Page 59 of Fast Currents
Every mile between us and Friday Harbor stretched, straining my control. Clay handled his truck with practiced efficiency, not speeding or driving recklessly. I jittered with pent-up energy, holding back the demand he drive faster. He’d just offer up a teasing grin, enjoying my discomfort, seeing it for what it was: pure desire.
I wanted to show Clay how I felt. Needed to. Melting with anticipation, I was aware of the trickle of heat pulsing through my core as I pressed my thighs together.
Patient on the outside, dying for him on the inside.
When we were finally in his driveway, he pinned me with his gaze. A hunger lurked in his dark eyes that matched my own, making me feel bold and reckless in the face of his sultry smile. A faint glow from the streetlights glinted in his blue hair, burnishing his black leather jacket. It stretched across his chest, giving him a dangerous air. Far from the happy-go-lucky park ranger. I liked this side of him, even if it was only a costume.
“I need a five-minute head start. Wait here.”
His voice was harsher than I’d ever heard it. Authoritative. He slipped from the truck, leaving me open-mouthed. He didn’t know me that well, if he thought I’d really wait. I reached for the handle, pausing as he loped up the stairs to his house, unlocking his front door and rushing inside.
My instinctual reaction to his barked orders was to tense up. Pull away. I’d already watched that movie and didn’t need a sequel. But Clay was being fussy because he wanted to please me. Not control me. I relaxed back against the seat, watching through the window as lights flickered on and off throughout Clay’s house. I could give him five minutes.
Four minutes later, he marched toward me, eyes ablaze. He’d ditched the leather jacket, leaving him in a tight black tee-shirt that showed off his muscular arms.
Unlatching my door, he leaned into the frame, big body crowding my space as he assessed me slowly. “Lucifer?”
“Yes, Robertson.”
“Would you care to come inside with me?”
So polite. So at odds with the heat in his gaze. I felt naked beneath his perusal. Like he’d already stripped me down to the tiny thong beneath my dress. Shifting on the seat, I pressed my thighs together. His attention dropped to my clenched knees, his fingers gripping the door so hard, I thought he’d dent the metal.
“I was promised a ravishing.” I kept my tone playful, the invitation clear.
His broad grin short-circuited my brain. “Only if you ravish me back.”
I chuckled, and he took it as consent, scooping me out of my seat and into his arms. He bumped the door shut with his hip and carried me easily inside, cuddled close to his chest. He toed off his shoes at the door, eyes dancing as he eyed the cleavage I’d pressed generously into his eyeline.
“How many romance points do I lose if I comment on how great your rack is?”
I snorted, holding back a laugh. “Oddly enough, you’ll be plus one. I’m in the mood for crude.”
“Noted.”
Slowly, he let me slide down his chest, my feet just touching his bedroom floor before he spun me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I tilted, unsteady until he caught me closer, stabilizing me. He nuzzled my neck, tickling me with his breath, kicking up a fresh storm of sensation.
He’d used his precious minutes wisely, lighting candles that gave his room a soft, romantic glow. I could hear the low beatof music from his speakers. He’d even turned back the sheets, placing not one, but three condoms and lube on the bedside table. I hid a smile. It was no wonder I loved this man. He didn’t just prepare for a good time; he prepared for alongtime.
Clay trickled his hands over my shoulders, sliding to my fingers, tracing each digit gently before entwining our hands, meshing our fingers together. His nuzzling at my neck became the slow drag of kisses, intoxicating in their own way. I sank back against him, content to let him carry me along on a tide of need. It was a slow, gentle beginning. Conducted with infinite care. And while I loved feeling precious, enjoying his tender side, I wanted more.
Heat pooled low in my belly. I arched back, gripping his neck at the base and urging him closer. Each caress, each flick of his tongue along the sensitive skin at my collarbone only made me more restless. I pressed my thighs together, rubbing my backside against his hard length. He groaned, the guttural sound inciting me further. He wanted me too. I could feel it. In every breath. In every touch. While he kept his pace slow, there was an underlying edge of raw hunger that spoke to me. Urged me on.
I rippled in his arms, grinding against him. Roughly, he seized my hips, fingers spread to hold me steady. “Enough,” he barked, the sound harsh and low. All command.
A thrill of electricity scorched down my spine as he took control. He spun me to face him, eyes glittering. “You asked for this.”
I had. And the underlying tenderness in his words reassured me he’d stop any time I asked.
“You may be the king of the underworld, but that doesn’t make me your subject,” I taunted, offering him a challenging grin.
His eyes darkened. “Yield, Luce.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll fuck that pretty mouth.”
“I bite.”
