Rebel Hard
Page 27
Whatever he saw there had him stroking his hand around her hip and under her panties to cup her bare cheek. Shyness threatened to drench her. She tugged at his T-shirt in a desperate fight to stave it off. Getting the hint, he rose and got rid of it before settling right back into his previous position, her bare cheek in his hand and all.
His fingers moved, stroking.
She swallowed and ran her hands down his chest, glorying in him. When she rose to press kisses across his skin, he shuddered. She loved how he tasted, the inherent masculine scent of him below the freshness of soap intoxicating. Squeezing the part of her he held, he dropped his mouth to her neck, kissing and nibbling his way down.
“I’ve been dreaming about seeing these breasts again,” he said against her skin as he tugged one strap of the sundress over her shoulder.
Her breast popped out, her nipple the picture of enthusiasm.
Raj closed his hand over it, squeezed. When she moaned, he smiled—and oh, that slow, sexy smile was even more glorious than she’d imagined and it scrambled her brain until she forgot to be embarrassed or shy as he tugged off the other strap, then pulled both down her arms, leaving her dress crumpled at her waist.
“I always seem to end up like this around you,” she whispered against his throat.
Raj pushed up off his hands with the ease of a man in peak physical condition. “I’m not complaining,” he rumbled, his eyes taking in the sight of her laid out like an invitation. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
The rough-edged comment hit her hard, made her boneless.
When he came back down on her and dropped his mouth to first one breast then the other, she gripped his hair and held on for the ride. Her hips jerked up convulsively against him, but he didn’t seem to mind, sliding one arm behind her back and arching her even further for his wet, suckling kisses.
Her breasts would be red tomorrow from the scrapes of his teeth and the roughness of his stubble and she just wanted more. Wrapping one leg around his back, she luxuriated in the feel of his muscles moving underneath, fluid and controlled at the same time.
“Raj,” she whispered when the sensations became too intense, a strange emptiness at her core. “I need you.”
His mouth was on her own before the sentence ended, his arms wrapping tight around her and flipping them over so that she lay on top of him, her breasts flat against his chest, her dress in danger of totally falling off, his erection a rigid brand against her. Without warning, like a switch being flicked that made her feel buried under a flood of sensation, it was all too much for her starved body and she ducked her head against his neck.
Breath ragged, he stroked her back.
After all they’d done together, it was the kiss he pressed to her temple that made her eyes sting, it was so violently tender. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Why?” Another slow stroke of her back. “Anticipation just makes things better.”
His chest vibrated against her as he spoke, and she shivered. Rising up to look down at him, she said, “I thought I was ready.” Frustrated and aroused and needy. But it looked like after twenty-eight years of virginity, she needed to ease into the erotic rawness of what happened when the two of them came together.
With him, she had no walls, no barriers.
Just nakedness far beyond the skin. And it terrified her.
“I’m yours whenever you’re ready,” Raj said, and the words crashed over her like the waves below, powerful and turbulent.
20
The Construction Workers’ Book Club
Raj ended up having to work the majority of the next few days, along with a couple of his guys who wanted the extra pay. That night on the cliffs with Nayna, especially the way she’d lain snuggled up against him for over an hour after they called things to a halt, it was the best Christmas gift he could’ve imagined.
He could’ve pushed her in the nights that followed, but he’d fought his aggressive instincts and given her the room she needed. She’d come close to panic with him on the cliffs, and he didn’t think it had been about sex. It was all happening too fast for her, the nameless thing that burned between them a hurricane.
“Hey, Raj!” one of his men called out. “Gazza says those are lady scratches on your back. He right?”
Raj hadn’t realized Nayna had scratched him. Grinning, he said, “No comment and keep your fucking eyes to yourself.” A construction site wasn’t exactly time for gentle language.
“Hey, Gazza, I think the boss has a girl.”
“And you’re a bunch of gossips!” Raj yelled back. “I’m paying you to hammer, not chat.”
“Hammer! Is that what they call a Freudian slip?” That was from Gazza—currently in the midst of an English literature degree for “reasons.” What reasons, he’d never verbalized.
