It's in His Kiss (9 page)

“Seeing as you’re not broken,” she said, “it doesn’t matter.”

Sam ran a finger along her temple, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and took in the quick tremble that racked her body at his touch. “What matters to me is how
you
got broken,” he said.

She closed her eyes, and his smile faded. “Someone hurt you,” he said.

“No.” She turned away. “It was a long time ago.”

Yeah. Someone had hurt her. He turned her to face him and waited for her to open those soulful eyes. Whatever had happened to her had cut deep, but she wasn’t down for the count.

He could relate to that.

“I don’t talk about it,” she said.

“Instead, you put a Band-Aid on it.”

“Yes.” She hesitated, and then set her hand on his chest, slowly, lightly dragging her fingers from one pec to the other as if testing herself out for a reaction. He hoped she was getting one because the simple touch stirred anything but simple reactions within him.

“It’s been a while,” she murmured, “but I remember this as a proven effective method for healing all.”

He loved that she wasn’t too shy to speak her mind. And frankly, he also loved that she’d made the first move, hesitant as it was. He’d make the second. And the third. Hell, he’d make whatever moves she was receptive to, and hopefully chase away her demons while he was at it. But when she leaned into him, he slid his hands down her
arms, capturing her wrists to stop her. ”I need to take care of something first,” he said.

“Oh.” Some of the light died from her. “I get it.”

“No.” He held on to her when she would have pulled away. “This isn’t a rejection, Becca. I want you.” He dipped down a little to look right into her eyes, wanting to make sure she really got him. “I want you bad, but I’m all sweaty from my run. I need a shower, a quick one, I promise. But my shop doesn’t have one, and my house is ten minutes away, so I need you to be patient while I—”

“I’ve got a shower,” she said. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. He groaned and gave in, kissing her.

Fucking perfect.

That was how she tasted. She made a little mewling sound and pressed closer, like she thought maybe he was going to vanish.

Fat chance.

He slanted his head and kissed her the way he liked it, open-mouthed, wet, and deep. He let go of her wrists and things got a whole lot hotter real fast. Their hands bumped into each other as they moved, grappling for purchase, hers running over his chest and arms, his gliding up her sides, inside the bulky sweatshirt she wore.

She moaned into his mouth.

He lost his head a little bit then. Or maybe he’d lost it the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he didn’t know. She made him so dizzy he couldn’t think straight. “Becca,” he said, and from somewhere, he had no idea where, he found the strength to pull her back.

Their gazes met, and at the heat—and uncertainty—in hers, he kissed her again, soft this time. When she let out
a shaky breath and slid her arms around his neck, he held her off again. “Shower first,” he said.

“And then?”

The hopefulness in her voice went straight through him, and he kissed her again, until she moaned into his mouth, her reaction taking away his ability to think clearly. “And then,” he promised, “whatever you want.”

It wasn’t often Becca acted recklessly, or with abandon. In fact, it was almost never.

But Sam of the beautiful eyes and sexy voice and surprisingly sharp wit was bringing it out in her. She deserved this, she reminded herself. A night of no strings, a night lost in a man’s arms.

This
man’s arms.

She led the way to her front door. She had the very hot and sexy Sam Brody standing at her back, and she was wondering if she was really going to do this.

Could she?

Then Sam leaned in and kissed her neck, and she quivered in arousal.

Oh, God. Yes. Despite her trepidations and unease and the fact that her lady bits might have rusted up and withered from disuse, she was going to do this.

And she was not going to let anything intrude.

She was going to get naked, and she was going to have a good time while she was at it.

Olivia entered the building just then, walking fast, head down. When she looked up, she nearly tripped over her own feet at the sight of Becca and Sam standing there. “Oh,” she said in clear surprise.

Sam nodded at her. “Olivia.”

They knew each other, Becca realized, with an odd pang of something. Jealousy? Nah, that couldn’t be.

Could it?

Olivia nodded back at Sam and started to walk past them, but then she stopped and turned back to Becca. “I know I owe you an apology for the other night.”

“For what?” Becca asked.

Olivia was in another pair of jeans, very cute high-heeled wedges, and a gauzy top that showed off her enviable figure. She was beautiful and aloof, and her expression was hooded as it had been the other night, but she had the good grace to grimace. “Slamming my door on your nose,” she said. “I’m not really a people person.”

“Duly noted,” Becca said drily.

Olivia grimaced again. “I know you were trying to be a nice neighbor, and I was a jerk. I’d like to make it up to you. Seriously,” she said at Becca’s look of surprise. “Food fixes all, right? I make the best homemade pizza out there. So dinner, on me.” She slid Sam a glance. “When you’re not busy.”

Becca swiveled her gaze to Sam, wondering how he stacked up against homemade pizza.

He arched a brow at her.

Olivia shocked Becca by laughing. “Another night,” she said, and vanished inside her place.

“You wanted to give me up for pizza,” Sam said.

“
Homemade
pizza,” Becca corrected, and put her key in the lock, jerking at the feel of his hot mouth on the back of her neck.

“I’m going to make you forget about the pizza,” he whispered against her skin.

She shivered, having underestimated the power of a man’s kiss on her neck. “Are you sure you want to make a promise you might not be able to keep?” she managed.

“I always keep my promises.”

She hoped so. God, she hoped so.

Five minutes later, Becca stood outside her bathroom, hands and forehead on the door, body thrumming with emotions she almost didn’t recognize.

Desire.

Need.

From the other side came the sound of her shower running.

