Chosen by Desire (21 page)

“A private thing?” From Rhys? Max wanted to shake her. Couldn’t she see her trust in Rhys was misplaced? He’d bet his inheritance—his Guardianship—that Rhys was responsible for the pier.

The library door swung open. “There’s an incoming call from—” Francesca pulled up short, a brief flash of emotion on her face before it went carefully blank.

Carrie gave a small yelp and scooted farther away from Max, which irritated the hell out of him. He glared at her as she straightened her clothes.

Francesca cleared her throat. “Sir? It’s long distance.”

Damn it. He wasn’t done here. But he followed Francesca out, unsatisfied in more ways than he could count.

Carrie paced back and forth in her room, biting her lip as she kept an eye on the door, remembering earlier in the library and how Max had kissed her like he couldn’t get enough of her.

Cautious hope bloomed in her chest. Maybe this
was
about her and not the texts.

Maybe he’d come up.

Talk about delusional. He wasn’t coming up. He was busy with Francesca now.

She grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it. Then she kicked it for good measure.

“Just as well. Probably,” she told herself, returning it to its place. So much for the condoms. She glanced at the bedside table, where she’d stashed them away.

Although—God—she would have liked to have him make love to her. Just once. It seemed like the type of memory you’d pull out years later and sigh over.

“Face it.” She punched the pillow. “Not going to happen.”

Sigh.

Glancing at the door one last time, she headed for the bathroom. A bath would settle her.

Pulling off her sweatshirt, she tossed it aside as she entered the bathroom. She turned on the faucets to the tub, tossed in some bath salts she found in a cabinet, and stripped the rest of her clothes off. While she waited for the bath to fill, she studied herself in the mirror.

God, she was a mess. The bruise on her forehead was a putrid shade of green. Her hands were completely healed—maybe Max used some special ointment?—but she still felt the occasional twinge in her back and arms. The scratches on her side were faded to thin pink lines crusty with scabs.

She ran a finger over them, and then up to the tip of her breast. Turning to the tub, she ran her fingers back and forth over the hard tips. She watched the water and imagined it running over her as Max touched her, and she shivered.

In. She needed to be in the water, so she climbed into the bathtub.

The hot water eagerly welcomed her. As she sank in, she had the impression of being embraced—the embrace of a seductive lover.

Carrie sighed and settled back, her eyes closed and her arms propped on the edge of the porcelain. The water engulfed her, caressing every inch of her skin. It invaded her, filled her. She could feel its touch all over her, and she stretched out to luxuriate in it.

The motion caused the water to ripple over her, lapping at her body. The water seemed to penetrate her. She could feel it from the inside, where Max had never touched her. Letting her legs fall open, she moaned and slid deeper into the tub.

“Delicious.” She closed her eyes on a sigh and let her arousal grow. Only soon it wasn’t enough. Because she couldn’t help it, she rolled a nipple between her fingertips. She trailed her other hand into the water, across her thigh, and over her rigid clit.

Her back arched at the first touch, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The second touch was no less intense. She dragged her finger slowly the third time, acutely aware of the water caressing her, too.

If only it were Max instead of water. She pictured him watching her touch herself, leaning down to lick the same trail her finger was taking. She gasped, surprised at how turned on the thought made her. Surprised at how vividly she could imagine him being there. In her mind she could see his molten eyes trained on her as he urged her with his touch to come.

She wanted to come. Bad. She rubbed faster, her hips thrust upward, imagining she was offering herself to him—needing to offer herself to him. Her breasts broke above the water, and the cascading drops teased her like trailing fingers on her skin. The cold air stiffened her nipples, making them ache sharply, so she pinched one with her free hand, knowing Max would do the same to her.

“Max.” She moaned, feeling her orgasm rising, a distant tide rushing toward her. It broke over her and she cried out.

Wave after wave hit her until she didn’t have the energy to keep going. She wilted in the tub, limp with release but oddly not satisfied even though she couldn’t remember ever coming that hard for so long—even with a guy.

It would be different with Max.

Shaking her head, she let it rest against the tub, her eyes still closed to savor the lingering tingles. She had to give up on that fantasy. It was a no-win situation for both of them.

Something rustled near the bathroom door.

Her eyes popped open, her breath catching in her throat. It took her several tries before she could speak, and even then she couldn’t croak anything more than, “
Max?
”

H
e looked like a Viking god come down, bent on conquering, and—heaven help her—Carrie was totally willing to let him start with her.

If only she weren’t so mortified. She sank lower into the tub, wishing she’d had bubble bath instead of salts—the better to cover her nudity.

How long had he been there? Did he hear her call his name when she came? Her cheeks burned at the thought. She glanced at him to see how he was reacting to this. If she saw revulsion—or a total lack of interest—she was going to drown herself right there.

