Sneaking a Peek (3 page)

“You know, babe, if you wanted to watch me work out, all you had to do was ask.”

Bastard!

His sincerity had lasted five seconds, and now his attitude was back in cocky male flair.

She pulled her foot back, tempted to kick him in his perfect face, but he gripped her tight, not letting her budge. Instead, she growled, “You know what Ethan, just forget it. You can take your oversized ego and go home. I can take care of myself.”

He chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice annoying and arousing at the same time. “Come on, babe. You may have had enough of me, but I’m far from finished with you.”

Tarney jerked back in surprise. Their relationship had always been on the flirty side, but his statement seemed different, bolder. Decisive. Did he want to take things to the next level too?

Her mind went wild with the possibilities. She wanted to reach up and brush away the stray pieces of hair dangling over his eyes. To watch his lips part when she leaned in for a kiss. To graze his crotch with her leg and see how he would react.

Christ.
She needed a cold shower and the remainder of the Moscato.

A sharp sting forced her attention back to her foot, and she winced at the tiny sliver Ethan raised with his tweezers. Damn. All that pain for one miniscule piece of glass.

His fingers caressed her sole like they had her hand. This time, the tickling sensations ran all the way up her leg and shot straight to her pussy. She closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Holy moly
.
She needed to get Ethan out of her house, and out of stroking distance, before she went all psycho molester on his ass, before the fireworks in Chinatown became too hard to ignore, or before she started grabbing at his hose to put her fire out.

Chapter Two

Ethan made sure there were no more glass shards in Tarney’s foot before he cleaned the area with an antiseptic swab. His heart rate began to slow, his tension easing as the strong clinical scent took away the potent smell of her arousal. He’d already been breathing shallow through his mouth for the last ten minutes, trying to keep his mind off the delicious musk penetrating his senses, and to calm his hunger before he sunk his face between her thighs.

For fuck’s sake, he needed to focus on her injuries.

She was lucky the glass hadn’t been any bigger. Stitches wouldn’t be necessary, and the cuts on her hands were merely scratches. He tried to play it cool—now—but he’d been pretty jumpy over her accident. What if she’d landed on the wineglass and nicked an artery?

Placing two butterfly bandages over the affected area on her sole, he took his time, letting his fingers linger on her skin. He didn’t want to stop touching her, not tonight, not ever. He released her foot and stood between her toned legs, positioning his body as close as possible while he cleaned her hand with another swab.

What would she think about the massive hard-on he was sporting behind his shorts? If he hadn’t grabbed a loose shirt on his sprint back out of his house, there would be no way to hide his interest. Would she quit her sulking if she knew how much he wanted to taste her?

At the moment, she wouldn’t even look him in the eye, her gaze constantly focused elsewhere—at the sink, over his shoulder, on her hand.

“Are you finished yet?” Her tone was gruff, but he had a feeling it was more to do with the hot sex vibes buzzing between them instead of her need to get back to “relaxing.”

“Almost,” he lied.

He didn’t plan on being finished for a long time. She would learn that soon enough.

When he was done with the scratches on her hand, he glanced at her face. Yep, her gaze still focused over his shoulder. Time to catch her attention.

Slowly he ran his hands up her arms, his fingers gradually gliding over her skin, moving over her wrists, up to her elbows, pausing at her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” She frowned, her head tilting to look him in the eye.

Bingo.

“Just making sure there’s no glass anywhere else.”

He watched the way she swallowed deep, but kept eye contact. Her eyes widened, the brown irises turning darker as he moved his hands higher, up her neck, around her nape. He found the band holding her hair in a ponytail and gently pulled, gliding it down the long honey lengths until they fell loosely down her back. With her chin held high, she followed his movements, her breathing shallow, becoming labored.

“Now, I just need to check your head wound.”

