Just One Moment (Just One Song #4) Page 7

  I shake my head and wave my hand at him. "Have fun with this."

  "Yeah. Thanks, asswipe."

  "No problem, dispshit," I call out as I walk away.

  Instead of staying at work, I decide to hit the locker rooms, forming a new plan to get Sarah's attention.

  If she doesn't want to speak to me, I know where she works.

  At the very least I owe her some sort of explanation for my prickish behavior the other night.

  Then, maybe once we clear the air, things can go back to the way they should be.

  Me...with a sexy-as-hell and limber blonde beneath me.

  I grab my phone from my desk on the way to the locker room and type out a quick text.

  You can avoid me if you want. But I know you're missing my tongue and the way I can drive you crazy. We're due. And soon.

  There. Back to sex. I can totally do this.

  I can ignore the way I actually feel about her and take what she's willing to give me. It's the only thing I should be willing to take from her anyway.

  I almost jump in surprise when my phone alerts me to a text.

  And I find myself unable to stop from grinning when I read it.

  With family this week. Back in town Friday night. My place-six p.m. I'll let you put your tongue wherever you want.

  Ah...the possibilities are endless.

  I adjust my hardening cock and then force myself to think of the sounds my parents used to make when they had sex.

  The last thing a man needs is to walk into a male locker room to shower sporting a hard-on.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SARAH

  EVEN THOUGH MY early afternoon Dr. Pepper wore off hours ago, I feel like I’m jacked up on caffeine as I lug my suitcase into my apartment. Days in Minnesota will do that to me.

  Sometimes it feels as if I've conquered my fears when I return to my hometown and catch up on everything going on in the office of the nonprofit organization I created when I was just a teenager.

  I started T.A.T.D., called Tatted, standing for Teens Against Texting and Driving, when I was only eighteen years old, almost a full year after I began speaking to local high schools.

  Not only was I responsible for ruining Nicole's life when I took her family from her, my father was forced to step down from being governor over media backlash, and our family has never been regarded with much respect since.

  It was too much for a teenager to handle, and while I was put in counseling, that didn't help either.

  The only thing that truly did was hitting rock bottom when, eight months after the accident, after I'd been unable to sleep through a single night without waking up screaming from night terrors, I finally tried to silence it all by swallowing a bottle of prescribed sleeping pills.

  My mom found me passed out, the empty bottle next to me, and I was rushed to the hospital to have my stomach pumped.

  I then spent three days in an inpatient psych ward, which ended up terrifying me more than any nightmare I'd had.

  To say it scared me straight would be an overstatement, but the experience did have a hand in helping me, if for no other reason than I never wanted to return to any place like that ever again in my life.

  It was a year after that that I finally felt brave enough to share my story, hoping that if I helped one person, if I saved one life, I would somehow find forgiveness or absolution for my crimes. The demand for me to speak, the outpouring of support after that—especially once Nicole volunteered to come speak with me at one point when I went back to my local private high school—became so great I could no longer handle the workload as well as my new college work by myself.

  Thus, T.A.T.D began.

  I now have seven employees who do all of the marketing and advertising and promotion as well as administration. I lean on them heavily, and since moving to Chicago, I return home every quarter for face-to-face meetings and to go over quarterly statements. Other than that, I speak whenever I'm able, going wherever they tell me. Occasionally, if it fits with Nicole's traveling schedule for her and Zack Walters' band, she accompanies me.

  Those events are always the hardest. I still have a hard time looking her in the eye after all these years, even though when I do, I see nothing but respect and kindness shining in hers.

  The work, on top of my career, is draining, and even though it leaves me ragged and feeling like I've been shoved through a cheese grater, I also come out stronger.

  Most of the time.

  There are some times, like this most recent visit, when the hate mail from people who refuse to forget what I've done is so numerous that I'm a mess by the time I get back to Chicago.

  I've been so preoccupied this week that I haven't been able to return any texts or calls from Kennedy after she met with Grayson and the Matsens. I also haven’t responded to her messages letting me know that she and Grayson are working things out and because of that, she's spending the weekend at his place.

  I'm thrilled for her.

  But tonight is a night when I need a friend. When I need someone to hold me and comfort me and then let me get completely trashed. Kennedy is one of my few friends who know of my past.

  Lynx coming over soon should be a comfort.

  The distraction will help, which is why I told him to come.

  It doesn't change the fact that I still haven't recovered from my last night with him. The way he tried to get me to open up about family and the way he talked about his have continued to replay in my mind all week long.

  I'm just finishing unloading my suitcase, dropping piles of clothes into my hamper when the buzzer near my front door sounds.

  With my arms filled with toiletries for the bathroom, I hurry to reach the buzzer.

  "Hello?"

  Lynx's voice instantly blares into my room. "Let me up."

  “Come on up.”

  I buzz him into my building and drop my toiletries off in the bathroom. I take the short time I have before he gets to my apartment to throw on a fresh tank top and ruffle my hair, spritzing body spray in it so I don't smell like a stale airplane.

  I should have allowed time for a shower.