Wide and muscular, he filled the doorway. Not able to help herself, she looked down his body, noting that he still hadn’t buttoned his shirt from their earlier escapade in the library. She saw the ripple of his pecs, the ridges of his abs, and—

Oh, God—he was turned on. Big-time,
big
being the operative word there. Her mortification melted away and her eyes latched on to his erection, not able to look away. If only he’d come closer so she could get a better look. And perhaps—maybe—a taste.

He shifted, and her eyes lifted to his face. She inhaled at the combination of desire, need, and intense focus she saw there. He wanted her—it was written on every bit of his face.

Tensing, she wished she could have channeled an inner vixen and let herself tease him by opening her legs and asking him if he liked what he saw. But the stakes were too high.

He stepped forward, his eyes roving over her. Intense.

She shivered, wanting all his intensity focused on her.

He took another step, and another, until he towered over her at the side of the bath. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Swallowing thickly, she nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. This was totally unprofessional, and if it got back to someone in the department she’d be branded with a scarlet letter for life.

But she heard her mom tell her she had to let herself have fun sometimes. And Gabe telling her to go for it. Her eyes searched his, and she knew this was inevitable.

She stood up. Water sluiced over her skin, a thousand little touches that inflamed her all over again.

His gaze flickered down. She swore she could feel it like a physical touch on her skin, over her nipples, down her belly, and between her legs. Especially between her legs. Swallowing thickly, again, she widened her stance—just enough to let him know he’d be welcome if he wanted entrance.

His gaze shot back up to hers, and before she could say anything, he scooped her into his arms.

Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed the side of his neck, right over the burn scar.

He paused to stare down at her, his gaze perplexed. His grip on her tightened, and he strode to her bed and gently lowered her onto the covers.

His eyes never wavered from hers as he stripped his shirt off and dropped it. He undid his belt and whipped it out of the loops, letting it fall next to the shirt.

“Wait a second.” She scooted to the drawer, ripped the condom box open, and pulled one out.

On second thought… She took two more. Then she propped herself against the pillows. The better to watch the show. “Okay. You can continue.”

His brow lifted in his adorably arrogant way. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” God, yes. Any more certain and she’d combust. “Actually, I’m dying of anticipation. I’ve been waiting for this, it seems like, forever.”

His expression sharpened, and he quickly undid the fly.

Carrie blinked. “No underwear?”

“No.”

“Can I touch?” she asked, rolling to her knees.

He dropped his pants.

Guess that meant yes. She ran a finger along all of him. His hard-on pressed straight up against his belly. She brushed along his leg, smiling when he groaned, and wondered what he’d do if she actually touched
him.

Time to find out. She let her fingers play over his hardness.

His hand clamped down on hers, and she glanced up to find his eyes squeezed tight.

“Do you like it, or are you in total agony?” she asked.

“Both,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh. That’s good, then.”

He half groaned, half snorted. “It’s too good.”

She didn’t think there was any such thing. Of course, she hadn’t had sex in so long she didn’t think she was qualified to make any sort of judgment. She tried to move her hand, but he held it still right there. “What—”

“Wait.” He breathed deeply.

Carrie frowned. “Are you trying to get yourself under control?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Hold still.”

“I don’t want you under control. I want you totally wild and wanting me.”

He laughed without humor. “Trust me, I want you.”

She stopped struggling to free her hand. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Oh.” She blinked at the force behind his words. Then she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the top of his erection.

“
Carrie.
” His grip tightened on her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Hopefully making you want me more.” Before he could do anything to stop her, she licked the bulbous head like a lollipop.

He made a strangled sound, which she translated as
that was good.
She nuzzled his belly and then kissed her way back to the tip of his hard-on.

As she nibbled and licked and sucked—which he seemed to like, given the way his entire body tensed—she started to get more turned on herself. She felt herself grow warm and wet, imagining him returning the favor. Oh, yeah, she wanted him to return the favor in a desperate way.

“Carrie.” He let go of her hand and speared his fingers through her hair.

She paused. That was the first time he’d called her by her name, and the way he said it sounded like an endearment.

Okay, don’t get carried away here.
Afraid he’d make her stop if she let up, she gripped his butt cheeks—God, they were firm—and tongued all around the head of his penis.

Instead of pulling her away like she thought, he held her closer. A go-ahead if she ever saw one, so she began to place sucking kisses all around.

He groaned, and his hands pulled her hair in a way that would have been painful if she weren’t so turned on. She went at it in earnest, licking at his wetness. He was trusting her with his body, and maybe just a little of his soul for a moment in time.

A heady feeling. And humbling.

Suddenly she felt a change—a gathering of energy—and she knew he was close. Power surged through her. A shock wave zapped through her body, head to toe, flushing with heat. It tingled, as if every molecule in her was suddenly alive and radiating.

Looking up, she saw he watched her, his gaze dark and intent. Passionate. His jaw clenched as she took as much of him into her mouth as she could and sucked. She let go and did it over again, and again, and again, until his hips surged forward, seeking her mouth.

He growled, and with a sudden burst he came.