Undoing His Innocent Enemy, page 7
‘Your house is stunning,’ she whispered, to cover what she suspected was her awestruck expression.
‘Not as stunning as you,’ he murmured.
She clasped her arms over her naked breasts, suddenly self-conscious at how she’d fallen apart so spectacularly at his touch. How was she going to return the favour when she knew nothing at all about pleasuring a guy?
He was magnificent. In every way. Not just the rough-hewn features, the muscular torso and long legs dusted with hair, but also the thick erection thrusting proudly from the nest of dark hair at his groin.
For a moment she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it. She swallowed past the rawness in her throat.
Oh... My...
‘That’s... It’s... You’re very...large,’ she stammered, finally managing to finish the sentence while feeling both turned on and ridiculously gauche.
Sheesh, Cara, awkward much?
She’d promised him a temptress but was actually an untried virgin. What little sexual experience she’d had as a teenager had not been the best. And had certainly never been worth risking her father’s wrath. She could still remember the awful fallout from her Debs—the Irish prom—when she’d returned home with her date an hour after curfew. Her father had branded her a whore and her mother had given her a lecture on where babies came from—as if she didn’t already know that. But after that grubby, rushed and unsatisfying make-out session in the back of Barry O’Connell’s mother’s Skoda, and the names her father had screamed at her afterwards, she’d never had any desire to go further. Until now.
Logan tucked a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his.
‘Is it too large?’
For a moment, she thought the blunt enquiry might be a boast, but then she registered the concern on his face.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied honestly, feeling more awkward by the second, but no less turned on, weirdly. ‘I don’t think so.’
Surely in the grand scheme of things he wasn’t so big she couldn’t accommodate him. After all, his size was as big a turn-on as the rest of him. She pursed her lips, then spewed out the truth.
‘It’s just, I’ve never actually gone all the way before—which probably seems mad for a woman past twenty, but it’s just...’ She trailed off. Was this too much information again? Probably. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even flickered an eyelash at her confession. Was he put off by her lack of experience? Irritated? Annoyed? It was impossible to tell. ‘So you’ll be needing to take it slowly. Sorry,’ she finished.
His brows lowered, but then his gorgeous mouth tilted in a breathtaking—and endearingly self-deprecating—grin. ‘I am nearly thirty,’ he said. ‘And this is my first time, too, with a woman instead of my hand.’
For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. ‘You’re not serious?’ she blurted out. ‘You’re a virgin?’
How could he have given her the best sexual experience of her life already—be so hot and gorgeous—and be as inexperienced as she was?
The information just wouldn’t compute.
The smile on his lips died, his gaze becoming flat and direct. ‘This is a problem?’
‘No... No. Not at all.’
Wow, way to shove your foot down your own throat, Cara.
The concern had left his eyes, to be replaced by... Well, nothing. The shutters that had been lifted while he’d stroked her to orgasm—and she’d gone completely to bits under his instinctive and assured caresses—had slammed right back down again.
He turned away, lifting his sweatpants off the bed where he’d thrown them.
Panic assailed her. Had he changed his mind? Had she ruined it?
She grasped his arm, felt the ripple of muscle, making her frantic.
‘Please, it’s not... It’s not a problem at all. It’s just really surprising. And flattering,’ she said, desperate to stop him from getting dressed again.
He’d never done it before with anyone. And he wanted to do it with her. Why did that suddenly feel like a massively big deal? She suspected his decision had more to do with opportunity than anything else. Just as hers had. Had he ever had a woman here before? Exactly how long had he lived here alone?
But even so, she felt the lump of emotion swell in her throat when he continued to stare at her, and assess her statement, with that blank look on his face—as if his emotions were not for public consumption. Ever.
Maybe he had only picked her because she had literally landed in his lap. And thrown herself at him. But it still made her feel special and important—in a way Barry O’Connell and the other guys she’d kissed as an inquisitive teen never had.
She gulped down the lump still expanding in her throat.
Now, don’t go getting ahead of yourself. This is still just endorphins and chemistry and opportunity and sex...
But she was betting sex with Logan Colton—the most accomplished virgin in the northern hemisphere—would be really, really spectacular sex.
As long as she hadn’t messed up her chance.
He slung his sweatpants back on the bed—and relief rushed through her. The intense look on his face was unnerving, but she could still see the fierce arousal in his gaze.
And that prodigious erection—which he seemed remarkably relaxed about—hadn’t deflated one bit. That had to be a good sign.
‘You are sure?’ he said at last.
Her breath released in an audible sigh.
‘Yes, I’m totally positive. It’s grand.’ Her gaze dipped to that gorgeous column of erect flesh—which she suspected no other woman had even seen before her.
‘Could I...?’ she began, then had to swallow past the newest constriction in her throat.
Oh, for pity’s sake, Cara. This is your first time too, and weren’t you just after telling him it’s not a big deal?
‘Can I touch you?’ she asked.
He seemed to consider the question. Then nodded. ‘Yes.’
