A/N
Ok so this story douse not belong to me I was reading a book and thought it would be funny if it was a story about the h2o characters but throughout the story there is obviously no mention of mermaids like I said the story douse not belong to me and the characters don't either I decided to use Rikki and Zane for this story whenever you see leslie Kelly or slow hands and a number that's just the name of the author and page number
10
THIS LAST WEEK before Tabitha's wedding was shaping up to be
a crazy one and by Tuesday afternoon, Rikki was already completely
exhausted. Not only because she'd had two long,
glorious—and sleepless—nights in Zane's arms, but also because
of the typical prewedding hysteria every family experienced.
Tabby was a mess. The bride had been worrying herself into
a frenzy about the weather, the caterer, the vows, the rings.
She'd second-guessed the brand of champagne, argued with the
wedding planner and was stewing over her honeymoon trousseau.
Not to mention, she was starving herself to fit into her
size two dress.
Rikki had worn a size two once. When she was two.
Still, she didn't envy her sister one bit right now, and wouldn't
change places with her for theworld. Except, perhaps for one thing.
She did wonder what it might be like to be loved so deeply
by a man.
Her sister's fiancé must love Tabby madly. It was the only explanation
for why he'd put up with the antics of someone so
totally unlike himself. Why he'd be drawn to his complete
opposite. Love like that sounded so nice.
Who was she kidding? Being loved like that by a wonderful
man sounded utterly amazing. Especially if the man was Zane.
Stupid. She had no business thinking that way, but the fantasies
kept creeping up on her at the oddest times. Especially after
154 Slow Hands
she gave in and finally allowed herself to admit—after their conversation
in the car Sunday night—that she had changed, as
he'd pointed out. He simply didn't realize how much she'd
changed.
She'd fallen in love with him. Against all her own cautionary
advice and better judgment, her walls had dropped and her heart
had filled.
While a big part of her wanted to tell him, another part—the
sensible part—had known she couldn't. Not until their deal was
finished, their thirty days up. After that, if Zane stayed, it would
be for personal reasons only. She couldn't use her feelings to
pressure him in any way.
And that was why she'd demanded that he cash that stupid
check. They had to keep their arrangement, if only to make sure
that whatever happened afterward, happened because he felt as
deeply for her as she did for him.
"In love," she whispered under her breath Tuesday afternoon,
after daydreaming her way through an executive meeting led by
her father.
The ice queen had completely melted for a gigolo. Wouldn't
the tabloids adore that.
"What did you say?" her father asked, obviously hearing her
words, since only the two of them remained. The meeting had
wrapped up a few minutes ago.
"Oh, nothing," she said. "Just thinking about the wedding."
"Of course, who isn't?"
Their father had been preening in his role of father of the
bride, while also going over every detail with his keen businessman's
eye…as well as inviting anyone he felt like asking. He
had, in fact, extended two verbal invitations this very day.
"You know, Tabby's going to kill you. If those two California
businessmen come this weekend, you're going to throw off
her seating plans."
Leslie Kelly 155
Her father frowned, thought about it, then winked. "I'll
blame Deborah."
Their father was no dummy. He had absolutely no illusions
about how his oldest daughter felt about his young wife. Yet he
still managed to keep his sense of humor about it.
Tabby was right. He really did seem happy. So maybe he did
genuinely love the woman.
Good grief, she must be turning into a complete mush-bag believing
in all this true love involving her family.
"Do you really think our girl's going to be happy with that
stick-in-the-mud Bradley?" her father asked, putting words to a
question Rikki had considered a few times herself.
"She seems to be. She says he calms her."
Her father shrugged, not appearing convinced. "Calms her…
or bores her?" Then he frowned. "I have heard rumors that he's
a very rigid, strict man."
Knowing her sister, he would not stay that way for long. "It'll
be fine. Besides, you know Tabby. She has no problem calling
something off if it's not going to work out. And she's determined
to go through with it."
He sighed, obviously remembering the money he'd paid for
past engagements…and one lavish wedding. "So far." The way
he glanced at the documents in his hands did not disguise his
overly innocent tone when he asked, "And what about you,
sweetheart? Is that handsome, dark-haired fellow escorting
you?"
"Dad…"
"You can't blame me for being curious. He seems like a good
sort."
"He is a good sort," she admitted, hearing a completely unfamiliar
soft, mushy tone in her own voice. "In fact, he'swonderful."
