Wyne and Song (5 page)

He released her and stepped back, his shirt hitting the floor a second before his tongue, as he watched the beauty free her arms and let the dress fall around her feet. He sucked in a breath at the sight of her standing in a black, lacy bra and tiny matching panties.

And, hot damn, those sexy do-me heels.

She was a vision. A goddess. An erotic fantasy he’d carry with him for years. “You’re so beautiful, Phoebe.” 

Soft, wavy hair cascading down her back, dark gaze smoldering, perfect breasts spilling out of the top of her bra…

“Ethan,” she said, voice breathless, body visibly shaking. “If you don’t touch me, I swear I’m going to burst.”

He stepped closer and stared into her fathomless brown eyes while he ran his hands up her arms, noting with satisfaction that goose bumps followed. “Oh, you’re going to burst, Phoebe, several times.”

She clutched his biceps and smiled that sexy grin. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

In the next breath, they were kissing like their life depended on it. She melted into him, her body soft, and trembling, heaven, pure heaven against his skin, while her hands touched him everywhere, stroking and gripping, driving him mad.

He broke the kiss and sucked in air as he bent to brush his lips over the swell of her breasts. She gasped and grabbed his head, holding him close. He was right where he wanted to be. With this gorgeous, generous, woman. He needed to be here. Needed this. Needed her touch, to feel her need for him shake her to her very core while he was buried deep inside her.

To feel wanted.

Reaching behind, he unhooked her bra, nudging the straps down her arms while he kissed each breast, flicking his tongue over a perfect, pert nipple before he closed his lips around the bud and sucked.

“Ethan,” she rasped in a hitched breath, then moaned when he switched to the neglected nipple.

Her skin was so soft. He ran his hands down her curves then back up, needing to take this to the next level.

“You’re so beautiful, Phoebe. So beautiful,” he said, picking her up as he straightened. “Where’s your room?”

She slid her arms around his neck and leaned in to bite his shoulder. “Around the corner. The door at the end of the hall,” she said against his skin, drawing circles with her tongue, making it near impossible to concentrate on walking.

Cursing under his breath, he made it to the room, stopping long enough to flick on the light, because, oh yeah, he wanted to see her, to watch her face as she came. To memorize the look of raw pleasure in her eyes, a pleasure he brought her. Simple, ordinary Ethan Wyne.

He set her on the big bed, facing the New York skyline, and he had to admit the view was impressive, but couldn’t compare to the one wiggling underneath him. “Breathtaking,” he murmured and kissed her again.

And she kissed him back, running her hand down his sides, clutching his hips as she rocked up. He saw stars, and nearly lost it when she rocked a second time. Releasing her mouth, he kissed his way south, lingering on her breasts, teasing until she clutched his head and gasped.

He continued down her quivering stomach, circling her belly button with his tongue, smiling when he got to the promise land covered in a scrap of black lace. “Perfect,” he murmured, tracing the top with the pad of his finger before tugging her panties all the way off. “So, damn perfect.”

She whispered his name, then gasped as he nudged her legs apart with his shoulders and kissed his way up her thigh, his heart pounding nearly out of his chest at the mouthwatering view at the center. He needed to taste her. Needed it more than air. He placed his mouth on her, and she let out the sexiest damn cry he’d ever heard. So he explored and sampled and nibbled every dip and fold, delighting in her gasps. They had almost a tuneful sound.

“Damn, Ethan, you’re magic,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.” And when her throaty pleas turned to needy little pants, he knew she was close.

“Phoebe, look at me.”

She leaned up on her elbows and stared down at him, hair messy as if she’d been thrashing back and forth, face flushed, gaze heavy lidded and dark.

Damn, she was hot.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said, needing to watch her as she burst. Needing to see the pleasure, to know he satisfied her. When she nodded, he held her gaze and lowered his mouth back on her.

She sucked in a breath and clutched his head, going a little wild, her eyes drifting shut, but then, as if she remembered his request, she refocused on him. “Yes…yes…Ethan. Now,” she pleaded.

Happy to oblige, he gave her what she wanted, and loved the way her eyes dilated, pure joy washing across her face as she came with his name on her lips in a long, drawn out musical moan.

W
hen Phoebe finally drifted back to earth, and found the strength to open her eyes, she was treated to the sexiest, hottest striptease she’d ever seen. Okay, she’d never seen one, but this was hot. Ethan was hot. And hard. All of him. And his gaze.
Damn
. Deliciously dark and smoldering. She nearly climaxed, again, just watching him shuck the rest of his clothes at the foot of her bed.

Da’yum.
She sat up for a better view.

In her line of work, she’d seen plenty of muscle-ripped men. From their ankles to their ears. Even dated one or two, but most spent more time in front of a mirror than her, the nice ones were taken, and the really nice ones swung the other way.

It was refreshing to be with someone out of the business. And he was no slouch. The man playing havoc with her pulse had broad shoulders and a defined chest with ridges down his obliques and abs that bespoke of hard labor and time outdoors. Seriously gorgeous. But, what really revved her engines was something she hadn’t seen on a guy in a long time. A light sprinkling of hair across his chest and a little more forming a line from his naval to…
holy smokes
.

