Perfect Fit (5 page)

Rowyn gripped his shoulder. “Did you find a necklace?”

“A gold chain with a pendant?” Darius nodded. “Yes. You left it on my bedroom dresser.”

Joy swelled and spilled over into a delighted cry. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. With a startled bark of laughter, he clutched her to him.
Oh God
, she prayed.
Thank you, thank you.

Grinning, she leaned back far enough to plant a huge, hard kiss on his smiling mouth.

“I take it you’re happy,” he drawled.

Rowyn mimicked the gesture she’d come to think of as his trademark and lifted her brow. “What gave you that idea?”

He chuckled and swept a caress down her spine. “I don’t know. The wild ecstatic shriek, the half nelson on my neck, the kiss…”

“I don’t shriek,” she informed him, but ruined the dignified denial with another hug. Happiness. It filled her to capacity, invading her lungs, replacing her breath. “The necklace. Can you mail it to me?”

“I can do better than that.” He hitched his hip up and removed a slender cell phone from the front pocket of his pants. With one hand he tapped in a number and pressed the small phone to his ear. “Hey, Valerie,” he greeted. “I need a favor.” Minutes later he ended his call, having instructed his assistant to pick up the jewelry from his house and overnight it that day.

“Thank you,” Rowyn said, voice hoarse. So many words—
Thank you for caring. Thank you for holding me while I cried. Thank you for finding that piece of my heart and protecting it
—jumbled in her head. And none of them could adequately express what he’d done for her that day. So she bowed her head, pressed her face to the warm crook of his neck, and whispered it again. “Thank you.”

Once more, he tucked her into the haven of his body, his arms a harbor that shouldn’t have felt so safe, that shouldn’t have offered protection.

It would be the height of stupidity to get used to Darius’s arms around her.

She’d never considered herself a foolish woman… Guess it really was a day for firsts.

Chapter Five

“However, this evening she lost track of time and left only at the final stroke of midnight…”—
Cinderella

“I feel like
Pretty Woman
…but without the whole prostitute thing.”—Rowyn Jeong

“Just give me about ten minutes to change clothes. Then we’ll swing by your house so you can change, and then we can head out to dinner.” Darius glanced over his shoulder as he swiped the magnetized key card through the electronic door slot. Reassured by Rowyn’s nod, he pressed the handle down and pushed the hotel room door open.

They moved into the large and elegantly appointed living room. Boston’s skyline at sunset presented a vibrant, gorgeous backdrop through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Darius crossed to one of the tables that flanked the couch and tugged the chain on the lamp to illuminate the shadowed interior. He turned to her, and his breath caught in his throat. Rowyn had that effect on him; she had since the moment he’d laid eyes on her months ago, sitting alone down the length of the nightclub bar.

Thinking back on how they’d met and spent their first—and only—night together, Darius could imagine why Rowyn believed he picked up women and often indulged in one-night stands. He wasn’t a saint—his halo would’ve been repossessed a long time ago—but it had been years since he’d done anything so promiscuous. Rowyn had been the exception to the rule. And their time together would have exceeded more than a few hours if she had remained in his bed…remained with him.

No, he hadn’t fallen in love with her that night, he admitted, studying the straight line of her spine as she crossed the room to stand before the window. But images of her, of those sex-filled hours, lingered in his head, never fading. And when he saw her the evening before in her parents’ home, an inexplicable joy had seized hold of his chest. He felt as if he’d found something precious that had been lost to him.

Lost.
It described the heartbroken woman he’d held in his arms a few hours ago. Jesus. The ragged cries had ripped his heart from his chest. Without conscious thought, he rubbed his breastbone and imagined he could massage away the echo of pain that resonated hours later. He would have given anything to shoulder her hurt and grief. Witnessing the proud, strong woman he’d come to know curl against him as if attempting to escape herself had stirred something in him—something that had lain dormant until that moment. Suddenly he yearned to protect, shelter…keep. He couldn’t turn back time and wipe out her pain. But he could make damn sure it didn’t touch her in the present or future.

Being able to offer her the necklace had transformed him into Hercules. He’d wanted to beg Rowyn to give him something else he could do for her. Just to see happiness light up her dark eyes again.

Damn, she was lovely, he thought, staring at her striking profile. All sleek lines and gorgeous curves. The modest hem of her dress bared long, toned legs. He’d had the pleasure of those slender brown limbs locked around his waist, over his shoulders. He wanted that again.
Needed
it again. His cock hardened in complete agreement.

