Her vision hazed. Lips parted.
Simple. As he said. Just stop after one. “Okay. A test.”
Bowing his head close, he brushed his lips against her ear so she shivered with delicious chills. “You know what used to drive your brother absolutely insane?”
Brandt? The fog of rising lust thinned as she wondered what in the world—and then her breath caught at the memory of a long-ago afternoon. Her brother storming through the door bellowing about his exam—and how Nate Evans always blew the curve.
Her eyes flew wide as Nate murmured his final warning. “I test very well.”
Chapter Twelve
HE COULDN’T just kiss her. Not Nate. No. He had to make a point as he did it. Eyes locked with Payton’s—forcing her to watch as he whittled the distance between them, covered her mouth with his and sank into his task with a slow, deliberate pressure. She couldn’t close her eyes or look away. But even as panic licked amongst the flames engulfing her, she held strong. Stoically taking what he gave her, she told herself to enjoy it—that it would be the last. If she could maintain her control here, then she’d have had her cake and eaten it, too—one night with Nate and a lifetime of friendship to follow.
She watched him, watching her.
Gentle suction pulled at her restraint. The back and forth rub of firm masculine lips wore at her resolve. God, he was good. Patient and skilled and, if memory served, just getting started. Her pulse skittered faster, a needy ache throbbed low in her belly. Twisting tight.
Be strong.
Even if holding back nearly killed her, no one actually died from denial.
She could do it. She could outlast this one pleasured assault and walk away from the temptation of more. Secure the friendship she didn’t want to let go.
Keep Nate forever…
And never again feel the stroke of his tongue skimming the tight seam of her lips, pushing her molten core past containment, spilling liquid fire through her veins.
Oh, God, she couldn’t—shouldn’t.
His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, wound and pulled with a tension so deliciously forbidden there was nothing to do but open on a trembling gasp. And then he was sliding into her mouth—hot and wet—in a slow, measured thrust and retreat that wiped her mind of anything beyond more. Having as much of this kiss as she could for as long as he gave it.
His mouth angled, taking them deeper. Taking more. Taking everything.
She could still stop. Still have the security. Have what they’d had all those years before. Memories rose to fight each decadent thrust of his tongue: Nate with his arm around her as they watched TV on the couch; raking the yard with her; leaning over her shoulder to help with her homework; laughing, with his head back and eyes shut over some dumb joke.
Friendly memories. Warm.
Only there was a constant through each and every one she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge until now. As she’d laughed alongside him or taken his assistance with a grateful smile, through it all she’d been fantasizing about—aching for—a moment like the one she resisted now. Where Nate wanted more.
And in that instant she realized if she did the “right thing”, took the safe path, she’d be doing exactly what she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Living a lie. Pretending to be a friend when she wanted to be a lover. Forcing herself into a mold that didn’t fit.
She blinked, once, twice. Gave into the heavy weight of her lids and closed her eyes. Gave up her fight against an inevitable hurt and loss in the future and stopped resisting the want and need that was now.
Her eyes closed and her body went lax in his arms. It was as though she’d simply given up and Nate felt the loss of her fight like a blow to the gut.
He shouldn’t care. He never cared. Relationships and whatever came of them were simply what they were. Enjoyable until they weren’t. Always on his terms.
But not this time. This time it was out of his control and driving him nuts.
Didn’t she understand he couldn’t make himself see her in a platonic light? It wasn’t choice firing his blood at the sight of her alone?
Damn, he had to let go, get his head around the fact that he couldn’t have her.
His arms loosened their hold. His marauding mouth eased from its plunder as he drew back to break the kiss—the kiss that wouldn’t break because the lips he’d poured his every skill and desire into had followed his retreat.
His pulse jacked.
Slight hands balled against his chest, released, crept higher and balled again.
Was he reading this right?
He tried to pull back—to see her face—but those slim arms were wrapped around his neck, clutching and clinging tight as her fragile plea shattered against his lips. “Don’t stop.”
His breath rushed out on a groan that was relief and desire and victory all in one, and in a combination so potent it nearly took him to his knees. And then she was alive in his arms, opening wide beneath the crush of his kiss, taking everything he gave and demanding more. Meeting the thrust of his tongue with the stroke of her own so they mingled in a sensual dance that was hot and wet and urgent.
Rhythmic. Erotic.
And not nearly enough. Nothing was enough. No matter how he touched her, how she moaned against his lips, pushed and pulled at his clothing until it hung half free of his limbs, begged with quiet sobs as he worked past her panties, teasing one finger and then two through her slippery arousal, it wasn’t enough. He had to be inside her. Had to have her. Completely.
His body vibrated with need beyond control. Banding his arms across her back, he lifted her from her feet.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth rough against her throat as he moved to the couch.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, her hands grasping at his shoulders. Her knees settling into the leather at either side of him so her skirt rode up her thighs. Opening her to him.
Damn, he could feel her, soft and hot, through the damp swatch of her silk panties.
Pushing violently at his half-open fly, he freed himself, giving into the temptation of that fragile silk barrier. He palmed her bottom and guided her to the bare skin of his shaft. Had to grip the base of the couch when her hands clenched, her body tensing as she slid against the length of him.
“Don’t stop…” she breathed again, her words taking on a desperation that only fed the madness burning within his veins. Her hair hung wild and loose around her face, her breasts swayed half exposed from when they’d wrestled with the straps of her dress. Her eyes were dark, heavy lidded and pleading as she moved over the straining ridge of his erection. “I can’t stop.”
Too. Much.
Not. Enough.
Reason and restraint snapped. He had her beneath him, her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure that tore through his very soul as he pushed inside.
Wet friction embraced him. Took hold of his sanity and tossed it aside as he drew back and drove deep again, setting a relentless rhythm of triumph and possession.
He had her. Writhing beneath him. Coming apart around him. The clutch of her slick walls urging him to follow. She felt so good…too good…too good…
Nate froze.
Too good.
She felt too good because he wasn’t wearing a condom. Buried inside her, a hair’s breadth from release with the receding waves of Payton’s orgasm pulsing around him, he didn’t dare