His lean, hard body crowded up against hers.
His hot breath streaming against the nape of her neck.
His fingers simultaneously working over her nipple, her clit.
And him, right there, always right there. Tormenting her. Taking her over. Demanding so, so many wicked, wild, wonderful things of her. Too many.
She came with her hands clenching his arm. With her body jerking against his. With his name a broken cry on her lips. And then she was flying, flying, flying into a pleasure both brutal and beautiful in its intensity.
It went on and on and on and all she could do was hold tight to Wyatt and embrace the ecstasy. He was her port in the storm, the only solid thing she had while the world around her turned into a molten kaleidoscope of pleasure.
When it was over—when she could manage to do something more than whimper and hang on tight—she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, rested her cheek against his chest.
Beneath her ear, his heartbeat was as bold and steady as his drumming, and for long seconds she just stood there, listening. Catching her breath. Recovering.
When her breathing finally got back to normal, she pulled his T-shirt from his jeans, pressed one hand against his tautly muscled back while she slid her other hand around to his rock hard abs. “That makes three,” she murmured as her fingers traced along the top edges of his V-cut.
“Three of what?” he asked, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear.
“Three orgasms.” She started to unbutton his jeans. “You’ve gotten me off three times now. I think it’s past time I reciprocated.”
He stopped her with a hand, his calloused fingers wrapping around her palm and pulling it away from his zipper. She froze, wondering what was going on. Wondering why he didn’t want her to pleasure him when she had felt him, hard and ready, beneath her hand.
“Don’t you want me?” The question escaped without her permission, and as soon as it was out, she wanted to kick herself. The last thing this little game—or whatever it was between them—needed was her turning all vulnerable and needy. Soft, romantic feelings were so not what this was about. Especially considering there was no future for them—no way for them to be together when she was the daughter of the label head and he was one of the label’s most problematic stars.
With that thought in mind, she pushed away from him even as she let her hair swing down into her face to cover her eyes. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked—”
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he interrupted, pressing her hand back against his dick. His very long, very hard dick.
“Then why—” She cut herself off, refused to ask any more than she already had.
“Because the guys are already inside and I’m supposed to be on a very important call with the label execs that started about five minutes ago.”
She reared back, color flooding her cheeks. “They’re already in there?” she squeaked.
He nodded. “Have been for about half an hour.”
“Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Ohmygod!” She was so embarrassed she could barely string a coherent thought together. “If they’re already in there… You just made me…we just… Why did you do that? Why did you make me come on the freaking porch if they were right inside?”
“Notice all your clothes are still in place,” he said with a grin. “Why do you think that is?”
“I didn’t think about it.” She glared at him. “Not a mistake I plan on making again. Why did you do that?” she asked a second time. Her cheeks were on fire, and she pressed her hands against them in a futile attempt to cool them down.
He raised his brows incredulously. “You didn’t actually expect me to pass up a chance to make you come, did you? When you melt so sweetly and make those incredible noises—”
“Oh my God!” She clapped a hand over his mouth even as she cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. “Do you think they heard me?”
“Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure downtown Austin heard you. Besides, they better have. The last thing I want is for them to think rehab left me unable to make a woman scream.”
“Shut up!” This time it was her own ears she clapped her hands over. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
“What’s the big deal?” he asked, prying her hands away from her head. “It’s not the first or the last time one of us has gone at it with the others in the next room. We spend most of the year on a tour bus or charter plane going from concert to concert. What do you think happens? You should have heard Ryder and Jamison when they first got
together. I thought Jared was going to kill someone.”
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop talking. I’m supposed to be a professional here.”
“Baby, we’re rock stars. Making girls come is pretty much part of the job description.” He straightened her blouse a little, then swept her hair back from her face. “Now, come on. I really need to catch at least part of this call.”