When his stroke pushed her shirt up a little and his fingers touched bare skin, she tingled and tensed. When his hand slid under her shirt to stroke up and down again, only now on bare flesh, she bit her lip. God, that felt good. She swallowed a moan.
“How’s that?” he murmured.
“Good.” The word was muffled by the pillow.
She felt the bed shift as he rose off it. The rustle of clothing reached her ears. The light clicked off, plunging the room into darkness, and then the bed again gave as his weight returned to it. He resumed his back rub, now lying beside her.
“You take things so seriously,” he murmured. “You need to relax.”
“I’m relaxed,” she lied.
He laughed softly. “Yeah. Sure.” He curled his fingers over her shoulder, briefly kneading the muscles there. “That’s why your shoulders feel like rocks.”
Just what her massage therapist always told her. She let out a long slow breath, trying to release tension along with it, and burrowed deeper into the bed. Dylan’s hand spread warmth and languor as it moved it up and down her spine. Her jaw relaxed, her eyelids closed gently instead of being squeezed shut, and she actually drifted off to sleep.
Until she was awoken by a shout. Her heart lurched as she came awake, staring into the dark. What…?
A guttural, strangled noise came from the bed beside her and she flipped over to look at Dylan. She couldn’t really see much in the dark. “Dylan,” she whispered, setting a hand on his chest. “What is it?”
He made another noise, threw her hand off with a jerky, reflexive movement and thrashed a little.
“Dylan! Are you okay?” She sat up and gave him a hard shake. “Dylan. Wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open and stared at her unseeingly. “What the fuck?” he muttered. “What…”
“Ssh. It’s me. Brooke. What’s wrong?”
After a short pause, he groaned and rolled away from her. She touched his back, which was damp with sweat. Her heart pounded and her insides knotted. “What is it, Dylan?”
Chapter Six
“Oh shit.”
She shifted closer, stretching out on her side behind him, and slid her arm around his middle. He was shivering and sweating as if he had a fever, shaking a little even. “Are you sick?” she whispered. Maybe he’d contracted some kind of tropical disease in all his travels. Malaria, or something. Was that contagious? Probably not.
It struck her then that he had not kept his promise and slept on top of the covers, because she was now pressed against his naked body. Mostly naked body. He’d kept on his boxer briefs.
His body was so big against her, all hot skin and muscle, and yet shivering, so she snuggled closer. She pressed a hand to his chest and was surprised when he covered it with his own and held it there.
“Brooke.”
“Right here.”
“Shit,” he said again.
“You’re scaring me,” she whispered, right at his ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a bad dream. Again.” He groaned.
“Oh.”
“I’m okay.” But he didn’t release the tight grip he had on her hand. She stayed like that, absorbing the warmth of his body, until she felt some of the tightness ease from his muscles.
After a long time, he shifted onto his back. She went to move away, but he reached for her and held her in place.
“You were supposed to sleep on top of the sheets,” she said as he pulled her up against him.
“Oh yeah.”
She couldn’t help it, but her body fitted itself to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her head to his chest.
“You feel good,” he murmured. “You finally got to sleep and then I woke you up again. Sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay. You can’t help it if you have a bad dream.” But wow, that was some dream.
“Fuck.”
“You swear a lot.”
“I know.”
They lay there, the only noise the sound of the wind howling and gusting outside and rain pelting the glass doors. Darkness cocooned them along with the soft sheets and fluffy duvet.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Not really.”
“It might help.”
He made a snorting noise. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Look, I haven’t had one of those dreams for a long time. I don’t know why it suddenly happened again.”
“What’s it about?”
He was silent and she listened to his heart thudding beneath her cheek. “My accident last year.”
“Oh.” She’d read the newspaper and Internet articles about it. When it had happened, Barrett had been all pissed off because they’d just signed Dylan and he’d been all worried that their star athlete had been injured, and they weren’t going to get their return on investment from him. She’d been horrified, because apparently Dylan had almost died in the accident and all Barrett had been worried about was their contract and the money. She’d also ached with empathy for Dylan, a rising star, unable to do the sport he loved. Luckily his broken foot hadn’t been too serious. He’d healed, rehabbed it and gotten back in the water, and it had ended up being only a minor blip in his career.