Her eyes closed, her head sinking into his touch while his fingers ran through her hair, over her scalp. Leaning in closer, he bridged the gap. He may not be able to assuage his need to taste her—not yet, but he could no longer resist inhaling her captivating essence. He didn’t know if it was her hair, her perfume, or a combination of both along with her luscious arousal—the scents a subtle mix of sweet flowers, musk, and vanilla.
Fuck
.
He wanted to lick her neck to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

With unsteady fingers, he explored her scalp, focusing on pleasure instead of the need to check her wound. She shifted, and he glanced down to see her hands now gripping the counter, her knuckles bleaching white. He traced across a small lump on the back of her skull, and she winced.

“Sorry,” he whispered into her ear, clenching his fists in her hair.

The need to sink into her became unrelenting, driving him insane. The fight with temptation too strong. It was wrong. The timing wasn’t perfect. However, the opportunity may never arise again.

He leaned in close to her lips, taking precious seconds to observe her contented expression—her closed eyelids, her mouth tilted up as if in search of his. Then, without a second thought, he kissed her.

She saturated him, infused him, making him harder than stone. She started at the contact, her head jerking back. He didn’t allow her retreat, gripping her hair tighter, his hands holding her firm. With purpose, he licked the seam of her lips, starving for a taste. She opened her mouth, moaning, the sweet breath seeping into him as her tongue found his.

He burned with hunger. The need to take her turned from a lustful urge to a compulsion, an all-consuming ache in his chest.

Releasing his hold, he untangled his fingers from her hair and traced his hands down her back. When he reached her ass, he clutched hard and was rewarded with a gasp. Tarney clung to him, and he was convinced he would never want to let her go.

He pulled her close, living out his fantasy by fitting their bodies together like puzzle pieces. Her legs stretched around him, and he followed the movements with his palms, guiding them high around his waist. Clenching her thighs, she gripped him tight while he trailed his hands back up her legs to her butt.

He didn’t stop kissing her, devouring her, and she kissed him back with equal measure. How could he get enough of this? There would never be enough. Holding her close, he began to rub against her, the hardness of his cock grinding between her thighs.

Ethan separated their bodies slightly, allowing his fingers to walk their way up the bare length of her legs, pausing when they reached the hem of her shorts. He broke the kiss and pulled back to watch her reaction, to watch those expressive eyes and see if she would pull away while he took a detour underneath the material. Would she ask him to stop?

Her throat convulsed as he pushed his hand up the inside of her thigh. Her eyes rolled back when he gave one quick swipe at her entrance with his fingers through her drenched panties.

Fuck, she was so wet. No wonder he could smell her heat.

When he traveled underneath the soaked material, she pressed her lips firmly together, watching—waiting. He didn’t want her to hold back, couldn’t stand the thought of her suppressing her cries of pleasure. He leaned in and brushed his mouth against her earlobe. “I want to hear you moan my name.” And as she moaned in reply he sunk two fingers deep.

Tarney didn’t disappoint. Her head fell back, her spine arching, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her groans filling his ears. He found her clit with his thumb and began to rub back and forth. When she gyrated against him, he slid his fingers inside her, working in and out. She was so beautiful—the way she convulsed against his hand, her soft mewls of pleasure, the way her eyes drifted shut in carnal bliss. The most beautiful thing in the world was the small spasms against his hand and her eyes when they opened in surprise. “Ethan…” she panted.

The sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver of weakness down his spine to grab him firmly by the balls. Fuck. He needed to get her naked. Now.

Without an ounce of finesse, he pulled his fingers out of her tight sheath, wanting to get her to the bedroom in an instant. Before he gripped her ass to pull her body around his, he ran his wet fingers against her lips, watched as her eyes widened, then took her mouth with his, releasing all the aggression he’d been withholding.

She tasted of heaven and hell—the sweetest delicacy and the strongest temptation.

He lifted her off the counter, and she encased his neck in her arms. “What are you doing?” Her lips were ruby red from his kisses, her expression a mix of arousal and shock.

“I’m about to make love to you.”

