Full Exposure: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance (30 page)

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she told Kevin as she moved her eyes so that she could see his face. She was careful not to move her body as she’d already provoked one glorious temper tantrum when she’d stretched her aching muscles without permission.

“It’s no different than those photos you took of me.” His reply was absent, his mind quite obviously miles away as his pencil flew over the sketchpad.

“It’s very different. One, we were indoors and away from dangerous predators.” She eyed a passing alligator warily. “Two, it took a lot less time than your drawings are turning out to take. And three—” Her voice broke as Kevin looked at her—at her, Serena, not just the subject of his sketching. His eyes were hot and wild and more than a little turned on.

She felt her heart rate double, then triple. But he made no move to end the agony of lust she’d been existing in for the last hour. “Just a little longer, ’
tite bell
,” he murmured as he came toward her, shifting her slightly so that she was lying on her right hip—her right arm extending straight above her head while her cheek rested on her biceps. Her legs were almost straight—the bottom one bent just slightly. “I’m almost finished.”

He skimmed a finger over her nipple and it hardened instantly, begging for his attention. But he was already turning away, already picking up his sketchbook. And as the fever raged in his eyes, she forgot about the pose, about her modesty, about the insects buzzing around them and got lost in the powerful heat of his gaze.

It was incredible watching him work. Thrilling to see the intensity that came over him, the fierce concentration that took him over in the entirety.

Did he realize what he looked like, she wondered. When he sculpted or sketched or merely contemplated his art? The power, the beauty, the total and complete sexuality that flowed from him to his work and back again? It wrapped her up, took her along for the ride and suddenly she realized she had never felt more beautiful, more desirable, more cherished than she did at this moment.

How had it happened? When had he slipped past her defenses and become the first man—the only man—she wanted to wake up with? To stay with. To take from and give to. She would give him anything he asked, everything he wanted. It was frightening to realize how much she loved him, terrifying to contemplate what would happen to her—to Serena—if she yielded to him as completely as he wished.

Would she simply cease to exist? And if she didn’t, would she even recognize whatever parts of herself were left when the fire between them burned itself out?

“Serena,
bebe
, come back to me.” She shivered as Kevin’s voice slipped over her, around her. She refocused her eyes and realized he’d stopped sketching and was standing above her.

She grinned, shrugged off the fears it was too late to do anything about. “I’m right here.”

He shook his head as he settled next to her, his fingers rubbing soothingly at the sudden tension in her neck. “You were a million miles away.”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “Just a few hundred thousand.”

His grin was quick, but his eyes were quiet. Quieter than she’d ever seen them.

“I’m not like him, Serena. I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded, leaning into Kevin’s strength—because it was there and because she needed him in more ways than she was ready to acknowledge.

He picked her up and settled her on his lap so that she was stradling him—so that they were eye to eye. “Tell me you believe me.” His eyes were narrowed, intense, powerful—all the passion she’d seen him show for his work now focused on her. “Tell me you know that I’ll never do anything to cause you pain.”

Her heart rose to her throat. “Kevin—” Her voice broke and she had to start again. “I know you won’t mean to.”

His eyes narrowed even more while his hips surged powerfully beneath hers, and
she realized—for the first time—that he was fully aroused. Huge and long and thick and more than ready to bury himself in her.

She moved against him, but his hands clamped on her hips like a vice—cementing her in place. “That’s not what I said.” He thrust again, this time so hard that he almost bruised her. She felt an answering heat uncurl deep inside. “Say it.”

Serena eyed him disbelievingly. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound, trying to intimidate me into saying I know you won’t hurt me?” She struggled to get away, but he held her firmly as he continued to thrust against her, the hard ridge of his jeans riding between her slit.

His eyes turned black, stormy. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” He lifted and lowered her and the rough material of his jeans against her wide open pussy sent rockets of sensation shooting through her.

His callused fingers came up and squeezed her nipple, his thumb flicking over the hardened tip again and again. She tried to move, to rock against him, but his hand was still clamped on her hips. He was still in control and torturing her seemed to be the name of the game.

