Ross 01 Unleashed (6 page)

He drew in a breath, exhaled it shakily. So much for prudish.

Note to self: Kelsey now gets unbelievably horny when drunk.

She licked her lips, staring into his eyes with surprising clarity for someone who had nearly passed out moments ago. The glint of moisture her tongue left behind was mesmerizing. He wanted to taste it. The heat of her palms sank into his flesh. She was burning up. Her legs were haphazardly parted, still tangled in the covers, and he could scent her arousal, musky and sweet.

“It’s not going to happen, Kelsey.” His voice probably sounded as firm as a little girl’s, but he gave it his best shot. All his strength had drained to his dick. It pushed against his zipper until he thought it might burst through if he didn’t release it soon. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

That pout resurfaced, but he was astounded at the pain that leaked into her gray eyes. It was…real, and raw, not some byproduct of an inebriated mind.

“You don’ want me. Why’d you never want me?” She was rubbing her thighs together now, the action only causing her scent to waft stronger into his nostrils. Like witchcraft, it drew him toward her, made the mental filmstrip of tearing her shorts off and sinking himself into the tight wet heat of her pussy play over and over again in his head…until it obliterated all else: morals, rationale, sanity. And he had never wanted her. Right.

God, she would feel so good closing in around him. He’d deprived himself for too long. She took one of his hands and laid it flat on her belly, then pushed it down toward the place she needed it. Her stomach muscles pulled taut beneath his reluctant touch, and that skin was hot and satiny. She leaned upward, parting her lush pink lips in wanton invitation.

No
.

It was one thing for two people to get hammered and go at each other. It was quite another when one of them had full control of his faculties and the other had none. Criminal even, and he could never take advantage of her like that. But he’d never been quite so tempted, he had to give her that much.

He pulled his hand away from hers and went to stand. She emitted some incoherent whimper that ripped at his heart, completely decimating it when the sound formed into words. “Evan, don’t leave…don’t leave me like this…please…”

No other hetero male on the planet could have endured the sight of her all disheveled in his bed, writhing and senseless and begging him to fuck her, without falling on her like a rutting animal. He should be declared saint of all the world to have lasted this long. If he hadn’t known her for all these years, he couldn’t have stopped himself.

Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead; one trickled back into her hair. The skin above her neckline glistened in the soft lighting. She was in flames, and he’d hardly put a hand on her.

“Kelsey, don’t do this to me.”

“Please,” she whispered again, gazing up at him, utterly smashed but still capable of all the determined longing that came along with such a state. She wouldn’t let herself pass out until she got it. “
Do
something. Touch me. Evan. God, I need it…”

The husky plea pushed him past his breaking point. She sounded like a different woman. He couldn’t give her everything she wanted, but if he could satisfy her without losing his mind, maybe she would pass out.

“Take off your shorts,” he whispered, knowing with brutal certainty that he was going to hell. The only consolation was the hope that she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. He knew her, and she would be mortified. But if she did remember…well, they would deal with it. “I’ll make it better.”

Her fingers were frantic and clumsy, and he had to help her. When she at last kicked the denim from her foot, the sight and scent of her drenched pink panties caused him physical anguish. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of the frothy lace, but he stilled her hand as he moved to lie beside her. He slid one arm beneath her head. “No, sweetie. Lie back.”

“But—”

“Shhh.”

She did as he told her but she mewled disconsolately about it. He fortified himself with a deep breath and slid his fingers under that sinful lace. He should have stayed on top of it. He’d meant to, but he had to allow himself this one thing. The feel of her. Heaven was under there, dewy curls and soft, hot, creamy folds. Kelsey threw her head back on his arm and moaned as his fingertips grazed her, her legs falling open to give him the full feel and scent of her. The graceful arc of her neck was something to behold, a sculptor’s wet dream.