Her father dropped his papers, reached for her and gave
Rikki a quick hug, kissing her temple. "I can't tell you how
156 Slow Hands
thrilled I am to hear you say that." His eyes were suspiciously
moist when he pulled away. "I want you to be happy, Rikki.
And I'm thrilled to see you giving someone else a chance after
what that vile bastard Oliver did."
One way to get her father riled up and send his blood pressure
through the roof was to talk about her ex. "Forget him Dad, he's
nothing. And yes, Zane is escorting me this weekend." Though
she didn't want to get her father's hopes up about Rikki actually
being involved in a real relationship—given Zane's profession—
she did like seeing the shadow of worry disappear from his eyes.
"I think you'll like him."
"I think I already do," he murmured, touching her cheek with
sweet tenderness. "He brought that beautiful smile back to your
face and the warm sparkle in your eyes. I've missed seeing them
in the past eighteen months." He stared at her for a moment, as
if memorizing her features, though he'd seen her nearly every
day for her entire twenty-eight years. "You are so lovely, my
dear," he mumbled, that moisture appearing in his eyes again.
Her father was behaving in a most un-Jason-Chadwick-like
fashion today. Loving he may be—maudlin and sentimental he
was not. This upcoming wedding must have really gotten him
thinking, and worrying, about Rikki's single state.
"Love you, Dad."
"I love you, too." And as quickly as his odd mood had come
over him, he shook it off and pointed an index finger at her.
"Now, don't forget this evening. You know I'm counting on you
to keep the peace."
Her usual role in the family.
"I won't forget," she murmured, wishing she could.
Her father had insisted on one last "family" dinner before
things got too crazy. Which meant she'd be seeing her stepmother,
the only person who did not seem to be going insane with
wedding preparations, or to even be involved with them at all.
Leslie Kelly 157
The woman had been avoiding her—and Tabitha, too—as if
they both carried the Ebola virus. Rikki suspected she was too
embarrassed to face her stepdaughters, having to know that they
were both fully aware of why she'd been at that auction.
Tonight, though, Deborah could no longer escape. Neither,
unfortunately, could Rikki or her sister.
Absolutely the only good thing about the evening, in Rikki's
opinion, was that she would have the chance to warn her stepmother
about who her escort would be, both at the rehearsal
dinner and the wedding.
She didn't merely want to avoid any embarrassing moments
that her father might pick up on. She also didn't want Zane subjected
to any whispered come-ons. Frankly, the way she was
feeling, if her stepmother made a move on the man Rikki had
come to consider hers, she'd rip the woman's hair out by its
platinum blond roots.
So much for the ice queen.
HAVING TO PICK UP some extra shifts to make up for the time off
he'd need to escort Rikki both to tonight's rehearsal dinner and
tomorrow afternoon's wedding, Zane found himself missing her
like crazy after only the few days they'd spent apart. It was as if
she was a drug to which he'd become completely addicted. And
honestly, he'd never felt like that about anyone before in his life.
"You're losing it, man," he muttered that morning as he filled
out some paperwork for a patient he and his partner had just
brought in to the hospital. "Absolutely losing it."
And damn, didn't it feel fine. As long as, sooner or later,
Rikki "lost it," too.
Seventy-two hours. That was far too long. He hadn't seen
her since Tuesday morning, when she'd taken him back to his
truck. It had been parked outside the same restaurant where
they'd tried to dine Sunday night—before Jenny's interrup158
Slow Hands
tion. They'd rescheduled for Monday, and had actually
managed to complete an entire date. A great one, filled with
laughter and good food, and more of that flirtatious banter
Rikki seemed to want to try out—and was getting very good
at. She was so adorably sexy to watch as she let her inhibitions
fall away, one by one.
Speaking of sexy, that bridesmaid dress…Whew!While it had
definitely lived up to all his heated expectations, he'd found
himself dreading her actually wearing it to the wedding. Hewasn't
sure he was ready for the way other men were going to look at
her, whether she believed that or not. The last thing he wanted to
do was go off on a jealous rant in the middle of the fancy yacht
club reception because some rich dickhead high on one-too-many
glasses of champagne looked at her the wrong way.
She can take care of herself, he forced himself to acknowledge,
remembering the drunk at the ball game.
"You finished?" the admitting nurse asked, interrupting his
heated musings. Jeez, it wasn't often he got distracted from his
job, especially with a case as serious as this one.
Maybe it was because this case was such a serious one. And
because of the way the victim's wife had looked when she'd
arrived here a few minutes ago.
Utterly and completely terrified.
