Wicked (23 page)

Which was fine. He wasn't there to flirt. He watched her play and knew he

could beat her. She was good, but she played the player, not the table. He

would not be distracted by her bending, flirting, and sassy attitude. He also

wouldn't be playing for money.

Pride filled him when she sank the eight while the other guy still had five balls

up. She
was
good.

She swept the bills up off the side of the table and tucked them into the top of

her boot. Ignoring the way his cock twitched at the sight of those boots, he

put down his beer and stepped up to the table. It was his turn now.

Lara stood at the head of the table, cue stick in hand, her gaze burning into

his as he racked the balls. When they were set, he strode around and stood

too close to her.

"I see you like to play for money," he said.

She stepped back and he saw the anger flare in her eyes. "Money is good,"

she said, tilting her head up.

He stepped closer, trapping her between him and the table. "I'm not

interested in your money, sugar."

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The fire in Karl's eyes made Lara's heart stutter. It was all she could do to

string her words together in some sort of sense at his closeness. "Then what

are you interested in?"

"You."

Oh God, how had he found her there? Why had he found her there? "I

thought you said we weren't going to see each other until next week?"

"Are you guys going to play, or talk all night?"

The loud call made her start, and Karl turned his head slowly. She didn't

need to see the look he gave the speaker; she saw the reaction to it and

adrenaline shot through her. "Sorry, man. Take your time."

"I thought we were going to stay in contact," Karl said when he turned back to her.

She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "I emailed you." It was a fight to stay casual, but she couldn't let him know how much he affected her. He

already had too much power over her.

His voice was a soft purr. "One email isn't staying in contact."

Tilting her head at the table she dredged up a flirty smile and changed the

subject. "What are we playing for if not money?"

He searched her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. The air between

them heated and the room around them disappeared. All she could see was

him, all she could smell was him. She could feel his energy reaching out and

wrapping around her. He leaned in, his hands bracketing her hips against the

pool table, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. "I'm done playing.

I'm here for you."

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Her chest tightened and she fought to breathe. He must've felt her nod

though because he stepped back and took the pool cue from her hand. His

hand at the small of her back guided her away from the table and she went.

"The table's yours," Karl said to the guy who'd backed off moments earlier, and they left the bar.

His hand burned through her thin shirt as they walked. She struggled to

remember what it was she had to say to him. By the time they were in the

parking lot, her head was starting to clear.

"My car," she said. "I drove."

Karl nodded. "Follow me to my house."

"But I live closer."

He arched an eyebrow and she nodded. "I'll follow you."

He walked her to her car. Once she was in, he went to his truck and she

waited for him to pull out. She followed him automatically, and she was glad

for that because she needed time to think.

Why she didn't think he would come looking for her when she hadn't emailed

back she didn't know. She should've known. If she'd written something

so…personal and sincere and not gotten a response, she'd have been

pissed off too. Only Karl didn't really seem pissed off. More determined.

Her heart pounded. Scarily determined.

Really, he'd said everything she wanted to hear. He hadn't pressured her,

just told her that talking to him, telling him what she felt was good. He was

being patient and caring and confident…and after seeing Graham and Peter,

and feeling the raw emotion in the room when they were arguing…then when

they were making love—it was too much.

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She just needed time, that was all. Time to get her feet back under her and

her life back on track. Time to remember that sex was good, but she sucked

at relationships.

* * *

S
he was surprised to see the modest bungalow-style house Karl lived

in. It was nice and homey—exactly what she always wanted for herself. He

opened the door for her and she stepped inside, unsure of where to go.

"Follow me," he said, and headed down the short hall.

"Wow." She stopped dead inside the kitchen. "This is beautiful."

Karl was at the fridge, a couple of water bottles in his hand. "When you

cooked me dinner the other night I knew you'd love it. I had it renovated a

couple of years ago."

Lara examined the dark wood cupboards, a gleaming countertop, and a

center island with a sink. Her fingertips itched to pull down a shiny pot from

the hanging rack and whip up a batch of homemade soup. "I've always

wanted a kitchen like this," she whispered.

"It's yours."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"Everything I have is yours, Lara." He came toward her, his gaze intent, his movements primal and predatory. "I'm man enough to admit when I make a

mistake, and trying to play it cool with you—trying to train you as a traditional

submissive—was a mistake. You're not traditional. You're not like anyone

I've ever met, and that's what makes you special."

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"What? Wait—Karl." Lara held up a hand for him to stop. "This is too much. I don't think I can do this."

He didn't stop until he was inches from her. He braced his hands on the

kitchen island behind her, boxing her in. "Do what, exactly? Talk to me,

sugar."

Her chest tightened and her pulse raced. Blood rushed to her head with a

roar and she put her hands on his chest to push him away, only to curl her

fingers into his shirt and pull him closer. She leaned into him, burying her

nose against his neck and breathing deep.

"Talk to me, Lara. Tell me what is going on inside that pretty head of yours."

"I don't know," she whispered. "You mess me up, Karl, until I don't know what I want anymore."

His jaw rubbed against the top of her head, and she wrapped her arms

around his waist. His hands were still on the countertop, and she longed for

the feel of them holding her.

When it became clear he wasn't going to say anything, she closed her eyes,

took another deep breath, and jumped in. He went after her, he took her to

his
home, and he made it clear he wanted a relationship. She was not going

to be the chicken shit and run away again.

