Love Around the Corner Page 11

  “You kissed me again,” he said.

  “Well spotted, Flaherty.” She was breathing hard, her breasts rising with every inhalation. Her voice was low, raspy, and just a hair unsteady. She wasn’t as calm as she was trying to appear. Neither was he.

  She took another deep breath. “Okay, here’s how this is going to work. Sex. Just sex.”

  His brain skidded to an abrupt stop. “What?”

  “Sex,” she repeated. “You and me.” That’s what he thought she said, he just couldn’t believe it.

  “You want to have sex now?”

  “You got other plans?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “No plans.” And if he had, he’d have blown off every one of them. “I just didn’t think you’d want—”

  “Look, it’s pretty obvious we’ve still got a lot of unresolved sexual tension. I’m just suggesting we resolve it.” Her chin was tilted up defiantly, and there was a challenge in her dark eyes.

  “I am fully on board with that proposal.”

  “But that’s all that’s happening here. I’m not forgiving you, or falling for you again, or any of that other bullshit. We’re just two consenting adults working off a little...”

  He finished the sentence for her, taking his time with each word. “Unresolved sexual tension.”

  “Exactly. Are you cool with that?”

  He considered it. So he was still no closer to winning her back. But he might have a better shot at that if she was naked in bed with him. He was certainly willing to try, and he couldn’t deny that he’d enjoy it immensely. A rumble of thunder broke the tense silence. “I’m cool with that.”

  She let out a breath slowly, and so did he. He took another step closer, reaching up to run his fingertips along the edge of her jaw. “Should we go inside to finish this conversation?”

  She licked her lips. “No conversation necessary. And we’re not doing it here.”

  “Okay.” He took a step back and held out his hand to her. “My place, then?”

  She ignored his hand, walking past him up the sidewalk. “Your place. Keep up, Flaherty.”

  “Trust me,” he said roughly as he fell into step beside her. “That is not going to be a problem.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “It’s going to rain,” Gemma said as she walked quickly up the sidewalk at Brendan’s side. Great, she’d been reduced to making inane comments about the weather. They hadn’t even had sex yet and he was already scrambling her brains.

  Brendan tipped his head back to look at the sky. The clouds were moving in fast, a roiling mass, glowing orange from the streetlights below. “Looks bad.” He looked back at her, heat sparking in his eyes. “We’d better get inside.”

  She shivered, some tangle of anxiety and anticipation. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

  Brendan’s apartment was the top floor of a three-family brownstone just a couple of blocks away from her place. It was nice enough, in its modest middle-class Brooklyn way, but she suspected it was a far cry from how he’d lived back in Chicago. But she didn’t want to think about any of that. Him, her, their fraught history...she wasn’t going to think about any of it tonight.

  “Want a glass of wine?” he asked as he walked toward the kitchen. There wasn’t much furniture, and what there was looked like it belonged to someone else altogether, all sleek and hard and modern.

  “Sure,” she said, wandering through the living room, running her fingers across the back of the white leather couch. Seriously, white leather? “This doesn’t much look like your style,” she called.

  Brendan came back into the room, carrying two glasses of red wine. “It’s not.” He handed her a glass. “I bought the model unit of my last development and it came fully furnished. I brought it with me when I moved. I’ll ditch all this when I finally move into my next development.”

  Nope. She absolutely was not going to think about his work. That would spoil everything. She didn’t care who he was now or what he did for a living. She was only after what he was packing in his pants, what he could do with that mouth and those magic hands.

  He took a sip of wine, watching her over the rim as she did the same. There was only one lamp on in the corner, so the room was more shadow than light. It cast his features in stark relief, highlighting the hollows under his cheekbones and the gorgeous, sculptural shape of his lips.

  “This is good,” she said.

  “Glad you like it.”

  Gemma paused, considering her wine, considering his. Then she reached out and took his glass from him, setting both of them down on the glass coffee table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We didn’t come here to drink wine and discuss your furniture.”

  Brendan gave her a crooked smile. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

  “Completely unnecessary. We both know why I’m here.”

  One golden-flecked eyebrow arched as he smirked at her. “So where does that leave us?”

  She shrugged and spread her arms. “Where do you want to start?”

  He let out a sharp huff of laughter. “That would require a very long answer.”

  “Start with the top of the list, tiger.”

  His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he stared at her. It was embarrassing how aroused that tiny motion made her. All of this had her strung tight and ready to burst. He hadn’t laid a hand on her and they both still had all their clothes on and she was already more turned on than she could remember being in her entire life.

  “Naked,” he finally said.

  “Excuse me? Naked?”

  “I know we have a pretty substantial...” He broke off and waved a hand between them. “Sexual history. But I never saw you naked.”

  “I was naked with you an awful lot, Brendan.”

  “Yeah, in the middle of the night, in that shitty shed in my backyard. We couldn’t even turn on a flashlight for fear of being caught. My hands knew every inch of you, but my eyes... I never really got to look. With the lights on. And lots of time.”