Rikki Chadwick might not have seen a lot of true love in her
lifetime, but oh, God, did it exist. Zane saw it every day—saw
the anguish and the heartbreak that came with the thought of losing
someone who was so deeply loved that their partner couldn't
imagine life going on without them. Like the wife from this
morning.
"Yeah, I'm done," he muttered. "Hope the guy makes it."
The patient he and his partner, Raoul, had brought in was a
shooting victim, injured in an apparent home invasion. He'd
been found unconscious on the floor of his own house. A
Leslie Kelly 159
neighbor had heard the shots and called 911. Zane and Raoul had
arrived right behind the police and Zane's hands had been the first
on the wounded man's bloody chest.
"I think he will."
Good. The guy was middle-aged, had a nice home and a loving
wife who'd apparently just left for work when it had happened.
He deserved a hell of a lot better than to die for opening his front
door to the wrong stranger.
Though they needed to get back to the station, he and Raoul
stuck around, both to keep an eye on the man's condition and
because they'd already been told they'd probably have to give a
statement to the police. This suspect was apparently one nasty
character and the cops wanted him bad.
Raoul had gone to secure the truck and to radio the station
that they were going to stay for a few minutes. Grabbing himself
a cup of coffee from the lounge, Zane hung around the E.R. information
desk, watching the clock, hoping the team of detectives
showed up soon. There were EMTs back at the station, but
he was the only actual paramedic on today.
Finally, a stocky, solid woman with short, iron-gray hair and
a no-nonsense attitude approached him. "You Wallace?"
"I am."
"Detective Harriet Stiles." She flashed a badge. "My partner
spotted yours out in the truck and he's taking his statement."
She began asking questions, routine stuff. Zane only wished
he could actually be of some help. He spoke clearly and concisely,
telling what little he knew, since he hadn't seen the assailant,
just the victim lying on the floor.
When he finished, Detective Stiles nodded and snapped her
notebook closed.
"All done?" a man's voice asked the officer.
Zane glanced up and saw that a dark-haired guy, solidly built,
a few inches shorter than him, had joined them.
160 Slow Hands
"Looks like it. You?"
"Uh-huh."
"Mr. Wallace, this is my partner, Detective Santori," the first
officer told Zane.
"Good to meet you. Huh…Santori. That name is familiar."
The other man laughed softly. "There are a lot of us."
Zane suddenly remembered how he knew the name. The
woman from the charity—the one who'd tried to help him track
down Rikki. She'd been named Santori.
"I met a woman—Nicole Santori, maybe? It was at a charity
auction a few weeks ago."
The other man stiffened, his jaw jutting out the tiniest bit. "Are
you talking about my wife, Noelle? She founded the Give A Kid
A Christmas program."
Suddenly realizing why the other man had tensed—since the
wife had, he recalled, been very pretty—Zane put both hands up,
in a universal no-harm, no-foul gesture. "Hey, no offense. I was
only asking because I wanted to try to get a message to her.
There was a major printing mix-up that night with the program."
Santori visibly relaxed. "She won't be happy to hear that."
"Look, it turned out okay—in fact, great—on my end."
"Spoken like a man in love," said Detective Stiles with a low
snort. She didn't exactly look like the romantic type.
Hell, he probably was wearing some kind of sappy, guy-inlove
grin. Frankly, though, Zane didn't give a crap. He was a
sappy guy-in-love.
"Like I said, I'm fine. But I don't know how the bachelor who
was mistaken for me—and got my bio—is feeling about it.
Whoever 'won' him was expecting a blue collar rescue worker.
And, uh, I really don't think that's who she got."
"I see," Santori said. His brown eyes twinkled. Noting the
laugh lines on the detective's face, Zane sensed he was pretty laidback,
when he wasn't going all alpha in claiming his wife.
Leslie Kelly 161
"Noelle told me about a few of the more high-maintenance guys
who showed up that night."
Zane had no idea whether the real gigolo was high-maintenance
or not. He only knew he probably wasn't the kind of man who'd
offer a woman baseball and beer. So whoever he'd ended up with
probably had quite a surprise on her hands.
"Anyway, I just wanted her to have a heads-up. We were
numbers nineteen and twenty, I think."
"Got it. Thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to pass it
along." He extended his hand, and Zane shook it. "Good to meet
you…Wallace, was it?"
Zane nodded.
"Well, I know my wife was thrilled at the money earned that
night. It went a long way toward helping meet her annual goal."