She had a man in her shower.

Good Lord, she had a man in her shower. Picturing Sam in there all hot and naked, using her soap, rubbing his hands over his body, was making her good parts tingle. And she had a lot of good parts, many more than she remembered . . .

She smiled in relief, then shook her head at herself. Why was she fantasizing about the naked man in her shower instead of being
in
the shower with the naked man?

She chewed on her thumbnail another moment, giving brief thought to being shy, but then quickly discarded that as it hadn’t gotten her anywhere all year.

Open the door, Becca
.

She opened the door.

Steam rolled over her as the water beat against the tile floor. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her eyes on the sight before her. The glass door was fogged over but she could see the faint outline of Sam’s body. She had a side view, and it was a good one. He had one hand braced on the wall in front of him, his head hanging low as he let the water pound between his shoulder blades.

Becca’s gaze followed the trail of water down his sleek back, over the perfect, succulent curve of his ass, and down the backs of his legs to his feet.

He was gorgeous.

Sweating now, she had to strip off her bulky sweatshirt. At the movement, he glanced over. Seeing her there, his gaze went fiery and suggestive. Teeming with raw passion, he reached for the soap, running his hands with perfunctory speed and precision over himself.

Becca stared. She started to say something, but then he wrapped his hand around himself. Eyes locked on hers, he held on but didn’t stroke, and she got all hot and bothered from wishing he would. “You didn’t lock the door,” she managed. “So I, um. . .”

He smiled a very dangerous, alluring smile.

She stood there, her entire body vibrating with need, but trying desperately to be cool, like having a man in her shower was no big deal. In truth, it was a big deal. A
huge
big deal. Her heart was just about racing right out of her chest.

Her
terms, she reminded herself. This was on her terms and she was in control. She could stop this at any time.

But she already knew she wasn’t going to want to stop.

Sam lifted his hands and shoved his hair back from his face.

Her body tingled. And though he was the one in the shower, she was the one getting damp. Reaching over to a drawer, she pulled out the sole condom she had. She’d gotten it as a party favor a few years back, and because it was blue, and blueberry-flavored to boot,
and
an “extra, extra” large, she’d kept it for laughs. It’d been a while since she’d had use for a condom, and she sort of wished it wasn’t blue, but it was better than nothing.

Water and suds continued to sluice down Sam’s body, and, even hotter now, Becca pulled off another item of clothing—her long-sleeved tee.

Sam swiped at the fogged-up glass on the shower, presumably to better see her, and smiled. “You’ve got a lot of layers on.”

She flushed. “I was cold earlier.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

She utterly believed him. She pushed off her flannel PJ bottoms next, which left her in a thin cotton cami and an equally thin pair of cotton panties.

Given the fire in Sam’s eyes, he approved, but she hesitated, because whatever came off next was going to reveal more of her than had been seen by another human being in a while.

“Keep going,” he said, voice husky.

Erotic.

When she didn’t move, he gave her a come-here finger crook.

Her legs took her the last few steps, and then she was in the shower, the water plastering her cami and panties to her body.

Sam groaned at the sight and hooked an arm around her, settling a hand low on her back, pulling her into him. He did this slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him.

She didn’t.

Not only didn’t she stop him, she reached up and slid her fingers into his wet hair and pulled him down, hoping for a mindless kiss.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Still cold?”

“No.”

He met her gaze. “You’re nervous.”

“Aren’t you?”

He gave her a heart-melting smile. “It’s going to be good, Becca, I promise.”

Another promise. She could have told him she didn’t believe in them, but there was something so absolute about his voice, something so sure in his eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

He smiled against her lips, and then brought his other hand up, tilting her face to suit him as he kissed her. Soft at first, then serious and demanding, and though she’d hoped he’d take her out of her own head for a while. He did even better than that, and an utterly unexpected wave of desire washed over her. She sank her fingers into his thick, unruly hair and held on.

He was right so far. It was good.

So good she lost herself in the sensations of being held, the barrage of heat and need, and a hunger so strong it made her weak in the knees.

When was the last time a man had made her weak in the knees?

A long time.

Too
long.

His tongue swept along hers, and she moaned into his mouth. At the sound, Sam pulled back and gave her a very hot look. She tugged him in again because he was a good kisser. The
best
kisser. In fact, he was the king of all kissers, so much so that when he ended the next kiss, she’d have slithered to the shower floor in a boneless heap of arousal if he wasn’t holding her up with a strong arm around her back. The fingers of his other hand unpeeled hers to see what she still held fisted. When he caught sight of the extra-large blueberry condom, he smiled.

“I was planning ahead,” she whispered.

“Love a woman who plans ahead.” He set the condom on the soap rack, and then nudged a wet cami strap off her shoulder. Lowering his head, his lips grazed her jaw, her throat, across her collarbone. “Mmm,” he murmured against her skin, then pulled back a fraction of an inch to meet her gaze, his own hot as fire and intense. “Tell me this is what you want, Becca.”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Why was nothing coming out?

“If I stay,” he said very gently but with utter steel, “I’m going to take you to your bed and make you feel so good that you forget whatever is putting that hollow look in your eyes. I promise you that.”

Another promise, but this one seemed as irresistible as the last one, so in answer to his very alpha-man statement, she mustered up some courage and pressed up against him, running her hands over sleek, hot, wet, male skin. God. God, he felt good.

His hands went to her hair, releasing it from her ponytail so that his fingers could run through the wavy, wet mess. “Becca?”

He wanted the words. “Stay,” she said.