  But as a knock comes at my door, it's too late.

  Perhaps Lynx and I can take one together afterward.

  It's that thought that has me grinning as I answer the door.

  This. This is what I need.

  Sweet, orgasmic oblivion.

  "Hey," I say as I open the door.

  Lynx's gaze scans my body quickly and I take the time to return the favor. In simple jeans, a vintage-looking Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, and leather thong sandals on his feet, he's casual and yet...sexy as hell.

  Damn. This guy just does it for my lady parts.

  My thighs tighten as a slow pulse begins to beat at the tops of my legs.

  It's seconds, just moments, and I'm already turned on.

  "Come on in," I say and step back, letting him into my apartment.

  Lynx walks in and removes his black ball cap.

  I gasp as his fingers rub the back of his scalp and he shoots me a look over his shoulder.

  "What?" He slides the cap back on his head.

  I point at it. "Your head."

  His eyes pinch together before he grins. "Yeah, I have one of those. Two, actually."

  "Funny. I meant you have hair."

  I swear I see a faint hint of color on his cheeks when he mutters, "Yeah. I, uh, I've been thinking about growing it back out."

  I make a face. I have no idea why he'd be nervous at my reaction to that. Then I think of Landon and how hot he is with full, thick black hair, cropped short. "You going to grow it out like Landon's?"

  "Haven't decided. Probably longer. Before I shaved it off it was down past my ears."

  "Huh." I realize I'm still standing in the doorway with the door open, so I close it and reset the locks.

  The startling moment of learning Lynx is growing out his hair has distracted me from why I needed him tonight, but now that he's in my living
room, eyes on mine, darkening as I get closer—

  My memory returns.

  I walk up to him and take the cap off his head, flicking it onto the floor. I run my hand along the top of his head when he dips down so I can reach him. The short, spiky hairs tickle my palms but feel softer as I run them down the back.

  I think of the way my hands feel when I press them against his bare head. It's fantastic, really.

  But I'm suddenly imagining Lynx with hair I can hold on to or run my fingers through while he's going down on me, and I shiver.

  "You like that idea?" he murmurs, reaching out and resting a hand on my waist.

  His voice is low, deep and rumbly.

  "Yeah," I admit. I speak just above a whisper. I don't know if I can speak louder. Every time he touches me, synapses in my brain spark and fizzle and go haywire.

  "How about we take this to your bedroom, then, so I can do all those things with my tongue that I promised."

  Best.Idea.Ever.

  My eyes widen in surprise for just a moment. Last time, he pulled out dinner and conversation and I was able to sideline him with a blowjob from things getting too personal.

  This time he's all about jumping straight for the bed.

  Which I'm a fan of. Trust me.

  I measure his gaze to see how sincere he is, and see nothing but a readiness to rock my world in his deep-set eyes.

  My pulse flutters against my skin and I reach for his hand, pulling him along with me down the hall.

  "Sounds good to me."

  His grin turns into a smirk.

  We make it into my bedroom and I'm given no time to glimpse around my room to make sure everything is put away, that there's no dirty underwear from my trip lying on the floor, when Lynx wraps his hands around my small waist and I'm airborne, landing on my bed with a squeal.

  "Hey!"

  "You like it," he mutters and grabs onto my calves, turning me over so I'm on my back.

  I do. I love his strength and the way he can easily move me wherever he wants me to be.

  My legs spread open while he hovers over me at the edge of the bed, his eyes roaming all over my body.

  "What are you looking at?" I ask, already breathless.

  His lips twitch. "Trying to figure out where I'm going to taste you first."

  Everywhere. Immediately.

  Please.

  I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it off, throwing it off to the side, and smile.

  Lynx removes his own, drops his hands to the bed next to my stomach, dips his head, and trails his tongue through the center of my cleavage.

  Then he continues tasting me and doing wicked things to my body with his tongue, just like he promised.

  ***

  Our panted breaths are the only sound I can hear over the blood rushing through my ears. With one hand on my chest, my other is flopped to the side while I watch Lynx push off the edge of the bed and head to the bathroom connected to my bedroom.

  I watch his firm, naked ass move as he walks away, completely uninhibited by his nudity, and I grin.

  That man, that mountain of a sexy man, is mine.

  For the moment.

  I scowl at the thought and sit up, still watching him moving in the bathroom when he shouts, "I can feel you staring at me."

  "Stop looking so damn hot naked, then, if you don't want me to look," I call back.

  He peeks his head out through the door and smiles.

  And just like that, it's all it takes for my body to quiver with excitement.

  "Mind if I take a quick shower before I head out of here?"

  My eyes widen. Leaving? Already? We usually have several rounds of sex before we separate.

  He's okay with one?

  I sit up and press my hand against my chest. It does nothing to quell the panicky feelings coursing through me that I suddenly don't understand.

  He hasn't distracted me enough.

  That's all this is. Usually after sex with Lynx, I'm not thinking about anything other than him and his body and the incredible way he can work mine over.

  But the stress of my week in Minnesota still lingers at the back of my mind.