He grinned. "From the sound of it, you guys really went through
the wringer."
Groaning, Zane confirmed that. "You have no idea. I now
know what a brownie at a Weight Watchers meeting feels like."
Both the officers were grinning as they murmured their goodbyes
and turned to leave, though Zane knew their smiles wouldn't
remain during the very long day ahead of them.
Before they'd gotten more than a few steps away, Zane remembered
something. Something big. "Wait!" Reaching into his
back pocket, he retrieved his wallet, digging out the folded piece
of paper he'd stuck in there the day he and Rikki had gone
sailing.
She'd said she didn't care what he did with the money….
"I have another contribution to make," he said, not hesitating
for one second in doing what he knew was the right thing. He
had, after all, promised her. "Can you get it to your wife?"
"Of course."
Borrowing a pen, Zane unfolded the check, looking at it for
the very first time. He immediately realized what a good thing
162 Slow Hands
it was that he hadn't lost the thing, because Rikki had filled out
the amount, but not the name. As if she wasn't sure whether he
used a different one for "business" or was trying to hide the
income. Great. The woman either thought he was a tax dodger
or that he'd incorporated himself in the sex trade.
Then again, considering she thought he was a gigolo, he
guessed he shouldn't be surprised.
Writing the name of the charity and grinning when he pictured
Noelle Santori's face, he passed the check over. The detective
took it and prepared to carelessly stuff it in his pocket.
"Uh…you mightwant to put that in yourwallet or something."
"Oh?" Santori finally glanced at the front of the thing, noted
the number of zeroes, and muttered, "Holy shit."
"It's genuine."
"I sure hope so. What kind of rat-brained idiot would try to
pass off a bad check for needy kids to a cop?"
"I have been accused of being many things, but never a ratbrained
idiot."
The partner, who'd peeked over Santori's shoulder at the
check herself, whistled. "Nice."
Very nice. Very worthwhile. And now that the check had been
lifted from his pocket, Zane felt very lighthearted—as though
he'd lost thirty pounds.
Or thirty thousand.
THE WEDDING REHEARSAL started at seven, with the dinner taking
place right afterward at a nice restaurant in one of the hotels owned
by the groom's family. It was now five. They should be leaving
any minute to get there, given Friday rush hour traffic in the city.
Instead, the minute Zane walked out of the elevator and into
her place, Rikki jumped on him. Literally. She flew into his
arms, wrapped her legs around his waist and began pressing
wild, frantic kisses on his mouth.
Leslie Kelly 163
"I've missed you so much," she whispered when she paused
to take a breath—and let him take one.
"Ditto." Holding her around the waist with one arm, cupping
her bottom with the other hand, he strode straight down the hall
toward her bedroom. He kissed her jaw, the side of her neck. "We
might be late."
"Tabby's never been on time for a thing in her life," Rikki
replied, letting her silky, short bathrobe slip off her shoulders and
down her arms. She could have gotten dressed for their evening,
as Zane—in a dark blue suit and crisp white dress shirt and tie—
had. Instead, as she'd begun pulling on the lingerie she'd bought
to wear beneath her new cocktail dress, she'd only been able to
picture Zane taking it off her. And so, she hadn't bothered to
finish dressing. "She was an hour late to her first wedding."
Reaching her bedroom, Zane tossed her onto the middle of her
bed, watching with glittering, heated avarice as the robe fell
completely down, revealing her black lace bra, black garter belt
and sheer stockings.
"Then I guess Tabby won't mind if we're just a few minutes
late to her rehearsal."
Rikki lay back on the bed, one leg straight down, the other
bent at the knee in invitation. With one hand resting on her
stomach, the other brushing through long strands of her loose
hair, she gave him a wicked glance that left no doubt about what
she wanted. "Just a few minutes?"
"After three and a half days without you, I want at least that
long inside you," Zane muttered as he took his jacket off and
tossed it onto a chair. "Can we skip tonight altogether?"
She shook her head. "I wish. But I'm the maid of honor,
remember?"
"So we…get a little satisfaction now, then come back here
tonight and I'll do you until we have to leave tomorrow for
the wedding."
164 Slow Hands
She shivered at the roughness in his tone, which spoke of his
ravenous need. "Deal."
Zane loosened the tie next, taking a whole lot longer than such
a simple chore should take.
"Uh, FYI? You're going way too slow."
"I said a little satisfaction. Not an infinitesimal amount."
Just her luck. Even when desperate, the man had agonizing
patience.
