His First Noelle Page 10

  Impossibly, he hardened further. Need ballooned inside of him, filling him from the inside out, spreading like wildfire through his perpetually feverish blood. She was up there now, Judd thought. Probably naked. In that confounded heart-shaped tub built for two.

  A sex tub.

  So, what exactly, was he doing down here again? He blinked, swallowed thickly. Wavered. Oh, to hell with it, he thought, tossing his book aside and vaulting off the couch. She didn’t want him avoiding her? Fine. He’d do the opposite, by God.

  He’d friggin’ invade her.

  10

  NOELLE HEARD THE smack of something hit the floor, then the sound of quick footfalls on the steps and a little thrill whipped through her middle. Other than to shower—which he did right after she got out of bed first thing in the morning—he hadn’t been upstairs at all.

  It was almost as though he’d deemed it enemy territory.

  But he was coming now, she thought. And he was coming fast. The door swung open and he suddenly filled the frame, his gaze meeting hers in the vanity mirror. It was hot and heavy lidded, but more significantly, determined.

  She arched a brow. “Change your mind about the tub?”

  “Later,” he said, sidling toward her in a loose-hipped swagger that suggested his dick was too big to dangle between his thighs, stripping his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside like it didn’t matter. She gulped.

  It didn’t. Good Lord...

  Beautiful skin and well-honed muscle all wrapped perfectly around the most incredible bone structure she’d ever beheld. Some sort of tribal tattoo she was determined to inspect closer encircled his left biceps and dark hair barely dusted his pecks, then met in the middle of his chest and bisected his abs in a faint line that disappeared below his waistline. His hand immediately dropped to the snap at his jeans, easily flicking the button open as he made his way to her.

  His gaze never left hers.

  Her stomach flipped over as need washed through her, tumbling her insides like ocean waves. She turned around, leaned against the vanity counter and lifted her chin, a smile twitching over her lips as anticipation rose. “Deciding to embrace my clothing optional approach to protective custody?” she asked.

  He crowded her, getting so close that she could smell him, feel the heat coming off of his skin. But didn’t touch her.

  It was agony.

  His gaze slid over her face, lingered around her jaw, her mouth, then found her eyes once more. His were intense, brooding and, oddly enough, a little guarded. “I’m only going to ask this once, so consider your response before letting it leave your lips.”

  She nodded.

  “Is this really what you want?”

  She would have thought that would have been obvious, but did as he asked and checked the thought before she said it. Because he wasn’t asking if she wanted him—that went without saying—he was asking if she wanted what would come after. The change in the status quo, because intimacy—even that of the fleeting variety—changed things. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. But the act of sharing one’s body, however freely given, was never without some sort of consequences, some sort of expectation. Noelle released a shaky breath, ignored the tiny voice of warning in her head, the one telling her that she’d never be the same after being with him.

  She knew that.

  But she’d risk it.

  “I do,” she said.

  He smiled then—really, truly smiled—making her heart stumble in her chest, then uttered a growl of pleasure, and picked her up and set her on top of the vanity counter. She loved that he could do that so easily. It thrilled her, that blatant masculine show of strength. She reached out, slid a shaky hand over his chest, felt pleasure boil up within her.

  “I’m clean and protected,” she said, her gaze feasting on him. “You?”

  “Passed my last physical with flying colors,” he told her, lifting her chin with a single touch of his finger. Sensation sizzled through her. His hungry gaze clung to her mouth, darkened with desire, then he cupped her face, his skillful fingers pushing into her hair as he lowered his mouth a mere millimeter away from hers.

  He hesitated, not out of indecision, she knew, but something else. And she knew what that something else was—knew that it was as equally nameless as it was significant.

  Then his lips touched hers and all thought fractured and fled.

  Though she knew it was impossible, the world seemed to shake around her—shift—but she didn’t move, she held firm, safe and protected, on what felt like the only solid ground she’d ever known.

  Wonder and awe tangled with need and desire and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her. Another little masculine growl sounded between their joined lips and he stroked her face as he fed at her mouth, slid his fingers along the sensitive underside of her neck. She detected the smallest, barest tremble in his big hands, his long fingers, and something about that betraying vibration burrowed into her heart, making it swell with emotion.

  He didn’t just kiss—he made love to her mouth. He’d mastered the art of suckling and sliding his lips over hers, wrapping his tongue around hers with that ever elusive exact moisture-to-lips ratio. It was the perfect balance—not too wet, not too dry—but the sweet spot in between.

  And, oh, how sweet it was...

  She deepened the kiss, tracing his face with her hands, thumbing the soft hollow just below his cheek bone, the sleek skin above his brow. Moisture slickened her folds and a quivering warmth stole into her sex and settled there, leaving an achy weight in her womb, a desperate sense of anticipation. She felt the long length of him nudge against her through his jeans. She widened her legs and reached between them, cupping him.

  He sucked in a breath, growled as she lowered his zipper. His jeans sagged on his lean hips and he jutted forward, extra hard, extra long and extra thick.

  Proportionate, she thought, drunk with desire. Drunk on him.

