Too Wilde to Tame (16 page)

He was a quick study, and it didn't take him long to master her rhythm and discover her most intimate secrets. When he was seemingly confident of his ability to take over, he urged her legs up and slipped his arms beneath her raised thighs. He pulled her hand away and laced his fingers with hers at the side of her hips, holding her captive and forcing her to give herself completely over to him.

It was an incredibly easy thing to do, because she trusted him with her body. Maybe even more.

Then that frightening thought fled as the heat of his mouth covered her and his tongue took over where her fingers had left off. Slipping. Sliding. Swirling in and around her soft, swollen flesh before suckling on her clit in the most breath-stealing way. He finessed her body with such utter attention to her pleasure, worshipping her as if she belonged only to him, that she nearly passed out from the glut of sensation he lavished upon her.

He'd told her he'd spend hours if that's what it took to make her come, but within a matter of minutes, she was unraveling from the inside out. She started to pant and then her breath caught on a sob as her climax exploded and she was consumed by a overwhelming rush of pulsing heat. The force and intensity of her release tumbled her into the longest, most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced.

And then, when you were wet and soft and ready for me, I'd slide deep, deep inside of you…

The shudders within her seemed to go on and on, and before the last of the tremors subsided, Cameron was moving up and over her. He covered her body with his own, all hard, lean muscles and barely suppressed hunger. In one long, smooth thrust, he slid into her, and she lifted her knees high against his waist to give him the deepest access possible. Once he was buried to the hilt, he closed his eyes and groaned as her inner muscles clasped him tight.

She knew he had to be aching for his own release, yet he went still, as if relishing the moment, the warmth and softness of being inside her, and the aftermath of the internal contractions still buffeting her body.

I'd make it last so I can savor everything about how you feet, inside and out, and finally, how exquisitely your body feels gripping my cock as I come…

As if he'd had a direct link to her thoughts, his lashes drifted back open and his darkened gaze locked with hers. He began to move, rolling his hips hard against hers, then plunging deeply. Again and again. Long, slow, agonizing strokes designed to make the pleasure last—for her, or himself, she didn't know, but it felt wonderful just the same.

He lowered his head and kissed her, the soft, sensual glide of his tongue matching the rhythm of his lazy thrusts. Eventually, the heat and friction and fire caught up to him, finally shattering his control.

She felt the change in him as his pace quickened, his breathing grew ragged, and he pumped harder, faster, toward his own completion. She dug her fingers into the rippling muscles of his damp back, arched high and hard into his thrusts, and felt him stiffen as his climax peaked. He dragged his lips from hers, surged into her a final time, and on a ragged, primitive growl, he spilled himself into her.

Breathing hard, he buried his face against her throat, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, giving him the time he needed to recover. A few minutes passed before he finally lifted his head from the curve of her neck. In the dim light, his features were shadowed, but there was no mistaking the satisfied gleam in his eyes as he stared down at her.

And in that moment, she felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable, because she knew he'd touched her in a way no man ever had—physically and emotionally.

"You look quite sated," he murmured as a matching smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "If I don't say so myself."

He was such a typical male, exulting over the fact that he'd just given her a spectacular, unforgettable orgasm. "Quit looking so smug," she said, though it took effort to hold back a grin of her own because he looked so damn adorable. And so incredibly sexy.

"Hey, I have every right to revel in this moment."

Yes, he really did, not that she was going to admit as much out loud and give him more of a reason to gloat over his sexual expertise. Nor was she ready to deal with the strong, overwhelming feelings directly linked to the orgasm he'd just given her.

Her emotional defenses automatically kicked in, and she instead turned the moment into a light-hearted one by issuing him a playful challenge. "However… I do have my doubts that you'll be able to do it again."

Holding her gaze, he slid a hand between their still joined bodies, across her belly, and down to her mound. His thumb pressed against her still-sensitive flesh, and she was shocked to feel her body come alive again. He stroked slowly, wringing a soft gasp from her, his talented touch proving he'd learned her body's responses and needs very well.

He arched a dark blond brow as a shameless liquid heat coated his fingers. Amusement and renewed desire mingled in his smoky green eyes. "Is that a dare?" he asked.

She felt him harden inside her again, felt her own body clutch his shaft, and knew she'd greedily take whatever pleasure this man was willing to give her. Memories to store away when their time together was over.

"I believe it is a dare, sugar." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought his mouth down to hers and murmured huskily against his lips. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Over the next few hours, he proceeded to make good on her challenge and gave her a night of erotic, forbidden pleasures that left her limp, spent, and physically fulfilled.

And earned him every right to gloat.

Chapter Eight

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CAMERON woke up the following morning, momentarily disoriented and confused about where he was, until his sleepy vision and mind cleared and his feminine surroundings came into focus—a noticeable contrast to his own masculine domain and a direct reminder that he'd spent an amazingly sensual night in Mia's bed. He could still smell her scent on his skin, taste the sweetness of her body on his lips, and recall the breathy way she'd called his name the last time he'd made her come.

That final recollection made him smile to himself and think of all the different, uninhibited ways they'd made love. He'd always known Mia was a vibrant woman, but last night she'd exceeded his expectations. She had an incredible amount of passion and an abundance of energy when it came to sex, and she was an adventurous lover. There wasn't anything he'd asked for that she'd denied him. No request made her blush. No invitation she refused.

Simply put, she was a man's dream between the sheets.

