Sweet Possession

CHAPTER 16

Lyric put her guitar down and flexed her neck, then extended her arms above her head to stretch her tired, aching muscles. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was late.

She was hungry, but she had no desire to go down and eat. What she wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed, in that precise order.

She let herself out of the studio and turned the sign over so that Connor would know she was no longer working. She went straight for her bathroom and turned on the shower.

A long soak in the gorgeous bathtub would be wonderful, but she was too impatient and edgy to enjoy it. She opted instead for a quick shower, careful to keep her hair from getting wet.

When she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and shook out her hair from the clip she’d shoved into it to hold it up. She spent another five minutes removing what makeup hadn’t washed off in the shower and applying moisturizer.

Eager to crawl into bed, she walked out of her bathroom only to find Connor propped against the wall in her bedroom.

She clutched the towel although the ends were securely tucked at her breasts, covering most of her from his view.

“Don’t you think you’ve been hiding up here long enough?” Connor asked as he pushed off the wall.

She frowned. “I was busy. I have work to do. I told you that.”

His eyes narrowed. “You let Kane get to you. Kane and the newscast. I saw you, Lyric. You can’t hide from me.”

Her nostrils flared and she turned away. “You don’t get it, Connor.”

“What don’t I get, Lyric? Why don’t you explain it to me?”

She kept her back to him, her arms folded protectively over her breasts. “The whole thing was my fault. I was a complete idiot.”

“I believe we’ve established that I had responsibility in that fiasco.”

She curled her lips in disgust. “No, Connor. I let you hurt me. I’m a study in don’t-give-a-damn, but I let you get to me. That’s why I left. That’s why I took off the way I did. I didn’t want to let you see how much you hurt me.”

His hands closed over her shoulders and he gently turned her to face him. “I’m sorry.”

She pushed away from his grasp and had to clutch at the towel to keep it from falling. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want you to . . . be anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly.

Her gaze flew to his and something remarkably like panic skittered up her spine and wrapped around her neck. He had a look in his eyes that she didn’t like. It untied her like a knot and peeled back her skin, leaving her naked and vulnerable. She hated that feeling.

She opened her mouth but couldn’t for the life of her think of what to say to that. How could he know? How could he possibly know that she had the craziest thoughts about him? She was absolutely stupid when it came to him and she was helpless to control it.

He took a step forward, closing the gap she’d opened between them. She retreated, bumping against the bed in her haste. He followed, not giving her so much as an inch.

“I think you want me to be a lot of things,” he murmured. “I think right now you want me to be your lover. I think you want me to show you how different I am from everyone else in your life. You’re afraid that I’m different from everyone else.”

She stared at him in helpless fury, appalled at how well he could see into her soul. She blinked back angry tears just as his hands cupped her face and he lowered his mouth to hers.

It was like being caught in the middle of a lightning storm. Awareness sparked and sizzled, so hot that she gasped from the sensation.

He kissed her like he owned her, like she was his, like he was the only person to have ever kissed her. His tongue explored her mouth, leaving no part untouched.

Her body was not her own. Her breasts throbbed, and deep down at her very core, an ache began and spread through her groin until her clit pulsed and her pussy tightened with anticipation.

All from a kiss. Just the touch of his mouth, and desire swept over her like a tidal wave.

She loved his hands. How they touched her and held her. How possessive they felt on her skin. He wasn’t tentative and she really loved that. This was a man confident in his ability to make love to a woman.

She closed her eyes and trembled violently against him. She was in turns terrified of her reaction to him and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

“I won’t hurt you, Lyric,” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to know what it feels like to have someone love you.”

She tensed and backed away enough that she could put a finger to his lips. “Please don’t say that word. Please, just don’t. Don’t ruin everything.”

His eyes clouded with confusion. “What word?”

“Love. Don’t ever use that word.”

He gave her a searching look and then reached up to brush the hair from her face. “I won’t use any words you don’t want. I’ll simply show you.”

She stared back at him and knew he was waiting. Waiting for her to agree. Waiting for her acceptance. It would be so easy to push him away. Far easier than voicing the words that ached to break free.

“Tell me what you want, Lyric. Give me the words.”

