A blatant invitation he could accept or decline. An invitation with no strings attached, because as she’d so boldly told him, she didn’t expect anything in return. Selfish bastard that he was, he couldn’t turn her down. He needed her too much. One last battle lost before he waged his final campaign. He glanced toward the front door, knowing his last battle was one he could not let himself lose.
Before gravity could pull him back toward the floor, he shifted his weight so his legs straddled her hips. The weight of him pushed against the V of her legs with unmistakable pressure, and she moaned her pleasure. The sound twisted his insides into coiled knots only she could undo.
He reached for the buttons on the prim and proper shirt she’d changed into earlier at his urging. She’d already removed the mic on the way home. Keeping his eyes on the road had been damned near impossible, but he’d managed. Barely.
He worked at the buttons with shaking hands, reminiscent of his first attempt as a teenager in the backseat of an old beat-up thing his uncle had called a car. The only difference was this wasn’t nerves causing the problem, but overwhelming desire that could no longer be restrained.
“The hell with this,” he muttered. He grabbed the sides of her shirt in each hand and pulled.
Little pearl-like things popped and scattered in myriad directions. Kayla gasped. Kane looked down, and his breath caught in his throat. Her cleavage swelled above the lace border of her bra, while her nipples stood erect against the white material. He brushed each distended peak with his thumbs. She sucked in a ragged breath, and her hips jerked involuntarily beneath him.
Catching him by surprise, she reached out and grabbed his shirt in her fists, pulling him down and easing him over her. He didn’t wait for her next move, but captured her mouth in a kiss as possessive as it was desperate. And wasn’t that what he was? What he’d been since the day he’d met Kayla Luck? Desperate for her love and acceptance, knowing he could take neither?
Her rounded breasts pressed flush against his chest, molding to his body as if she were made to lie against him like this, be with him like this, forever. Before he could react to that thought, she kissed him back, her tongue sweeping inside his mouth in an act of possession all her own. She did what nothing else could—she distracted him, stopped the thoughts rolling in his head that told him he had to leave, until he could think of nothing but her. Until he was filled with her feel, her touch, her scent.
Her lower body mimicked the slick motion of her tongue as she writhed in frustration against the barrier of clothing still separating them. Her fingers, still gripping his shirt, curled tighter and pinched his skin. Without warning, her body began a violent trembling. She was obviously near the edge, as desperate as he was to join together on one last ride.
“Kane.” She spoke his name into his mouth.
“Hmm.” He raised his head and stared into the gorgeous, green eyes that would stay with him always. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“My foot’s numb.”
“Huh?” That was the last thing he’d expected to hear.
“The ice. Get it off my foot,” she said with a frustrated laugh, shaking her injured leg in an obvious effort to dislodge the pack. “Please.”
He grabbed for the plastic bag with one hand.
“Ahh.” She drew the word out in a long, satisfied sigh.
He laughed. “And here I thought it was my place to make you sigh with pleasure…but if it’s ice that works for you…” He opened the zipped seal and reached inside. “Far be it from me to deny you.” He held one melting ice cube over her chest.
Her eyes opened wide and watched as he traced the outline of lace with the cold block of ice. He eased the cube back and forth, pausing only when water accumulated to lick the droplets from her soft skin. Her eyes glazed with pleasure and need. The sounds coming from the back of her throat aroused him like nothing else could. His body screamed in taut agony, begging for release.
She grabbed for his shirt, this time pulling the edge from the waistband of his jeans. He helped her pull the shirt over his head and toss it onto the floor. But when she made a grab for his zipper-fly, Kane paused. He wanted to let her continue. He wanted to shuck his jeans, remove hers, and finish what he’d just begun.
But that was the point. He’d just begun. If this was their final time together, he wanted it to last.
His fingers were damp with water, and a small cube remained in his hand. He traced her full lips, easing his finger inside her mouth and leaving the ice on her tongue. The kiss that followed was erotic and hot, a mixture of ice-cold and Kayla’s warmth. He nearly came right then.
But the bag wasn’t empty. With the last ice cube, he went back to the drawing board. He cupped her full breast in one hand and followed the pattern on the lace cup with the other. She groaned, then laid her head back on the couch in obvious submission. He took his sweet time, circled her breast with excruciating slowness. Each turn brought him closer to his goal, to the hardened peak at the center. At that last touch, her back arched and only his hips kept her anchored in place.
She raised her head and met his gaze. “Games are over, Kane.”
“Believe me, I’m not playing any…”
“Yes, you are…” She licked her damp lips with her tongue. “And they’re finished. Not that I’m not enjoying them, but control time is over.”
He shouldn’t be surprised she knew his intentions before he’d even figured