She let out a nervous half-laugh, stupidly touched by his total lack of guile.
He didn’t seem to be remotely embarrassed by his lack of experience. So why the heck was she?
‘That’s grand, then,’ she said, feeling both strangely euphoric and also oddly moved.
Maybe this wasn’t that big a deal to him. But in a lot of ways, it was to her.
Why had she waited so long to have sex? Why had she denied herself this experience?
Maybe because the few intimate encounters she’d had had been fraught with nerves and embarrassment—and marred by the spectre of her father’s judgment. But this felt somehow new and different and impossibly exhilarating. Because for the first time ever, it felt as if there was no judgment here. And nothing to prove.
This was all about the elemental attraction between them and nothing more.
And after too many painfully self-conscious encounters in her teens, she found that impossibly liberating.
She sank to her knees in front of him. Then glanced up at his face when he grunted.
His gaze was bold as he threaded his fingers into her hair, caressing her scalp, his expression so full of that fierce yearning she was captivated. And humbled.
She curled her fingers around his hard shaft. A shot of adrenaline reverberated in her core when he shuddered.
He clasped her skull in both hands now, his fingers tensing, kneading. She leant forward, desperate for the taste of him, driven to do something she had never even considered doing before.
She licked the thick length from root to tip, gathering the salty droplet on her eager tongue. The erection jerked forward, as if seeking her touch.
He swore viciously as she kissed the swollen head, adoring the musty taste of him—excitement charged through her veins as he bucked against her lips. And groaned.
As he began to shake, his hips thrusting of their own accord, she opened her mouth as wide as she could manage and worshipped him with it. Determined to give him the glorious release he had given her.
* * *
Logan let out a guttural moan, the feel of her lips on his swollen shaft so exquisite it was almost painful. Watching her beneath him, on her knees, was the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life, the thought of possessing all of her more than he could stand. The pleasure built at the base of his spine, his palms beginning to sweat as he resisted the powerful urge to thrust harder into her mouth.
He grunted. Tensed.
It was too good. Too much.
He clasped her head and dragged himself free. She stared at him, her eyes dazed with the same lust that burned in his gut.
‘I wish to be inside you,’ he murmured, his voice so husky it sounded as if it had been wrenched from the depths of his soul.
He hooked clumsy hands under her arms to lift her off her knees. If she stayed down there any longer, he would not be responsible for his actions.
Falling to his own knees, he stripped off her sweatpants, and the thin thermal tights she wore beneath. She clasped his shoulder, her nails digging into his flesh as she struggled to steady herself while he discarded the last of her clothing.
With his head level with her belly he could smell her desire. He licked his lips and sighed. Another time he intended to enjoy feasting on that scent. But right now, he couldn’t wait.
He lifted her into his arms, then dropped her—without a lot of finesse—onto the bed.
He took a moment to absorb the sight and imprint it on his memory. Her soft flushed body—her skin glowing in the redolent twilight—lay on the white sheets, her reddish-blonde hair cast in a halo around her head.
‘I do not have protection,’ he managed around the hunger beginning to claw at his throat as well as his gut.
She seemed dazed for a moment—he knew how she felt—that sparkling green still riveted to his fierce erection. But then her gaze rose to his. ‘I... I have a contraceptive implant.’ She touched her upper arm and he noticed a small bump under the skin. ‘It’s to help with my heavy periods, because they used to be so excruciating. It would take me days to recover every month, plus periods are a pain when you’re camping in the wild and...’ Her soft musical voice babbled to a stop. But what had once annoyed him, captivated him now.
He stared at her, to process the barrage of information.
‘I’m sorry, that’s probably TMI...’ She babbled some more.
He frowned. He had no idea what she meant by this TMI, but it did not matter. Adrenaline surged as his lust-fogged brain finally registered what she had said: he could climax inside her and it would not risk a pregnancy.
He climbed on the bed, his hands clasping her hips to angle her body. He would have preferred to turn her over, to sink himself deep inside her from behind, the desire to hide the effect she had on him instinctive. But he was aware he would need to gauge her reaction. She had seemed concerned about his size and he was her first lover, he did not want to risk hurting her.
But as she clasped his shoulders, and lifted her knees, her body cradling his, giving him better access, her gaze met his and he saw the same deep yearning in her eyes that pulsed so ferociously inside him.
He found her entrance, slid the thick shaft through the swollen folds, to nudge the spot he had found earlier.
She reared back and let out a guttural sob. ‘Please, just do it, Logan, before I die of wanting.’
He grunted out a rough chuckle, astonished she could make him laugh when he was about to fall apart.
But he took the hint, and, gripping her hips, lifted her body to his, to find her entrance.
He pressed into the hot flesh. Then stopped abruptly when she flinched, but she shook her head.
‘It’s okay, keep going, it feels good,’ she said, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
The feel of her, so tight, so tender, massaging him in spasms, had the last of his breath guttering out of his lungs as he thrust through the slight barrier.
