How to Rope a Real Man (12 page)

Oh, my.

Clinging to his neck for support, she dropped her head back as he bathed her collarbone with kisses. “You have? For months?”

His answer took the form of a roguish smile. After another wet, reckless kiss, he dragged his lips to the pressure point at the side of her neck and locked his teeth on her flesh with enough pressure that a
zing
of pleasure rocketed all the way down her legs.

“Harder,” she said breathlessly.

He upped the pressure until the pleasure swirled perilously close to pain. Hot damn. She dug her nails into his shoulder and let her knees buckle.

After debating the merits of unzipping his pants and hoisting her dress up right there in the hallway, she croaked in a strained voice, “The bridal suite.”

They needed a room with a lock because no way was she going to let anyone interrupt them again, especially not Tara and Jake, should they emerge from the groom’s suite unexpectedly.

He scraped his teeth and tongue along her shoulder, then straightened to grin down at her, smoothing his hand over the path his teeth had taken. “Bridal suite it is. Does it make me a sick puppy that I like seeing my teeth marks on your skin?”

Jenna refastened his collar. “No more of a sick puppy than I am for getting turned on by being bit.”

With a chuckle, he released her and got busy putting his tux in proper order. “You think we can make it all the way across the lobby without every single wedding guest figuring out what we’re up to?”

She wiggled, realigning her breasts in the dress. “I don’t care. Do you?”

After a few fumbles with his tie, he pulled it off and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. “Do I care that everyone knows I’m the lucky man who’s earned the attention of one of the world’s most beautiful women? Not on your life. I was just trying to be a gentleman about your reputation.”

“Then we’re golden because my reputation in this town’s already shot to hell.” And good riddance too—both to Catcher Creek and to the pressure of adhering to the archaic standards of propriety most of the women in town held each other to.

“I’ve always wanted to date a bad girl.”

“Really?”

“Only if it’s you.” He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to her. “To hide the bite mark.”

She shook her head. “Let them look. Maybe later we can add a hickey to the other side to balance it out.”

“You really are a rebel. I like it.” He hooked the jacket on his index finger, slung it over his back, then took her hand and started toward the lobby. “Let’s get this walk over. I need you naked and underneath me.”

If any of the people milling about in the lobby noticed Matt’s and Jenna’s disheveled appearances, cat-eating-a-canary grins, or Jenna’s bite mark, they weren’t saying. Of course, the way gossip worked, no one would come right out and mention it, but if Jenna didn’t care what people said behind her back, then neither did Matt.

A few more steps and he would’ve had Jenna through the social minefield, into the relative seclusion of the dimly lit hallway leading to the bridal suite. Too bad Rachel cut them off, throwing her arms up and looking exasperated.

“Where were you two? We’ve lost half the wedding party. Lisa and Chris are off dealing with their kids, you two were nowhere to be found, and no one’s seen Jake in a while either. What if he left without telling Kellan good-bye? I wouldn’t put it past him to disappear like that.”

In a rare turn of events, Matt was at a loss for words.
Actually, Jake’s banging my sister in the groom’s suite
wouldn’t do. Neither would
Well, I was throwing a tantrum out by the Dumpsters until I decided I should be screwing your sister instead
.

What kind of hedonistic wedding was this, anyway? Crazy.

Perhaps Jenna’s thoughts mirrored his because her throat clearing sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter. “I’m positive Jake wouldn’t leave without telling Kellan and Amy. He doesn’t have a car, remember? As for Matt and me, we were seeing Tommy off with the babysitter.”

Great answer. At least one of them could think on the fly.

“And Jake’s probably getting some fresh air or something,” Jenna continued.

Heavy on the
or something
. He grinned at Jenna as though in support of her theory but choked at the red half-circle bite mark in plain view on her neck. It was even more obvious now that they were standing under one of the lobby’s recessed lights. He draped an arm across her shoulders, close to her neck at an angle to cover the mark.

Jenna’s flimsy answer satisfied Rachel, thank goodness. “Well, you missed the cake cutting. Here’s the kicker. The cake bites Amy and Kellan exchanged made Amy sick. Right before she was supposed to toss the bridal bouquet, she had another bout of nausea and ended up tossing her cookies—er, cake—into one of the champagne buckets instead.”

“Oh, no. Is she okay?”

“Fine. You remember how it is to be pregnant. You used to yak while running the tractor in the fields, then keep on truckin’.”

Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Lovely image, Rachel. Thanks.”

Matt could totally picture that. Jenna with her gumption and farm-girl toughness. Pregnancy-induced queasiness would be nothing but a minor inconvenience to a woman like her. He bet she’d been beautiful while pregnant, too.

The visual in his mind of Jenna ripe with child sent a pang of longing knifing through his heart. Tomorrow, he’d come clean to her about his genetic defect and plead his case for the future he could offer her. Tonight, though, was all about crushing his fears to dust by embracing opportunity and going after the woman he wanted.