But now she had to wonder if some of the other stuff that had been happening was somehow related to that. If he was still having nightmares about it over a year later…that had to have had some kind of powerful effect on him.
Without thinking, acting on instinct, she lifted a hand to his shoulder and rubbed him there. His skin was smooth, his bones big and hard beneath. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“I got slammed,” he continued without her prompting. “That’s when a wave comes down hard, knocks you off your board and drills you deep. My leash got caught on a rock and I couldn’t get free. I had a lot of nightmares at first. They were pretty bad. Then…they got better.”
He’d skipped over something in the middle there, but she wasn’t going to ask, just happy that he was talking about it.
“I don’t know why I had one tonight. It’s weird.”
“Maybe it’s the storm.”
“Maybe.”
His hand moved on her back again, stroking up and down like he had before, slipping beneath her tank top. An ache developed low down inside her and she had to resist tipping her pelvis against his body to seek relief.
“Your skin’s so soft, Brooke,” he whispered, and this time on the down stroke his fingers brushed under the elastic waistband of her shorts, which was folded over low on her hips. She tingled and the ache intensified. She squeezed her eyes shut against the rush of sensation, sucked in a long, slow breath, trying not to let on how she was feeling.
When his hand slid inside her shorts, she knew she should stop him. She couldn’t explain why she didn’t, except that it felt so good. His hand cupped her butt cheek and pulled her in closer and this time she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her hips into him, trying to assuage that pulsing ache in her pussy. There in the dark, with a storm raging outside, she wanted this, even though she knew it was such a bad idea. She wanted more.
“Mmmm.” He made a little noise of pleasure and turned into her a little more. His cock, hard inside the soft cotton of his underwear, twitched against her. She felt like she was in a dream, floating a little, in the dark, unable to see much, her other senses hyper alert. Heat. Strength. His warm male scent surrounding her. Her mouth longed to taste him and her lips parted involuntarily as he palmed her ass again and adjusted her body against his so that his erection was between them.
Her hips rolled in needy pulses against him, and he hardened even more and groaned. “Brooke. Oh God, Brooke, you feel so good.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She felt she should at least say it.
“I know.”
But that wasn’t stopping him either.
Lust burned inside her, hot and demanding, a hungry need whipping through her. And then he tipped her chin up with his knuckles and found her mouth in the dark with his.
Oooohhh God. His mouth closed over hers, opened and urged hers open too, and she kissed him back with hot need. His tongue licked inside, rubbed against hers, and she slid slowly, inexorably into desire, heat pooling inside her, sensations rocking through her. Flames built low in her womb, intense and burning.
God, he was a good kisser! His lips were smooth and warm, his tongue hot and silky, sliding in and out of her mouth with erotic intent, turning her on unbelievably. His hands cuddled her butt and pulled her in closer, and their hips rolled together in an instinctive rhythm of need.
When he rolled her to her back and moved over her, a thrill ran through her to her very core. He was strong and powerful, but she wasn’t afraid, because God, she wanted this, so much, so very much. There in the dark, in their haven from the storm, she felt safe with him.
He kissed her mouth, her jaw, scraped his teeth over her flesh there and made her shiver. Then he dragged his tongue down the side of her neck and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone. He tugged aside the neckline of her tank top to go lower then growled with frustration.
She wanted his mouth on her there and she tunneled her fingers into his hair and held his head, her hips still lifting against him. He covered one breast through her tank top with his hand and gently squeezed, her nipple puckering with instant excitement. A soft whimper escaped her lips and she closed her mouth and tipped her chin up as heat flashed from her breast to her pussy.
“Sweet,” he whispered, giving her another gentle squeeze. “So soft. Oh man, Brooke.”
She made some kind of inarticulate sound of agreement with whatever it was he was expressing with that comment, arching her back to push her breast further into his palm.
“Hot,” he muttered. “You’re so hot, aren’t you?”
