Page 43 of Heston
By the quick glimpse London caught before everything went dark, he’d chosen well. Big, empty conference room. Nice long table. A bank of computers and monitors on the far wall. Lots of chairs were scattered around a conference table. Heston kicked a couple of those chairs out of his way and sat her on the edge of the table. Her greedy hands went to his belt and zipper. He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it away. His shirtwent next. She had no idea where her bra went, because all of a sudden, her breasts were in Heston’s warm palms. Both of them. She couldn’t breathe. His hands were big and callused and rough, and his thumbs were working magic on her aching nipples.
She tipped her head back, remembering the days and nights they’d spent worshipping each other’s bodies. Soaking each other in. Adoring the way they’d fit together. Playing. Damn it, she hadn’t played once in all the years they’d been separated. She needed this. Wanted this man with a passion that was tearing her apart. “Marry me,” she commanded.
Heston shook his head, as he inhaled her nipple into his mouth and suckled. A shock of awareness slammed straight to her core. Instead of arguing, London gave into her body’s response. Her eyes rolled back at the suction of his wet mouth on her. At the thrill of his teeth scraping over her begging nipple.
A fierce flood let loose between her legs.
Releasing her nipple with a sloppy ‘pop,’ Heston took a step back and tore her jeans down her legs. He needed to take his clothes off, too. And be quick about it! But he didn’t. Her naked, him still dressed. So damned naughty. Downright dirty. Shivers raced up her spine at the game she was caught in. She was the bad girl. He was the man in charge of bad girls. Tingles raced up her spine at what that might mean for her.
Discipline.
Bring it on.
He attacked her breast again. Oh, that mouth. That hot, slick mouth of his felt so, so good. She could’ve sat there all day letting him suckle and nibble her boobs, squeeze and lavish those girls. Until his tongue migrated up between her breasts to her neck. To her mouth. The moment his teeth grazed her bottom lip she opened for him. His hands went firmly to her neck. Her hands went to the sides of his head. He tilted her head sideways. Theirteeth clashed. Their tongues tangled and tangoed. His breath became the only air she needed.
A steady, primal beat began low in her gut, in her womb. Her blood was on fire, drumming a rhythm through her veins as old as time. A beat her body remembered. The sensual magic it had needed for so long. Like a fine line of det cord, magic flashed bright and hot, sizzling between her core and his mouth and…
“Oh, Heston. Oh, man, Hes… Hes…” She writhed into his touch. Into his mouth. Against the manly palm pressed firmly over her mound. Against the strong, thick fingers curled inside her trembling body. Plucking at the erogenous flesh deep within. First one finger, then two, then… “Heston. There, yes. There. Right there!”
Her words rolled off her tongue as if she were being tortured. By love. By the glorious consummation of two stubborn, hard-headed souls finally mashed back together. By the conflagration caused by his busy fingers inside her body. By finally understanding how much love hurt, but only because she’d finally given her heart away. All of it. Completely. Like she should’ve done years ago. To Heston. Without regret or ego.
In the blessed heat of this reunion, this once-in-a-lifetime second chance, she mentally tore it out of her chest and handed it to him. Living without Heston Contreras in her life was the greater loss. She knew now that he’d always owned her heart. He was right. She had run from him, from this. But no matter how far she’d run, she’d still loved him, and from this day forward, he owned her. Like she would soon own him.
But he needed to lose those clothes. She was hot and sweaty and nearly naked. He was still completely dressed. She’d only gotten his belt loosened. His zipper wasn’t even down the tiniest bit.
As if he’d read her mind, Heston’s slick lips moved up to her neck and he distracted her once more. He sucked a mouthful ofher skin into the warm, wet depths of his mouth, then pressed his jaw together and bit. No bloodletting, just a possessive, claiming bite on her neck that she hoped left a mark to last forever.
“Do it again,” London commanded, her arms circling his neck again, and her voice husky. Her entire body quivered with aftershocks from the magnificent orgasm he’d given her.
