Full Measures (8 page)

My eyes closed, and I sank into the memory of a fifteen-year-old girl. “You were popular, a good athlete, and had this whole bad-boy, don’t-give-a-shit vibe going for you and all, but I’m sorry, you were kind of an ass.” Tequila must have loosened my tongue.

Josh sputtered, nearly soaking me in the shot he was currently downing before he laughed. “Good to know.”

“I mean, normally, you were this really hot guy, of course.” I opened my eyes to meet his gaze and fell into it. His eyes had turned dark, nearly unfathomable. “But during hockey season, you were more than that. You were a god. Every girl wanted to be yours, and you . . . let them. You didn’t seem to care that you changed them out faster than your hockey tape. You.
Were
. An. Ass.”

He dragged the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, catching the rest of the tequila and my full attention. “And now what’s your verdict?”

I couldn’t pull my eyes from his lips. Mine started to tingle as I wondered what made all those girls run back for more of him. “Jury’s still out.” He’d been nothing but good to me, too perfect, really, but I couldn’t ignore the long line of girls he’d crushed.

“That’s fair.” He rubbed his hands over his forehead. “I transferred into that school my sophomore year, and it was rough.”

I nodded. I knew it well. The upper-class school certainly hadn’t welcomed a military brat with open arms my freshman year. But when super-popular Riley showed interest junior year and started dating me, everything changed. Freaking Riley. “Hockey gave me an ‘in’ to the crowd, but it’s not like there weren’t tons of rumors about why I transferred in the first place. Funny how the shit you pull in high school sticks with you if you don’t move away, huh?”

“Depends. You still sleep with everything in a skirt?”
Like Riley?

He clutched his hand over his heart. “Out for blood tonight, are we?”

“Truth hurts.” Especially lately.

He wiggled his eyebrows and motioned to my clothes. “Hey, I’d totally make an exception for a girl in Daisy Duck pajama pants.”

I wanted to laugh, but only a smile emerged. Maybe I’d lost the ability. “Shot?”

He arched those eyebrows in an are-you-kidding-me look. “You sure?”

I did an assessment. Nowhere near sick or pukie but pleasantly buzzed, so round number four it was. Lick. Slam. Suck. The tequila burned sweetly down my throat, firing through my insides. I wished it would burn through my heart and render me unable to feel anything.

“I remember you, too, you know. You were cute back then.” His shot glass made an audible
click
as he placed it on the counter. “Your hair was curlier and a little wild, like you were untamed, unbeaten. You were quiet and never looked up when I passed you in the hallway, but I saw you, knew who you were. There was something about you, a fire that was untouchable.”

I dropped my gaze to his bare feet. “That fire is dead.”

He stepped between my knees, his heat melting through the flannel of my pj’s. He gently lifted my chin, bringing me to meet his eyes, and my heart began to misfire. The intensity in his eyes was breathtaking and frightening at the same time. “The fire you have within you is impossible to kill. The first breath you take when you’re free of all this, it will come roaring back. That’s what is so impossibly beautiful about you.”

“Riley didn’t think so. I asked him over and over again to touch me, and he would say there was no point starting if he couldn’t finish. But he was the one who didn’t want me; I wasn’t beautiful enough for him.” If I hadn’t been drinking, I never would have said it. My eyes burned, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Josh brushed it away with his thumb. “What is wrong with me?”

Josh shook his head slowly as he shifted his hands to hold my face. His thumb grazed my lower lip, and my breath quickened. “Not a damn thing.”

“Then why would he sleep with her, but he wouldn’t touch me?” It was pitiful, and I knew it even as it escaped my mouth, but it just kind of tumbled out.

“Because he’s a fucking moron.” Riley hardly ever cursed in front of me, but the way Josh said it was almost a caress, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard, jarring me from my pity party. His gaze dropped to my lips, and they tingled in response and parted. “You are the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen. Always have been.”

Then he kissed me. There was no pause, no decision to be made, no slow approach. Josh moved in, and his mouth consumed mine. He tasted like tequila and lime . . . and something sweeter, darker. His tongue swept out against my lips and I let him in, begged him in. He filled my mouth, stroking the most sensitive spots and retreating only to return.