  She considered that for a moment. “Okay. Naked. Let’s start there.” Grasping the hem of her T-shirt, she whipped it up and over her head. Brendan’s eyes went straight to her breasts, straining against the edge of her basic beige bra. They stayed there as she toed off her shoes and unzipped her jeans, bending forward at the waist to wiggle out of them. Once she was out of them, she straightened up again, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. “Next?”

  “Your hair,” he rasped. “I haven’t seen it down since—”

  She dragged her elastic out of her ponytail and shook her hair free before he could finish his sentence. He swallowed hard. She might have just stripped nearly naked for him, but she was the one holding all the cards right now. She could feel the power coursing through her veins like electricity. Outside, another boom of thunder shook the building. It made her nipples hard.

  “You know, I never got a good look at you, either.”

  His eyes, dark with lust, raked up to meet hers. “What?”

  “I mean, my mouth knows the shape of your cock better than my eyes do.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn, Gem. You can’t say shit like that right now.”

  When he opened his eyes to look at her again, she hiked an eyebrow at him. “So?”

  His hand went to his tie, dragging it loose from its perfect knot. She imagined doing something really fun with that length of silk and filed the thought away. Maybe later. Tossing his tie away, he went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. Was there anything sexier in the world than a man unbuttoning a shirt?

  Stripping out of it. That was definitely sexier. Gemma’s mouth went dry as his toned, sculpted shoulders and biceps came into view. Then he reached up behind his head, grasped the back of his white tank undershirt, and whipped it off over his head in one
smooth, drool-inducing move. Damn, that was hot.

  The lean soccer-player’s body she remembered from high school was gone. He was a little thicker, his shoulders were broader. Now the muscle definition came not from hours running back and forth on the soccer pitch, but from serious time in the gym. He was fucking gorgeous. There was a light dusting of red-gold hair across the tops of his pecs that continued in a tantalizing line down his stomach before disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

  “Nice,” she murmured.

  “Same,” he said, gesturing to her.

  “What next?” she asked him, throwing her shoulders back in a way she knew made her breasts raise enticingly.

  “Bra,” he muttered.

  Her hands went to the back clasp, flicking it open. She hesitated just a moment, holding it to her chest in front as his eyes practically begged her for a glimpse, before she finally tossed it away.

  Brendan bit his bottom lip, watching as her dark pink nipples drew in tight and pebbled under his gaze. It was hard, holding still as he stared at her. Some tiny, destructive voice in her head reminded her that she didn’t have a sixteen-year-old body anymore. But that seemed to be the last thing Brendan was thinking, so she let him stare, let the erotic weight of that stare settle into her body, ratcheting up her own desire.

  “You next,” she said, jerking her chin at his lower half.

  Without ever looking away from her, his hands went to his belt and he began toeing off his shoes. Watching him leap to do as she asked was its own kind of hot. He slid his pants and boxer briefs off with one quick movement. When he straightened again, his cock was hard and swollen, curving up to his abdomen. She kind of remembered his size, but those memories had grown hazy, and they’d existed in the vacuum of her total lack of experience. She had plenty of experience now, though, and she was quite sure—Brendan’s cock was a thing of beauty.

  “Good?” he said, smirking at her.

  “Very good.” Slowly, she hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties. “These next?”

  He nodded mutely.

  She shimmied out of them and tossed them in the direction of the rest of her clothes. Shaking her hair back over her shoulders, she held herself upright and stared back at him. “Okay, I’m naked. So are you. Now what?”

  Without a word, he stepped forward, hooked an arm around her waist, hauled her body in against his, and kissed her. The force of it bent her back. The sudden invasion of his tongue stole her breath. Her body flared to life wherever his touched, nothing but skin on skin all the way down. His cock throbbed, hard and hot against her stomach. Her hands fluttered helplessly before landing on his arms to steady herself.

  His kiss was relentless, devouring her, staking claim to every inch of her lips, her teeth, her tongue. While she was still clinging to him, trying to find her balance, his hand came up to her breast and rolled her nipple hard between two fingers.

  She let out a harsh cry, her nails digging into the warm, smooth skin of his biceps. He did it again, this time pinching just hard enough to add a hint of pain, and she moaned again. A tremor raced through her from the roots of her hair to her toes.

  His mouth never left hers, even as his fingers released her and slid between her legs. Then he was there, his fingertips sliding into her wetness, brushing against her clit, circling her opening, and then she was there, hovering right on the edge of a climax faster than it had ever happened before.

  “Brendan,” she gasped, tearing her mouth away from his, panting for air, desperate to find something to center herself on.

  “I’m here, babe,” he murmured. He ran his fingers along her jaw and pressed a kiss to her open mouth. She started to pull away from that tender touch, that gentleness in his eyes, that stupid endearment, but before she could, he let her go and dropped to his knees. “I’m right here.”

  “Wait...what...”

  Then his hands were wrapping around her thighs, and he was urging her legs apart. All she could do was grip his shoulders to keep from falling over as his fingers parted her and his tongue snaked out to find her.