Her breath escaped in a nearly violent shudder. “I don’t want . . . I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He came to her again, his mouth brushing over hers in the most tender of kisses. “That’s a start.”

Slowly he slid his hands up to where her fingers clutched the towel. He paused for a moment and then carefully uncurled her fingers before lowering her hands to her sides.

She shook. Her knees quaked and her breath sped up so fast that she became precariously light-headed. Then he lowered his head and pressed a single kiss to her chest, just above where the towel covered her breasts.

“I won’t hurt you, Lyric.”

Just the way he said her name with such aching tenderness undid her. On his lips, her name was something different. It wasn’t just her name. It was an endearment—something very precious.

He raised his head and met her gaze and she saw herself reflected in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Mutely she shook her head, her reaction as automatic as breathing.

He smiled when she thought she might have angered him.

“I think you do,” he murmured. “Even if you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I feel safe with you,” she offered. And it was true. Was that the same as trust? Trust was such a big word.

“I think it’s a good place to start.”

He reached for the end of the towel that was tucked around her breasts. She stiffened and very nearly raised her hands to stop him, but at the last moment, she lowered them slowly back to her sides.

He didn’t simply tear the towel away. Watching her all the while, he carefully unwound it until it was loose and barely covering her flesh. Then with a gentle tug, it drifted to the floor and she stood naked and painfully vulnerable to his gaze.

She lowered her gaze and closed her eyes, unsure of what to do next. Never had sex come with such unsettling emotions. She was in control. She drove the action. She played, she taunted. Everything was by her rules.

But now she found herself at a complete and utter disadvantage, and panic welled from deep within, threatening to overwhelm her.

“Do you know what I see?” he asked in a husky, deep voice that slid over her skin like soul-deep comfort.

He nudged her chin up until she was forced to look back at him. Such honesty was reflected in his gaze. Frank appraisal like he’d judged her and deemed her worthy. What did it matter what he thought? Why was she so torn up over the idea that somehow he’d find her undesirable or lacking and back away? Backing away was what she did.

“What?” she asked in barely a whisper, drawn to the earnest blaze in his eyes.

“I see a beautiful woman who’s soft in all the right places. Who would be beautiful now or six sizes larger. I see a woman who tries very hard to hide from the world and perhaps herself. But you can’t hide from me, Lyric. I’m learning you. I want to learn more.”

She inhaled sharply. His words hit her in the gut, driving the air from her lungs. She stared at him, baffled by his assessment. Baffled by the warmth in his eyes and how his gaze stroked over her body as though she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

It was a silly thought. There were certainly women more beautiful, but in this moment, standing in front of him, she felt like she somehow stood above all the rest.

No one talked to her when they had sex with her. It was just . . . sex. Hot, sweaty and fast. Get it over with; move on; don’t dwell on emotion.

But with this man, she had the feeling that it would never be just sex, and that idea unsettled her. It frightened her. Making love was for people who were in love, who used sex as an intimate expression of that love. It wasn’t for people like her, to whom love was an ugly, gray thing.

“Nothing to say to that?”

She shook her head again.

He chuckled. “I’ve never seen you without anything to say. I like it.”

Before she could respond, he pressed in close, cupped her shoulders in his strong hands and bent to kiss her.

She loved his kisses. They unraveled her.

Her breasts pushed again his chest. His body cupped around hers, flush, so warm and solid. A restless, itchy sensation prickled over her skin. She wanted to feel his flesh against hers. She wanted no barrier between their bodies.

Before she realized she had, she raised her hands and pushed underneath his T-shirt until her hands slid over his taut belly.

He immediately froze. His tongue stilled over hers and she could feel the huff of his breath over her face.

Thinking she’d jumped the gun, she immediately withdrew and clenched her fists at her sides. She wasn’t used to withstanding seduction. She was usually the aggressor. Playing by someone else’s rules was alien.

Connor eased back just a step and then he reached for the hem of his shirt. Giving it an impatient yank, he hauled it over his head and dropped it to the floor.

Then he stepped back to her and circled her wrists with his fingers. He raised her hands and placed them against his chest, holding them there against the solid wall of his muscle.