His dream. His fantasy woman come to life. A temptress who knew exactly how to turn him inside out with lust and a need unlike anything he'd ever known. A shameless nymph who wasn't afraid to go after what brought her the greatest pleasure. Physically, they were a match made in heaven.

Emotionally, however, she shook him up inside and left him reeling… and trying to decipher exactly what it was about her that affected him so profoundly. Unfortunately, he had no definite answers for that question, but he was coming to realize, and accept, that she was starting to mean more to him than a brief fling. And he had no idea what he was going to do about that, especially when a long-term commitment between the two of them was highly unlikely.

With a low exhale, he turned his head and glanced toward Mia's side of the bed, where she was still fast asleep. Her silky black hair was tousled over her pillow and around her face in a wild disarray, and the sheet was twisted around her naked body. She was on her side in a fetal position, with her arms pulled in tight against her chest and her knees raised up high against her stomach—as if protecting herself in her sleep or maybe to keep anyone from getting too close emotionally.

Even in sleep, she was such a paradox. She'd been confident and assertive last night, but now she looked vulnerable and almost childlike. And while most women wanted to cuddle after sex, once Mia thought he'd fallen asleep, he'd felt her move out of his arms and curl up by herself.

He thought it interesting that she didn't desire the simple human need to be held. He wondered if she felt stifled when she should have felt comforted. Instead, it was as if she preferred to be alone. He wondered if that's how it had always been for her, if being alone was all she'd known. Was she afraid of relying on one particular person too much, even for something as simple as tenderness and a warm, secure embrace? Or was he reading too much in to her actions?

She had three brothers who loved her very much, that much was obvious to anyone who knew her family. Three brothers and three cousins who took their job of taking care of her, and protecting her, very seriously. So this need to be self-sufficient obviously stemmed from something else that had happened in her life.

As he folded his hands behind his head and continued to watch her sleep, he wondered if he'd ever figure her out and then realized that was such a part of her allure and what intrigued him so much. All those facets and layers showed him that the person she presented to the outside world wasn't necessarily who she was inside.

Finally, nature called and he slid as quietly as he could off the mattress, then headed to the adjoining bathroom. On the way out he found his jeans on the floor and pulled them on, figuring he'd go and make a pot of coffee and watch TV in the living room until Mia finally roused herself from sleep.

But as he fastened the top button to his pants, he caught sight of a drafting table, which wasn't something a woman normally had in her bedroom. Last night the room had been shadowed and dim and his sole focus had been on Mia, but in the morning light, the drafting table piqued his curiosity, especially considering Mia worked as a secretary for her family's tile company. And as far as he knew, her duties didn't require such a large, oversized desk for her to use at home.

He moved closer and glanced at the drawings laid out on the surface, surprised at the talent evident in each one. Some were completed, others only half finished, but all of them were beautifully drawn with eye-catching and vivid details. Some of the pictures were floral designs, others of exotic animals, and some abstract. A few of the sketches were filled in with colored pencils, giving the picture a striking dimension that was sharp and rich looking.

Hearing a rustling sound from the bed, he glanced in that direction and found Mia gradually coming awake. She uncurled her body and stretched with her arms over her head, drawing his eyes to the way the sheet pulled tight across her full breasts and over the curve of her hip. His groin stirred—no big surprise there—and he forced his gaze back up to her face, which was beautifully flushed and glowing with sexual satisfaction.

His heart skipped an odd little beat in his chest, and he grinned at her. "Good morning."

She blinked slumberously, her lashes still weighing heavily with sleep. '"Morning," she murmured and then sighed blissfully, the sound rife with utter contentment.

A contentment he was solely responsible for.

As if he'd spoken his thoughts out loud, one of her eyes peeped open at him. "There you go again with that smug look," she said, the soft accusation in her tone tempered with humor.

He leaned his backside against the table and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Can you really blame me?"

"I suppose not," she admitted softly, huskily. "You were pretty amazing last night, and you did manage to prove, numerous times, that you sure do know how to rise to a challenge."

"Believe me, the pleasure was all mine." He winked at her and then swept a hand across the surface of the drafting table. "I was just looking at these drawings. What are they for?"

The light-heartedness between them faded as he watched her expression shut him out and she started to withdraw—from him and the new topic of conversation he'd just introduced. Intrigued, he continued before he completely lost her.

"I didn't mean to snoop or pry," he said, not giving her the chance to shut him out. "I was on my way out of the bathroom and the sketches caught my eye. They're very good. Did you draw them?"

She sat up in bed and reached for the silky robe she'd retrieved from her closet at some point last night. "Yes, I drew those designs," she said, the reluctance to admit as much evident in her tone.

Without an ounce of modesty, she let the sheet unravel from her body as she stood up, baring her to his gaze for a handful of arousing seconds before she slid into her robe and tied the sash. He swallowed to ease the dryness in his mouth so he could speak again, determined not to let anything distract him from the course of their conversation.

"So you're an artist?"

She rounded the bed to where he was standing and smiled at his surprise, though there was a bit of reserve in the depth of her eyes. "That all depends on who you're asking."

He thought her comment odd but suspected there was a wealth of meaning behind her words and that glimpse of emotion he'd seen in her gaze. "I'm asking you." He didn't care about anyone else's opinion.

"I'd like to think I'm an artist," she said as she came up beside him. "It's what I love to do. Drawing. Creating unique designs. Bringing them to life." The brief excitement he'd heard in her voice was suddenly eclipsed by a somber sigh. "My family, however, thinks of this as just a hobby."

"But you want it to be more," he guessed.