Chapter Twenty-Six

Chance dragged her off the chair and onto his lap. She landed with him on the floor, her healing hip against his belly and his fingers caging her face in a gentle hold. Suede swallowed hard, wanting his kiss more than her next breath, but worried things were going too fast. That none of this was real. That this dream would shatter, and she wouldn’t be able to put this beautiful thing with Chance back together again once she lost it.

“I will never hurt you,” he murmured, his voice as sad as she’d ever heard. “I’ve fallen for you, Suede Tennyson. Let me kiss you. Let me love you.”

There was that word again—love. An impossible universe of wonder and safety lay within its four letters. Tears blurred her vision of the honorable man she wanted more than anything in her life. Was she brave enough to trust him? To believe him? He’d given her no reasons not to, and yet…

“I want you,” she admitted, her voice a strangled whisper in her dry throat. “I shouldn’t, but I do. It’s too soon, but I’m weak, and I’m scared, and—I need you just to... to breathe.”

Wasn’t that the acidly bitter, yet blindingly beautiful truth? If not for York’s sin, she would never have come to know Chance, and if not for the breath he’d feely given—to her, a total stranger—she wouldn’t be in his arms now. She wouldn’t feel as if she were falling off yet another dangerous precipice that could inflict infinitely more heartache. York and Chance, the two polar opposites in her life, were inexorably linked by her near death. Both were etched on her heart in very different ways. York offered the worst cruelty, yet Chance had only, always offered life. Was she brave enough to be all that he needed? Could she accept the love she wasn’t sure she deserved?

He shook his head as if he’d read her doubts. “It’s never too early when it’s real.”

Not waiting for a reply, he shoved off the floor, taking her with him. In seconds they were in his bedroom, and he’d locked Gallo out. Orange embers glowed in the wood-burning stove. The blankets hit the floor and with extreme gentleness, Chance laid her on his side of his bed. He wasted no time climbing over her, caging her with his knees locked at her thighs. Cradling her head with one hand, he circled the back of her neck with the other as hot kisses bathed her forehead.

Instinctively, her palms went to his chest, not to shove him off, but to absorb the breadth and power of his massive pecs and soak up the wild energy pouring off him. The man was as tense and as big as a battleship, yet his tongue and lips left starlight wherever they touched her skin. Tiny kisses turned into sparks trailing from her forehead to her eyelids, and straight to her heart.

One knee drew up alongside her hip as he straddled her, still fully clothed, but so damned hot and gloriously beautiful Automatically, Suede arched into his body, rubbing belly to belly, breast to chest beneath their clothes. Friction. She needed friction or the pent-up heat she’d stored for too many days would burn her to cinders where she lay. There’d be nothing left of her but ashes. She growled at Chance to step it up.

“You want more?” he asked, a sly smile in his voice.

“I want you,” she whined like a spoiled brat. “Naked, Chance. I want you naked and climbing all over me.”

“You’re bossy,” he purred. “My kind of woman.”

Instantly freed from anxiety, Suede tossed her head back and giggled. She had nothing to worry about, not with this man. What was it about this sexy beast that brought out the devil-may-care kid in her instead of the sultry sex demon?

He eased his feet to the floor and turned sideways. His boots went first. The beast he unveiled as he stripped out of his shirt was nearly her undoing. His prominent shoulders gave way to rock solid biceps as thick and as wide as her thighs. Maybe wider. Chance Sinclair was an impressive work of chiseled art. The man’s chest was one big Hot. Damn! Tanned and taut, she wanted to touch every last bit of him.

Fingering his zipper, he glanced sideways. “I’ve got a few scars,” he warned, like that would stop her now?

“So show me what you’ve got.” Suede lifted to her elbows to watch the show, her heart pounding in her veins. Her tongue slid over her lips at the mere thought of tasting all that man flesh. “You’re killing me,” she whined. “Can’t you undress any faster?”

That sparked a wicked grin that deepened the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. The heated look he gave her was enough to melt the Arctic. If he didn’t hurry, Suede was sure she’d detonate at this handsome display of eye candy alone.

His pants dropped. Then his boxers. Scars, yes. He hadn’t lied. Chance had plenty of scars. Most punctuated his upper torso though. His arms. Some decorated his skull. His shaggy hair covered those and his eyes were clear. No scars had left him disfigured where it counted. She would know. She’d checked all he’d revealed.

If anything, every one of those scars declared that a warrior had met the enemy and that he’d survived against all odds. They declared a hero who’d faced the fires of hell and won. No woman should be this lucky.

“C’mere,” she whimpered, knowing what she wanted to do next. He’d make a scrumptious mouthful.

“No, little girl,” he said as he climbed up her body. His forearms landed beside her head when he straddled her again.

Trapped. Suede was deliciously trapped and on fire for this glorious man. Her arms barely reached around him, but she clenched that massive back with all ten fingers, hanging on for whatever came next.

“You asked for a kiss, and you’re going to get one.”

She had no time to answer as his mouth covered hers, swallowing her moans and groans. Yes. This was the breakfast she’d wanted. Her bones turned fluid as he mapped one hand over her shoulder and tugged her T-shirt aside.

“This won’t do,” he growled, then pushed the shirt up to her chin and out of his way. The man was quick with his hands. Her bra slid up next and his mouth came down, suckling her breast, and sending a mind-wrenching shot of molten lust straight to her core. He eased back long enough to push her breasts together, lathing her nipples, worshipping at each, then blowing soft breaths over them as she mewed and wiggled beneath him.

The harder he worked on her, the stronger the tension rose within her worn body. Explosive lust roared though her veins. The pleasurable rush of her climax started in her toes, then bottle-rocketed up her legs to her spine, and then… and then…

“Chance!” she screamed as his skillful mouth on her breasts detonated mind-blowing fireworks at her dripping core. “Chance, Chance, Chance,” she whined, the pleasure he’d given her body surging in searing waves and ripples that wouldn’t stop. The more he suckled, the more she responded. The more she needed. The more she cried.

“Don’t cry. Breathe,” he whispered, his lips wet and warm from the assault her breasts had barely survived.

She gasped as every muscle in her body clenched again, gripping him as if she couldn’t bear to let him go. Was this what an orgasm was supposed to feel like? Wow. Wow. Wow!

His lips trailed to her mouth where he buried his tongue and claimed her all over again. Teeth and lips and tongue, they wrestled like kids who’d never made love before. Suede felt precisely so. Nothing with What’s-His-Name had ever been this intense, this passionate, or this gooooooood.

Chance licked one final lap around her mouth before he pulled back to his haunches, his hands on her knees, hopefully ready to spread her wide and make her scream again. But first...

“Your turn,” he growled, his baritone ragged and rough. Delightfully needy. “Drop ’em and assume the position.”