Unleashed
Page 10
One small lamp in a far corner was the only illumination in his bedroom as he carried her inside cradled in his arms. The clock on his nightstand told him in glowing red that it was a quarter till three. Kelsey snuggled into his chest, and he tried to ignore the smoothness of her bare legs across his forearm. Like warm, tantalizing silk. He sat her on his bed, supporting her weight as he pulled back the comforter. Still, she managed to escape his grip and began to topple backward.
“Whoa,” he laughed, reaching for her as her eyes popped open and she grabbed for him before she could land. “I got you.”
“Evan…” she murmured, wrapping her soft arms around his neck. Their position had her lips near his ear. She’d lost her headband somewhere. He could smell the strawberry of her shampoo, feel the tickle of her sluggish breath stirring his hair. “Evan.”
“Kelsey. Move over here, lie down.”
She pulled back slightly, her bleary eyes trying to focus on his. The weight of her head still seemed too much for her neck to support and her hair flowed over his arm. “Evan, I always liked you.”
“I always liked you, too, honey.” The way she kept saying his name in that intoxicated purr, savoring the v between her teeth and her bottom lip, was unnerving. Unnerving, hell. It had his dick twitching in his pants. “Come on, girl, you need to sleep it off.”
“I mean I like liked you.”
Shit. Most people who uttered careless words while drunk tended to blame it on the alcohol later. He’d always found it to be the time when the truth came out. Danger signals were going off in his brain. “You’re drunk. Sleep.”
Though she was most likely oblivious to his commands, he didn’t like how desperate his voice was starting to sound to his own ears.
“No I’m not.” Her silly lopsided grin belied her words as she finally obeyed his coaxing and crawled to the spot he’d cleared. He pulled the covers up for her as she settled against the pillow and peered up at him. The heat in her eyes as she did so damn near destroyed him. “I don’ wanna sleep.” She kicked, flinging the covers off just as he got them arranged. “Don’ need all that, I’m hot. I’m too hot.”
Was she ever. He raked a hand through his hair. For such a little thing, her legs seemed to go on forever, long and sleek. He could only imagine the silken glide her inner thighs would be against his fingertips. Her shirt had ridden up to bare her flat midriff, where her belly ring winked at him in the dim lighting—damn, that was sexy, and so out of place on her. Her br**sts strained against the tight little shirt, and the friction had her ni**les peaking beneath the fabric.
Her hands caught his face, surprising him. He should have moved away from her long ago, before she could get her hands on him. As it was, he felt like a fly caught in the sticky gossamer of a spider’s den. “Always wanted to f**k you, y’know that? Even when I was a virgin.”
He drew in a breath, exhaled it shakily. So much for prudish.
Note to self: Kelsey now gets unbelievably horny when drunk.
She licked her lips, staring into his eyes with surprising clarity for someone who had nearly passed out moments ago. The glint of moisture her tongue left behind was mesmerizing. He wanted to taste it. The heat of her palms sank into his flesh. She was burning up. Her legs were haphazardly parted, still tangled in the covers, and he could scent her arousal, musky and sweet.
“It’s not going to happen, Kelsey.” His voice probably sounded as firm as a little girl’s, but he gave it his best shot. All his strength had drained to his dick. It pushed against his zipper until he thought it might burst through if he didn’t release it soon. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
That pout resurfaced, but he was astounded at the pain that leaked into her gray eyes. It was…real, and raw, not some byproduct of an inebriated mind.
“You don’ want me. Why’d you never want me?” She was rubbing her thighs together now, the action only causing her scent to waft stronger into his nostrils. Like witchcraft, it drew him toward her, made the mental filmstrip of tearing her shorts off and sinking himself into the tight wet heat of her pu**y play over and over again in his head…until it obliterated all else: morals, rationale, sanity. And he had never wanted her. Right.
God, she would feel so good closing in around him. He’d deprived himself for too long. She took one of his hands and laid it flat on her belly, then pushed it down toward the place she needed it. Her stomach muscles pulled taut beneath his reluctant touch, and that skin was hot and satiny. She leaned upward, parting her lush pink lips in wanton invitation.
