Love Her Madly Page 11

  The noise in his head didn’t have a chance, because it must be driven away by the cadences he created with his hands and feet. The sound was a thunderstorm, a tornado, a sirocco, dangerous weather that filled the room and slammed against the walls.

  Her ears pulsed and she felt the bass notes in her bones, an uncomfortable reverberation. She would have stepped back from the fury of emotion and the flurry of movement except that she was fascinated.

  Bing had this inside him. This talent and this pent-up rage that was now bursting out in a very primitive, very powerful fashion that made him seem a stranger.

  A stranger who still called to her.

  Sweat was flying now, arcing out like wild tears as he built to a crescendo. The sticks in his hands seemed to be on fire, and maybe they were, because at the final hammer stroke he tossed them away from him. Then slumped in his seat.

  His arms were shaking as he reached down for a half-empty bottle of Maker’s Mark.

  He lifted it to his mouth, took a long swallow, and then he froze.

  She could swear she hadn’t made a sound—she wasn’t sure she was breathing—but he turned toward her anyway, spinning all the way around so she could see his hooded eyes, the sweat rolling off his jaw, the pumped state of his pectorals and his biceps. A dark rock prince in his magnetic, sensual prime.

  She went wet.

  It all came back to her then, what she’d been working to put from her mind. His hard, possessive kisses. His mouth on her breasts, hot and insistent. The steady pressure of his knee. The stealthy invasion of his fingertips.

  She shivered, even though now he was looking at her as if she was a rat that had scurried into his cage. “What are you doing here?” he asked, the slightest slur on the edge of the words.

  He was drunk, she thought. Or halfway there. “Brody told me where you might be.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered, then took another swig of the whisky. “Go away.”

  She licked her lips. “Not until you hear me out.”

  “Why would I want to?”

  “Because.” She took another step into the room. It smelled of clean male sweat and booze. There was a taste in the air too. A taste that seemed to singe the edges of her tongue. His temper. “I owe you an apology.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. And I don’t owe you the time it would take to listen to you.” He bent over to retrieve his T-shirt and used it to dry his face, his arms, his chest.

  Watching him run the cloth over his skin made her own prickle in avid reaction. She tried to rein in the response by looking past him, at the drum set and all its many pieces and parts. “I didn’t know you played the drums.”

  He grunted.

  “Did Hop Hopkins teach you?” He was the Velvet Lemons drummer. “Maybe your dad?”

  He stopped wiping to stare at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? The only thing they ever taught me was how to take drugs and get pussy.”

  “No.” She goggled. “Your father—”

  “You’re right. He didn’t teach me about drugs. Sure as hell didn’t care if I dipped into his stash, though. And the pussy, that was shared too.”

  He laughed at whatever expression crossed her face. It was a brutal, nasty sound. “Brody was right. You really thought it was campfires and ‘Kumbaya’ at the compound.”

  Well, that just made her feel naïve and gauche as all get-out. Still, she owed him. So she straightened her spine and rose to the challenge that was his hard face and even harder eyes.

  “I’m sorry about earlier today,” she said. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

  He dropped his T-shirt to the floor and shrugged. “No big. You know me, so it was a natural assumption.”

  She was getting to know him. “I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. I’m aware relationships can be…complicated on both sides.”

  “Doll, the whole deal was the ‘relationship’ was over. That’s on me.”

  “But the sex-with-a-married-woman was on her. She made that move.”

  Another shrug. “No reason to expect you to see that things can end in any way other than civilized. Your fiancée cheated with your cousin and you’re on speaking terms with them both.” His tone was dismissive. “Done?”

  Her fingers curled into fists. Not done. “I’ve seen women do stupid, reckless things when it comes to men.”

  “Yeah. I’ve heard about those Ben & Jerry orgies. Chubby Hubby and Phish Food with your gal pals.” Standing, he turned away from her.

  “Jude almost killed me.” The words sounded strangled coming from her tight throat.

  Bing stilled. Then he turned.

  “She was my big brother Claudio’s girlfriend in college. Seven years older than me. I wanted to be her. Or at least her little sister. Her smile…bright—like a star.” Alexa crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Did you say she almost killed you?” Bing still stared.

  “Claudio loved her. I really think he did. We all did.” She tilted her head to look at the high ceiling. “She taught me that origami heart. I was thirteen years old and I would practice making it for hours.”

  “Did you say she almost killed you?” Bing repeated.

  “They had a fight. One of many. Jude was…volatile. Extremely passionate. Very exciting and romantic it seemed to me then.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “I was fooling around in the front yard when she came storming out of our house, followed by my brother. Her car was in the drive and she threw herself into it. But instead of reversing…she put it into gear and it lurched forward. It was aimed right at me, this old Cadillac that had been her grandfather’s.”

  Bing’s expression gave nothing away. “She wanted to hurt your brother by hurting you?”

  Alexa grimaced. “We don’t know for sure. Claudio came for me, tried to get between me and the car. She slammed on the brakes a moment too late and I was hit. Pinned between the big car and a concrete planter. You don’t need your spleen, just so you know.”

  He gusted out a breath.

  “Then she shoved it into reverse and raced down the street. She only made it as far as the next parked car.” Alexa shivered. “So much pain. So much blood. We both ended up in the hospital. Last we heard, Jude was continuing to get mental health care.”

  Bing was silent a moment, then shook himself. “I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

  She walked toward him, despite his unfriendly expression. “I should have known better than to assume all the hurt came from you,” she said. “Forgive me.”

