The Scandal and Carter O'Neill (12 page)

After opening the door, he bent to her and helped her into the backseat. She felt every inch of his body against hers and the hormones, the crazed craving hormones, roared to life and every cell in her being wanted Carter.

Craved Carter.

“Perkins Road,” he said to the cabbie.

The door slammed shut behind him and the car took off into the night.

Holy Crap, Zoe thought. I’m really doing this. I am going to have sex with Carter.

“I had no idea you lived there,” she babbled, nerves making a fool of her. She was going to get naked in front of a lover for the first time in a very, very long time and she no longer had her dancer’s body. “Is that a house? Or a condo? I’ve seen the condos around there. Very nice—”

His fingertips brushed her cheek, and she lost all her breath, just deflated against the cracked plastic seat beneath her.

“You’re beautiful when you’re nervous,” he whispered, his words like sparks against her skin.

Their eyes caught and held and the fire between them exploded into flames.

His thumb pressed down on her lower lip, touching her tongue, and she licked his thumb into her mouth.

“Zoe,” he whispered, his fingers cradling her cheek, and the heat between her legs grew damp.

His blue eyes blazed and the air radiated between them. She bit the pad of his thumb, licked it in apology, and his lips parted and drew a ragged breath.

Power, she thought. I have such power. It had been a long time since she’d been drunk, but this was so much better than that.

In this together, he’d said, and she didn’t doubt it. Right now, the whole world could go up in flames and they wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t care.

All that mattered was this man’s touch, his fingers and the pulse of her flesh, the appetite of her sex.

“Ah…we’re here?” the cabbie said and Zoe jerked away, but Carter gripped her hand, keeping her present and with him. The world didn’t matter, his touch said. They can think what they want. He tossed the cabbie a couple of bills and pulled her out of the cab.

They stepped out onto the curb, and she barely had a chance to take in the handsome condo complex, one of the new developments on Perkins Road. All windows and brick. No plants or flowers. Not a curtain in a window.

So like him. Unreadable, sort of. Closed off. Handsome, but cold.

Don’t care, she reminded herself. Don’t start counting all the ways this man could hurt you.

“Zoe?” he said, “are you—”

She kissed him, throwing herself against the strength of his body. Her hands wove into his hair and gripped it in her fists.

He moaned and pulled her as close as he could, as if he were trying to tuck her into his skin. His arms, so wide and big, felt like bands across her back. And his lips. His lips were delicious. Salty and sweet. Better than salsa and ginger cookies. Better even, than Frayley’s beignets.

His hands gripped the silk of the dress, and as his lips parted the kiss started to spin someplace dark. Exciting.

His tongue licked her, his lips sucked at her and the heat that had cooled with her doubts exploded inside her all over again, sharp and painful. A brutal awareness of her skin, of every pleasure center, clamored to be dealt with.

She wanted to do filthy things with this man. Gorge herself on sex and Carter.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I…um…can you?”

“Can I what?”

“It’s the hormones,” she said, like it was a warning.

“You want to roll me in caramel sauce?”

Oh, that sounded good. That sounded so good.

“Just spill it, Zoe.”

“Can you be…kinky?”

His smile split open the night. “Try me,” he whispered, and swung her into his arms.

CARTER WAS NERVOUS. Like a virgin. He wished he could blame it on the pregnancy, but he knew, deep down, he was nervous because this was Zoe. Zoe in his arms, Zoe in his bed. In his house.

He hadn’t done this in a long time, brought a woman home. It had grown too personal and he couldn’t concentrate wondering what they were seeing when they looked at his things.

But not Zoe. Zoe had already seen so much of him. What would looking at some art, or his dirty kitchen, possibly change?

He set Zoe down and unlocked the door, pushed it open and then closed it behind them. It was dark in his house, warm, and it felt like the night was a part of them. He could feel her in the air, as if she were electricity.

And maybe she was.

Kinky.

Was she kidding? Could she be any more beautiful? More exciting?

Zoe stepped into a bright square of light that fell in from the bank of windows in his living room. Her skin glowed pale and perfect, as if she were made of moonlight.

She smiled, shy, but knowing her beauty. Christ. He wanted to eat her. He wanted to lay her down on the floor and spread her out.

Kinky, he thought, a devilish thrill making him feel ten feet tall swirling through him. Where to start?

“Take off your dress,” he said.

“Here?”

He nodded.

Something about the command in his voice killed the hesitancy in her face. Now she was all woman.

Her hands found the zipper under her arm and pulled it down, inch by tantalizing inch.

She was Marilyn Monroe. Hell, she was Eve. She was everything beguiling and gorgeous and feminine.

The dress dipped at her chest and she clasped it to her, hiding her naked body from his eyes and making him want to roar and pull it off her.