Lust tempered by a softer but no less intense emotion hummed through his body like an electrical current. Plans for dinner relegated to
later
, he approached her. In a replay of the night before, he paused behind her, close enough for the dark strands of her ponytail to tickle his chin. And he drew closer still, until her lower back cradled his straining dick and his chest pressed to her shoulder blades. Unlike last night, he didn’t allow a polite distance between them. Nothing but her dress and his pants separated his cock from riding the shallow dip below her spine. It still wasn’t enough, he realized, rubbing his cheek against the heavy silk of her hair. It wouldn’t be until her pussy surrounded his cock with its blistering heat.

“Are you smelling my hair again?”

He smiled at the softly spoken question, acknowledging the attempt at humor but detecting the quiver beneath. Trepidation or arousal? He clasped her waist, his thumbs meeting on the ridges of her spine. Yet he didn’t linger. His breathing deepened as desire punched a hole in his stomach, and he slid his hands up the sides of her slender torso, not stopping until he cupped the undersides of her generous breasts. Generous, beautiful breasts, he amended as he gave the mounds a light squeeze.

Rowyn stiffened, gasped, and released the sweetest whimper he’d ever heard. It echoed the need that stiffened his cock, gripped his balls, and twisted his gut.

“God, that’s sweet,” he murmured and flicked his thumbs across the hard nipples that poked against the thin fabric of her dress. His reward came in the form of another needy moan. She dropped her head back and rested it on his shoulder. Quick bursts of air parted her lips, and the thick black fan of lowered lashes hid her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her temple and, without words, declared how beautiful he found her. With his hands he worshipped her, molding her flesh, circling and then pinching the hard tips cresting her breasts.

The pained cries in no way resembled the sobs from that afternoon. Rowyn arched and twisted under his touch, then encircled his wrists like cuffs with her fingers. But not to restrain him. To hold on.

He nipped the curve of her ear. “Do you know how good you feel to me?” he rasped. “I could come just from squeezing these lovely breasts. Or your nipples.” Darius released a rough, broken chuckle that sounded tormented to his ears. “I’ve dreamed about sucking your nipples, sweetheart. How they feel on my tongue. Sometimes I’ve woken up savoring the imprint of them,” he growled and rolled the stiff peaks, tugged them until she shuddered against him. The restless shifting of her thighs, the sensual roll of her hips—they all telegraphed her heightened lust.
So fucking responsive.
He gritted his teeth as her ass stroked over his dick.

“Fuck this,” he snapped and abandoned her breasts. Ignoring her whispered protest, he shifted backward and attacked his belt. In seconds he had the slim leather freed of its buckle, the pants’ closure open, and zipper lowered. With one hand he reached inside his boxers and fisted his aching cock, while with the other he shoved his pants and underwear beneath his balls.

“Lift your skirt.” The guttural command reflected the hunger that flayed him. He wanted to give her tenderness—should have been controlled enough to—but it eluded him at the promise of being balls-deep inside her pussy after six long months of dreaming about it.

Rowyn obeyed; she clutched the skirt of her dress and bunched the material until the hem brushed the bottom curve of her ass. Then, like a seductive striptease, she revealed the perfect globes bared by a pink lace thong. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

A bead of precum appeared on his cockhead.

“Now the panties, sweetheart,” he encouraged, rocking his hips forward and thrusting his dick through his fist, a poor substitute for the wet, swollen flesh Rowyn slowly bared as she inched the lace underwear over her ass. “Don’t let the dress go,” he ordered when the skirt started to drift down. “Hold it up and bend over. I want to see your pussy.”

Rowyn hesitated. He noticed the minute clenching of her fists around the dress hem, as if she was unsure or embarrassed. Didn’t she realize how hard she made him—how hot she made him burn? Shame on
him
if she doubted his desire or need for her.

“Do it, sweetheart.” He rubbed his palm up the outside of her smooth thigh. The muscle tensed, then relaxed. He continued the sensual exploration to her bare hip. “I’ve dreamed about your pretty pussy for months. I need to see, baby.”

She gathered the skirt in front of her and bent over at the waist. Immediately he centered his gaze on the pink, swollen folds that glistened with her cream. He tightened his grip on his cock as Rowyn smoothed her thong down her slim thighs and exposed more of her lovely sex.

He couldn’t help himself. Darius reached out and traced her slit with his forefinger. His balls drew up at the first touch of her flesh in so long. He groaned. Warm. Soft. Heavy juices coated his fingertip, and he stroked forward, covering the whole length of his finger in her wetness.

Rowyn flinched, a low, needy sound escaping her. She’d frozen, clutching her ankles, where her lacy panties pooled. Except for that small, initial jerk, she remained steady for his caress, her breath harsh pants in the otherwise silent room.