"Hurry up," she ordered, writhing on the bed.
"Not a chance. We're not so pressed for time that I'll rush
through something I've been fantasizing about for days."
Fantasizing about her when they weren't together? That was
nice to hear. But it didn't exactly do anything about the mad heat
spiraling through her entire body. "Haven't you ever heard of a
quickie?"
"Yeah. And I want one. Maybe tomorrow, at the reception."
His eyebrows wagged. "Want to meet me in the coatroom?"
Oh, he was wicked. So wicked. Just the thought of it sent a
thousand more hot tendrils of electricity straight between her thighs.
"That's incredibly tempting," she admitted, meaning it. "But
knowing how hard it's going to be to get myself secure in my
dress, I don't know that I'll be up for taking it off in the middle
of the big event."
He reached for the top button of his dress shirt, unfastening
it with slow deliberation before moving on, watching her watch
him. "I'd be there to help you get…put back together."
After he sent her flying apart, no doubt.
"Unless you're going to pack a crowbar in your tux to squeeze
everything back in, and strong tape to hold it all in place, I think
that'll be impossible." As it was, she'd had to buy some ridiculous
sticky contraptions that were supposed to give her some
support. The thought of gluing plastic film to her breasts seemed
utterly ridiculous, and she already dreaded it.
Leslie Kelly 165
The alternative, however, was worse. No way was she going
braless.
"Maybe I don't want you wearing that dress around other
guys." A frown tugged that handsome brow down and he'd
stopped unbuttoning.
Jealous? Was that even possible? A little thrill of excitement
at the thought of it made her heart roll. "They'll see it. You'll be
the only one not seeing it when I take it off."
"I suppose that'll have to do." He stared at her legs. The hose.
The garter belt. The tiny black panties. "Getting back to our
quickie. Maybe you wouldn't have to worry about your dress.
Wear what you have on now." Smiling with pure heat, he added,
"Without the panties. I'll lift your gown and take you right up
against the wall of the closet, daring you not to scream."
She groaned, her legs clenching, ready to scream right now.
"I'd lose that dare."
He seemed oblivious to her agony, still taking his own sweet
time, arousing her word after word, look after look, not having
even touched her since he dropped her onto the bed. But at least
he resumed working on those double-damned buttons.
Picturing the interlude he'd proposed, she murmured, "Can
you imagine trying to walk out of that coat closet into the reception
and act normally afterward?"
"You're going to be doing it tonight at the dinner."
Confused, Rikki merely stared.
A look of such tenderness appeared on Zane's face, it took her
breath away to think it was directed at her. "Oh, honey, you have
no idea how you look after we've made love. You wear your happiness
on your face for hours afterward."
Good Lord. Such sweet words. Had any man ever touched
her with just a whisper the way this one had?
Easy to answer. Absolutely not.
"Tonight at the rehearsal you're going to have that soft smile
166 Slow Hands
on your face and that glow in your eyes. Your skin will be flushed
and you'll be a little slow and dreamy in your movements, like
your body is there, but every other part of you—heart, mind and
soul—is right…back…here."
Rikki closed her eyes, not wanting him to see what she suspected
lurked in them. The sheen of tears—and a whole lot of
genuine emotion. Maybe even the love that she'd finally acknowledged,
if only to herself, that she felt for the man.
Finally feeling capable of speaking—and looking at him—
she opened them again. "Zane, I am so glad I met you."
"Me, too," he admitted.
Their stares met, exchanging unspoken emotion, and in
that moment, Rikki knew their relationship had just moved
up to something else. She wasn't sure what. Just something.
And, to her complete surprise, she wasn't utterly terrified by
that realization.
But there was no time to dwell on it now. Certainly not
enough time for them to drag it out and talk about it.
Pursing her lips, Rikki focused her attention on his stillclothed
body. "Ahem. Back to our time limits? If you don't get
out of those clothes, I'm going to rip them off you."
"Then I'd have nothing to wear tonight," he said with a teasing
shrug. "So I guess you'll have to be patient."
How could the man drive her so completely mad, yet still
remain so in control, just now getting around to pulling his dress
shirt off and tossing it aside? Here she was laid out like a Penthouse
playmate, with the figure and the fantasy lingerie to back
it up, and the guy hadn't even unfastened his belt.
"Is there anything I can do to make you go faster?"
He shook his head.
"Maybe I should start without you."
"Maybe you should."
That was a challenge. And maybe even a sexy plea.