I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped as his mouth slanted over mine again. I arched into him, bringing my breasts in contact with his chest, and he made a sound like a growl. It was a heady feeling, that power, and I knew I would do whatever I needed to hear it again.

I let go of the counter, wrapping my hands around his back and neck. The muscles that played under his skin intoxicated me with their rippled movements, the heady knowledge that I had Josh under my fingertips. I kissed him back with everything I had, needing it, needing to be as close to him as humanly possible. I needed this, to feel, and Josh was more than worthy of feeling. Josh was worth experiencing, even if only for tonight.

He let go of my face, his hands drifting down my back until they cupped my rear, bringing me up against his very hard stomach. I had to see that stomach, to find out if it looked as incredible as it felt. I pulled my mouth away long enough to tug his shirt over his head. He sucked in his breath through parted lips and raked his gaze over my body. He wanted me. Me!

I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile and devoured every line of his body with my eyes. Sweet mercy, the guy was built. Tribal tattoos with strange symbols wrapped around his right shoulder and trailed down the right side of his sculpted chest. I traced the tattoo with my fingers. His skin was soft, but the ropes of muscles underneath were so deliciously hard. His stomach was a step beyond washboard, with those lickable muscles carved lower, leading into where his jeans buckled. This was what a man was supposed to look like, and right now, he was
mine
.

I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled, bringing my body flush against his again. “You . . .” I struggled for words that could escape the gasping breath I was taking. “You’re amazing.”

A slow, sexy smile spread across his face, and a rush of pure lust hit me in my lower belly. I’d never felt it with such intensity in my life. “Ember,” he whispered against my lips, threading his fingers through my hair as it pulled loose of its pins, and sank back into my mouth.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles in the small of his back. He alternated his kisses between long and deep and small nibbles, scraping my lower lip between his teeth. It was driving me insane. My fingers itched to touch him, so I did, running my hands up into his short hair to slip them down his wide back, dipping into the curves and hollows of his spine. His skin felt smooth and warm, and I wanted to know how it tasted.

I broke away from him and forced his head to the side none-too-gently. His aroused laugh said he didn’t mind. The counter brought us nearly equal in height, and I drew his neck down to me, running my tongue up his pounding pulse. He tasted like sin and heaven, all in one man. His breath expelled in a large rush, and I had about two seconds of feasting on his skin before he took control again.

He tugged on my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my neck to the gentle scrape of his teeth. Holy. Shit. He licked and sucked, sending jolts of electricity down my neck, raising goose bumps on my flesh before the chills raced right between my thighs and became something much hotter. I grabbed on to the waistband of his jeans, desperate for an anchor before I melted into a puddle on the freaking counter.

He tugged on the sleeves of my sweater, and I fumbled in my haste to get the thing off. I wanted his hands on my skin. I needed more of the rush, whatever his touch was setting off in me. He dropped kisses along my neck to my exposed shoulders, tracing his way to my elbow, where he licked the inside. I’d never thought of that as an erogenous area, but, um . . . yes, please.

His hands skipped to my knees and began an upward attack, skimming over the tops of my thighs. Everything within me clenched, waiting for the touch . . . that didn’t come. He gripped the lace hem of my camisole and retreated long enough to gauge my reaction. I lifted my arms above my head; I was more than okay with this. He slowly dragged it up my body, but stopped as the lace covered my eyes, pinning my hands to the cabinets behind me with one of his hands. My breath hitched the second before he covered my mouth with his again. Damn, he could kiss. With my hands captured above me, I had no control. I could only accept what he gave.

He gave me everything. He kissed the breath out of me until I whimpered, arching against him for contact. Blinded by lace, every touch felt more intense, every sigh louder. Then he slipped my camisole from my eyes and laid it on the counter with my sweater.

I sucked air into my lungs in heaves. Thank God, he was in the same state. I launched at him, pulling the short strands of his hair to bring his mouth, his body closer. I wanted everything. Now.

