Well Built
Page 37

“I already gave you a blow job. What else do you want?” she asked in an annoyed whisper.
He glared at her, his hands on his hips. “Open the goddamn window,” he hissed, and it was the fear that he’d wake up her father—even though his bedroom was on the opposite side of the house—that had her obeying his command. She wasn’t about to take any chances.
As quietly as possible, she unlatched the wooden frame, and while Kyle pushed it up and climbed through the opening, she went to her bedroom door and jammed a rubber wedge beneath it to make sure no one could open it from the hallway, just as a precaution. The house had been built in the early 1920s, and the doors didn’t have locks. Growing up, her parents had preferred it that way. And as an adult, she’d never had a reason to install one. Until now.
She turned around to face Kyle, who looked much too imposing in her bedroom. She’d kept the lights off, but she could see him easily enough, and his tense body language spoke for itself.
“Care to explain what happened back at the Roadhouse?” he asked in a low voice that vibrated with annoyance.
She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted on her bare feet. “No, not really.” How did she put into words how confused and conflicted she felt? She couldn’t explain it to herself, let alone him.
“Try,” he insisted, his gaze narrowed as he took a step closer.
She took a step back. “I can’t.” Her throat felt as raw as her emotions.
Something in his expression changed, softened, and this time when he moved closer, she didn’t retreat. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then tenderly skimmed his thumb along her jawline, adding to the chaos of feelings swirling inside her.
His eyes were caring as they met hers. “Okay,” he said quietly, as if he understood what she couldn’t explain, and then he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms and against his chest.
Ella didn’t even resist. She flowed against him, closing her eyes and resting her cheek right were his heart beat strong and sure. He felt so good. So solid and warm, and everything about this moment made her wish that he could be hers. That nothing stood in the way of them being happy and this could be her life.
His hold around her tightened and he sighed into her hair. “I know that what’s happening between us is unexpected. If someone would have told me ten days ago that I’d be standing in your bedroom with you in my arms, I would have called them insane. But here you are. Here we are, and I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”
Her mind replayed the words just yet. As in, he’d have to let her go eventually, which she already knew and accepted, even as gut-wrenching as the notion was. She just wasn’t sure she’d be able to withstand the pain when he left . . . again.
She let her arms drift around his waist, let her hands slide up his strong, muscled back. “You shouldn’t be here, Kyle,” she whispered, not sure if she was trying to convince herself or him. Or if she was trying to protect her heart from the inevitable.
His fingers threaded through her hair, and he gently tugged her head back so she was looking up at him. A sexy smile teased the corner of his mouth, a clear intent to shift the mood away from the emotional stuff.
“Did you really think I was going to let you suck me off and not repay the favor?” he murmured, raising a dark brow.
A frisson of heat and awareness took up residence in the pit of her belly and made her nipples pucker tight—as if her body was battling against all the doubts and uncertainties filling her mind. “Kyle . . . ”
“Tell me no, Sunshine,” he murmured, caressing the back of his hand along her cheek. “That’s all you have to do. Say no, and I’ll turn around and go. One simple word. You hold all the power, and the decision is yours. Tell me to leave. Do it.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, because it went against everything she wanted and desired. She swallowed hard, praying she didn’t regret her decision in the long run, though, given the choice, if she only had two months and a handful of weekends to spend with Kyle, even secretly, she’d take whatever she could—then figure out a way to move on without him after the building was done and he was gone.
He was waiting for her answer, the rigid set of his shoulders and the hope in his gaze belying the fact that he’d just told her he’d leave if that was her choice. Clearly, it wasn’t what he wanted, either.
“Stay,” she whispered, unable to stop the flood of honest emotions that spilled past her lips. “I can’t stop wanting you, needing you, aching for you. It’s constant, and I need it to go away. Make it go away, Kyle.”
He shook his head as he grabbed the hem of her tank top and drew it up and over her head, revealing her breasts to his gaze. “I don’t ever want it to go away,” he said huskily, baring his own soul to her as he leaned down and kissed and nuzzled her neck. “I want you to always need me, ache for me . . .”
For now, in this moment, she could easily pretend that there would always be an always. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as he filled his big, warm hands with her breasts, then gasped when his mouth dipped down, closed over a taut, sensitive nipple, and sucked on the beaded tip. His fingers kneaded her flesh, his tongue swirled around an areola, and he gently guided her a few steps back, until her shoulders met the wall behind her.
This time, it was Kyle who dropped to his knees in front of her. He trailed hot, damp kisses down her stomach and rubbed his soft beard against her skin as he gripped the waistband of her sleep shorts and her panties and drew them both slowly, oh so excruciatingly slowly, over her hips, down her thighs, then let them drop to her feet.
She stepped out of the garments and Kyle tossed them aside, then sat back on his heels for a moment to trail his gaze up the length of her completely naked body, making her skin heat with anticipation. He hadn’t even touched her yet and she could feel how wet she already was, how needy her pussy was for his lips, his fingers, his tongue.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured reverently, appreciatively, as he splayed his hands on her thighs and caressed them upward, until his thumbs reached her sex and he had her spread open to his hot, smoldering gaze.
“This, right here, is mine,” he said on a low, possessive growl that thrilled her, then he buried his face between her legs and that thrill became an undeniable, breathtaking need.