“You two headed back in to the reception?”

Jenna shook her head and shifted toward the bridal suite hall. The bite mark, previously obscured by Matt’s arm, came into full view again in all its reddish-purple glory. “Oh, we’ve got a few more things to do. Details.” She swatted the air. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

She threaded her arm around Matt’s waist and started walking.

“What details? Everything’s done but paying the DJ,” Rachel called after them.

Jenna picked up the pace, tapping her wrist as if she wore an invisible watch. “No time to explain.”

Matt tried out his best apologetic grin on Rachel over Jenna’s shoulder, but his acting skills were crap tonight. With a quick prayer that the room was empty, he wrenched the bridal suite door open, piled in after Jenna, and kicked it shut.

Empty.

A freakin’ miracle. He flipped the lock, pressed Jenna against the closed door with his hips, and smiled at her. The delight dancing in her expression sent him over the edge. The next thing he knew, they both dissolved into laughter.

“How did Rachel not notice your neck?”

Jenna dabbed at the corner of her eye. “Rachel’s never been particularly perceptive, which is hilarious to Amy and me because she’s a photographer by hobby. And she’s really good at it! It doesn’t make any sense.”

Matt was pretty much done talking about Jenna’s sisters. Or talking in any capacity, for that matter. Impatience had never been an issue for him until tonight, but now he couldn’t dam his flood of need. He took her chin in hand and angled his lips over hers, sinking into her soft sweetness. She slung an arm around his neck and kissed him back, complete with a little purr in the back of her throat.

Matt was dizzy with the headiness of his desire, as if he hadn’t fully grasped the depth of his feelings for Jenna until he’d given himself permission to pursue her.

She broke the kiss and tugged on the top button of his shirt, concentrating all her focus on unbuttoning it. He watched her white-tipped nails work, mesmerized by them and by the way her hair tumbled haphazardly from the pins of her updo as she peeled his shirt and jacket off.

Her fingers smoothed a path over his chest, tracing the edges of his muscles. He flexed his abdominals and relished the reverence in her eyes. He’d never thought he had much of a male ego, but damn if it didn’t roar like a beast in response to Jenna’s admiration.

She was the most incredible beauty he’d ever witnessed. And she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Remarkable.

So full of adrenaline and testosterone his hands were unsteady and damp with sweat, he shed his undershirt, pants, and boxers, working until he stood before her, naked and hungry to crush his bare flesh to hers.

No more wading in slowly. It was time to take what he wanted. Blindly, he slid his hands along her back for the dress’s zipper, but couldn’t find it. “Zipper?”

Her hot, hungry gaze was on his erection as her hands continued exploring his chest. “On the side. Left.”

Fighting to ignore the feel of her fingernails scoring a path down his abs, into the hair below his navel, he found the hidden zipper and pulled it open. Then fingers closed around his dick.

Sensation ripped through him. He closed his eyes and rode it out, but he would not be swayed from his quest to get her naked. He smoothed his palms down her sides, along her gorgeously rounded hips. Lower, until the hem of her skirt was bunched in his hands.

He stilled again as she gave him a slow, tight, skin-stretching tug.

Fuck.

He rolled his neck, calming his mind. This whole impatience, full-speed-ahead mantra wasn’t going to be very fun if he couldn’t keep his shit together long enough to make love to her for any respectable length of time.

She tugged again. He grunted through it, then countered the move with a slow, wet, tongue-tangling kiss meant to distract her from her torturous ministrations. She released his dick long enough for him to get her dress up over her head and toss it to the pile of his clothes while she pulled off her boots.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, only a lacy, white thong. Her small, perfect breasts were pink-tipped, rounded swells of creamy skin framed by tan lines in the shape of a strapless bikini top. Intrigued, he tugged the strap of her thong and found another bikini-like tan line. Blood pounded straight to his dick at the sight. When had she ever been in a teeny bikini in the middle of the New Mexico desert and how soon could he be treated to a private fashion show?

She reached for him again, but he was faster. Taking her wrists in hand, he pinned her arms over her head. “Stay,” he commanded, his voice a dry rasp that sounded distant to his ears.

An open-mouthed, blissed-out smile spread on her lips. “I don’t think so.”

With a twist of her wrists, she slipped away from him before he could tighten his grip. Then her hands were back on him, running X-rated experiments on his body—a flick here, a squeeze there—coiling pleasure tight and deep in his belly until his eyes rolled back in his head.

Two could play at this game.

He closed his hands over her breasts, lifting, twisting her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. He ground his molars together, fighting the urge to take more from her, faster, though that seemed to be exactly what she wanted because she moved her hands to his head and jerked his lips to her breast. He drew her nipple into his mouth with a hard, decisive suck that made her knees buckle.

