how hard her heart was beating since he’d unzipped her pants, it very well might be.
She reached down and hooked her thumbs in her waistband and shoved her pants down, smacking her forehead into his in the process.
“Ouch, shit,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
He placed his big hands on either side of her, bracing his thumbs over her hip bones. “Be still.”
Right. Be still while he slid her pants below her knees, rubbing his hands in their wake and making her knees softer than the roasted marshmallows from earlier.
“Step out,” he said, eyes on her face and not on her new black satin revenge thong she’d bought online during her last pity party. But he’d noticed it. She’d seen his pupils expand in his dark eyes when he’d unzipped her.
“I can’t.”
His brow furrowed, then relaxed. “Okay.”
He sat back on his heels, hands on his knees, staring up at her.
Her voice came out small and strained. “Boots. My pants are stuck on my boots.”
“Ha.” He barked a laugh. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”
“No. Not even a little bit. Help a girl out, maybe?” She was pretty sure she’d fall over if she leaned down, as giddy as she felt. Giddy and turned on. This moment had been two days in the making and she planned to make the most of it. Of him.
As if she weighed nothing, he scooped her up in his arms and sat her on the edge of the bed with her pants still wrapped around her ankles. Then, as if she weren’t only covered in a black lace bra and satin panties from the ankles up, he casually walked to the dresser and took off his gloves, scarf, coat, and knit cap, hanging them leisurely on the hooks while she practically panted in anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see him like he’d looked the first time she’d ever seen him, clad only in a bath towel—all hard muscles and golden skin. Only this time, there would be no towel. And the “look, don’t touch” rule was totally toast. She wanted to touch. Everything.
She almost growled in frustration when he crossed to her, still fully clothed.
“First things first,” he said, this time scanning her from head to tangled pants at her ankles, back up to her face. And when he smiled, she couldn’t help the little groan that bubbled up. God, he made her hot.
He kneeled at her feet and she almost sighed with relief when he placed his hands on her knees. She wanted his hands on her body. No, she needed his hands on her body. But first, she needed the boots off.
“I really want to touch you, Caitlin,” he whispered in her ear, leaning close.
“Then do it.” Her voice was strained, like her body. “Do it. All of it.”
Pulling back, he arched an eyebrow, but remained still, kneeling in front of her.
What was he waiting for? A freaking engraved invitation. “God. Taylor. Touch me. Anywhere. With any part of you. Just touch me.”
“Now who’s giving orders?” he said.
The tension in her body broke apart in a laugh. “Please. Pretty, pretty please.”
With her still seated on the edge of the bed, he gently guided her to lie back on the mattress, hovering over her just long enough to fan her hair out on the quilt. Then he dropped back to his knees at her feet, but rather than pull off her boots and pants, he trailed his fingers up her thighs, leaving a trail of goose bumps. His fingers, feather light, ran up her sides, stopping just under the swells of her breasts, before sliding down her heaving ribs and over her belly. With one finger, he traced the triangle of silk covering her, and she gasped.
“Pretty.” The way he looked at her made her feel pretty, and she melted a little more. He met her eyes again. “May I—”
“Yes! Yes to it all.”
He ran a finger over the center silk, tracing her and no doubt finding her wet. This obviously made him happy, because he made one of his yummy noises like he’d made when they were kissing. It drove her wild, and she squirmed.
“Be patient,” he said, slipping his fingers under the strings at her hips and pulling the thong down to her ankles to join her pants and boots.
“Off,” she said.
“Bossy.” Hands on her waist, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, where her butt cheeks hung off and she lifted her head to see what he was up to, right as he pushed her knees wide, ankles still bound by her pants.
“So pretty,” he said.
This is awkward, she thought as he ran his hands up her body. Awkward and exciting. When he cupped her breasts over her bra, she let out a little gasp, but he didn’t linger. Instead, he took her bound ankles and lifted them up, ducking under to where her legs were on either side of his head, knees over his shoulders. She could feel his breath fanning across her most intimate parts and she moaned.
“I like the sounds you make.” When he spoke, she could feel the vibration of his voice through the backs of her knees down to her bare calves over his back as he kneeled at the foot of the bed between her legs. She propped up on her elbows to watch him.
He met her eyes and gave her the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. She needed him to touch her. Needed his mouth on her. Soon. Like, yesterday.
“Taylor.”
“I know.” Pulling his gaze from hers, he slipped his hands under her knees, pushing them forward and wide, bound ankles rising to rest on the back of his neck as he studied her body. Such close scrutiny should have made her self-conscious. But the look on his face was one of absolute appreciation, so instead, his focus on her made her hot. All over. Like blow the lid off the kettle kind of hot.
And then he finally touched her, using his thumbs to spread her folds before lowering his head to slide his tongue over the single most sensitive part of her, causing her to cry out. And to her delight, he did it again, and again, eventually placing his mouth over her to stroke her with his talented tongue until she was panting his name. Almost mindless, she whimpered when he pulled back, but groaned with relief as he slid a finger inside her.
“God, Taylor. Yes.”
“Yes,” he repeated. “Legs wider.”
She relaxed, letting her legs fall open, sighing as his tongue stroked her in the rhythm of his finger inside her. Or rather, fingers… She could feel him stretching and stroking, taking her right to the edge before slowing, forcing her fall back again.
Never had she felt like this. Boneless, weightless, and completely turned on with no reservations. Maybe it was because she’d never had no-strings sex before—or because this was a one-nighter and she didn’t have to worry about consequences. Or maybe it was him.
He increased his pace and pressure and she lay back, enfolding herself in the sensation, allowing herself to lose touch with everything around her, focusing on his mouth and fingers and breathing. On the tightness of her leg muscles and the sweet restriction of movement at her ankles. Of him. And this time he didn’t slow down and pull her back when she got to the edge. This time, she leapt from that edge, splintering into a million pieces as she cried his name.
Him. Yeah, it was definitely him and not the circumstances. Crap.