Marriage: Impossible (Voretti Family Book 1) (6 page)

Who was still staring at her.

That had to be a good sign, so she gave him her best sexy smile, hoping it didn’t wobble at the edges.

She had his attention. Now what was she supposed to do?

He was probably used to experienced women. She wasn’t a virgin, but she might as well be for all the good her senior-year mistake with Bradley was doing her.

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked. “Is your head still bothering you?”

“No!”

“Then why aren’t you eating?”

“Because.” Her face flamed with embarrassment. How could she possibly explain—

Her gaze fell to his untouched plate. “You aren’t eating either.”

“Yeah. I, uh….”

Either her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness or her imagination had kicked into high gear because she could swear his cheeks went red. Almost like The Great Sean Patterson was blushing. Either way, it gave her the push she needed.

She stood. It didn’t matter how much experience Sean had compared to her. She wanted him. And she was going to show him.

She threaded herself through the tiny space between where the chair ended and the table began. And then she was standing between his legs.

He made a sound—halfway between a curse and a groan. The glass table was cold against her back, but his body was more than warm enough to make up for it.

“Keri.”

He was so close that she felt his body’s response. Suddenly she was all confidence.

She threaded one finger under the waistband of his jeans. Got to her knees in front of him because she wanted him to know exactly what was about to happen.

He sat motionless, like she’d tied him to the chair. “What are you doing?”

“I think you know.” She undid the top button of his jeans, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin.

“We shouldn’t….”

“If you don’t like it—” she undid the next button, “—you can always tell me to stop.”

He swallowed. Pushed out a breath.

But he didn’t say a word.

With every button she released, her knuckles brushed against him, little glancing touches that had him straining against her. His fly fell open, revealing a pair of cotton boxers that outlined his rigid erection.

Her skin prickled. She ran one hand down his length.

The
feel
of him. Even through the thin cotton, he was all pulsing heat.

She drew in an unsteady breath. She needed him on top of her. Inside her.

But she wanted him as crazy for it as she was. She pulled down his jeans and then his boxers.

God, he was so hard. So warm.

“Keri.” His voice was rough with desire. “You don’t have to—”

“You’ve known me for twenty years. Do you really think I’d been doing this if I didn’t want to?”

She couldn’t wait any longer to taste him. She took him as deep as she could, making him a part of herself, for however long this lasted.

He growled. His hand fisted in her hair, holding her where he wanted her.

Exactly where she wanted to be.

S
EAN
HAD
JUST
enough functioning brain cells to know he was about to violate his most important rule of sex: always make sure the woman comes first. He fought through the haze of pleasure and need, finally finding his voice. “Stop.”

Keri didn’t listen. Her lips moved over the head of his cock, and his balls drew up, so close to—

He pulled back.

She looked up. Her lips were full and red and wet, and thinking about what she’d been doing with them was almost enough to make him come.

She leaned in. “Let me—”

“No.” He didn’t even remember if he’d given Keri an orgasm last night. Tonight he was damn well going to make sure she came before he did. Or die trying. “My turn.”

Somehow, he got her to the bed. He kissed her, and she sank into the mattress with a catchy little moan that made him even more desperate than he already was. Her hips arched into his, and he knew what she needed. What they both needed.

Don’t do this. There’s still time to stop
.

Keri grasped his shoulders, pulling him so tight against her that the voice of reason inside his head couldn’t find an opening. The real damage had already been done last night. All he was doing was giving Keri a better way to remember him than wham, bam, I’ve-lost-consciousness.

He notched one thigh between her hips. Her skirt was gathered around her waist, leaving nothing but a thong between them. The cotton looked flimsy—like he could rip it in half with one hand. And she was so wet. She wanted him, and he had to be inside her. Had to—

Slow down
.

He pulled back, breathing hard. There was an order to this. He needed to remember the order. Follow the steps.

First her shirt.

He eased her up and pulled off the lacy thing that had been teasing him with glimpses of skin all day. Her bra was made of the same thin fabric—more decorative than functional. Her nipples were hard buds underneath it, begging for his touch, and he forgot how to breathe.

Every part of him was consumed with want. He tried to look away—slow things down—but her chest rose and fell in a series of quick breaths that drew his attention right back to her breasts.

He had to see them.

He undid her bra clasp. Brushed aside the lacy cups.

He kept thinking he would remember—one more kiss, one more touch, and last night would come back to him. But he didn’t have any memory of those perfect breasts.

Damn
. Had he taken her last night without even a second of foreplay?

Keri stiffened underneath him, like she was remembering his less-than-stellar performance, too.

Though it almost killed him, he pulled back.

“We don’t have to do this.” He’d managed to justify it in his head, telling himself the damage had already been done last night, but that was horny-fifteen-year-old logic.

“No.” Keri levered herself up. She kissed him, dragging a growl from his throat. “I want to. But… I don’t know. I got shy for a second.”

“Come on. You’ve got to know you’re gorgeous.” He kissed her—he couldn’t help himself—but something about her words nagged at him. “Besides, it’s nothing I didn’t see last night.”

She stared, not saying a word.

The truth pounded into him like a blast from an AK-47. He didn’t have any memory of their first night together because it hadn’t happened. He’d passed out, and she’d fallen asleep.

His whole body cried out in pain. Even the horny fifteen-year-old inside him knew there was no way to justify sleeping with Keri now. He had to stop.

He forced himself away from her, each inch a struggle.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull him back, but he didn’t move. “I didn’t mean for you to stop. Just slow down for a second.”

“I can’t.”

She glanced at his lap—at the evidence that contradicted his statement.

“What, exactly, happened last night?”

A deep flush washed over her cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m getting the feeling you had a disappointing wedding night.”