“Ungh.” That too was agreement. His thumb rubbed over her nipple through the ribbed cotton of her tank top, then his hand drifted down and came to rest on her stomach as they kissed; more long, wet tongue kisses that sent her drifting dizzyingly among dark and sparkles.
She floated, her mouth open for him, her tongue tasting him. She nipped at his lips, so gently, and made him chuckle, let his hands roam her body, over her belly and hip, back to her breast, then down, down, fingertips once more sliding beneath the band of her shorts, this time in front.
His fingertips brushed her pubic hair and made her sizzle and shiver. She moaned into his mouth, sucked on his tongue and made him moan in return. Once more her hips lifted involuntarily, seeking his fingers. Oh God, what was she doing? This was crazy.
But he didn’t satisfy that hot need inside her, just rested his fingertips there. He pressed in a little, right on her pubic bone which was ultrasensitive and made her jump, then toyed with the curls there, all the while kissing her with erotic heat. She parted her legs for him and her hands slid down to his shoulders, holding on while he kissed and teased her. Then she reached for him, slipping a hand between them to find his erection, hard beneath the soft cotton of his underwear stretched over it. He groaned.
Dylan wanted to say something, to ask her if she knew what they were doing, to ask her if this was what she really wanted, but her hand on his throbbing cock had his mind emptying, his body buzzing and aching. He gulped for air and with frantic, urgent motions he pushed her tank top up, over her breasts, sweet Christ, then off over her head. He grasped her shorts and tugged them down her legs, leaving her naked on the sheets. And then he shoved down his own underwear and kicked them aside, moving back over her.
She reached for him and they both gasped when their bodies connected again, this time no clothing between them, hot skin to skin, so hot he was amazed there was no sizzle as they pressed together. She parted her legs so he could fit himself into the cradle of her pelvis, and he took her mouth again in a hot, hungry kiss. She responded to him that way, opening for him, her tongue rubbing on his, her hands sliding up and down his sides urgently. She made needy little sounds in her throat that turned him on even more.
Crazy, crazy, this was crazy. He knew it and yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t drag his mouth away from hers as he took the kiss deeper and it went on and on. Then he shifted to explore those beautiful breasts he’d barely got a glimpse of when he’d taken her top off. He kissed his way down over her chest again, this time in quick little kisses. He cupped one breast in a hand, so soft and full and perfect, and plumped it up so he could taste her nipple. He closed his lips over the budded tip and pulled it into his mouth. Her gasp of pleasure, her fingernails raking over his scalp, had his blood rushing through his veins.
He suckled at one tip, then the other, until she writhed beneath him, hips lifting against him, and he knew she needed it as much as he did. He went up on his knees, spread them wide and fisted his cock to push inside her.
The room was dark, her body a shadow on the white sheets. He wished he could see better, but he wasn’t about to stop and turn the light on, and somehow in the dark with the storm blustering outside, this seemed right. It felt sheltered, safe and secure. Private.
He let out a low moan as he pushed inside her, as her wet heat surrounded him, so hot, so good. Her body wrapped around his dick and squeezed and he fell over her. His elbows beside her head, one hand beneath her hair, he kissed her again, her mouth, her cheek, her eyebrows. She lifted to him, meeting his strokes with her own, and they rocked together in urgent need.
Her hands clutched his back, slid down to his ass and held on tight. His balls ground to her pussy as their bodies met, heat surging through him in waves of pleasure, his body rushing toward something. He fisted her hair, so silky.
This was crazy, incredible, sublime. It was fast and hard and fierce, both of them on fire, biting at each other’s lips, hands groping, making delirious sounds of pleasure and need. Sensation poured over him, electric, tightening every nerve ending. Pressure built inside him, fast and dark, growing.
He didn’t want to think about it, about what they were doing and the consequences of it. That seemed trivial and unimportant at that moment as a freight train of sensation roared over him, and he pressed his face into the side of her neck. She cried out and clutched him harder, fingers digging into his ass, her legs wrapped around him, going still beneath him. He let go, let it wash over him like the biggest wave, taking him down and submerging him in darkness and muffled sound, this time without the fear, without the panic, just exquisite pleasure slamming him, exploding through every nerve ending.