“Kevin—” Her cry was low and keening as heat streaked from her nipples to her stomach. Down her spine, between her legs, into every part of her. “Come on …”

He shoved himself inside of her—jeans and all—and she screamed, but couldn’t get away. Couldn’t get closer. All she could do was take what he gave her, helpless to control his movements or her body’s response to him. Helpless to regain control of herself.

“Say it.” He bent his head, whispered the words in her ear before his tongue licked the sensitive spot behind her lobe. “Say you’re mine and you know I’ll never hurt you.”

Shivers ripped through her as his breath added another layer of sensation to the feelings already bombarding her. “Or what?” Her voice was shaky, but it was the best she could do.

He lowered his head, nipped at her shoulder and her neck before settling down to suck on the vulnerable curve where the two met. “Or this is all you’ll ever get.” He slid his hand away from her nipple, down her stomach to her hot and hungry clit. He flicked it
once, twice—brought her right to the edge of orgasm with his thumb and the powerful heat of his body between her thighs. And refused to send her over.

Again she tried to rock against him and again he held her still. “Kevin, please.” She was sobbing—entreating—and she didn’t care. Tears streamed down her face and small explosions occurred with every touch of his mouth on her body. With every thrust of his cock between her legs.

And still he wouldn’t end it. His mouth slipped over her bare shoulder, down her breasts to her nipples. She screamed at the first flick of his tongue over the hardened buds, pleasure and pain mingling inside of her until she was twisting violently in his arms. Desperate for some freedom of motion. Desperate for the completion only he could give her.

“Serena,
bebe
.” His voice was soft and strained against her breasts, his tongue tracing patterns over and around her nipples. “I love you. I love you so much.” He lifted her in his powerful arms, held her suspended in midair as he lapped delicately at her clit. Just hard enough to drive her crazy without sending her spinning into space. “If you can’t say that you love me too, at least tell me that you trust me. That you know I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

He pulled her clit between his teeth and nibbled softly and she screamed again. She screamed and screamed and screamed as sensations unlike anything she’d ever felt before coursed through her. Pleasure and pain. Lust and fear. Overwhelming need and an incredible vulnerability that she couldn’t get away from.

She was on overload—her mind and body craving Kevin and what only he could give her. Only him. Only Kevin. He’d given her so much—she arched against his hips, desperate for a harder pressure, dying for just a little more.

Would it be so bad if she gave him just a little of what he needed from her? If she gave back to him just a little of what he’d given her?

He lowered her back to his lap, his tongue relinquishing her aching clit and she wanted to howl in disappointment. She’d been so close, had actually been teetering on the cliff that would send her spinning into ecstasy. One more lick, one more nibble—one more
anything
—and she would have flown.

“Fuck you, Kevin!” She screamed the words as frustration roared through her and
tears poured unheeded down her face. Any other time she would have been embarrassed at her lack of restraint, but he’d turned her into a wild thing. Bucking, scratching, biting, tearing,
begging. Pleading
with him to end it. Beyond desperate for the pleasure he could so effortlessly give her. If only he
would
.

“Gladly.” His voice was hoarse, tense, and for a moment—just a moment—she pulled away from the need raving her with its fiery claws. And saw his clenched jaw, his tense shoulders, his beautiful hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles were white. And for a second—just a second, before he turned his head away—she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

Her restraint broke, burying her fears under the weight of her desire and Kevin’s love. “I need you,” she cried as her hips moved agonizingly against his.

“I want you.” She lowered her lips to his, her teeth closing over his bottom lip.

“I trust you—only you.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.

With a hoarse shout, Kevin lifted her away from him and rolled her onto her back in one smooth motion. Reaching down, he unzipped his jeans. And then he was over her, around her, inside of her so deep she was afraid she’d never get him out. Even more afraid that when the time came, she wouldn’t want to.

Darkness was settling over the bayou when Serena pushed the door of Kevin’s truck closed with a resounding bang, knowing from bitter experience that it took quite a bit of strength to get it and keep it closed. He’d offered her the Ferrari, but she’d been a shade leery, to say the least. The way her luck had been going lately, she’d end up with a huge dent in the side and then Kevin would have to kill her. Literally. He wasn’t attached to much, but the Ferrari topped the lists of things he couldn’t live without.