“I love you touching me.”

He brought one hand to his mouth and kissed each fingertip before finally sucking her pinkie into his mouth. Hot and moist. It sent a thrill down her spine.

“Take my pants off, Lyric. I want you to touch me. I don’t think I’ll be able to get enough.”

She licked her lips as he lowered her hands to his waist. She shook so bad that she fumbled clumsily with the button of his fly. The sound of the zipper was loud. It broke through the heavy silence and made her flinch as she eased it all the way down.

Slowly she peeled the denim over his hips and down his legs until it gathered around his ankles. He stepped free and stood before her, the burning question at last answered.

She laughed softly and raised her gaze to Connor, a smile twisting her lips.

He arched an eyebrow. “What’s so funny? I have to tell you, laughing when you’ve got a guy down to his underwear is never a good thing.”

“I was right,” she teased.

“About?”

“You’re a boxer brief guy.”

He grinned smugly and mischief lit his eyes. “So you have been thinking about me.”

Damn. “I may have wondered. But that was it.”

“Uh-huh. Admit it, Lyric. You’ve been thinking about me every bit as much as I’ve been thinking about you.”

She hooked her fingers in the elastic waistband of his briefs and pulled him closer to her. “Maybe.”

“I got a hard-on for you the very first time we met. You and that sassy mouth of yours had me so hard, and I was desperate for you not to know.”

One corner of her mouth went up and she reached gently to caress the very noticeable bulge between his legs. His cock strained against the cotton material, a hard ridge trapped against his body.

What would he expect? Would he want her to take the lead now? He’d seemed to cede control when he’d asked her to undress him. Then she frowned. Or maybe he expected to direct her through it all. Was he in control or was she?

He tipped a finger underneath her chin and nudged it upward until once again his heated gaze bored into her. “Why the frown?”

“Who’s in control?” she blurted. “I’m not sure . . . I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

“Does it matter?” he asked lazily. “Why do either of us have to control everything? Why can’t we just enjoy each other for a while? You tell me what you like, what feels good to you. I’ll tell you what I like.”

She smiled and sent her hand seeking into his underwear until her fingers wrapped around his rigid erection. His breath caught and he went completely still.

“Does that feel good?” she asked innocently.

“It’ll feel a hell of a lot better when you get your mouth wrapped around it,” he drawled.

When she would have gone to her knees, he caught her by the elbows and hauled her up against him.

“I don’t expect you to service me before I’ve made you feel good, sweetheart.”

Then his mouth closed over hers, so hot and wicked. She melted, let herself go limp against him as he picked her up and walked her to the edge of the bed.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down with her when he would have laid her on the mattress.

“You’re like a feast and I have no idea where to start,” he said in a low voice. “So much to savor. I don’t want to miss a single taste of your sweetness.”

“You’re lethal,” she said helplessly. “How can I possibly resist you when you say such pretty words?”

He grinned. “I think the point is that you’re not supposed to resist me.”

His mouth brushed across her shoulder and he stopped to nibble a path to the column of her neck. Then he retraced back to her shoulder and he sank his teeth into her flesh.

“Mmmm.”

“You like that?” he husked against her skin.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

He chuckled and then licked the spot where he’d bitten her. As he wandered down her body with his oh-so-delectable mouth, she wondered if she’d have a mark where he’d bitten her. The completely irrational part of her hoped so. She wanted a tangible reminder of his possession.

He dragged his open mouth down her midline, kissing and licking at intervals until he left a wet trail between her breasts to her navel.

Despite his assurances that she was beautiful no matter her size, she tensed when his tongue laved over the soft skin of her belly. She wasn’t fat but neither did she have his taut, lean belly that you could bounce a quarter off. Plus she’d gained and lost weight so many times that she sagged in certain areas.

“Relax,” he murmured as his tongue dipped into her belly button.

Then he kissed every inch of her abdomen and then lowered his mouth to her pelvis. After pressing a gentle kiss to the flesh just above the juncture of her legs, he raised his head and eased a finger over her bare folds.

“I like this,” he murmured.

She didn’t raise her head because, really, she’d never had a man do an analysis of her pussy while she was lying beneath him.