  She let out another inarticulate cry as he found her clit, and another as he sucked gently on it, and then it was all over. In less than a minute, she was shaking uncontrollably, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes as her orgasm hit her broadside like an oncoming train. He was gently relentless, working her over, drawing the pleasure out even as she thought surely she was going to collapse from it.

  When she didn’t think her legs could support her another minute, he stood up, took her face in his hands, and kissed her with a gentleness that left her reeling. Oh, no fair. How dare he touch her with that kind of tenderness when this was supposed to be a straightforward sexual transaction? He needed to stop blurring this line.

  Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms and, as the aftershocks were still racing up and down her limbs, he carried her out of the room to his bedroom, like he was some romantic movie hero or something. Well, he could forget what this was about all he wanted, but there was no way she would. Fisting her hand in his hair, she dragged his face down to hers and kissed him, all heat and sexy promise, and no goddamned romantic feelings.

  His bedroom was dark, and the bedsheets cool and smooth under her as he laid her down. She was more than ready for him to climb on top of her and thrust in, but he sat back on his heels and stared down at her nakedness.

  “Are you going to get on with it, Flaherty?”

  “We had plenty of flashbangs in high school, Gemma. Tonight I want to take my time.”

  No, no, no. This was just supposed to be sex. Hard, dirty, meaningless sex. She wasn’t here for tender touches and lingering looks. She was here for some bone-shattering orgasms and that was all. But he’d already given her one of those—a very good one—and her body was more than ready to see what else he could do if she gave him the chance to do it again.

  “What are you going to start with?” she challenged. Keep it physical.

  “Well, I was thinking your breasts.”

  “My breasts? What about them?”

  “You know they’re fantastic, right?”

  She raised her hands to her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them together. “These?”

  “Those.” He didn’t even try to look her in the eye, which was good. Exactly what she wanted.

  “What do you want to do to them?” she asked, watching the way he watched her hands with such hunger. It was so hot. “This?” She pinched her own nipples and arched up off the bed for good measure.

  “Jesus, woman.” He was on her in a moment, whipping her hands away and out to her sides, pinning them there with his hands. Then he lowered his mouth and now when she arched off the bed, there wasn’t an ounce of teasing in it.

  “Brendan...”

  “When I’m good and done,” he murmured as he kissed his way in a slow circle around the outside of her left breast. Her nipple throbbed with need, but he ignored it, shifting his attention to the other breast. Again a long, slow circle of openmouthed kisses, of bites just on the edge of painful, but still, he left her nipples alone.

  She writhed underneath him. His hands tightened on her wrists as he continued with his slow torture.

  “Please,” she begged, willing her nipple into his hot, wet mouth.

  “Not until I’m ready.”

  “You’re going to make me come again,” she groaned.

  “Could you really? Just from this?” he asked, before continuing his slow exploration of her breasts, leaving her nipples to throb with thwarted need.

  No, she almost answered automatically, because she’d never even got close that way. But then she felt it, the low, heavy ache in her abdomen, the delicious tightening of her sex, even with no direct stimulation.

  She was panting as he kissed his way across to her left breast again, and she twisted underneat
h him, squeezing her thighs together in search of some sort of relief. Then, with no warning, his mouth closed over her and he sucked hard.

  She cried out, her voice echoing in his quiet bedroom, and her sex throbbed.

  Not quite, dammit. She was so close she could scream, but he kept her there, hovering on the edge as he worked her tender nipples.

  “Please, Brendan,” she begged. “Please, please.” Her voice sounded entirely too needy to her own ears. Needy and weak.

  “Please?”

  “Please fuck me,” she said, twisting under him again.

  He dropped his head against her breastbone, breathing heavily. His hands released her wrists, coming to her sides, shaping her torso. “Gemma...”

  Time to remind him what this was about. She dug her fingers into his hair and hauled his head up, dragging his face to hers where she kissed him with hungry thoroughness. Lifting her legs, she wrapped her thighs around his hips until he was flush against her. His cock slid into the warm wet cleft between her legs and they both hissed in a breath.

  “I need a condom,” he muttered, dragging himself against her one more time, teasing them both, before rolling away to frantically dig in the bedside table.

  When he rolled back, holding a foil packet, Gemma sat up, plucking it from his hands. “Let me.”

  “I’m on the edge of death here,” he cautioned, as she ripped it open and slid it out. But he lay back, allowing her full access to his body.

  She wrapped her hand around the base of him, about to roll the condom on, but she hesitated, unable to resist tormenting him just a little the way he’d tormented her. She gave him one firm stroke from base to tip, and he groaned, his head falling back, every tendon straining. Another stroke had him muttering a stream of curses, his hands fisting in the duvet. Look at him, so helpless before her. She could drag this out forever or bring him to a shattering finish in minutes. He was all hers. She could be the one to walk away or she could be the one to stay, and this time there was nothing he could do about it one way or the other.

  She lowered her head and licked him, one long slow lick along the entire length of him.