“Gaz!” Raj yelled up. “You ever read Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yeah, for class.” The other man continued to frame an upstairs window. “That Mr. Darcy is a wanker like the entire first half—if I was that much of a wanker, I’d never get laid.”
Nodding because someone finally agreed with him, Raj whacked in another timber before saying, “And what the fuck about Wickham?”
“Dude’s a fucking fuckwit” was the concise response.
Tino, who’d started this all off, said, “You two in a book club or something?”
“A club to get girls, dickhead,” Gazza responded. “Girls like guys who read.”
“Yeah, says who?” Tino demanded.
“Look up ‘hot guys reading’ online.”
When Tino did and went, “Shiiiiiit, why didn’t you fuckers tell me this years ago!” Raj went over to take a look.
And saw countless images of men reading in public. Pictures taken by women. Who had then commented with heart emojis and words like swoon and “my panties just disappeared.”
Hmm.
That night he sent Nayna a shirtless image—of him sprawled in his bed, reading about that wanker, Mr. Darcy. He’d stolen the print book off his sister’s bookshelf for this purpose. It was worth all the work it took to get that shot when Nayna replied with: I’m dead now, Sen. I hope you’re happy.
Yes, Raj was very happy. Panic or not, she was still talking to him, still reacting to him. The door wasn’t quite shut. His butterfly hadn’t flown out of his sight.
* * *
Raj finally admitted defeat on the morning of New Year’s Eve. He’d tried everything possible, but his parents would not budge on the “casual” get-together with the Sharmas. “Shilpa and Gaurav will make such nice in-laws,” he heard his mother, Sangeeta, say to his father—the two were on the lawn, not far from Raj’s flat at the back of the property.
His sister, who was hanging out with him, raised an eyebrow, then began to sing “Here comes the bride” under her breath.
“Quiet, Monkey.” He pointed a finger at her.
Unrepentant, she stuck out her tongue. “So, are you going to marry her?”
“That’s between me and Nayna.” And it was a dream so important that he couldn’t share it with anyone until it was real, until she agreed to be his.
“Ugh. Spoilsport.” Aditi slumped back on the sofa, her mass of curly hair a halo around her head. She was as tiny as he was big, her face triangular where his was all square lines. And her brain worked completely differently too.
His fingers moved, stroking.
She swallowed and ran her hands down his chest, glorying in him. When she rose to press kisses across his skin, he shuddered. She loved how he tasted, the inherent masculine scent of him below the freshness of soap intoxicating. Squeezing the part of her he held, he dropped his mouth to her neck, kissing and nibbling his way down.
“I’ve been dreaming about seeing these breasts again,” he said against her skin as he tugged one strap of the sundress over her shoulder.
Her breast popped out, her nipple the picture of enthusiasm.
Raj closed his hand over it, squeezed. When she moaned, he smiled—and oh, that slow, sexy smile was even more glorious than she’d imagined and it scrambled her brain until she forgot to be embarrassed or shy as he tugged off the other strap, then pulled both down her arms, leaving her dress crumpled at her waist.
“I always seem to end up like this around you,” she whispered against his throat.
Raj pushed up off his hands with the ease of a man in peak physical condition. “I’m not complaining,” he rumbled, his eyes taking in the sight of her laid out like an invitation. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
The rough-edged comment hit her hard, made her boneless.
When he came back down on her and dropped his mouth to first one breast then the other, she gripped his hair and held on for the ride. Her hips jerked up convulsively against him, but he didn’t seem to mind, sliding one arm behind her back and arching her even further for his wet, suckling kisses.
Her breasts would be red tomorrow from the scrapes of his teeth and the roughness of his stubble and she just wanted more. Wrapping one leg around his back, she luxuriated in the feel of his muscles moving underneath, fluid and controlled at the same time.
“Raj,” she whispered when the sensations became too intense, a strange emptiness at her core. “I need you.”
His mouth was on her own before the sentence ended, his arms wrapping tight around her and flipping them over so that she lay on top of him, her breasts flat against his chest, her dress in danger of totally falling off, his erection a rigid brand against her. Without warning, like a switch being flicked that made her feel buried under a flood of sensation, it was all too much for her starved body and she ducked her head against his neck.
