Page 37

“I found a part of myself I’d lost,” Fontana whispered, relief sneaking in before regret.

Telling the truth felt wonderful. Telling someone.

Telling him . “And you helped me find it. That night. Even with our disagreements, even if I’m scared about the future with the changes you’re driving, I’m so thankful. ”

“There’ll be others,” he flipped right back, the words torn from him as if he were in pain.

“What if there aren’t?” What if I don’t want there to be?

“Those clinging T-shirts, jeans hanging off your hips. That stupid toothpick. I can barely think straight, I’m so attracted to you.

You’re in the room and poof”—she snapped her fingers—“my mind goes blank while my body catches fire. Talk about self-induced torture.”

He looked down at himself, mystified.

“Oh, Atlanta, my body really likes yours.”

A burst of laughter shot from him. “Tana?—”

“Yours seems to like mine.”

“Yeah. A lot .”

“Maybe this could just be for tonight, since I’m stuck out here because of the storm.” She toyed with the hem of her T-shirt, glancing up through her lashes. “Gotta find something to do.”

His jaw tensed, raw emotion flickering in his eyes. A charged silence stretched between them before he whispered, “ Liar . And I know it, because I’ve been doing nothing but lying to myself.”

Before she could argue, he was there, his hands framing her face as he murmured raggedly against her lips, “You’re making me break the Boy Scout code.”

Then he kissed her—hard. A kiss meant to punish, to bruise them both.

She knotted trembling fingers in his sweatshirt and yanked him off-balance, their desperate pursuit ending with his hips flush against hers. His hard cock, scorching proof of his arousal, melting her hesitation.

He moaned, his lips trailing the curve of her neck, sucking her skin between his teeth. Bite, soothe, repeat. Until one slight lean had his mouth closing over her nipple through worn cotton, his tongue circling the hard peak.

He remembered exactly what she liked.

Her skin flushed, every inch of her igniting. “Off,” she murmured, tugging his sweatshirt over his head as he dragged her T-shirt over hers. They tangled in a battle to get closer.

He smelled of chemicals and rainfall, a scent she pulled deep into her soul. His fingertips cradled her jaw as he captured her lips, sliding a hand beneath her thighs to lift her. They knocked into the table as he pushed her against it, her legs circling his waist as they ground together.

It was playful, forceful, desperate hunger.

“Take me,” she whispered hoarsely, dazed and impatient. “Take me now .”

“It wasn’t just in my mind. This… you .” He paused, as if the word were a bite of chocolate he wanted to savor. Then he pulled back, a whisper of air slipping between them. His lids lowered, awe and distress chasing across his face.

No, no, no , she thought. No retreat .

Fontana curled her hand around the nape of his neck, smoothing her thumb over the erratic pulse tapping at his vein. Tilting her head, she brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, light, as if coaxing a skittish deer in her garden.

His brow pressed to hers, his lungs churning. She could almost hear his mind spinning—formulating a way out, denying what was between them.

Always running, this man.

“You remember what we were doing this time last night?” she whispered, slipping her finger through a belt loop on his jeans. “How I touched myself.”

“Strategic move, Hellcat.” His breath was warm against her skin, rough words edged with tenderness.

Detached, yet he held her as if she were precious.

As if letting go weren’t an option. She was flush against him, their bodies tangled so completely it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began.

“How could I forget the most stimulating experience of my life? Who knew a phone call could be so devastating?”

Teasing him, she tightened her legs around his waist and gave a deliberate, playful wiggle.

“So that’s the game, is it?” Grasping her ass, he rubbed her pussy over his cock with a slow, grinding roll of his hips.

The first spark—a jolt of pure pleasure—shuddered through her, pooling between her thighs. Her head tipped back, her spine bowing. “Cam, oh…I want to feel .”

He whispered urgently against her lips, “Feel what?”

She fisted her fingers in his hair, tugging his head back until his eyes met hers in the amber twilight. “ Everything .”

With a whispered oath and a snap of control, he let her feet hit the floor, then turned her, crowding her into the table, his body curling over hers to seal the fit.

He ravaged her neck, her shoulder—teeth and tongue—his hands capturing her breasts, cupping, squeezing her nipples until she cried out.

She. Could. Not. Think .

Flashes of sensation, images of him towering over, thrusting, coming , rushed her mind. Her need was raw, desire stripping away layers until she stood before him, half-naked, humbled, overwhelmed. Bracing her hands on the table, she curled her fingers over the edge and ground against his cock.

Chest hitching, he gulped a terse breath, his cheek falling to the nape of her neck. “I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Anything .”

“Ditto, Atlanta,” she gasped, hanging her head.

With a groan, Campbell grasped her chin, his lips capturing hers in a side-swipe kiss.

His hand drifted between her legs, working her zipper down just enough to slip inside.

“This is where I plan to feast tonight, my mouth draining you dry,” he whispered, his finger stroking, thrusting as his thumb found her clit.

It didn’t take long, seconds before she exploded, breathless, clinging to the table as her mouth dropped from his.