He wrapped a hand around her ass and the other around the back of her knee, securing her against him as he feasted on her upper body to his heart’s content. About the time he gave the left side of her neck a bite mark to match the right, they toppled to the ground, Jenna on top. She pushed to her hands and knees over him.

“Now I’ve got you where I want you.”

She crawled down his body and between his legs.

Holy hell, she was going to put her mouth on him. His hips arched and his eyes closed in anticipation. His hands went to her hair. Rather than the soft, wet heat of her lips around his girth, though, her next touch was to his inner thigh.

To his scars.

They were so much a part of who he was, he no longer saw them when he looked in the mirror, but he revisited the horror of the injuries he’d sustained in the eyes of every woman who saw them for the first time.

Lifting his head, he braced to see pity in her expression before meeting her gaze. But in her face, all he saw was strength and wonder.

“So you wear your scars outside, hmm?” she said.

He blinked. No one had phrased it quite like that before. “Some of them.”

She sat on her heels, tracing an arched, pink divot to the crease of his hip. “Sometimes I wish I could, too. I think people would be more understanding.”

What scars did she mean? From her crappy childhood? From Tommy’s dad or her parents’ deaths? She was the most extraordinary woman he’d known. If she had scars, they must be deep down inside her. “There’s a fine line between understanding and pity.”

“You’ll tell me about them someday soon?”

“Tomorrow.”

She nodded, appeased. Her interest shifted to his erection. His excitement had dimmed, so he took himself in hand and stroked. With a cluck of disapproval, her hands clasped around his wrists and she scrambled up his torso until she had his arms pinned over his head. Setting her lips close to his, she whispered, “Stay.”

She was throwing his words back at him and it was sexy as hell, even if he wasn’t in the mood to cede control. “Not a chance.”

The next second, he’d flipped her to her back and settled his knees between her thighs. He lifted their joined hands. Straddling her breasts, he pinned hers over her head again.

Their eyes met and held. A current of erotic challenge crackled in the air. Whatever he had thought sex with Jenna would be like, it paled in comparison to this intense, down and dirty intimacy. A vision of his future with her opened up. They’d never be bored. With her, he could explore his every fantasy, his every sexual whim, as she could hers. A thrill rippled through him at the idea that Jenna might be the one and only woman he fucked for the rest of his life. It would be ecstasy, pure and simple.

“You still want my dick in your mouth?”

She ran her tongue across her lower lip. “Feed it to me.”

Exactly what he wanted to do. Yeah, life with Jenna would be sweet indeed.

Leaving one hand over both her wrists, he took hold of his shaft at the base and surged forward until the heat of her mouth closed around him.

He pumped into her, not too deep, aware that she was helpless beneath him—her body pinned by his, her hands by his hand. The tip of her tongue pressed along a groove on the underside of his shaft, matching his rhythm, keeping her grip tight.

“God, Jenna. You’re so fucking perfect.”

He transferred his free hand to the back of her head and supported her neck. She responded by taking him deeper on his next thrust, deeper still on the next. He released her wrists and sunk his fist into the carpet as pleasure gathered force inside him. She wrapped her hands around his hips, grabbing his ass cheeks, urging him down her throat.

One day soon, he was going to come this way. But not tonight. Tonight, he hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. He backed his hips up, wincing at the divine friction of her lips grazing his shaft as he pulled out.

Kneeling next to her, he looked in awe at her body. Arousal looked magnificent on her. Nipples tight, her body supple, her lips rosy and moist. He trailed his thumb across her lower lip. When the tip of her tongue flicked him, he barely resisted the urge to feed his dick to her again. With a growl, he splayed a hand over her flat waist, scratching his fingernails over the strip of hair above her pussy until she curled her hips under as though trying to coax his fingers to move where she really wanted them.

He indulged her, sinking his middle finger into her folds. The breathy whimper she made in response left him greedy for more. He dipped his finger lower and curled it inside her wet, hot body as he kissed her, open-mouthed with tongue. His finger pushing deeper, he ground the pad of his thumb over her clit in tight, slow circles until she whimpered.

Briefly, he thought about adding more fingers, but decided against it. He wanted it to be his dick that stretched her first. He wanted that initial tightness gripping him even though it would probably take him over the edge too fast.

He ended their kiss and slipped his finger out of her. “Sofa,” he breathed. “Right now.”

He grabbed his discarded pants and stood, then pulled her up into a hug. She kissed a path along his jaw as he rummaged for his wallet. From it, he pulled out a condom, dropped the pants again, and scooped her into his arms.

The sofa was plush blue material and low to the ground. He set her on a cushion and dropped to his knees between her thighs, then pushed her legs wide and let his eyes drink their fill of her while he rolled the condom on. He planned on giving her long, slender legs a proper worshipping later, but right now, he only had eyes for her pussy—pink, swollen, and ready for him.