"When I'm not with you, I can think straight and life is normal. I know that

what we have is different than anything I've experienced, but I also realize

that we barely know each other! Then, when I'm with you, all I want
is
you.

It's like I'm hypnotized or something. I want your hands on me, your mouth

on me, your cock buried deep inside me, filling me up. That's good, I can

handle lust. The kink doesn't bother me, either. Whether or not I'm

submissive, I have no idea, but I do know that I enjoy everything you do to

me, and I fantasize about so much more. Fantasies I've never even

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acknowledged until I met you. I've always loved cock. I love to feel it, touch it,

smell it, and taste it. My deepest fantasy would be to be surrounded by cock.

Two men would be good, but three would be better, four would be…too

many. I want to be filled at every entrance…I want to be fucked." She

stopped. Karl's heart was pounding beneath her ear, his entire body hard in

her arms.

Yet, he still said nothing.

Opening her mouth, she admitted the scariest part. "And then I want to be

held and cuddled and loved."

A growl rumbled up from Karl's chest as he shifted. His arms came around

her, squeezing her tight, before one hand slipped under her jaw and tilted her

head back. "Look at me," he commanded.

She opened her eyes, her breath catching at the emotion she saw.

"What I want is to make you mine. I know that scares you, but you are a

brave and bold and adventurous woman, and I know you won't let your fear

get in the way of what you want. Even more than that, I want to give you what

you need—and what we both need, to exist in a way that is true to our basic

nature, is each other." He stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides, not

touching her, not pressuring her. He just stood there, letting her see him, and

the desire he felt so clearly. "Will you give us a chance?"

Adrenaline shot through her veins and her body flushed with heat. Her hands

rose, automatically reaching for him even while her mind tried to form the

right words. "Yes, but—"

"No buts allowed, Lara. You either give us a chance, or you don't."

"I want to, but I'm scared!"

Shit!
She hadn't meant to say that! "Karl, I suck at relationships, I told you 210

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that. I want this, what you say sounds so good, the way you make me feel is

so good, but I don't know that I can give that back to you."

He reached for her then. His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her face

close as he stared deep into her eyes. Searching, seeking an answer as a

rough thumb drifted across her lower lip.

"Don't you worry about that. And don't let your fear rule you. It's okay to be

scared, just don't let it stop you from going after what you want. I'm not

saying it will be easy, but I am saying you'll never be alone in this. I'm here for

you."

He leaned in and she closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers. Slow,

soft, and oh so seductively. Strong fingers slid to the back of her head, buried

in her hair, and then applied steady pressure, tightening, pulling, and tilting

her head back until she couldn't move.

Everything inside her tensed, then relaxed, melting until she was mass of

quivering desire, straining to be closer to him.

It hit her then, she believed him. She trusted him.

There was only one thing left for her to say. "Yes. I want it all."

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32

F
inally! Tension rushed from Karl's body, his knees weakened and he

pressed his forehead against Lara's, leaning into her. Leaning on her.

When he'd gone after her earlier that night, he'd been scared and angry. His

plan was to find her and drag her back to his place, by her hair if he had to.

The whole scene had been planned in his mind. He'd tie her up and

sensually tease, torture, and torment her until she admitted she wanted more

than sex with him. That she felt the emotional connection and admitted that

she couldn't run from it anymore. He wanted her promise she wouldn't run

from him again, and he'd been ready to demand it from her.

Instead, she'd sucker punched him with her soft panicked words. She'd just

given him everything he wanted without having to demand it.

Suddenly, his intense need to own was replaced by the intense need to

cherish the gift she'd just given him. His arms went around her and he

lowered his head. Her soft lips parted and her eager tongue welcomed him

inside her.

Tongues stroked and arousal grew as he reached down and cupped her ass,

lifting her against him. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her arms around

his neck and he stepped forward again, settling her on the kitchen island. He

reveled in the feel of her pressed against him, her legs and arms around him

as he trailed kisses across her jaw to her neck and sucked on the soft flesh of

her earlobe.

Her gasp of pleasure set his blood on fire and he rocked against her core.

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Her back arched, and her thighs tightened around his waist.

"Oh, yes," she moaned. "So good, Karl."

One quick move and he had her flimsy top over her head and on the floor.

One hand splayed across her back, cradling her weight as he licked and

nibbled his way across her collarbone. Her spicy vanilla scent filled his head

and he unsnapped her bra. The shiny material fell away and he cupped a

breast, the warm plump flesh filling the palm of his hand perfectly. Opening

his mouth, he licked the rigid tip, then wrapped his lips around it and suckled

gently.

She tasted so good, he sucked harder and her cry echoed through the room

as she arched into him.

He pulled away and lavished attention on the other nipple. Using his tongue

and teeth, he had her moaning and squirming in his arms within seconds.

Kissing his way back up to her mouth, he laid her out on the countertop and

slid a hand between their bodies—between her thighs.

When he encountered the slick PVC barrier, he groaned. "Do you have any

idea what this underwear does to me?"

"I wore it for you," she said.

He pulled the elastic and snapped it against her skin. Then he slipped a

finger under the elastic and tickled her pussy lips lightly. "You wore it for me, but you ran from me?"