He held himself deep, feeling her stretch to accept him, her pants matching his own harsh breaths.
Had he ever felt anything more exquisite in his life?
The question echoed in his consciousness but was swept away before he could engage with it by the tidal wave of yearning, of desperation as he felt her muscles twitch and pulse along his length, drawing him deeper still. The urge to move became so strong, he had to grit his teeth, to pull out slowly and thrust back as carefully as he could, amazed when he sank even further.
‘Is it okay? You are not hurt?’ he managed.
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m good. You have to move, Logan.’
He didn’t need a second invitation, the primal urge already clawing at his spine.
His rhythm was clumsy, uncoordinated at first, but her sighs, her shudders spurred him on. He rotated his hips, pulled out, thrust back, establishing the undulating thrusts, aware of what made her sigh, what made her tense.
The need built like a tsunami, claiming every part of his soul, in sweet, stunning increments, until he couldn’t hold back any part of his need.
She clung to him, her nails carving deep grooves in his back, his body rejoicing as the sharp pain combined with the visceral pleasure.
She cried out, her body massaging him at last, and the pleasure exploded. He shouted out as his seed pumped into her—draining him, and shattering her.
He collapsed on top of her, throwing him over into a deep abyss of perfect gratification, pure pleasure, as one last coherent thought echoed inside his head.
I must let her go. Or I will want to do this again... And again... And again. Until I am lost for ever.
CHAPTER SIX
CARA LAY STARING at the vaulted wooden beams that made up the ceiling of Logan Colton’s bedroom. His shoulder lay heavy on her chest, pressing her into the mattress.
She’d had two stunning orgasms in Logan’s arms. Two! And while he still felt huge inside her, and she was a little sore, the glittering pleasure—and that heady feeling of fulfilment—was far greater.
But it wasn’t just the endorphins barrelling through her system that were making her heart throb in her chest. She slid her hands over his shoulders, wanting to hold on to the moment a little while longer.
No one had ever made her feel so good. So right. And this man was a total novice. A smile curved her lips. Well, he wasn’t a novice any more. If he had ever really been one.
And neither was she.
He groaned and lifted off her, rolling—or rather flopping—onto his back beside her.
They were both staring at the ceiling now.
She turned her head, to find him watching her intently.
‘What is your name?’ he asked, his tone gruff.
She chuckled. She couldn’t help it.
That had to be the afterglow talking, surely?
Totally.
‘Cara. Cara Moira Doyle. I’m named after my maternal grandmother, who was by all accounts a fierce woman. I wish I had met her. Sorry, that’s probably TMI again.’
Okay, Cara, stop talking before you exhaust the poor man.
She pursed her lips, but she couldn’t prevent her smile spreading at the thought that he already seemed a little shattered, and she was the cause.
‘Hello, Cara,’ he said, and emotion tightened around her ribs.
‘Hello, Logan, it’s been a pleasure,’ she said as another laugh bubbled out of her mouth.
For goodness’ sake, stop giggling like a moonstruck girl.
But even as she tried to control the smile on her lips, it refused to leave her heart. She knew this was just sex—even if it was really spectacular sex—but the truth was, she felt impossibly grateful to him, for showing her that there had never been anything wrong with her. That the men—no, the boys—she’d kissed before, and Barry O’Connell in particular, who had treated her with so little care or affection or tenderness, then told her she was frigid when she had asked him to stop, had been as much to blame for her appalling experience of sex as she was.
She was twenty-one years old and she’d been avoiding sex ever since the night of her Debs—which would be appalling, if it weren’t so pathetic.
Her first lover was staring at her now as if she were the most curiously puzzling thing he had ever seen. And strangely she liked it. Who said Cara Doyle couldn’t be a femme fatale?
‘What is this TMI?’ he asked.
She choked out another laugh.
Ah, well, so much for being a femme fatale.
‘It just stands for “too much information”. I have a tendency to talk a lot when I’m nervous.’
‘Why are you nervous?’ he asked, a frown puckering his forehead.
‘Because, well...’ How to answer such a direct question without making it seem as if what they had just done had meant far too much to her? Far more than it should?
It was her turn to frown.
‘Because I guess I don’t know you... And we’ve just done something I thought I’d never do, and certainly never enjoy. And I enjoyed that a lot.’
She clamped her mouth shut, but the flush fired across her collarbone regardless.
‘For me too,’ he said easily as his gaze dropped to her breasts.
She folded her arms across the yearning flesh, before he could notice her nipples hardening again, the memory of how he had played with them so enthusiastically making the endorphins ramp right back up to eleven.
‘I’m glad,’ she managed, suddenly feeling exposed. ‘Although that’s not saying much, seeing as I’m the first woman you’ve ever had sex with.’
His gaze rose back to her face, that patient, probing stare as intimidating as it was exciting. ‘And I am your first too.’
Ah, yes, you did let that slip in the heat of the moment. Strike one to Cara Doyle’s big mouth.
‘Well, yes,’ she said as her blush incinerated her cheeks.
