Sultry Escapes. Leslie Kelly

away to stand up and unfasten his jeans.

      This was worth her full, utmost attention.

      She caught her lip between her teeth and watched him, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning who was finally going to get to open her biggest present.

      “Wow,” she whispered when he peeled away his boxer briefs.

      Because big didn’t quite describe him. His cock could be described with three of her favorite adjectives: long, thick and rock-hard. It jutted out, proud and male and hot. That river between her legs threatened to turn into an ocean just at the sight of him.

      “I’ve been walking around like this since the night you slammed me with the frying pan.”

      “Feel free to get even by slamming me with that,” she whispered.

      He chuckled softly, but he soon stopped laughing. Because Candace wasn’t satisfied with just looking. She had to touch him, feel all that silk-encased steel.

      She sat up straight. Scooting to the very edge of the couch, she parted her thighs to make room for his legs and leaned close to his naked body. Close enough to cast warm breaths of air over him, her lips hovering an inch from all that luscious maleness. But she didn’t go further, not quite yet. She wanted him as out of his mind with desire as she’d been.

      Groaning, he twined his hands in her hair. Candace knew she was tormenting him, but knowing from very recent experience that anticipation was wonderful, she didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, she reached up and traced her fingers over his cock, from the top down the long back, to the sacs beneath. She cupped them gently, hearing his gasp and feeling his hands tighten in her hair. The position was incredibly intimate. He was as physically vulnerable as a man could make himself, and she was conscious of the trust that must require. Obviously, given how men loved to be blown, the benefits had to outweigh the risk. And this time, she was finding herself truly looking forward to something she’d usually viewed as an item to check off a list during foreplay.

      Not with him. Him she wanted to taste. Oliver she wanted to please.

      She continued to breathe deeply, evenly, loving the musky scent of man that filled her nostrils. Wrapping her hand around as much of him as she could hold, she stroked him, up and down, squeezing lightly, knowing by the way his pulse pounded in his groin that his heart was racing.

      Needing to smooth the glide, she lifted her hand and traced her fingers across the top of his cock, moistening them with the arousal seeping from the tip. Curious, she drew a finger to her mouth and licked the moisture from it.

      “Jesus!”

      She heard pure desperation in his voice. Casting a look up through her bangs and seeing Oliver’s hungry expression, she knew she’d pushed him to his limits, and finally licked her lips and moved in for a deeper taste. He was definitely too big for her to take him all the way, but she did her best, taking the bulbous tip into her mouth and sucking gently.

      “Oh, God, yeah,” he groaned, pumping the tiniest bit, as if a slave to his body’s demands.

      She didn’t mind. He tasted delicious—warm, a little salty, ever-so-smooth. The act was incredibly intimate, and she loved hearing his groans of pleasure as she sucked him as far as she could, laving him so he could glide more easily.

      He didn’t allow it to go on too long, not nearly as long as he’d pleasured her. Within a few minutes, he’d gently pushed her away.

      “I want in.”

      The blunt demand made her shiver with excitement. He reached for her, drawing her to her feet, and she wasn’t quite sure where they were going. When he lifted one of her legs so she could rest her foot on the arm of the couch, she got the picture.

      He paused to tear open the condom packet and slide it on—it was a wonder the thing fit. When he was sheathed, he drew her into his arms, covering her mouth and kissing her deeply. His erection was a powerful ridge between their bodies, and she arched toward it, needing him desperately.

      “Please, Oliver,” she insisted.

      He gave her what she wanted, tilting her toward him and nudging into her curls. She was slick with want, her body opening in welcome. He eased into her, bringing ecstasy with him. Candace began to breathe in shallow little gasps as he filled her, inch by delicious inch. He was so thick, hard and hot that she felt every bit of him as he possessed her.

      As if he realized that her whole body was melting, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing herself to sink fully onto him. As he impaled her, she threw her head back and let out a low, guttural cry of pleasure.

      He began to thrust slowly, sinking deep, then drawing away. The man’s strength surprised her. He seemed completely comfortable bearing her weight as they gave and took. She answered every stroke, clenching him deep inside, knowing by his shudders that he felt and enjoyed every squeeze.

      Soon, the frenzy built. He drove faster; she cried louder. She clung to his shoulders, and he backed her against the wall. The leverage made things deeper, hotter, and he drove into her again and again, losing himself to the passion.

      She was lost to it, too. Lost to everything but this moment, this man, this act, and giving all she had to bring them both to the pinnacle of delight. When she reached that peak, climaxing yet again, she held on tight and let him drive deep to attain his own.

      WAKING UP THE next morning and seeing his bedside clock flashing, Oliver realized the power had come back on at some point during the night. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered if it had remained off. He and Candace had created plenty of heat on their own, both down in front of the fireplace, and again later in this bed.

      This small bed.

      He had never been more aware of its size until now, when he felt her curled up against him, one slim leg entwined with his, her arm draped across his waist, her head on his shoulder.

      He liked small beds, he decided.

      He liked them a lot.

      And he especially liked waking up to find her in bed with him, twined around him like she needed to touch as much of him as she could while she slept.

      The light sifting in through the window said the storm had passed and the day appeared sunny and bright. There were a million things he could work on, but he had the feeling he was going to want to skip them in favor of making love to this beautiful woman again.

      He had her for one week and one week only. He had no idea why those had been her terms, or what the secret was that she hadn’t wanted to share. Last night, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t given a damn. Now though, he couldn’t deny he was curious. But not curious enough to push her and risk losing out on what time he had left with her.

      It was going to be a week he would never forget. And one she would never forget. He’d make absolutely certain of that.

      “Mmm…good morning,” she murmured.

      He glanced down to see her looking up at him, yawning and blinking against the bright sunlight.

      “Hi.”

      She curled her arm tighter, tucking her leg a little more intimately, and cuddled close. “How did you sleep?”

      “Like a man who’d run a marathon,” he admitted. “Something zapped all my strength last night.”

      “I think that was me.” She might have been a cat for the satisfied purr in her tone.

      “I told you the night we met that you should come with a warning label.”

      “What would it say?”

      “Caution: combustible female. Approach only when wearing protective gear.”

      She giggled against his chest and traced a lazy hand down his stomach. “You wore protective gear last night.”

      True, though he wished he hadn’t had to. The very