“Take off your coat,” she whispered, licking her lips.

Every ounce of blood in his body pooled in his crotch and he could barely think.

Mindless, he ripped off his jacket and tore open his shirt, sending buttons flying into the shadows. He heard one hit his TV.

He stepped toward her and she retreated. She gave him a smile, a flash of flesh, and adrenaline spiked his blood.

“Your dress, Zoe,” he nearly growled.

She shook her head, stepping backward into the dark and then into another square of light. She kicked off her shoes and he toed off his. Again, she stepped backward out of the light, her eyes glowing in the dark. He took a deep breath and stepped into the light she’d left, and he knew she could see every line of his body. Every thought and emotion on his face. He was more than naked. Worse than naked.

He was revealed.

And totally turned on.

He lowered his hands to his belt, opened the leather and metal clasp.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. “A show?”

He could feel her desire pulsing through the air. Her hand, white and elegant, reached out of the darkness and touched his fly, the hard ridge of his erection beneath the fabric. Her fingers stroked him; her palm flattened and pressed hard against him. “This is what I want,” she whispered.

He tilted his head back and dropped his hands, surrendering to everything—the moment, Zoe.

Yes, he thought, yes, please yes. Touch me.

Her warm hands made quick work of the zipper, and he felt his pants bag at the waist, fall to his knees, and he kicked out of them. He glanced down at her hands, easing into the band of his underwear and then…oh.

“Zoe,” he groaned, grabbing her wrist, probably too hard, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t stop himself. Her fingers toyed with the thick head of his penis, feathered down the shaft.

He was going to die. Right now.

He pulled on her wrist, bringing her into the light where she stood, gasping. And naked.

Her breasts were pink and perfect, the nipples hard in the bright light. Her skin stretched like ivory velvet over sleek muscles, but the best part was the thin wisp of lace he could barely see because of the gorgeous mound of her belly.

“Look at you,” he breathed, and she pulled her hands free to put them on her belly.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice broken and soft. “It’s strange, right? This is—”

“You’re gorgeous,” he said. Not even realizing what he was doing he dropped to his knees, face to navel with her belly. He kissed her skin, stroked the contours of her stomach. Maybe it would be strange to other men, but he found her impossibly sexy. The most womanly thing he’d ever been privileged to touch.

“Oh.” She sighed. “Oh, wow.”

He could smell her desire and he smiled wickedly against her skin. Sliding his hands up her legs, he found the edges of the thong, the lace damp under his fingers. She jolted. Twitched.

Her fingers slid into his hair, pulling a little, and the violence fed his desire. He pressed his face to the thin lace, felt the curls against his lips. His fingers teased their way inside the lace and she began to shake, to quiver and moan, and Carter smiled with sudden secret knowledge.

Zoe Madison was hot. She was wet. And she was going to fall apart in his arms like no other woman he’d ever known.

Rough now, because he was losing all control, he pulled the lace from her body and his lips found the hard edge of her clitoris, his fingers the deep damp well of her womanhood, and within moments he brought Zoe to her knees.

“MORE,” SHE WHISPERED, once she could speak again. She was straddling his lap, the hard press of his erection against her belly. It was as if the orgasm had only increased her appetite, and now she shook for the man.

She kissed his damp lips, tasted herself on him and felt the fires burn hotter. “I want more,” she breathed against his lips, her fingers gripping his erection. She licked her thumb, her eyes locked on his, and circled the head of his penis.

She loved his control right now, the edge of his jaw, the burn of his eyes. Oh, that control was really the sexiest thing about him, because she knew what was on the other side of it.

A man unleashed.

And she really, really wanted him unleashed. That would be great; it would be totally fantastic. She just had to get him there.

His fingers slid back between her legs. “I’ll give you more,” he breathed. “I’ll give you as much as you can take.”

She wiggled away from his hands, sliding off his legs.

He was gorgeous in this light. All hard smooth muscles. She licked his nipple and he groaned, his fingers fisting in her hair.

Oh, she thought, I like that. To get more of it, she sucked on his nipple, bit gently with her teeth until he swore and arched against her.

Yes, she thought.

A man unleashed. We’re getting there.

She leaned back and looked up into his shuttered, smoldering eyes. He was still trying so hard to keep his control, but she was just going to have to try harder to break it.

Resting her weight on one arm behind her, she spread her legs, and his eyes blazed, drawn like a magnet to the damp curls he’d explored oh so thoroughly.

What to do? she thought, delighted and burning, feverish with this need to pull him apart. She touched her own breast, squeezing the nipple, and he groaned, his hands in fists at his side.

“Get up on your knees,” she whispered.

He quirked his eyebrow, but didn’t do it.

“Please,” she whispered. He smiled but still didn’t do it, watching her hand as her fingers toyed with her nipple.