“You are truly mouthwatering, Ethan. Please tell me you have a condom.”

He choked out a laugh. “You’re the one who’s mouthwatering. And, yes, I do.” He bent down, then came back up with two packets in his hand. “Curtesy of Ben and Mason.”

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed one high up on the bed, then stole her breath as he ripped the other open and rolled it on.

She would’ve licked her lips, but her throat had gone dry. Bone dry. “I should text them a thank you.”

“Perhaps later.”

He bent down and kissed the inside of her ankle, and she thought he was going to remove her shoes, but he left them on and kissed her knee, thigh…then the spot that ached for him most. She slumped back onto the mattress, heart pounding, stomach fluttering.

Damn, she needed him inside her. Her whole body shook with that need.

How could she be so ready when he’d just given her the most amazing orgasm? But she
was
ready for him again.

“I need to be inside you.” His voice was low and gravely as he continued to kiss his way up her body. “Right now.”

She reached out to stroke his chest and smiled up into his face. “Great minds.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, dipping down to kiss her, but only briefly as he ran a hand down the outside of her thigh to grab under her knee and lift her leg to wrap it around his hip. “Definitely on the same page.” Then he drew back, and holding her gaze, he slowly shoved inside her.

Breath clogged her throat and her body stilled; he stilled at the exquisite connection.

“Damn, Phoebe.” He closed his eyes for a moment, the look of raw pleasure tightened his features, and when his eyes reopened, they were dilated and almost black. “You feel incredible.” Then his forearms hit the bed, and she gasped at the pleasure the new angle provided.

Incredible was so spot on. She could barely breathe.

He shoved his hands in her hair, fingers curling around her neck and head as he lowered his lips to hers. “I wanted to do this all damn night,” he said against her mouth, slowly thrusting, driving her out of her mind. “To be in you, buried deep.” His voice was thick, breath hot, and
damn
, the rhythm. He knew her rhythm.

How?

Didn’t matter. It was great.

She moved with him, meeting his thrusts, running her hand down his heated torso. He let out a deep, sexy groan she felt all the way to her tingling toes. And when his kisses moved to her neck and he nuzzled the spot behind her ear, she clutched his back and moaned, louder and louder, until her whole body shook. “
Ethan.
”

“I know. I know,” he said, drawing back, locking his elbows as he stared into her eyes while he continued to move inside her. “I love to hear your voice. Hear my name on your lips.” Then he changed the angle of her hips and drove deeper, faster, harder.

“Ethan,” she said over and over because he felt incredible and she needed him to know. Got the sense he had no clue just how good he was, how damn good he made her feel. He took her to that edge, that sweet edge and she was lost. Completely lost in him. The feel of him pushing her into the mattress, muscles straining, and intense look in his eyes as he moved inside her…it was all too much, and much more than she’d imagined.

“Y-yeah…” She gripped his arms and bucked wildly, uncaring that her panting and moans mixed, forming a backbeat in a crescendo, building higher and higher, matching her desire.

She couldn’t stay quiet if her life had depended on it. She just couldn’t. That’s what he did to her. “Ethan.”

“I’m with you,” he said, then lifted her other leg and changed the angle.

She cried out and arched against him. He took her out of herself and dropped her on this new and wondrous plane, and just like that she burst in a rush of heat and pleasure so intense her voice disappeared. A second later, he gripped her hips and shoved deep, eyes twin pools of liquid heat as he shuddered with his own release.

P
hoebe awoke from a deep sleep, all warm and toasty and…sore. She smiled as her eyes drifted open to stare at the slumbering man she was draped over. The hot man. Literally. Metaphorically. Gloriously.

His warmth and strength seeped into her even while he was asleep. Ethan was a force. In bed and out. She’d discovered that last night, and by the time they’d used up the third condom, after finding a whole strip in his duffle bag—apparently compliments of Keiffer—she’d fallen asleep completely sated.

Ethan, too.

Of that, she had no doubt. And the peaceful, even breathing of his big, relaxed body, sprawled on his back all loose-limbed and sexy as hell confirmed it. He looked good enough to eat. And lick. And nibble. Like she did last night. Need fluttered low in her belly, and she fought the urge to stroke. He earned the respite.

The sexy man gave her his all, and took hers in return. No complaints. No regrets, other than their night was coming to an end. She had to be at the theater in—her gaze sought the time from the clock on her nightstand—less than seventy minutes.

It was time to move on. They accomplished what they’d set out to accomplish. A great night. One where they could let their guard down, and just enjoy a straightforward night of pleasure. He didn’t have to worry about his son, or some woman wanting a relationship, and she didn’t have to worry about a Romeo turning out to be a jerk who snuck pictures of her to post on social media, or to sell to tabloids. They both got what they wanted out of the night.

Yeah, it was time to move on.

So, why was she still curled up against his hot, hard, naked body?

Stupid question.