He strummed her clit once, twice. She repeated that sound—the one that twisted his gut—but stayed motionless for his touch. As a reward, he gave the engorged nub a firmer touch. Her thighs quivered. He drew back, dragging moisture with him. And when he came to the tiny entrance to her pussy, he paused. Her breathing stilled. Darius tore his rapt attention away from her ass and the puffy lips, and skimmed down.

The long tail of her hair fell over her shoulder, and the tip brushed the floor. Her face was hidden from him as she pressed her forehead to her knees, but the slight arch of her back, the suspension of breath broadcasted her anticipation, her eagerness to be penetrated, filled.

He circled the opening, and it clenched against his fingertip. God, it was so small. His dick jerked under his palm as he thought of pressing into that hole, stretching it, being surrounded by it.

“Darius.” Rowyn’s muffled plea urged him to give her a deeper caress. But he resisted. “No,” she protested as he abandoned her flesh, lifted his juice-covered finger to his mouth, and slid it over his tongue.

Ignoring her whimper, he sucked her delicious cream clean and couldn’t contain the hungry growl as her essence detonated on his tongue and filled his mouth with her flavor. He wanted to dive back into her pussy for more. With regret, he pulled his finger free of his mouth.

“You taste so good,” he murmured and lowered his hands to her waist. “Stand up, sweetheart.” Rowyn straightened and stepped free of her underwear. The desire to finally see her naked again roared up in him, and he submitted to the craving. He slid his thumbs under the dress’s straps and stroked them over her shoulders and down her arms. The thin material caught at her hips for a moment before joining the lace at her ankles.

Leaning forward, he encircled her wrists and guided her arms above her head, flattening her palms to the window.

She was…breathtaking. With the setting sun illuminating her tall, elegant, curvaceous body, she resembled a pagan goddess ready—demanding—to be worshipped. He succumbed.

Darius pressed his lips to her nape. He followed the elegant length of her back to the dip at the base and then retraced the damp line, not pausing until he reached her neck once more.

“So lovely.” With a reverent sigh, he cupped her breasts again, the nipples captured between his fingers. As he pinched the hard tips, he nestled his cock between her ass cheeks. Rowyn moaned and ground her hips back against his groin, at the same time pushing her breasts into his hands. Bending his knees, he slowly straightened, his shaft separating the shadowed cleft between her ass cheeks. The paler flesh of his dick parting the mocha skin of the rounded, firm globes struck him as beautiful. The perfect blending of rich color.

He held her tightly to him, his grip on her soft flesh like an anchor as he pulled back, slid his shaft between her drenched pussy lips, and coated his cock in her cream. Rowyn widened her stance as if in invitation to repeat the caress, but he again rode the dark slit of her ass. With a tortured groan, he released her breasts, palmed her cheeks, and pressed them close together to form a tight channel for his aching dick.

“Fuck,” he whispered and watched his cockhead appear and disappear. Blood thundered in his head, then rushed straight to his erection, filling it, hardening it more. His breath burst from his lips in harsh pants as electricity tingled at the small of his back and zinged to his balls. The feeling of her flesh surrounding his cock along with the visual stimulation dragged him to the edge of orgasm before casting him over with a hoarse roar.

His heart stopped, his hips jerked, and his thigh muscles quivered with the force of release. Rowyn bucked beneath him, rocking her ass over his dick and wringing every drop of cum he had left.

“Sweetheart.” The endearment was all he could manage after the ecstasy he’d experienced. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on her shoulder. Aftershocks raced through his body, shivered over his skin. And still his hips worked at her ass in a lazy rhythm.

Several moments passed. Quiet claimed the room, and with a sigh, he straightened and shifted away. He focused his gaze on her back and the milky evidence of his lust that he’d shot all over her skin. He murmured an apology, yanked his shirt over his head, and wiped away his semen. After hitching his pants and underwear up to his hips, he knelt and gathered her clothes from the floor and folded them over an arm. Then he rose to his feet, clasped one of her hands, lowered it from the window, and turned her away from the glass to face him.

“Thank you,” he said before taking her lips. He dipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her sweetness. Rowyn arched up to meet his kiss and deepen it with a hunger that stirred the fire his release hadn’t extinguished. She slanted her head and sucked on his tongue. And damn if he didn’t feel the suckling motion on his balls. “Come with me,” he growled into her mouth.

Darius guided her across the room, and as they passed the couch, he tossed their discarded clothing on the armrest before continuing toward the bedroom.

They crossed the threshold, and he closed the door behind them. In seconds he dropped his pants and underwear to the floor and stood as naked as she. Her soft gasp seemed to resonate in the silent room like a shout across an empty stadium. She raised her eyes to meet his, and he almost grabbed her to him. Need. Desire. Both darkened her gaze. Then she lowered her lashes and hid what his mind wanted to believe had also been tenderness.