* * *

Tarney’s mouth gaped open and she stared blankly at Ethan. She must have passed out when she bumped her head, and this was the best sex dream ever. It didn’t seem possible to be in Ethan’s arms, enjoying the eagerness of his mouth, his fingers—oh, those talented fingers.

The confusion made her slightly hysterical, and she struggled for breath. She began panting into their kiss with staccato bursts of air.

Since Tarney returned from college Ethan had rarely been single. There was always a busty brunette or beautiful blonde hanging off his arm. Last time she covertly discussed Ethan’s love life with Jenna, he’d been dating a model or TV presenter or something equally belittling to her ego. That had been almost six months ago, and Tarney tried hard not to pay attention to the comings and goings of women at his house.

They must have broken up. He wouldn’t be kissing her if he had a girlfriend. Poor Casanova must be having a dry spell.

What about Jenna? Her best friend made it obvious years ago that she didn’t want her brother anywhere near Tarney.

She kissed him harder, trying to beat out the conflict between her desire and conscience. Should she finally enjoy being with Ethan in real life instead of forever keeping him in her fantasies? Or listen to her mind and put her friendship with Jenna first?

With lust coursing through her veins like a drug, she couldn’t understand how something so good could be a no-go zone. It wasn’t as if sex equaled a committed relationship. This was just a one-time thing. Surely Jenna wouldn’t care if they had a quickie. She would probably gag, block her ears, and sing “la-la-la-la-la” while Tarney tried to discuss the situation. It wouldn’t really affect their friendship, or at least, it shouldn’t.

She pierced her nails into his skin as their tongues tangled. He replied with a growl, clutching her tighter, possession and greed in every squeeze of his hands. The surge of hunger from Ethan finalized her decision. She would put the unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind and deal with them later.

The weight of doubt lifted from her shoulders, and she took the time to cherish every motion, every touch without succumbing to guilt. She clenched her thighs tighter around his waist, grinding herself against him. He moaned into her mouth, making the heat of her core pulse hotter.

He stumbled while kicking off his shoes, and she opened her eyes, pulling back to find them now in her bedroom. With a steady hand, he supported her weight and flicked the light on with the other.

Holy shit
.

This was it. They were going to have sex. She was really, truly going to have sex with Ethan. A mix of utter terror and heightened excitement began to build in her belly as she fixated on his gaze.

“You look scared,” he whispered.

Nodding, she admitted, “Yeah, I kinda am.”

She wanted to be a woman capable of casual sex, but she couldn’t convince herself that she’d be able to walk away afterward when the man was Ethan. He’d held her heart for a long time. Every past relationship slowly fell apart when she started comparing her partners to him. They were never good enough, sweet enough, playful enough.

He studied her face, and the hard length of his erection settled against her sex. His strong hands still gripped her ass. “We don’t have to do this. I just thought—”

“No.” She shook her head in earnest and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I want to…” She paused trying to think of the right words. “It just feels like more than casual sex for some reason.”

He studied her, reading her mind, and touching her soul. “It does for me too.”

With a heartfelt smile, he placed a soft kiss on her lips and walked them to the bed. On his knees, he climbed onto the mattress and laid her down in the middle against the pillows. The back of her skull voiced a slight protest of pain, the twinge barely registering above the heightened awareness of lust. He stroked the side of her face, his fingers trailing along her jaw as he admired her.

It’s not too late to back out
,
her conscience sounded. The voice was easy to ignore. She’d made up her mind and believed she’d settled on the right decision.

He sat back on his haunches between her spread thighs and removed his Rangers shirt. She stared at him, appreciating the close up view, taking mental pictures from the waistband of his shorts, up the curves and hollows of his abs, and along the straining muscles of his jaw to his glinting eyes. She wouldn’t forget this moment any time soon, and when he left in the morning, she would go back through the album in her mind. Every instance would be savored, every inch of him memorized so the next bout of self-love would be all the more enjoyable.

“Like what you see?” he asked with a grin.

She shrugged. “You’re not too bad. Although I’d probably increase your number of pull-ups from twenty to thirty, you seem to be slacking off lately.”