  He can't leave yet.

  I toss off the sheet and climb out of bed, giving him what I hope is a sexy expression.

  It must work because he seems to understand what I want even before I reach him.

  "Mind if I join you in the shower, then?"

  He opens the door for me. "I was hoping you'd ask that."

  I laugh and then jump as his hand lands on my backside. The sting spreads throughout my ass, and I toss him a glare in the reflection of the mirror. "That hurt."

  He comes up behind me while I lean into the shower, turning on the hot water and holding out a hand to test the heat.

  His mouth drops to my ear. I shiver as his hand gently runs across the sting of his spanking. "I'll make it better."

  Since I'm beginning to learn that Lynx always makes good on his promises, I let him.

  "Come on." I step into the shower and turn my back to the water, letting it sluice down my hair and my back. "I wanted to take a shower before you came over anyway—rinse the stink of airplane off me."

  He steps in and slides the door shut behind him.

  My bathroom is small, my shower just wider than a standard tub/shower combo because it's also deep enough for whirlpool jets. I've never used them, not finding much enjoyment in soaking in dirty water while my fingers and toes prune like raisins. But it does allow for a decent amount of space for two people to shower together.

  Lynx watches me as I run shampoo through my hair and rinse it out. I open my eyes to see him fisting his erection, slowly sliding his hand up and down his hard, thick shaft.

  My lips parts in awe at the scene in front of me.

  "That's so hot," I say, nodding toward how he's getting himself off. The fact that he's doing it while watching me makes it hotter.

  I reach for the conditioner and continue washing my hair, unable to take my eyes off of Lynx's hand and his dick.

  "You want this?" he asks.

  I nod.

  "Hurry up and finish then. I have the sudden urge to turn you around and fuck you some more."

  His words are perfect.

  His voice is tighter, duller than it usually is.

  I look at him, trying to hide the confusion in my expression.

  I see nothing but arousal. Nothing but a need for sex. My body is getting turned on, knowing how well he works his dick when he's getting me off, but the way he’s speaking doesn’t feel one hundred percent right, either.

  I must not hide my confusion well because he glances up at me, taking his eyes off my toned stomach and small breasts, and meets my eyes.

  His dark eyes soften and his lips part. "You are, perhaps, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

  Stress releases from my shoulders and I smile. Using my hands, I rinse out the remaining conditioner and step toward him.

  I wrap my hand over his and his movements halt for a moment until he continues stroking himself, this time with me helping.

  His breath is already choppy and his chest is rising and falling rapidly.

  "I want you, Lynx," I whisper the words and watch his eyes close.

  He swallows slowly and looks at me when he opens them. "And my dick wants inside of you."

  I turn, placing my hands on the wall of the shower, and tip my butt out.

  Lynx takes his place behind me and runs his erection through my crease down to my swollen and needy center.

  "Please," I gasp as he runs the tip of his head over my clit.

  He chuckles behind me but pulls back.

  Then he fills me slowly. I feel every inch of him slide inside me and I let loose a groan of pleasure when he presses his chest against my back, his hands just outside mine on the shower wall.

  "Do you have any idea how fucking good it feels to be inside you?"

  "About as good as it feels to have you inside me, I
'm guessing."

  He grunts and then swears.

  "I didn't put on a condom."

  I trust him. I already know the gym makes all employees and fighters take frequent STD tests due to the risk of coming in contact with blood. "I'm on the pill."

  His forehead drops to the top of my head and he lets out a shaky exhale. "Holy shit, being bare feels amazing." He slides out and in slowly, as if relishing the feel of me. "I'll pull out anyway, just to be safe."

  I might nod. I might respond.

  I honestly have no clue what I'm doing anymore. Lynx begins to rock against me, thrusting his dick inside me and hitting the deepest parts of me. It's so slow, so torturous, so delicious, that I have a feeling this isn't just sex.

  It's more than that, these feelings he creates in me, inside and outside the bedroom.

  It doesn't matter that this is just supposed to be about sex.

  Just sex never feels this good.

  I have no clue what it means, what I'm supposed to do with this newfound knowledge.

  I just know I'm not ready to walk away.

  My orgasm hits quickly, and I bite my lips together to keep from crying out. When Lynx runs his fingers against my clit, right as my climax hits its peak, I can’t contain my satisfied cries and I end up screaming his name right before I collapse forward, resting against the shower wall.

  He sinks inside me, both of us gasping.

  "Holy fucking shit," he groans, right before his hips jerk and he pulls out. Warmth splashes against my back as he expels his cum on my skin. "How does it keep getting better, every damn time?"

  He mutters the question as if speaking to himself.

  I'm too stunned by his honesty to answer.

  But my earlier thoughts remain.

  It's not until we're drying off from the shower, both of us looking sated and well-fucked, that I find myself saying, "I'm thinking of ordering some pizza and beer. Do you want to stay and eat?"

  CHAPTER NINE

  SARAH

  BY THE LOOK of surprise in his eyes, I almost thought Lynx was going to tell me he couldn't and take off like he'd been planning on before our shower.