He unhooked my bra with one hand, cradling my face with the other, and the wait to feel his hands on me was torture. He slid both hands under my bra, cupping my breasts, and I shrugged out of the straps.
Finally.

The bra landed with the camisole, and my head banged against the cabinet behind me as I gave myself over to what Josh was doing with his hands. He put his teeth back to my neck, kissing a path down my chest until he expertly tongued my breasts, and I started to fly apart. I couldn’t control the moans that ripped from my throat any more than I could halt what my body was screaming for. I clutched his head, losing myself in every sensation he rocketed through me.

He rose up, kissing my mouth once, twice, before leaning his forehead against mine. We both struggled to maintain our breathing. “God, Ember.”

I said the only thing I could think of. “More.”

He lifted his head, staring into my eyes like he could see through my soul. “This isn’t what you want.”

I watched his eyes darken as I dragged my fingernails lightly down his smooth chest, tracing the ridges of his muscles. “Yes, it is. Please don’t stop.” Was that really my breathless, pleading voice?

He closed his eyes, and the muscles in his jaw flexed. He was fighting for control. His hands stroked down my waist, squeezing lightly before he let go to grasp the counter. He was pulling away. This couldn’t stop! Not when I felt this good, this alive. “Please, Josh,” I pleaded.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He bent his head like he was praying.

“I’m a virgin, not a moron.” Virgin. How many girls had steady boyfriends their sophomore year in college and still remained virgins? I shifted my seat on the counter; my insides were throbbing. “Josh, please?” He let out a deep breath, every muscle in his torso contracting. Every word I could think of to describe how incredibly hot he was contained four letters. Damn. I wanted that skin over me, around me, in me. “Please put your hands on me?”

He growled, the sound feral, carnal, and attacked, devouring my mouth and stealing my soul. He wanted me; I felt that much between my thighs when he pulled my rear off the countertop. I squeezed my ankles behind his waist and tightened my grip on his neck as he lifted me by my ass and began walking toward the back hallway. The strength in his arms was incredibly hot, and if he turned me on any more I was going to be clawing my way into his pants before we could find a bed.

“Which one is yours?”

“Second on the left.” I went right back to kissing him, this time darting my tongue into his mouth. He groaned and gripped me tighter, sucking on my tongue. Holy. Freaking. Hot.

There was something soft against my back. Oh, the bed. Yeah, that was right. His weight came over me, and it was the most exquisite pressure I’d ever felt. My neck arched back as he put his mouth to my breasts, his hands stroking up and down my body, igniting fires so scorching I thought I’d combust.

My hands gripped the comforter, twisting it viciously as my head thrashed back and forth and my hips began to move on their own accord. I wanted—needed him to touch me. “Josh—”

“I know.” I could have cried with relief when he tugged down my pj’s. I lifted my hips and awkwardly shimmied out of them, but I didn’t care. They were off! His hands ran up my calves, stroking behind my knees, and then over the tops of my thighs.

He drew his body over mine, our skin sliding in friction so delicious I tingled. Our open mouths met in a brutal kiss as his hand slid down my waist, and finally—finally!—slipped under my panties. I raised my hips into his hand, silently begging, and he groaned against my mouth. He slid his fingers along my core, dipping in to where I knew I was soaking wet. “Fuck. Ember.”

An unintelligible sound escaped me when he brushed against my clit, sparks flying through my body. I grabbed onto him, my fingers digging into the taut skin of his shoulders, distorting the tattoo on his right. He felt so good under my hands, necessary.

Again and again he stroked me, until I could taste how much I wanted him. I whispered his name, and he kissed me sweetly as he slid one finger inside me. My hips bucked, wanting more—needing more. He understood my garbled plea, slipping another finger in and stretching me. “You’re so damn tight. Perfect.” Pleasure webbed through me, low and deep, stringing me up tight until the muscles of my thighs locked and everything within me tensed. In and out, he stroked my body like he was playing an instrument, knowing exactly when to give more and when to hold back.

He dropped his head next to mine, his breathing ragged in my ear as fine tremors ran through me. My fingers clenched his skin. I needed something, anything. I couldn’t survive this tense, reaching and straining. “Josh, please—”