She smiled as she grabbed the grocery bags sitting on the passenger seat, filled with stuff for dinner and two boxes of Twinkies for Kevin, as his supply was running dismally low. How was she to have known that she’d develop a taste for the little yellow sponge cakes herself?

She was getting downright domestic, she thought as she began putting the groceries away, humming as she went over dinner preparations in her head. In the last few days, she and Kevin had fallen into a routine. He made breakfast, she made dinner and they pretty much scavenged for lunch on their own.

And if she wasn’t quite as relaxed about the whole situation as she pretended to be, that was nobody’s business but hers. She was learning to trust—albeit slowly, as she waited for the other shoe to drop. But she
was
learning. At least half of her time with Kevin was spent in the moment instead of worrying about things she couldn’t control.

His work was going very well and though he was extremely secretive about what he was doing, she could tell it was huge. Not just in its size, but in the impact it was going to have on his career. The lines were clean, beautiful, so smooth and flowing that she’d never seen anything like it before. She couldn’t wait to see the finished product, with all the pieces assembled in their proper places.

She’d taken lots of pictures of Kevin working, relaxing, trekking through his beloved swamps. She’d also begun a series on Louisiana bayous for her exhibition, and she’d taken some of the most amazing photos of her career. Raccoons sneaking up and eating marshmallows from Kevin’s hands. Alligators cruising the swamp looking for
dinner. Even an incredible close-up of a cottonmouth snake dangling lazily from a tree.

But her time here was drawing to a close—she knew it and so did Kevin. It was in the way he looked at her, the way he held her and made love to her at night. A kind of desperation that hadn’t been there before.

But she couldn’t stall Steve much longer, as the publishing company was beginning to ride him hard. The deadline they had set was looming and she had more than enough photos to meet it, if she could just talk herself into going back to Baton Rouge.

But she was so afraid that their relationship would be over when she did. While she was here, doing her job, she could exist in a happy, little world somewhere out of time. She pretended her actions didn’t have consequences, that soon she wouldn’t have to make a choice.

Because Kevin wasn’t the type to settle for less than everything, and she knew she didn’t have that much to give. Not just because she was scared, though she was, but because her soul wasn’t intact enough to give him all that he wanted. She didn’t think she could commit to any more than she had already.

They had established a fragile peace after her cold little temper tantrum a few nights ago, and she could tell that Kevin, like her, was reluctant to rock the boat. But he was reckless and impatient by nature and she knew that he wouldn’t wait much longer before drawing his line in the sand, a line she knew she could never measure up to.

So she buried her head, letting precious days trickle away as she lived in her little fantasy world. But she couldn’t live in a bubble forever. Lately she’d taken to lying awake at night, listening to Kevin breathe as she watched the numbers roll slowly past on the digital clock. She’d begun to hate that clock, detesting its silent smugness as it slowly counted down her remaining time with Kevin.

Serena shut her thoughts down with a grimace. She was starting to sound like a total lunatic, and that
so
wasn’t the image she wanted to leave Kevin with. So instead of dwelling on what she couldn’t have, she focused on what she could. Namely, a romantic dinner with Kevin. One of their last. She wanted it to be special, so she was making her famous gumbo—a recipe her mother had taught Sandra and her many years before and one that Kevin had loved when she’d made it a couple of weeks before.

Serena turned the radio on, danced a little as one of her favorite Clapton songs came on, laughing at herself as she did. Wanting to set the mood, she lit some candles and dimmed the lights a little. Slapping butter and flour in a pan, she began making the dark roux that was the most important part of any good gumbo. When the roux was thick and bubbly, she added some chicken stock and let it simmer as she began chopping celery and onions. A new song came on and she swayed gently as she worked, caught in the romantic lyrics about piña coladas and the rain. Piña coladas sounded particularly good right now. Maybe she’d see if Kevin had some coconut in his cupboards.