No.
It was one thing for two people to get hammered and go at each other. It was quite another when one of them had full control of his faculties and the other had none. Criminal even, and he could never take advantage of her like that. But he’d never been quite so tempted, he had to give her that much.
He pulled his hand away from hers and went to stand. She emitted some incoherent whimper that ripped at his heart, completely decimating it when the sound formed into words. “Evan, don’t leave…don’t leave me like this…please…”
No other hetero male on the planet could have endured the sight of her all disheveled in his bed, writhing and senseless and begging him to f**k her, without falling on her like a rutting animal. He should be declared saint of all the world to have lasted this long. If he hadn’t known her for all these years, he couldn’t have stopped himself.
Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead; one trickled back into her hair. The skin above her neckline glistened in the soft lighting. She was in flames, and he’d hardly put a hand on her.
“Kelsey, don’t do this to me.”
“Please,” she whispered again, gazing up at him, utterly smashed but still capable of all the determined longing that came along with such a state. She wouldn’t let herself pass out until she got it. “Do something. Touch me. Evan. God, I need it…”
The husky plea pushed him past his breaking point. She sounded like a different woman. He couldn’t give her everything she wanted, but if he could satisfy her without losing his mind, maybe she would pass out.
“Take off your shorts,” he whispered, knowing with brutal certainty that he was going to hell. The only consolation was the hope that she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. He knew her, and she would be mortified. But if she did remember…well, they would deal with it. “I’ll make it better.”
Her fingers were frantic and clumsy, and he had to help her. When she at last kicked the denim from her foot, the sight and scent of her drenched pink panties caused him physical anguish. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of the frothy lace, but he stilled her hand as he moved to lie beside her. He slid one arm beneath her head. “No, sweetie. Lie back.”
“But—”
“Shhh.”
She did as he told her but she mewled disconsolately about it. He fortified himself with a deep breath and slid his fingers under that sinful lace. He should have stayed on top of it. He’d meant to, but he had to allow himself this one thing. The feel of her. Heaven was under there, dewy curls and soft, hot, creamy folds. Kelsey threw her head back on his arm and moaned as his fingertips grazed her, her legs falling open to give him the full feel and scent of her. The graceful arc of her neck was something to behold, a sculptor’s wet dream.
“Whoa,” he laughed, reaching for her as her eyes popped open and she grabbed for him before she could land. “I got you.”
“Evan…” she murmured, wrapping her soft arms around his neck. Their position had her lips near his ear. She’d lost her headband somewhere. He could smell the strawberry of her shampoo, feel the tickle of her sluggish breath stirring his hair. “Evan.”
“Kelsey. Move over here, lie down.”
She pulled back slightly, her bleary eyes trying to focus on his. The weight of her head still seemed too much for her neck to support and her hair flowed over his arm. “Evan, I always liked you.”
“I always liked you, too, honey.” The way she kept saying his name in that intoxicated purr, savoring the v between her teeth and her bottom lip, was unnerving. Unnerving, hell. It had his dick twitching in his pants. “Come on, girl, you need to sleep it off.”
“I mean I like liked you.”
Shit. Most people who uttered careless words while drunk tended to blame it on the alcohol later. He’d always found it to be the time when the truth came out. Danger signals were going off in his brain. “You’re drunk. Sleep.”
Though she was most likely oblivious to his commands, he didn’t like how desperate his voice was starting to sound to his own ears.
“No I’m not.” Her silly lopsided grin belied her words as she finally obeyed his coaxing and crawled to the spot he’d cleared. He pulled the covers up for her as she settled against the pillow and peered up at him. The heat in her eyes as she did so damn near destroyed him. “I don’ wanna sleep.” She kicked, flinging the covers off just as he got them arranged. “Don’ need all that, I’m hot. I’m too hot.”
Was she ever. He raked a hand through his hair. For such a little thing, her legs seemed to go on forever, long and sleek. He could only imagine the silken glide her inner thighs would be against his fingertips. Her shirt had ridden up to bare her flat midriff, where her belly ring winked at him in the dim lighting—damn, that was sexy, and so out of place on her. Her br**sts strained against the tight little shirt, and the friction had her ni**les peaking beneath the fabric.