“No.” Her hand found his cheek. She turned him to face her. And then he was caught in her gaze—hot and raw and honest—and there was no way he could disengage.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather have been than with you,” she said. “There never is.”

Desire roared through him.

He kissed her. She moaned—a sound of total acceptance—and there was no way he could stop. It was all kinds of wrong, but some part of him had always thought of her as his.

She rolled away from him for a second, but only to grab a condom from her purse.

She handed it to him. “Can you…?”

He ripped the package open and rolled the condom on.

Then he was over her.

He had to touch her. He slipped off her thong. Eased one finger into her, trying not think about how wet she was, how tight, because he wanted this to last more than five seconds.

Her whole body arched, trying to take more of him. He had to be inside her.

He slid into her. The condom was thick enough that he shouldn’t have been able to tell he was within ten feet of a woman, but this was Keri, and his whole body knew it.

“Please,” she said. Then, “Sean,” and the sound of her voice—high and needy—almost did him in.

He reached between her legs and found that place where she needed him the most. One feather-light touch, and she went over the edge.

Her muscles clenched around him, and he forgot about everything but the feel of her. She was his, finally, the way he’d wanted for so long, and that simple realization brought him to the edge.

He’d felt pleasure before, but this was something else entirely—need and tenderness and an ineffable sense of completion, all at the same time.

As a wave of ecstasy finally swept him over the edge, he wasn’t thinking about Ty or Bri or what a huge mistake he’d made. He didn’t have room for anything but Keri.

*

The hotel’s blackout curtains kept the room dark, but when Keri woke, she knew the sun was shining its brightest, the birds were chirping, and even the chronic losers were having a streak of luck at the nearby casinos. How could they not when she was having the best day of her life?

She stretched, luxuriating in the feel of the cool sheets against her bare skin. Maybe she should sleep naked more often. Except, she knew her state of undress had nothing to do with her mood. No—this euphoria was directly related to the man sleeping next to her.

She rolled over slowly, careful not to bump Sean. After what he’d done to her—three amazing times—he deserved some rest.

She watched his bare chest rise and fall. He didn’t have the perfectly sculpted physique of an actor or model, but the rugged build of a man who’d earned every one of his muscles through the kind of demanding physical activity that happened outside of a gym. And who knew how to use them.

The thought of it had her wet and aching. She wanted to feel every one of those muscles flex. She wanted to run her hands over the stubble on his cheeks.

He turned toward her, like he sensed her gaze, even in sleep. She held her breath, but his eyes remained closed. His forehead knit, like he was working on a particularly tricky MCAT question, and his breathing grew quicker.

“Sean?” She laid a hand on his shoulder.

Just that light touch, and his breathing evened. He opened his eyes.

She wasn’t planning to kiss him, but he leaned into her, and the next thing she knew, their lips were locked. Her body strained toward his, and she struggled to keep the kiss light. This was supposed to be “good morning,” not “get a condom.” They had all day to—

Sean nipped her lower lip. Gave her a kiss she felt down to her toes.

She was only dimly aware of him easing her onto her back. And then he was on top of her, and maybe this naked sleeping thing wasn’t such a good idea because she could feel exactly how hard he was. How wet she was. How, with a single thrust, he could fill her completely.

Condom. She needed a condom
.

“Sean,” she managed, in a heroic display of mind over body.

He froze.

“Keri.” He set her firmly away from him. His brow knitted back up, and she didn’t need an MRI to figure out he was listing all the reasons why last night had been a terrible mistake.

“Look,” she started, before he could say anything. “Here’s the deal. I’m happy. No—I’m ecstatic. Last night was officially the best night of my life. So if you’re about to ruin it with some huge guiltfest…don’t. Because—”

He kissed her.

“Hey!”

He kissed her again.

“I was in the middle of—”

He kissed her a third time. His tongue touched hers, her body ignited, and she gave up on her speech. She couldn’t remember anything she’d been planning to say with Sean this close.

A shrill series of rings sounded, but she was so distracted that it wasn’t until the first round ended and a second began that she recognized the sound. Sean’s cell phone.

He looked up.

She wasn’t about to give him up to some telemarketer—not when he’d found the magic spot at the base of her neck—so she pulled him back toward her. “Ignore it.”

The phone finally stopped ringing, but Sean glanced over her shoulder, like he was trying to read the display. She pressed her body to his, reminding him what was really important.

He groaned. His hands found her hips. Fit her against the hard ridge of his erection—

—and
her
cell started ringing.

Sean pulled away, muttering a curse. As if the odds against the two of them weren’t already bad enough, now the Telephone Gods were conspiring against them?

Let them try. They’d learn not to mess with Keri MacKinnon. “I’m going to turn the ringer off.”

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table and noticed the caller ID—Ty.

It figured. Her overprotective big brother had never left her alone with a guy back in high school, so why should he start now?

It gave her absurd pleasure to flip the ringer into the off position.
Too late this time, Big Bro
.

Or maybe not, because Sean had moved to the far end of the bed. He pulled the sheet up high enough to cover anything interesting, like he expected Ty to bust the door down any second.

Her phone lit up, though it didn’t make a sound. Ty again.

“You should answer.” Sean’s voice was distant. Polite. “It might be important.”

“It better be.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “What?”

“And a very good morning to you, too.”

Trust her brother to sound like he’d won the lottery even as he was ruining her day.

Sean eased out of bed like he was worried Ty might be able to ID him based on a mattress squeak over a bad cell connection, and her mood darkened several shades. “What are you so happy about,” she grumbled into the phone.

“Whoa. What’s with the attitude? The S Man givin’ you a hard time?”

“No.” She snuck a glance at Sean just in time to see him pull on a pair of pants. “Not exactly.”

“I know you’re worried about him, but you’ve gotta let him figure this out on his own. You can’t solve his problems for him.”