Leslie Kelly 167
Rikki accepted, sliding her hand up, letting her fingertips
ease a slow, lazy path across her constrained breasts. She rubbed
one nipple, already hard and sensitive against the black lace.
Then she tugged one bra strap down, releasing her own sensitive
mound for his perusal and her own touch.
He growled. And maybe the belt slid through the hoops of his
trousers a teensy bit faster.
"Mmm," she murmured, sliding two fingers against her
nipple, toying with it, plucking lightly.
Wanting to see more of that desperate want on his expression,
she lowered the other bra strap, then twisted the bra around and
unfastened it completely.
"You take my breath away every time I look at you," he whispered,
devouring her with that gaze.
But the man still had his damn pants on.
"You know what I've always wanted to try, Zane?" she asked,
toying with both peaks now.
"I'm afraid to ask."
Knowing how fascinated he was by her breasts, he had
reason to be.
She sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed and let her stockingclad
legs part to wrap around his. The roughness of his trousers
against the silkiness of the lingerie ratcheted up the level of
sensation. Rough and soft, sweet and spicy.
Rikki reached for Zane's waistband, unbuttoned it, then
slowly lowered his zipper. His rock-hard erection arched against
her hand, but he didn't stop her. Instead, he watched with hooded
eyes as if wondering what she was up to.
She'd pleasured him with her mouth many times and knew
he loved it. She also knew it was what he expected.
It wasn't what he was going to get.
Tugging his briefs down and pushing them, with the trousers,
over Zane's lean hips and butt, Rikki breathed lightly on that silky
168 Slow Hands
skin. But rather than taste him, she wiggled closer. Close enough
for her nipples to brush against the fine hairs on his stomach, to
feel the ragged pulse as his blood raged through his veins.
"Good God," he said with a groan, finally understanding
her intention.
Reaching around to clench his taut butt, Rikki hugged him
closer, smothering his erection between her full breasts, making
a nice, soft, warm channel for him. He was helpless to resist, his
muscles flexing in her hands, his pelvis tilting, his staff gliding
against her body as if he was buried inside her.
"Rikki," he groaned. He twined his fingers in her hair and
she looked up at him, wetting her lips, groaning in pleasure as
he continued his slow, lazy thrusts.
"I never imagined how good this could feel," she whispered,
admitting she was trying something new.
That realization seemed to make him grow even more
engorged against her, and he threw his head back, the cords of
muscle standing out in his neck.
Rikki wasn't entirely sure how far this kind of thing could
go. Knowing Zane, he wasn't anywhere near coming. Nor was
she selfless enough to give up truly having him inside her. But
she did like it. A lot. She especially liked that he was visibly
losing a little of that infamous control, his hands clenched tightly
in her hair, his breath coming in short gasps.
"Gotta have the real thing, babe," he muttered, dropping his
hand to her shoulders and pushing her onto her back.
"I wish you would," she whispered, wanting him desperately.
But instead of pushing her farther back on the bed and climbing
on top of her, Zane remained standing between her parted
thighs. He grabbed a condom out of his pants pocket, opened it
and put it on between one breath and the next.
Unfastening her garters with a few easy flicks of his fingers,
Leslie Kelly 169
he reached for her panties and tugged them down, tossing them
out of his way, then sliding his fingers into her silky wet body.
He seemed to lose the last vestiges of control at finding her
already fully aroused and ready to take him. "I can't believe I'm
doing this without giving you more," he said, sounding on the
verge of desperation.
"Please, just take me," she groaned.
He didn't make her beg again. Zane lifted her legs completely
until her calves rested on his huge, bare shoulders. Holding her
hips and lifting her wet, tender core toward him, he plunged into
her with sudden, shocking force.
Rikki screamed at the power of it, so filled by him she didn't
think she'd ever feel whole again if he stopped making love to her.
He froze. "Rikki? You okay?"
One hand moved to her face, his thumb tracing her parted lips.
She bit it lightly, already rocking up toward him, greedily demanding
more as he began to pull away. "As long as you're not
stopping, I am just fine."
"Then I guess I'm not stopping."
He pulled out, thrust again, the firmness of the floor beneath
his feet giving him incredible control. Rikki was helpless to do
anything but love every stroke, to gasp when he went fast, to
whimper when he slowed down.
And finally, when he reached between their bodies and
caressed her swollen clit, to cry out her release moments before
he attained his.
Only then did he scoot her back and fall on top of her, both
of them falling into a sudden and unexpected sleep, still joined
in every single way.