His cock throbbed as he deliberately avoided venturing lower to the source of her wetness—the feel of that might well send him over the edge, plunge him into a madness that could only end with him spending himself inside of her. And damn her, she kept lifting her hips, trying to force his touch lower. He fought her, strumming her clit, caressing and stroking, slow and light to quick and hard. All the while he watched her face soften into that exquisite feminine expression of impending ecstasy, lips open, eyes closed, brows drawing together. Gorgeous.

“Take off my panties and lick me,” she whispered urgently.

“No. Just this.”

“Dammit!” she cried. “Don’t be like
him
.”

He didn’t have to guess who she meant, and just for that, he wanted to throw her thighs over his shoulders and tongue that tight little bud until she screamed for mercy.

Later. She was drunk on tequila and lust and he couldn’t let her bait him now. The trip was looking more and more delicious to him.

Kelsey came against his fingers with a ferocity that almost killed him. She seized his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his flesh through his shirt as her body tightened and she thrust her hips in rhythm with his hand. Her cries rang throughout his house, that usually gentle voice bold and carnal as it cried out his name, called him endearments. It was a sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again and again, shattering this emptiness, and he answered it with senseless murmurings in her ear, groaning with his need to feel her rippling and clenching around him.

The tension had no sooner flowed out of her than she was snoring, her arms slipping from around his neck. He couldn’t repress a chuckle, though his hard-on made it difficult to contemplate the fact that she was out now and he was alone in the same anguish she had just suffered.

Evan crawled away from her side and retrieved her shorts from the floor. There really was no danger of waking her at this point, so he slid them back over her legs, fastened them and threw the covers over her again. Her dark hair curtained her face. He reached down and gently drew the strands away, dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Damn,” he whispered. He liked the look of her cuddled under his blankets, in his bed. He liked her hair spread out on his pillow. Her skin was pale and stark against the burgundy sheets and a twinge of worry, of aching tenderness for her, sparked in his chest. She’d been through so much, and he feared she wasn’t over it yet. He also feared he was the one who’d stirred it all up for her again.

It was irrational, but he couldn’t shake this constant lingering feeling that some of the blame for the entire debacle was on his shoulders. He’d introduced her to her ex-husband eight years ago, entrusting Todd with the girl who’d been a better friend to him in a couple of years than Todd had been since they were kids.

Sighing, he turned away and grimaced as he ambled toward his closet with the unyielding denim of his jeans playing hell on his erection. He retrieved an extra blanket and pillow and went to make his own bed, on the couch. What he wanted was to crawl under the covers next to Kelsey and hold her in his arms all through the night.

Evan was yawning at the kitchen counter and pouring another cup of strong black coffee when the unmistakable sound of retching drifted in from the direction of his room. He was surprised she’d made it this long.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He’d spent all night dreaming about her sweetness against his fingers, even after taking a shower as cold as he could stand it and coming hard in his hand with her name ricocheting through his brain. It had been a fitful sleep, to say the least, and he hadn’t even been able to go for his run this morning to work off the lingering frustration. Rain had begun to fall just after dawn—he’d still been lying awake—and it didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Ordinarily he would’ve just run through it and been thankful for the relief in this heat, but not with Kelsey here to look after.

Rain on what was supposed to be his wedding day. That would’ve sent Courtney into a screeching tailspin. Thank God he didn’t have to listen to it, although he could almost hear it.
Oh my God
,
Evan! My dress! My hair! My makeup! Make it stop!

Well, she hadn’t been quite that bad. But somehow she probably would have made him feel like it was his fault water was falling from the sky.

He took a bottle of water out of his fridge, anticipating Kelsey’s cotton-mouth, and walked into his bedroom half afraid of what he would find. She’d flung the covers halfway across the room and his bathroom door was partially closed, as if she’d made a halfhearted attempt to slam it behind her on her mad dash. He walked over and rapped on it with his knuckles.

“You all right, Kels?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” was the response. He shook his head, smirking as he watched the rain drool down the windowpane across the room. Dim, murky gray light filtered over everything. She was lucky in that regard. No blinding morning sun to assault her senses.

He dared to push the door open a bit and peek inside. She was lying on the floor, her cheek pressed against the tiles, her skin as white as they were. Oh, he’d been there before. Those tiles were very cool to the touch, especially against flushed skin.