  She took him in hand, worked the slippery skin against her palm and he flexed forward, giving her more. He left off her mouth, raining open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, then tugged the towel open, revealing her naked body to his greedy gaze.

  Impossibly, his black eyes darkened even more, his supremely carnal mouth curled in hungry appreciation, and she felt the change in him instantly, felt the urgency as he figuratively switched gears. He’d been idling, savoring, a foot over the brake, as it were, to appreciate her, this.

  Them.

  But he’d just moved into overdrive.

  The banked hum of power was there in his touch, the blind need for speed, the ultimate race for release.

  She scooted forward, opening herself up to him even more as his hot mouth found her breast. His lips closed over her, tugging at the puckered bud, sending a spasm of sensation directly to her core. She gasped, pulled him closer, sliding her hands over his skin, measuring muscle and bone. He reached between them, slipped a finger over her weeping folds, her engorged clit, tormenting her with pleasure.

  She closed her eyes against the onslaught of sensation, felt his tongue slide down her belly, then knocked her toiletries to the floor and cried out as his mouth fastened over her sex. He opened her up to him, hooking her legs over his shoulders, which was just as well because she didn’t have any strength left in them, and held her body rigid as he flicked his clever tongue over her clit, flayed it roughly, then suckled. She jerked, inhaled sharply as bliss knifed through her.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly take anymore, when the pleasure was so debilitating it bordered on pain, he slipped a finger deep inside of her and moaned against her. “So wet,” he breathed brokenly. “And you taste so damned good.”

  He felt so damned good. She whimpered, desperate for more. Desperate for him.

  “Judd,” she gasped. “Please. I need—” He hooked his finger around, pressed deeper and stroked some hidden part of her, a place so sensitive she was certain she’d never encountered i
t before. She could feel her feminine muscles contracting around him, could feel the beginning of climax quicken deep in her womb.

  “Oh, dammit,” she groaned, pounding her fist against the vanity as he continued his hedonistic assault. “Son of a—” Her breathing came in short, fast gasps, her body trembling on the brink of release. She was almost there, Noelle thought, gritting her teeth. Oh, Jesus. She wasn’t— She couldn’t— She wiggled, squirmed, her whole body on fire with need.

  Just when she was a single stroke away of his wicked finger, he withdrew and stood. The protest died on her lips as he grasped her hips, hauled her forward and plunged into her, sliding hard and deep.

  She nearly fainted.

  Her breath seized in her lungs and every cell in her body sang with joy, with happiness, with an odd sort of homecoming, as though it had been waiting for this moment—this extraordinary recognition—her entire life and she hadn’t known it until right now.

  She looked up at him, caught his fierce, startled expression. Desperation, awe, need and wonder. She saw it all, understood his confusion because she was just as shocked, just as jolted by the singularly unique joining of their bodies.

  His jaw locked, his hips flexed rhythmically, fast furious strokes that rattled the cabinets below the vanity. She absorbed them greedily, clamping her muscles around him with every indomitable thrust. It was wild and mindless, gritty and a little dirty, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She was more aware of her own body, her own pleasure while being fully plugged in to his as well.

  Intimate, she decided. Because of the rawness, the stripped-down need? Or in spite of it? Either way, she didn’t care. She just knew she’d never felt more connected to anyone else before. Knew that she’d never have sex again or take another partner without comparing it to this—to what she felt with him.

  She’d no sooner formed the thought when she came, the orgasm erupting through her, waves of heat boiling like lava through every locked-down muscle in her body. Her mouth opened in a scream, a growl so low and elemental she barely recognized it coming from her own lips.

  She fisted around him, hanging on for dear life, knowing that from this instant onward it—the life she’d painstakingly crafted and protected—would never, ever be the same.

  * * *

  JUDD FELT HER incredibly sweet, incredibly responsive body tighten around his, watched her expression as the climax ravaged her. Tension and release vibrated off her lush frame, squeezed him with her satiny heat. Her long wet hair hung in a tangled curtain down her back, her heart-shaped rear and small waist visible to him from the mirror.

  He’d never seen anything so sexy, so hot, so beautiful in his life.

  She. Was. Glorious.

  Uninhibited, unrestrained, unreserved. She reveled in her womanliness, celebrated her sexuality, wasn’t afraid to let him see how he made her feel. Hell, wasn’t afraid to feel. To rise on the tide and let it take her where it wanted to go.

  She was unequivocally, hands down, bar none the best lover he’d ever had. And they were only getting started.

  Admittedly, he’d known that she was going to be different—after all, she’d been different from the start, hadn’t she? He’d known that any woman who was capable of making him feel so much—from one end of the spectrum to the other—wasn’t going to be an unremarkable lay.

  He’d known, which was no small part of the reason he’d hesitated and tried to stay away from her.

  But knowing something and being prepared were two completely different animals and nothing this side of heaven—or hell for that matter—could have prepared him for the molecular reconfiguration of his entire body merely kissing her had wrought.

  Just kissing her.