“Oh, baby, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us,” he breathed, his mouth barely open, still hot and slick on her neck. “I can feel every one of those after-orgasm quivers. I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. Let yourself go. Lean back and feel.”
“But you’re still d-d-dressed,” she managed to stutter before tremors lifted up her back at the heat pouring out of Heston’s mouth. He’d always been the one for her. She needed him to understand that. She’d only left him to protect her independence. Which now seemed a woefully pathetic reason.
“Marry me,” she ordered again, her pupils flaring to catch the faint, blinking light from the far wall of monitors and big screens and—stuff.
Heston pressed his sweaty forehead to hers. Man, they were both shaking. London inhaled the spicy, musky aroma pouring off the warm, slick body holding her. Then inhaled again. Heston. Old Spice aftershave. Maybe Old Spice deodorant. Manly sweat. Combined, they were her favorite scent and the most delicious flavors in the world. She licked a sloppy line up his neck to his jaw, right under his ear, and savored the taste. Didn’t matter what he’d splashed on. She knew the scent of this man’s skin and his breath. With just one sniff, one lick, she could pick him out of a line-up of a million guys and never be wrong.
He growled into her hair, “I’m not telling you no, baby, but first, we need to talk.”
“Now?” she asked like a simpleton, her fingers still threaded into his hair. “Here? But you haven’t even undressed yet, and you didn’t—”
“I’m fine. Honest, babe.” His hands still cupped her bare backside, but she was the only one who was naked. Well, nearly naked. Her boots were the only reason she hadn’t completely lost her pants and panties, but Heston hadn’t undressed at all. Only his belt was loose on his hips, and she’d done that. Something was wrong.
“This was about you, not me,” he continued. “My place, babe. Let’s get dressed. We can grab breakfast on the way.” Tugging her right hand away from his head, Heston folded her bra and shirt inside her curled fingers. “Let’s get you ready to go.”
Was he dismissing her? Sure felt like it.
London’s heart still pounded in her head from the first orgasm she’d had in years. Her blood was boiling and bubbling in her veins. Her brain was slow, foggy with afterglow. Breathing hard to get her emotions back on track, she fumbled her arms and shoulders into the shirt Heston held for her. Her bra went into her pocket. He helped her off the table. The instant London’s feet were back on the floor, she stooped and hurriedly pulled up her panties and pants. Suddenly, everything they’d just done felt awkward and wrong, like she’d wanted all of him, but he’d only wanted a piece of her. What now? She had no idea.
Chapter Twenty-One
This wild, impulsive, audacious, headstrong woman wasitfor Heston. London had beenitsince they’d met in college, and yet he’d just mugged her in an empty conference room like a horny inexperienced teenager. Once again, she’d shaken his world. Uprooted the damned thing. Shook it like a dog shaking a rug, then threw it down between them. A challenge:Where do we go from here?
To bed. His bed. Not at the walnut conference table that would be damned hard to sit at during upcoming meetings. Not that there weren’t other conference rooms at TEAM HQ. But how could he sit here and pay attention while remembering how she’d tasted on that table? How she’d panted into his mouth when she’d come? How much he loved her?
The ride to his place was short and sweet. Unfortunately, it was too quiet and he understood. London thought she was getting her way, and she had, up to a point. But there was so much more going on between them than just what happened after that foolish fight in Killeen. She didn’t need to apologize. Not anymore. Their problem now was that he wanted forever, but, at the same time, he refused to stand in her way. She had so much potential and he didn’t want to be the past mistake holding her back. She was made to fly. She could and should leave him behind. A woman with her uncanny investigative talent should never settle for less. For him.
Heston stopped at a local bakery on the way. The tiny shop was owned by Charlee O’Donnell, the blonde, amber-eyed woman Asher’d had his eye on for months. Up to now, Asher turned into a tongue-tied moron whenever she broughtcinnamon rolls and fudge brownies to TEAM HQ. Which was at least twice a week. The idiot had better make a move on her before someone else did.