Her eyes opened a bit, and she moaned when she saw him standing there. “Evan…I sure hate to tell you to go away in your own house.”

He laughed, walking in despite her words. “That’s right. You can’t.” He opened his medicine cabinet and got her a couple of Tylenol, which he handed to her after unscrewing the lid of the water bottle for her. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She pushed herself up on one arm and gulped it down like she was a lost desert traveler, delicate throat muscles contracting. Half the bottle of water drained before she stopped. She wiped her mouth, put the bottle on the floor and lay back down. “Just let me stay here, please.”

He leaned over, meaning to drag her up to her feet. “Not an option. You can’t be comfortable down there.”

“Evan, I’m so sorry.”

He froze, swallowing hard. She was looking up at him with a wretchedness in her eyes he could only interpret to be guilt or profound regret. She must remember……

“For what?”

“For passing out on you like that. I don’t normally act like this, I promise. I’ll get out of your hair in a few minutes—”

Relief bore down hard on him and he knelt down next to her. Guilt was tearing him up that he’d touched her at all in that state. He should have been able to walk away, and in the harsh light of day, he couldn’t believe how weak he was. “Stop that talk, you can stay all day if you want. And I know how you act. I’m sorry for letting you get to that point.”

“Today is supposed to be your wedding day, isn’t it?” she asked softly. Her voice was hoarse.

“Yeah. Some weather we’d have had, huh?”

“Really, I’ll go in just a minute, I don’t mean to—”

“Shh. Do you think I want to spend my rainy would-be wedding day by myself?” He grinned at her. “Hang out with me.”

She must’ve been convinced, because she smiled back. “Did I walk to bed or did you have to carry me?”

He tugged the collar of his T-shirt, though it wasn’t what was about to choke him. “I carried you.”

She covered her eyes with one hand. “You probably don’t want to go anywhere with me now.”

“Yes I do.”
More than ever
. “I can’t wait to go away with you.”

A trembling smile touched her lips, causing his chest to ache. Even wound tight in a fetal position on his bathroom floor, sick and ashen with finger-in-light-socket hair, she was beautiful to him. The need to take care of her roared through him, the desire to take away the pain. He cleared his throat. “What do you feel like? If you want to take a shower, I’ll see if I can scrounge up something you can wear after.”

“Okay,” she said after seeming to seriously debate it with herself.

“Come on.” He reached for her again, and she let him, curling her slender fingers around his biceps as he drew her to her feet. When he determined she was steady enough, he reached into his shower and turned on the water. “Towels are behind you there in that cabinet. Sorry if all my soap and stuff is too manly-smelling for you.” Some of Courtney’s leftover stuff probably still lurked in the depths of his cabinets, but he doubted Kelsey wanted to smell like the woman who’d ruined her marriage.

She chuckled. “It’s okay. I’ll probably just stand there and soak for about three hours.”

“However long you need.” The urge to stroke her face, touch her hair, was compelling, along with the need to do a number of other things to her. Knowing she was about to be naked in his shower was torture enough without the memory of last night, the way she’d smelled, the way she’d felt. “I’ll be right back.”

He left to rummage through his drawers, trying to dispel the images. Finally he located a pair of sweats she could pin at the waist and roll up if she had to. One of his UT Law T-shirts and she’d be fairly set, though it would hang to her knees. He took it all into the bathroom and left it folded on the counter.

She was sitting on the closed toilet lid now, her head between her knees as steam billowed from the shower stall.

“You okay?” he asked. “I can run you a bath, if you’d rather not stand.”

“I’ll be all right,” she said weakly, sitting up straight again. “Just nauseous.”

“I’ll leave you alone. When you’re done I have coffee in the kitchen, if you feel like it. Yell if you need anything. I mean it, Kelsey. You remember college. I’ve had to babysit the drunk many times before. You’re a picnic, if only because I can pick you up if I have to.” He grinned at her, and she managed to return it.