  In that nanosecond before his lips had touched hers, he’d felt the beginning of the impending change. The energy had shifted in the air around them, the hair on the back of his neck had prickled, then drawn in—unable to help himself—Judd had closed the distance between them and...that was it.

  He’d come undone.

  Her hands were soft and sure, her body a playground of sexual delight and the look in those pale green eyes when he’d finally—blessedly—pushed into her was something he’d never forget. He’d plunged into her tight, wet heat, felt her clamp around him, almost as though her body somehow recognized his, an innate familiarity that had swept through him like a plume of smoke on the tail end of a comet.

  Shaken didn’t begin to cover it.

  His world had shifted again, the walls tilting around him, but it was warm and wonderful between her thighs and he’d held firm, his hands on her luscious hips, while he waited for everything else to settle.

  She’d tightened around him over and over, urging him on with her soft cries of pleasure, her base growls of gratification. She swore, she begged, she hummed like a damned tuning fork and it was because of him.

  Because she wanted him.

  Because she was so into him she didn’t care if her girly products hit the floor, she didn’t care that she was on a friggin’ sink instead of a soft bed, she didn’t care that he’d dropped between her legs and ate her from the damned counter.

  She only cared about what he did to her, what he was going to do next, how he made her feel.

  He pounded into her again and again, the back of his balls so tight he feared they were going to burst. He glanced down at their joined bodies, her milky white thighs around his waist, that thatch of bright red curls framing his cock as he pushed into her glistening pink flesh.

  He locked his jaw so hard he could have sworn he heard it crack.

  Her gorgeous breasts bounced on her chest with each furious push into her body and her nipples matched her mouth, both a puckered raspberry pink. He loved the way they looked, perched on top of the creamy globes of her breasts like a cherry on top of a sundae.

  She beat the counter with her fist, thrashed beneath him, squeezed him until she screamed. She tightened, every muscle seemingly frozen in shock, in awe of sensation, then she smiled and swore again, going boneless. She looked sated, relieved. Beautiful.

  And that’s what did it for him.

  Judd came hard, the orgasm firing from his loins like an arrow released from a compound bow. He angled deep, pressed hard, locking himself inside her so far it was a miracle he was going to be able to extricate himself without some sort of surgical help.

  His vision blackened around the edges but she glowed, his angel—she glowed. His knees, which had never failed him before, went weak. His thighs shook and his scalp tingled.

  He didn’t just feel the orgasm in his dick—he felt it all over.

  Profoundly.

  Judd roared in satisfaction, the sound almost inhuman and guttural, then wrapped her up and held her close while the storm whirled around them. He was holding the epicenter, he thought, a weak smile tugging at his lips. She clung to him, kissed his chest, his shoulder, a smile on her wicked lips. He reluctantly withdrew, picked her up and carried her to the bed, then laid her down and took the spot beside her.

  She grinned, released a pent-up breath. “There,” she said, as though she’d been a patient teacher and, he, a reluctant pupil. “Don’t you feel better?”

  He laughed, rolled onto his back and brought her with him, tucking her firmly against his chest. “Unquestionably,” he told her. “What about you? Are you through walking around in your towel now?” he drawled.

  “Yes.” She doodled her fingers over his chest and sighed. “From now on I’m just going to walk around naked.”

  He felt his eyes widen, another chuckle working its way up his throat. He shrugged, contented. “Works for me.”

  In fact, she worked for him. On every level. And work had never felt so good.

  11

  CURTIS LOOKED AT the image on his cell phone and felt chubby swell in his pants. They were cotton candy pink, he thought, staring at a picture of his wife’s breasts, her nipples. He still couldn’t believe that she’d let him take the photos�
�that she’d trusted him enough with something so personal—and yet she did.

  He didn’t deserve her trust, though. Not really. Granted he’d never cheated on her—and could honestly say that he’d never been tempted—but there were other ways to cheat. Other ways to break promises and be false. He’d done that and more. He’d lied about what he’d been doing, where he’d been going, the excess money in the bank—fabricated bonuses that had never happened. He’d broken the law for Tubby Winchester, despite putting on the facade of being a decent man.

  And he’d tried to kill Noelle Montgomery four times. And the hell of it? The sad part in all of this?

  There was no easy way out, unless he wanted to kill himself. Then who would protect his family? Who would keep Patrick-who-liked-to-play-with-knives from his wife and daughters? No, the only way out was to do what he’d said he’d do—kill Noelle.

  While he hadn’t had the opportunity to break into his father-in-law’s office the night before last—Carla had been particularly affectionate after their wonderful afternoon together and had kept him close to her side the entire night—thankfully, he was going to get another crack at it this evening. He was certain that Ed’s computer—his email, in all likelihood—would produce the information Curtis needed. The key to finding Noelle—who seemed to have simply vanished into thin air—was finding out who his father-in-law had hired to protect her. From there, he was confident that he could get what he needed, the information that would lead him to her.

  Curtis had suggested to his wife that she should invite her folks over to dinner at their house, to repay them for the lovely meal. It had been too long, he’d said. It would be wonderful to sit down to a meal she’d cooked, to have the kids and her parents all gathered round their table.