“More is coming.” The vow rushed past her ear. “It’s your call. Stop me now, if that was enough.”

A promise and a warning.

Glancing over her shoulder, she let out a shaky breath. “I'm not about...to stop you.”

With an urgent catch of her arm, he propelled her into the shrouded enclosure by the door, pausing only long enough to draw the curtains around them.

“Light-tight,” she murmured, the two words scraping out like glass dragged across cement.

“Exactly,” he returned, drawing her against him as he stepped into the hallway.

They moved in a tangled spiral down the hallway, kissing with every turn, bumping into the walls in a heated stumble. Somewhere along the way—two feet or twenty—he found a door, flung it open, and guided her inside.

She caught sight of cameras, lenses, photos covering every available inch of real estate.

A man’s space. His space.

Which she’d asked to invade. And he’d let her.

She started toward the bed, but he laughed and tugged her back, spinning her around and pressing her against the door.

“ The frame whines like a bitch.” His hot, golden gaze found hers, the sensual promise from moments ago still burning in his eyes.

“I’m going to fuck you right here. Quietly, but until your knees won’t hold you up another second.

Until you can’t remember what month it is.

Press your cries into my skin when you come.

Every time.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Hear me, Quinn?”

She could only nod as he dropped to one knee and slid her jeans down her legs. Looking up as he eased her panties free, he smiled, lifting the lace to his nose. “Pink. About my favorite thing in the world. Thanks, Jaime.”

Then he parted her legs, hooking one over his shoulder as he made good on his promise.

He feasted.

His mouth covered her, his tongue tracing her lips, and diving inside. Her head fell back, eyes closing to the sight of him kneeling before her.

The only choice if she didn’t want to orgasm again— right now .

She thought of other things. The ailing rose bush on Mrs. Simmons property, the retaining wall Jaime was preparing a quote for. All the while, Campbell toyed with her, his tongue slicking her seam, his finger teasing before finding its way inside her. His lips circling her clit and sucking.

When she was close, helpless, her hands tangled in his hair, he hesitated, his breath a hot wash over her. “Do you want to come with my finger or my cock inside you?” Leaning, he tasted her once more, sending a blinding, misty rush across her vision. “Or both?”

“Cock,” she whispered, “for now.”

“ Done .” He rose, and while she watched, dragged his jeans down his legs.

No underwear, a surprise. His cock sprang free, and she reached, her fingers circling.

She loved the feel of him in her hand. “I’ll spill in seconds if you do that, Hellcat.

Hang on.” Crossing the room, he opened a drawer, dug around, and came out with a condom packet, tearing it open with his teeth.

Rolling it on as he returned, he caught her wrists and guided her arms around his neck.

“Hang on.” Then he lifted her, and the rest came naturally for someone who’d never fucked against a door.

Her legs locked around his waist, his hands bracing beneath her, positioning as he slid inside. Gradually, until they were hip to hip.

He stretched her wide, without a hint of resistance.

Pressing his brow to hers, he groaned. “ Jesus , you feel incredible. I’m not going to last long. I’m sorry. You’ve got me torn in two here.”

She pulled him into another impassioned kiss, sighing when he began to thrust in soft bumps. “You don’t have to,” she whispered against his lips. “Not if I can press my cries into your skin all night.”

He pulled back, his gaze seeking. “Is that a dare?” he asked, holding her up with one arm and reaching between their bodies to thumb her clit.

“Yes,” she gasped, her orgasm building, beginning to break through. “It’s a…dare.”

When it hit, she clung to him, muscles jumping, skin sizzling, body pulsing around him.

The world shrank to just the two of them, narrowing to the point where they were joined and nothing else.

His words were hot in her ear, his tongue in her mouth, his teeth on her skin, all seeking to stretch her pleasure until it teetered on the edge of pain.

He held her through the fury, his thrusts gentle until she’d ridden out the storm.

Then he was mad with it, his hunger threatening to eclipse hers. His speech unintelligible, his kiss uneven, his thrusts desperate. Though they moved in a balanced show of beauty, two bodies in flawless alignment.

At the end, with an oath, he lifted her off the door when it began to violently creak.

When they finished on the floor, his tremors rippling through her, skin slick, breathing ragged. Seconds passed as they gasped, a clock somewhere in the room ticking off time. When Fontana began to laugh, he joined in, collapsing beside her.

“You're going to kill me, Quinn,” he whispered, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Seriously. Dead. Thank God everyone else is on another floor of this damn house.”

She rolled to face him, propping her head on her hand.

His hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed, his pupils—when he turned to look at her—so large they nearly swallowed the gold.

He was resplendent. And for the moment, he was hers .

“I think I have another in me. If I give you, say, an hour, can you do it?”

“Did you not hear the killing me part?”

Fontana trailed her finger down his chest, smiling when his body arched into the touch. “Any way you’d like me, how about that?”

Campbell caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. His eyes were wide, filled with lust and interest. “Any?”

She tilted her head. “Let’s say I’m willing to negotiate.”