Her hands caught his face, surprising him. He should have moved away from her long ago, before she could get her hands on him. As it was, he felt like a fly caught in the sticky gossamer of a spider’s den. “Always wanted to f**k you, y’know that? Even when I was a virgin.”
He drew in a breath, exhaled it shakily. So much for prudish.
Note to self: Kelsey now gets unbelievably horny when drunk.
She licked her lips, staring into his eyes with surprising clarity for someone who had nearly passed out moments ago. The glint of moisture her tongue left behind was mesmerizing. He wanted to taste it. The heat of her palms sank into his flesh. She was burning up. Her legs were haphazardly parted, still tangled in the covers, and he could scent her arousal, musky and sweet.
“It’s not going to happen, Kelsey.” His voice probably sounded as firm as a little girl’s, but he gave it his best shot. All his strength had drained to his dick. It pushed against his zipper until he thought it might burst through if he didn’t release it soon. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
That pout resurfaced, but he was astounded at the pain that leaked into her gray eyes. It was…real, and raw, not some byproduct of an inebriated mind.
“You don’ want me. Why’d you never want me?” She was rubbing her thighs together now, the action only causing her scent to waft stronger into his nostrils. Like witchcraft, it drew him toward her, made the mental filmstrip of tearing her shorts off and sinking himself into the tight wet heat of her pu**y play over and over again in his head…until it obliterated all else: morals, rationale, sanity. And he had never wanted her. Right.
God, she would feel so good closing in around him. He’d deprived himself for too long. She took one of his hands and laid it flat on her belly, then pushed it down toward the place she needed it. Her stomach muscles pulled taut beneath his reluctant touch, and that skin was hot and satiny. She leaned upward, parting her lush pink lips in wanton invitation.
No.
It was one thing for two people to get hammered and go at each other. It was quite another when one of them had full control of his faculties and the other had none. Criminal even, and he could never take advantage of her like that. But he’d never been quite so tempted, he had to give her that much.
He pulled his hand away from hers and went to stand. She emitted some incoherent whimper that ripped at his heart, completely decimating it when the sound formed into words. “Evan, don’t leave…don’t leave me like this…please…”
No other hetero male on the planet could have endured the sight of her all disheveled in his bed, writhing and senseless and begging him to f**k her, without falling on her like a rutting animal. He should be declared saint of all the world to have lasted this long. If he hadn’t known her for all these years, he couldn’t have stopped himself.
Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead; one trickled back into her hair. The skin above her neckline glistened in the soft lighting. She was in flames, and he’d hardly put a hand on her.
“Kelsey, don’t do this to me.”
“Please,” she whispered again, gazing up at him, utterly smashed but still capable of all the determined longing that came along with such a state. She wouldn’t let herself pass out until she got it. “Do something. Touch me. Evan. God, I need it…”
The husky plea pushed him past his breaking point. She sounded like a different woman. He couldn’t give her everything she wanted, but if he could satisfy her without losing his mind, maybe she would pass out.
“Take off your shorts,” he whispered, knowing with brutal certainty that he was going to hell. The only consolation was the hope that she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. He knew her, and she would be mortified. But if she did remember…well, they would deal with it. “I’ll make it better.”
Her fingers were frantic and clumsy, and he had to help her. When she at last kicked the denim from her foot, the sight and scent of her drenched pink panties caused him physical anguish. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of the frothy lace, but he stilled her hand as he moved to lie beside her. He slid one arm beneath her head. “No, sweetie. Lie back.”
“But—”
“Shhh.”
She did as he told her but she mewled disconsolately about it. He fortified himself with a deep breath and slid his fingers under that sinful lace. He should have stayed on top of it. He’d meant to, but he had to allow himself this one thing. The feel of her. Heaven was under there, dewy curls and soft, hot, creamy folds. Kelsey threw her head back on his arm and moaned as his fingertips grazed her, her legs falling open to give him the full feel and scent of her. The graceful arc of her neck was something to behold, a sculptor’s wet dream.
