He shifted her hair off her neck and kissed her there. “Come to bed with me.”
“That’s my line.” She spoke softly, as if already half asleep.
“If you’re tired—”
Samara slid her hands up his chest and pressed herself firmly against him. “I’m tired, Beckett. I’m not dead.”
“That’s reassuring.” He gripped her hips, guiding her motion. They weren’t nearly close enough, but he loved the glazed look that bled into her dark eyes. “Someday, when the smoke has cleared, I want to come back here.”
“Come back.”
“Yeah.” He dipped beneath the hem of her dress and dragged his fingers across the backs of her thighs. “Just us. I want to press you against that window in our room and fuck you as we watch the sun set.” Her little gasp only spurred him on. “And that hot tub? I can’t look at it without seeing you sitting on the edge, the flickering light kisses your skin, your pussy wet and aching for my tongue.”
“Beckett.” Her fingers dug into his arm.
He lowered his head until his lips brushed hers in answer. “Yeah?”
Samara released him and took two large steps back. “The room. Hurry.”
Perversely, that made him dig in his heels. “You like those ideas?”
“What I’d like is for you to put that mouth to better use than talking.”
He laughed. God, even when he was so hot for her he couldn’t see straight, she still made him laugh. It shouldn’t be possible. He could barely think past the need to get her out of her dress and sink between those sweet thighs, but her smart-ass comment warmed him in ways that had nothing to do with desire. I’m falling for you, Samara. He couldn’t say it now any more than he could say it last time they’d been in bed. She’d either bolt or blame it on sex muddling his head.
There was nothing to do but take his woman to bed.
“Let’s go.” He kept his hand on the small of her back, the curve of her ass, the long line of her spine, as they strode up the beach and into the hotel. Tension radiated from her body, and every look she sent him had Beckett reconsidering his plan to get her back to the room. Surely there was a storage closet around there somewhere…
Samara dragged him inside the elevator as soon as the doors opened. His back hit the wall and she took his mouth in the same move. Her hands were everywhere, running down his back, up his arms, to his shoulders. Beckett responded in kind, grabbing her ass and hauling her even tighter against him. She tasted of wine and decadence, and he felt more than heard the little noises she made as she ground against him.
The elevator dinged.
He walked her backward out the doors, barely registering the wide-eyed couple waiting on their floor. He and Samara weren’t moving fast enough, though, so he swung her into his arms. She kissed his jaw, her hands already unbuttoning his shirt. “Hurry, Beckett.”
He hurried.
Even with her in his arms, he got the door open and kicked it shut behind him as he strode into the hotel room. Beckett paused to lock the door behind them and only then did he set Samara on her feet, sliding her down his body. “You want me to put my mouth to good use.”
“I did say that—just a few minutes ago.” She pulled his shirt up and over his shoulders, and then dropped it on the floor. Just like the last few times they’d been together, she found his scar with her fingers, but this time she followed it with her lips. The kiss was light and almost innocent, but he felt it all the way down to his soul.
As if she recognized that the scars of his past went beyond the skin and she accepted them.
He laced his fingers through her hair and tugged her up until she pressed against him from chest to hips. The fabric of her dress slid against him, but it might as well have been sandpaper. He wanted her skin on his with nothing between them. “You want my mouth? Demand it.”
Her eyes widened even as she smiled. “I want your mouth here.” Samara traced the line of her neck with a single finger.
Beckett wasted no time following its path with his tongue. He kissed her neck as if that was all he’d ever get of her, the only touch she’d ever allow. She went soft in his arms, and he nipped her earlobe. It seemed to jolt her a little, because she reached down and unzipped her dress. A tiny wiggle, and it hit the floor, leaving her in only a bra and panties, both a deep purple. “My breasts. I want you there.”
“Gladly.” Instead of going to his knees, he hooked the backs of her thighs and lifted her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he felt the heat of her pussy even through his slacks. He captured her nipple through the lace of her bra.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t be gentle with me.”
He walked them through the suite to lay her on the bed, using the change in position to shove her bra down, trapping her arms against her sides. He cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples and kissed one and then the other, laying into the sensitive bud with tongue and teeth, driven on by her moans and writhing hips.
“Lower. I need your mouth lower.”
He left her bra where it was, liking the picture it created. It reminded him of the way she’d waited for him in his