“What do you like?”

He stroked the lips of her vagina and then ran his finger over the small triangle of hair just over the hood that shielded her clitoris.

“Your wax job. I hear women talk about them, but I’ve never seen one exactly. You know, in person.”

At that she did raise her head and she arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Never?”

He shrugged. “The women I’ve been with aren’t groomed down there.”

She laughed. “You make me sound like a poodle.”

His fingers returned to her folds. He seemed to be fascinated with the smoothness because he kept stroking her over and over until she was ready to twitch right off the bed. Didn’t he realize he was making her crazy?

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do. It makes me feel . . . sexy.”

At that he grinned and stared up at her with approval in his eyes. “I’m glad, then. You need to be as convinced as I am of just how beautiful you are.”

He lowered his head and nuzzled softly through her folds. The tip of his tongue brushed ever so lightly over her clit and she shuddered uncontrollably.

“You taste as sweet as you feel,” he murmured.

“You know just how to get to me,” she whispered. “Words are my life. How they flow. Their meaning. Twisting and turning them and making them more beautiful. Whenever you talk to me like this, I hear it like it’s a song.”

“You don’t want me to sing,” he said in amusement.

She nudged him upward with her knees and then reached for him, wanting him over her body. She wanted him to cover her like a blanket so there wasn’t an inch of her skin untouched.

He rose over her and she clutched at his shoulders, reveling in his hard strength.

“You don’t have to sing. I hear it in your words. No one has ever said such beautiful things to me.”

“Then you’re hanging out with the wrong people.”

And then he started again. Scorching a path over her body, only this time he stopped at her breasts, lavishing attention on each of them. He coaxed her nipples to rigid peaks and then he sucked them between his teeth, one at a time, alternating until she was making incomprehensible sounds of pleasure.

His movements were like the most beautiful notes. Perfect pitch. So in tune with her body—and her soul. He stroked her like a pianist might stroke the keys of a song he’d composed just for her.

She heard the notes, the raw, exquisite beauty, as they reverberated over her skin.

She no longer even knew what she needed. She needed him. Just him. It was a stupid thought but it was all that echoed in her mind.

“Please, Connor. I need you.”

As if realizing just what the admission cost her, he looked down at her tenderly as his hand went to part her thighs. He settled one knee between them and then he reached over her body to pick up a condom she hadn’t realized was resting beside her pillow.

He gave a slight groan as he rolled the latex over his cock. “God, I’m so close to coming and I haven’t even gotten inside you.”

She shifted restlessly, hoping he got the message that she didn’t want to wait any longer. Her skin felt too tight. Pressure swelled in her core until she fidgeted. She burned.

He eased his fingers farther into her heat and she moaned. His thumb gently circled her clit just as he fitted another finger and delved into her tight passage.

“You’re not ready yet, baby,” he murmured.

Her eyes flew open. “Please, Connor.”

“Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She sighed but closed her eyes when he lowered his mouth to her breast while his fingers continued their slow exploration of her most intimate recesses.

He stroked in and out in a perfect demonstration of how his cock would stroke through her insides to the very heart of her. She arched into his touch like a cat seeking petting. A low sound of contentment poured out of her throat and she reached blindly for him as he continued his erotic assault on her senses.

Her fingers curled into his hair, running through the crisp, short hairs as she held him to her breast. She idly stroked down to his nape and followed the thickly corded muscles of his neck and shoulders.

He was a perfect specimen of a man. Long, lean and tight. Clean-cut. Mr. All-American. Which begged the question of why in the hell he was attracted to her—she was decidedly not a fresh-faced girl next door in middle-class America. That was the woman she could see Connor with. Mr. Always Do Right with Miss Sweet Apple Pie.

“You left me,” Connor murmured.

She blinked and he came sharply into focus. He was staring down at her, his gaze seeking.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

She softened at his tone. His desire to please her couldn’t be more prevalent. Fuck Miss Apple Pie. Lyric hated apple pie anyway. This man was hers at least for the next half hour, and quite frankly, she’d kick some Miss America ass if she came within spitting distance of Connor.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a long, breathless kiss.

“You’re doing everything perfect.”