She rolled her eyes, and forced herself to carefully untangle and move out of bed without disturbing the hot, hard, naked body. Light on her feet from years of dance, she snuck into the bathroom to grab a quick shower and emerged twenty minutes later in the clothes she’d had the foresight to leave in there last night. After round two and a snack. She’d suspected time would be of the essence this morning. Thanks to the hot, hard, naked man in her bed.

The now fully
awake
hot, hard naked man.

“Morning,” Ethan said, voice a little low and a lot hot. He was sitting up, lazy grin curving his talented lips, warm, teasing gleam in his eyes.

Her lilac sheets were bunched indecently low on his hips, barely covering the prize at the bottom of his sexy happy trail.

Heaven help her, her knees went a little weak.

“Morning,” she replied, a wave of shyness hitting her all of the sudden.

Which was silly. He’d seen her completely naked. Watched her cry out his name while he’d been buried deep insider her...several times. The man knew every inch of her, and she’d sampled ever delectable inch of him. And even though they hadn’t known each other long enough to be called friends, they were no longer strangers either. That left them in that awkward somewhere in between category.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked for something to say.

His grin widened. “Very. Someone tuckered me out.”

“Same here.” She returned his grin. “You were great last night, Ethan. Thank you.”

He reeled back, surprise lifting his brown. “Jesus, Phoebe, you don’t have to thank me. I enjoyed every bit of it, too.”

“Good. I’m glad,” she said, still smiling. “But I do want you to know I appreciate not having to worry about being videotaped, or photographed.”

“I would never do that.”

She nodded. “I know. You have integrity. It’s a Wyne trait. I’ve been around Ben and Mason enough to see it in them, and my friends hold you and your family in the highest regard. I never would’ve invited you here otherwise.”

Appreciation filled in his gaze, followed by a spark of heat, which brought her good parts to life.
Damn
. He was powerful. It felt as if her sundress had suddenly evaporated off her body.

He cocked his head, holding her gaze. “How long before you have to leave?”

Her tingling body was completely on board for what he wasn’t saying out loud—hot, wild, mind-blowing sex. She glanced at the clock, then back to him. “Fifteen minutes.” She knew he could have her screaming his name in under ten, but, she needed to keep what little strength she had left for her performances. She’d woken up all loose-limbed like him. Six orgasms would do that to a girl.

Maybe afterwards…

“What time does your bus leave?”

“Two.”

Damn
. Saturday was one of her longer days with two shows. She wouldn’t return to the penthouse until after ten that night.

Their time was over. Back to reality. Her life was on stage, or in front of a camera in New York or possibly L.A. His was back in Pennsylvania with his son, helping to run the family resort, and protecting the country.

They were definitely not part of each other’s future, although, she would see him at Lea’s wedding in two months. But, just as an acquaintance.

Because of this, she tamped down the urge to strip naked and crawl back in bed with him. “I’ve got just enough time for a bagel and some tea,” she said. “Would you like one? You’re in New York, it’s sort of a thing. And how about tea or coffee?”

“A bagel would be great, and coffee. Black. Thanks.”

She nodded and rushed out of the room, happy to put space between them. He fogged her mind. She needed clarity and control while on stage. And off.

Phoebe toasted their bagels and made his coffee, inhaling the aroma because she couldn’t have any before a show. Caffeine tightened vocal chords and hindered voice range, so she opted for decaffeinated tea. She was sitting at her island adding lemon to her tea when he entered the kitchen wearing nothing but his pants.

Damn. Dead-sexy.

Bare feet. Bare chested. Mouthwatering hot.

“Can I help?” he asked, stepping close.

She cleared her dry throat. “You’re just in time to eat.” She nodded toward his bagel and coffee…way on the other side from her.

“Thanks, but you didn’t need to wait on me, Phoebe.”

“I know, but you’re my guest, and I’m happy to do it.”

He nodded, and together they finished their quick breakfast discussing a safe subject—Mets pitching. A love they had in common, she’d discovered after an offhand comment at dinner last night.

But it was time to go. She carried her dishes to the sink, then turned to find he’d followed with his.

In an attempt to keep things on the right track, she held out her hand after he’d set his dishes down. “Have a safe trip home, Ethan.”

He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought her knuckles to his lips. “Thanks,” he said, then released her. “Good luck with your shows.”

She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “You need to take that back.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Take that back. You need to tell me to break a leg.” She wasn’t a hugely superstitious person, but she never took a chance when it came to performing. “Wishing a performer good luck is bad luck.”

“Oh, sorry. Break a leg.”

She smiled, then nodded toward her bedroom. “You don’t have to rush out. Feel free to take a shower. You know where everything is.” Because they’d shared a shower which had led to round three. Her pulse fluttered at the memory. Lea was right. Against the wall sex was amazing.

Well, in her case, against the shower tile sex.

“Okay. Make sure you take your key, because I’ll be locking your door behind me.”

Ah, the concerned worrier was back.

She lifted her purse from the back of the chair where she’d set it last night. “Got them in here. I’m good to go.”

And she’d better go. She’d been dilly-dallying too long.

He stepped close to lightly touch her cheek with his knuckle. “Thanks for having me over.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, telling herself to say goodbye and head for the door. “I never had anyone over before.”