Breath ragged, he stroked her back.
After all they’d done together, it was the kiss he pressed to her temple that made her eyes sting, it was so violently tender. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“Why?” Another slow stroke of her back. “Anticipation just makes things better.”
His chest vibrated against her as he spoke, and she shivered. Rising up to look down at him, she said, “I thought I was ready.” Frustrated and aroused and needy. But it looked like after twenty-eight years of virginity, she needed to ease into the erotic rawness of what happened when the two of them came together.
With him, she had no walls, no barriers.
Just nakedness far beyond the skin. And it terrified her.
“I’m yours whenever you’re ready,” Raj said, and the words crashed over her like the waves below, powerful and turbulent.
20
The Construction Workers’ Book Club
Raj ended up having to work the majority of the next few days, along with a couple of his guys who wanted the extra pay. That night on the cliffs with Nayna, especially the way she’d lain snuggled up against him for over an hour after they called things to a halt, it was the best Christmas gift he could’ve imagined.
He could’ve pushed her in the nights that followed, but he’d fought his aggressive instincts and given her the room she needed. She’d come close to panic with him on the cliffs, and he didn’t think it had been about sex. It was all happening too fast for her, the nameless thing that burned between them a hurricane.
“Hey, Raj!” one of his men called out. “Gazza says those are lady scratches on your back. He right?”
Raj hadn’t realized Nayna had scratched him. Grinning, he said, “No comment and keep your fucking eyes to yourself.” A construction site wasn’t exactly time for gentle language.
“Hey, Gazza, I think the boss has a girl.”
“And you’re a bunch of gossips!” Raj yelled back. “I’m paying you to hammer, not chat.”
“Hammer! Is that what they call a Freudian slip?” That was from Gazza—currently in the midst of an English literature degree for “reasons.” What reasons, he’d never verbalized.
“Gaz!” Raj yelled up. “You ever read Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yeah, for class.” The other man continued to frame an upstairs window. “That Mr. Darcy is a wanker like the entire first half—if I was that much of a wanker, I’d never get laid.”
Nodding because someone finally agreed with him, Raj whacked in another timber before saying, “And what the fuck about Wickham?”
“Dude’s a fucking fuckwit” was the concise response.
Tino, who’d started this all off, said, “You two in a book club or something?”
“A club to get girls, dickhead,” Gazza responded. “Girls like guys who read.”
“Yeah, says who?” Tino demanded.
“Look up ‘hot guys reading’ online.”
When Tino did and went, “Shiiiiiit, why didn’t you fuckers tell me this years ago!” Raj went over to take a look.
And saw countless images of men reading in public. Pictures taken by women. Who had then commented with heart emojis and words like swoon and “my panties just disappeared.”
Hmm.
That night he sent Nayna a shirtless image—of him sprawled in his bed, reading about that wanker, Mr. Darcy. He’d stolen the print book off his sister’s bookshelf for this purpose. It was worth all the work it took to get that shot when Nayna replied with: I’m dead now, Sen. I hope you’re happy.
Yes, Raj was very happy. Panic or not, she was still talking to him, still reacting to him. The door wasn’t quite shut. His butterfly hadn’t flown out of his sight.
* * *
Raj finally admitted defeat on the morning of New Year’s Eve. He’d tried everything possible, but his parents would not budge on the “casual” get-together with the Sharmas. “Shilpa and Gaurav will make such nice in-laws,” he heard his mother, Sangeeta, say to his father—the two were on the lawn, not far from Raj’s flat at the back of the property.
His sister, who was hanging out with him, raised an eyebrow, then began to sing “Here comes the bride” under her breath.
“Quiet, Monkey.” He pointed a finger at her.
Unrepentant, she stuck out her tongue. “So, are you going to marry her?”
“That’s between me and Nayna.” And it was a dream so important that he couldn’t share it with anyone until it was real, until she agreed to be his.
“Ugh. Spoilsport.” Aditi slumped back on the sofa, her mass of curly hair a halo around her head. She was as tiny as he was big, her face triangular where his was all square lines. And her brain worked completely differently too.
