Melt For Him(7)

By: Lauren Blakely

Wrapped up in each other in the entryway to his house, he kissed her deeply while skimming his hands down her back, racing over her hips, angling her close. His touch possessed an ownership to it, as if he could do things to her, take her places she’d never been. She ached between her thighs, desperate to know his body better. Running her hands across his gray T-shirt, her fingers mapped the perfect outline of his pecs, then his waist. “Do you have any idea how ridiculously perfect your body is?”

He smiled sweetly, then shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about me. What I want is to see all of you.” He nodded to the top of the stairs.

She kicked off her boots, not wanting to scuff the hardwood floors.

“Megan, I would have been totally fine if you left those on. Even if you scratched my floors, I wouldn’t care,” he said with a laugh. It was as if he could read her mind.

The house was dark, his home cast in shadows as they walked through the dining room, then the living room. But the dim light seemed fitting for tonight. She didn’t even know his last name, and she was 100 percent okay with that. Darkness, namelessness, and his body pressed against hers were all she wanted right now.

He led her to his bedroom, to a king-size bed with a dark blue comforter and one lone pillow. There was a nightstand on each side of the mattress, but only one was brimming with books.

“Nice bed,” she said.

“What would make this bed look really good is you on it,” he said, and then lowered her to the soft comforter and ran his hand down her legs. She was grateful she’d shaved today; her legs were smooth and still faintly smelled of the vanilla-sugar lotion she’d smoothed on earlier tonight. “Your legs are spectacular,” he said, with an appreciative groan as he trailed his hands along her skin.

“Why thank you. Now let’s even things up a bit and get that shirt of yours off.”

He reached for the underside of his T-shirt and started to remove it, but Megan held up a hand.

“Wait. I want to.” She sat up and took over the T-shirt-removal reins, inching it up slowly, enjoying every moment of the reveal. As she reached his carved pecs, her fingernails trailing his skin led him to hitch in a breath. Then she tugged off the shirt. He was a beautiful sight indeed, made of the finest muscle, and skin, and hardness. A heady wave of anticipation rushed through her as she explored his chest thoroughly, her hands finding their way to his waist.

His perfect fucking waist dipped seductively into those jeans, hanging low on his hips. The best part was the way the pants couldn’t mask how much he wanted her, too. She pressed a hand against his erection, narrowing her eyes and giving him a very knowing look as she felt how hard he was. Yes, this man wasn’t just strong and tall; he was the whole package, including the package. Megan could tell he’d fill her in a way she’d never been filled before, and the image of him inside her was so powerful, so enticing, that she grabbed his shoulders and yanked him down on the bed with her. She wanted him to touch her, to feel what he’d done to her.

“Damn, woman. You’re a feisty one.”

“I’m a woman who knows what she wants,” Megan said, and she did, especially now that she’d extracted herself from a bad relationship. She’d moved with her ex all the way to L.A., tied to the back of his entrepreneurial dreams and eager for a new adventure in Southern California, only to watch him turn into someone she no longer knew—an addict.

Their relationship had been unraveling over the last few months, which meant they hadn’t had any moments like this. There had been no tangling of arms and legs and lips in the bedroom of their apartment. She’d laid down the law with him—there would be no coming together when he was high, and Jason had made it clear that he preferred that feeling to her. She’d tried so hard to help him get sober, to clean him up. But he loved a substance more.

After those last few painful months with him, she was finally free. She hadn’t originally planned to come back here on her way to Portland, but right now, Megan was sure this night with Becker was one of the things she’d remember most fondly about her brief return to her hometown. One night without drama. One night with only pleasure. One hot night with Becker would erase all the bad. She danced her fingers across his sexy waist, the hard planes of his abs, enjoying his reaction as he drew a deep breath.

“And what do you want, Megan? Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“You. Inside me,” she said, as she let go, then wrapped her legs around his waist. His reflexes were quick. He reached back with one arm, grabbing her calf and holding her tight, then rocking against her, showing her how he would take her. “Like this? You want me to take you like this?”

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