Head Over Heels

“Curves? Is she chunky, then?”

“She’s perfect.” Sawyer unbuttoned her top and spread it open. She felt his lips on her collarbone, then the swell of a breast. “And she has this way of moving, so confident and sure of herself. It’s sexy as hell.”

“Sometimes,” Chloe whispered, “she fakes the confidence.”

“My story,” he said and kissed her nipple through the silk of her bra. His mouth was hot, and she arched up into it, moving her hand faster. Her breath hitched, but his fingers settled over hers, stilling her movements, reminding her about the slow-and-easy decree. Before she could object, he tugged down the cup of her bra with his teeth and ran his tongue over her bared nipple. “You were pierced,” he whispered against her skin, kissing the pebbled peak.

“Y-yes.”

“Why?”

There was no recrimination in his voice, no judgment. Only curiosity. “I don’t know.” But she did.

Sawyer lifted his head and met her gaze. Not pressing. Just waiting in that way he had that made her want to spill all her secrets.

“Sometimes, I can’t…feel,” she said softly.

“Here?” His fingers closed over her nipple, plucking the peak like an instrument, and she quivered.

“No.” She shifted his hand to her heart. “Here. I couldn’t feel anything, and I needed to.”

His gaze dipped to her hand, then rose back to her eyes, his own filled with what might have been understanding.

But she wasn’t used to that. And anyway, how could he really understand? He didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought. He could do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. Run. Climb. Have wild animal sex…

“Did it help?” he asked quietly. “The pain?”

She waited to feel the anxiety build in her chest, festering and clawing at her until she shut down in self- preservation. But she was looking right into his eyes, and there was still no judgment, nothing but a simple acceptance, and she didn’t get anxious at all. “Yes, it helped,” she whispered. “At the time.”

“And now?”

“I don’t need the pain anymore.”

“Good.” He flicked his tongue between her breasts and worked his way south. Her hand was still in her panties, her fingers where she needed them, moving in what felt like tandem with his mouth, making her arch up into him.

“Still pierced here,” he murmured against her trembling belly.

“I l-like how it looks with my bathing suit. God, Sawyer.”

He settled a hand over hers again and slowed her down. “Easy,” he murmured.

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to easy your-”

He hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them down her legs. Then he wedged his broad shoulders between her thighs, getting up close to all her secrets. A groan wrenched from his throat. “Ah, Chloe. You’re so wet. No, don’t stop.”

She’d always assumed that she could make herself come because there wasn’t a lot of aerobic action to a self-serve, at least not the way she did it. No stress or performance anxiety involved, just a slightly boring but gratifying release.

But she was definitely feeling a little breathless now, with him holding her legs open, watching her with such avid fascination. Her chest tightened even more, and she realized this wasn’t going to work. “Sawyer-”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not very good at following directions.” He took her hands in his, pulled them to her sides and held them there. “Don’t move.”

“I-”

He licked the moisture between her legs, and she gasped.

“Keep breathing,” he murmured against her skin. “You’re holding your breath. In and out, Chloe. Slow.”

Was he kidding her? “I can’t.”

“Thought that word wasn’t in your vocabulary.”

She huffed out a faint laugh. But his hot mouth was still working her, making her tremble, and his name tumbled from her lips as she slid her hands from his and fisted them in his hair.

He stayed the course, hummed her name against her, making her toes curl. She tightened her grip, but he couldn’t be rushed. Whenever she tried, he merely captured her wrists again, pinning her legs with his heavy body to hold her still. “Shhh,” he told her and then continued.

Slow.

Easy.

Driving her right out of her mind. “Please. Sawyer, please.”

But her entreaty fell on deaf ears. He did his own thing at his own pace, gently massaging and teasing and coaxing her right into a blissful explosion that shocked and rocked her to the very core.

While she trembled and shuddered back to Planet Earth, he gave her one last soft kiss and moved back up her body to study her face closely. “Okay?” he asked.

“If I was any more okay, you’d have to peel me off the ceiling.”

He smiled, but his eyes were still hot, lines of tension bracketing his mouth.

“I really am okay,” she said, stunned to realize it was true. She was breathing heavily but not feeling wheezy. “Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

“Your turn.” She pushed him down to the bed. Leaning over him, she took his wrists and forced his hands up to the headboard and curled his fingers around the spindles. She lowered the timber of her voice to imitate his. “Slow,” she commanded. “Real slow and easy.”

He smiled. “But I don’t have asthma-”

“You’re not very good at following directions either. I suppose I’ll have to take over.”

He raised a challenging brow. He was sprawled beneath her wearing only his uniform trousers, his body warm and strong, his every muscle taut. God, so many muscles. Even his feet were sexy. Lord, she had it bad. “I could look at you all day,” she whispered.

A flicker of surprise came into his eyes and then heat. “Look all you want,” he said. “But first let me-” He let go of the headboard to adjust himself with a grimace.

“Yeah, those pants do look pretty uncomfortable.” Batting his hand away, she popped open the button herself.

“Careful,” he said when she reached for the zipper.

“Easy, Sheriff. This won’t hurt a bit.” She unzipped him with great care and then tugged the pants down his long legs, watching as he sprang free. Sitting back on her haunches, she smiled. “Happy to see me?” Leaning forward, she kissed him on the tip of his very impressive erection, making his low reply unintelligible.

He rose onto his elbows to watch her, reaching to glide his fingers into her hair, but like he’d done to her, she shoved him back to the bed.

He gripped the headboard again, tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Christ, Chloe. You’re killing me.”

Ditto, she thought, transfixed as the sight of him spread out for her viewing pleasure now, so perfectly in proportion from head to toe and all the glorious spots in between. Wrapping her fingers around the base of his hot, silky length, she licked him delicately, then not so delicately, until he shuddered and slid his fingers back into her hair to pull her away. “God, Chloe. You’re going to make me-”

“That’s the idea.”

“Not yet.” He grabbed her, hauling her up his taut, heated body until she was straddling him. She gave a little wriggle to get him right where she…wanted…him-

“Oh no, you don’t.” Gripping her hips, he held her still. “I want you to stay with me this time.”

“I’m with you,” she promised. “All the way with you. My lungs are good, see?” She inhaled as deep as she could and let it out.

“Good. Keep doing that, keep breathing,” he ordered softly. “I’ll do the rest.” Biceps flexing, he lifted her up and then allowed her to sink onto him, and exquisite pleasure washed through her as he slid home.