Devil, she thought, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, his eyes watching her every move, she put her hand between her legs, her thumb brushed her clitoris and she felt the surge of another orgasm coming.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Don’t you?”

She stopped, her body beginning to shake. This was supposed to break his control—hers was already broken.

“Up on your knees,” she said, and he shifted, every muscle flexing and moving, like a statue brought to life.

His erection pulsed in her hands and she kissed the head, felt it leap against her lips.

“Zoe,” he moaned, his voice broken and hot as if burned by a terrible fire. She licked him, sucked him. Did every wicked thing to him that he’d done to her.

“Touch yourself,” he breathed. “Touch yourself while you suck me.”

Oh! she thought. So dirty! It was sinful, depraved, but she did it, her fingers in her damp curls, her secret places.

His fingers, so big and callused, touched her hand, driving her faster against herself until a giant wave lifted her up.

“No,” she said, pushing his hands away.

“I thought you wanted more,” he said, the devil in his eyes. His lips.

“With you,” she whispered, looking him in the eye as she licked him, top to bottom. He shook, small tremors really that she could only feel because she was right there, pressed against him. Her mouth was full of him, her body ached for him and her heart…well, her heart needed to mind its own business. Her body was running this show.

“I’m not—” His smile was broken. Chagrined. His fingers touched her neck, lifted her chin until he slipped away from her. “I’m going to lose it, Zoe,” he said as if it were a bad thing.

“That’s sort of the idea,” she said, getting to her knees, so close to him her breasts dragged up against his chest. Again she felt his shaking.

“I…” His hands touched her stomach, cupped her breasts. His thumbs stroked her nipples. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, laying a hand flat against the swell of her belly. It was so tender, the most tender touch she’d ever felt in her life, and her heart strained hard against her chest, a bird beating at its cage.

“You won’t hurt me,” she said, trying to muscle her heart out of the picture, because she was beginning to feel less like a porn star and more like a woman in danger of falling in love.

And really, she was going for porn star here.

“You make me a little crazy,” he said, kissing her lips, breathing across her neck until her nipple was in his mouth and it felt like she was being licked by fire.

“Okay,” she sighed, her mind going blank, every word she knew running away from her. “That’s…great. I…ah…oh wow…want you crazy.”

He bit her, just hard enough to light up every single jackpot sign in her body.

“Good,” he said, his voice all dark again, like chocolate and velvet and she felt that wave building in her. Was she going to come just listening to him talk? She squeezed her thighs together. “Because I want you in my bed.”

She whimpered as he scooped her up, her legs around his waist, the head of his erection bumping the white-hot center of her body. He walked through the shadows, the darkness a living breathing heat around them. She felt like they were cocooned, safe.

Her back pressed open a door and then she was bounced onto a soft mattress, a silky comforter against her skin.

Carter opened the drawer by his bed and pulled out a condom. She turned her head to watch him unwrap it and roll it over his penis. Sexy, she thought, and she’d never thought that before.

Everything this man did was sexy. She could watch him file taxes and be turned on.

His hands slipped up her legs and suddenly yanked her, pulling her hips off the edge of the tall mattress. His smile was wicked, delicious, his touch sure and confident. Her legs twined around his hips, her weight balanced in his hands. Despite her belly, the pregnancy, she felt so small against him. She arched her back, notching herself against him.

Sweat pooled between them, their panting and the rustle of her body against the comforter the only sounds in the room.

Still he waited, pulling the moment so taut she thought she might snap.

“Cart-ah!” she cried as he entered her, driving so deep she felt him in the back of her throat. Her body clenched him in hard triumph. So long, she thought. Oh, it had been so long.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning over her, his face etched with concern.

She laughed—she couldn’t help it. Running her hands over his shoulders, cupping the muscles, testing her fingernails against his skin—she laughed, delighted in the feel of him.

Rocking hard against him, she arched her back, feeling every inch of him, every inch of her body.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I’m so good.”

He leaned over her, his hair falling over his eyes, and she reached up to touch his face. She arched again and watched his control begin to fray moment by moment, touch by touch.

Yes, she thought, glee riding her heartbeat. Yes!

Carter was gorgeous this way, human and vulnerable. She knew, in a wild tender moment, that this was a gift. Carter, with no defenses, his heart in his eyes, was a rare gift.

He drove her back on the mattress, shuddering against her. She held him as hard as she could in her arms, while trying to keep him far away from her heart.

ZOE KNEW MISTAKES. She was an idiot savant with mistakes. If there was some kind of game show—Name That Mistake—she’d be a millionaire. A grand champion.

And as she watched the sun rise outside his window, turning the sky pink and pale yellow, tracing early-morning clouds in white-hot light, she knew that making love to Carter had been a doozy of a mistake.