Chapter 26
His mouth tasted dark and sweet, like the cherries and bourbon on her own tongue, and when he groaned, his hand coming up to cup her face, Gwyn deepened the kiss, pressing herself shamelessly against him, her hands clutching his waist.
Another crack of thunder shook the house, and the lights flickered again before going out, plunging them into darkness.
Lifting his face from hers, Wells looked around them, his hand still there at her jaw, thumb absentmindedly stroking.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Esquire,” Gwyn said, her voice husky, and his eyes moved back to hers, lips quirking.
“Actually, I was just thinking that one of these days, we’re going to do this sort of thing in broad fucking daylight where I can see every inch of you,” he replied, and she laughed, her hand sliding around to the back of his head, tugging his hair.
“Who said you were going to get to see anything tonight?” she teased. “This is just a kiss, after all. Not a guarantee of nudity.”
Wells’s expression sobered. “Of course,” he said. “And you’ve had a rough night, so I wouldn’t want to feel like I was—”
“‘Taking advantage,’” she finished for him, then gave his hair another tug. “I know. Which is very sweet of you, but trust me, if anything, it’s the other way around.”
Leaning forward, she nipped at his lower lip, and he grunted, his hand flexing against her cheek, his eyes going dark.
“And,” Gwyn added, tapping her nails against the buttons of his shirt, “the plans I have for you tonight actually involve gratuitous amounts of nudity.”
“Do they indeed,” he muttered, looking down at her, and Gwyn nodded, letting her hand slip lower. Even through his jeans, she could feel how hard he was against her palm, and she gave a slow smile, pressing gently against him, hoping he’d make that sound again.
“Executive levels of nakedness,” she continued, and yup, there was that grunt again, and she was going to need to get to those nakedness levels as soon as possible because the ache between her legs was almost painful now, her nipples hard against the lace of her bra.
But when she stepped back and reached for the hem of her T-shirt, Wells placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.
“Much as I enjoyed last night, and as awkward as it is that I will now find pickup trucks to be highly erotic locations, if it’s all right with you, I thought we might try a bed tonight.”
The thought of Wells in her bed made Gwyn’s knees a little weak and her stomach a little swoopy, because hooking up in her truck or on her living room floor was one thing, but letting him into her bedroom?
That made it real for her.
And, Gwyn found as she stepped closer to him, winding her arms around his neck, she wanted that.
“Okay,” she said, “but just so you know, there’s a flight of stairs now between you and seeing my—”
Gwyn broke off with a shriek, her hands clutching at his shoulders as Wells bent slightly at the knees, his hands grabbing her backside and hauling her up off her feet.
Giggling, Gwyn clung to him as he carried her toward the stairs, her thighs around his hips. “I never would have guessed that sex brings out this side of you,” she told him, kissing his neck as he navigated the stairs.
“You bring out this side of me,” he replied, gruff, and if that made her face suddenly break into a goofy grin, at least he couldn’t see it.
“This one,” she said as he approached her bedroom door, and Wells carried her inside, his mouth finding hers again before he lowered her to her feet.
It was even darker in here, her room a minefield of clothes, discarded shoes, books, a shoebox of painting supplies, and they tripped and stumbled and laughed against each other’s mouth all while peeling off clothes, tossing them aside to join the rest of the mess.
Her bed, at least, was thankfully free of debris, and Gwyn tossed back the quilt, climbing in just as there was a slight hum and the lights surged back on.
She’d only left a small bedside lamp on, but that was plenty of light to see Wells standing at the edge of her bed, naked and gorgeous and perfect, and her eyes drank him in even as his gaze roamed over her.
“Oh, I have never been so thankful for electricity as I am right now,” Wells murmured, and Gwyn smirked, reaching out, her hand closing around his cock as he sucked in a quick breath, stomach muscles tensing.
“Definitely a big fan, too,” she replied, watching his face as she stroked him, loving the way his mouth fell open, his eyes unfocused and wild, his chest heaving.
She could have watched him forever, could have touched him forever, but then he was gently pulling her hand away.
“If you keep doing that while you’re looking at me like that,” he said, pressing a kiss into her palm before gently teasing the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb with his teeth, “I’ll come before I have a chance to be inside you.”
His eyes met hers then, pupils wide, the blue a thin ring around the black. “Provided you want me inside you.”
“I do,” she said, nodding quickly. “I really, really do.”
He smiled at that, that slow, sexy smile which she somehow knew was hers and hers alone, and Gwyn licked her lips, scooting back on the bed as he followed, his arms braced on either side of her body as he stared down at her.
The sheets were soft underneath her, her colorful quilt a tangled mess at one corner of the bed, and he looked so right here in her bedroom, he felt so right, that she waited for that surge of panic to swell up, but there was only heat and desire, and something that felt suspiciously like happiness.
Tilting her face up, Gwyn brushed her lips over his, his beard tickling. “There’s a bag somewhere on this floor with condoms in it,” she told him, and he kissed her back, muttering something against her mouth as he lifted one hand, sparks dancing on his fingertips.
The bag rose up off the floor, floating over to the bed. It made her laugh, but as Wells fumbled inside, it was also a reminder that her magic had deserted her yet again tonight.
That thought caused a chill to shiver up her spine, and the only thing for it was to pull Wells closer, to kiss him until she forgot anything but the feel of him, the taste of him, the gentle sting of his beard on her neck, her breasts, the soft skin of her stomach.
He made to move lower, but Gwyn wanted him with her when she came this time, and so she tugged at his shoulders, pulling him up her body, opening herself to him.
She wanted him like this, on top of her, as much of his skin touching hers as she could get, and when he slid inside of her and she clenched around him, they both moaned.
His face was close to hers, and Gwyn found herself fascinated with every flicker of emotion there as he began to move, the way he tensed almost like he was in pain, and then, when he opened his eyes, the heat and focus he fixed on her.
It was almost too much. It was too much, and Gwyn tore her gaze from his, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, pleasure and tension curling low in her stomach until she finally slid a hand between them, touching herself.
Wells’s movements stuttered, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs, and he muttered something in Welsh that almost sounded like a prayer.
Everything was a blur after that, a hot, sweaty blur of his lips on hers and her fingers rubbing faster, and his thrusts harder, deeper, her brass bed creaking and the storm still raging outside, and then she was coming, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, her arms clasped around him.
Wells followed her just a few moments later, her name somewhere in there among all the Welsh, and this time, when their eyes met, Gwyn didn’t look away.