  He stood his ground. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

  “Forgive me.” Her hand wrapped his forearm.

  He wrenched his arm away. The violent movement started to send her stumbling back but he lunged forward. Caught her shoulder. Then yanked her against his hot, damp body.

  They stared into each other’s eyes.

  That’s when another storm gathered in the room, a potent ball of lightning and thunder. Flames and heat. Alexa knew it wasn’t time for more words, explanations, or recriminations. Forgiveness was out of the question.

  The harsh rasp of Bing’s breath was the only sound in the room. He and Alexa both stood without moving, paralyzed by the honeyed, heated coil of desire spinning around them. He was sweaty, half-drunk, and in a piss-poor mood. She was still Candy Box Girl, looking luscious and sweet and like something he had no business plucking from its protective wrapping.

  But when had that ever stopped him? “Do you want to say no?” he demanded. When she didn’t make a sound, he pinched her chin. “Alexa, yes or no?”

  She blinked those big brown eyes. They killed him.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He didn’t give her a second chance. Ultimately, he expected she wouldn’t like that she’d agreed to be his one-time fuck, but that’s the way it was going to be.

  Cupping her face in both his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  She went
on tiptoe to get closer. That small fact charged down his spine and through his bloodstream, laying fire everywhere it passed. Always so damn willing.

  So…his for the taking.

  He speared fingers into her hair, twisting them in the long strands so he could control the angle of her head. The new fit of lips to lips was even better and she opened hers wide to accept the deep thrust of his tongue.

  Her palm, so cool and small, touched his waist and slid higher, coming to rest on the tattoo over his ribs. It throbbed with heat, as if it was truly an active sun, and he gasped, lifting his head to pull in air. Alexa crowded closer, her hand inching up to his nipple. His whole body shivered as her fingertips brushed over the tight point.

  “Shit,” he murmured. Just with that light touch he was about to go off.

  He was the one in control here, he reminded himself. He dictated the terms—one single screw—and he directed the action. As he stepped away, his fingers that were snarled in her hair gave the clinging stuff an inadvertent tug. She made a noise, a mix of surprise and entreaty.

  He smiled. “You like it a little rough, doll?” he asked, twisting his hand and pulling lightly once more. The sound came again, from low in her throat, and it hit him in the belly and then traveled straight to his balls. Yeah, she likes it a little rough.

  At the back of her neck, he gathered the strands in one hand and then wrapped the silky hank in his fist. With steady upward pressure, he brought her to her toes again, aligning their mouths.

  She leaped into the kiss, nearly climbing his body as he tangled his tongue with hers. One leg twined his as she gripped his shoulders. He thrust his free hand up the back of her shirt, going to the clasp of her bra. He wanted her breast in his hand, the smooth skin, the warm weight.

  She froze when he slipped his fingers beneath one loosened cup. He held her flesh in the curve of his palm and brushed the nipple with the pad of his thumb. Jerking out of the kiss, she shoved her face against his shoulder, breathing hard as he toyed with her, his callused skin strumming the tight, gathered tip.

  Her whole body was trembling, her muscles tense against him as she waited for a less-tender stroke. But he kept the caresses light and buried his face in her hair, his mouth finding her ear. “Am I making you wet, baby?”

  She nodded, her nose still pressed against his chest.

  “I’m going to be sure you’re drenched. But it still won’t be easy.” He continued playing with her nipple, never letting up on the gentle fondling. “I’m a big man and you’ll be a tight fit.”

  “Bing…” There was embarrassment and more entreaty in her voice.

  “You don’t like dirty talk?” he murmured. “I’m going to make you love dirty talk. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, and then when I do it, it’ll feel so good you’ll ask me to tell you more.”

  Her fingernails bit into his skin and his cock jumped in his jeans. He liked it a little rough too.

  “Be good, now, and look at me,” he urged.

  She lifted her head. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth was swollen. He stared into her big brown eyes. “When I pinch your nipple,” he said, “don’t make a sound.”

  Those eyes widened more.

  If she held it in, the tension would only coil further. “Quiet now,” he reminded her again, then took her between his thumb and forefinger. Squeezed.

  Her back bowed as he continued with the pressure. “Look at me,” he ordered her again. “Eyes on me.”

  It was like watching fire, seeing the desire ripple through her as she bit her bottom lip and clutched him with desperate fingers.

  “Pretty,” he said, easing up. “Pretty, pretty girl.”

  She sipped in a cautious breath of air, her gaze still on him.

  His free hand crawled under the hem of her shirt. Her belly twitched as he passed, then he knuckled the bra out of his way. His fingers found the other nipple.

  Her spine stiffened.

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Both. Remember to be silent.”

  “Bing…”

  “Shh.” As his fingers began to tighten he whispered to her, wicked winding through his voice like smoke. “Your favorite teacher is in the other room. Along with the bridal salon’s best client. So you’ve got to be good. You can’t make a sound.” Then he pinched, adding a slight twist that caused her head to fall back.

  Rapt, he watched Alexa flame all over again.

  Then he needed more. All.

  He whipped the shirt over her head and brushed the straps of her bra off her shoulders. His mouth found one breast and he ringed the areola with small, sucking kisses as his other hand kneaded the second tit. Her hands were in his hair and she was making sounds again: sweet, imploring, eager. His tongue licked over the nipple, then he lashed it, quick wet flicks that were making her crazy.

  Making him mad. Because her scent was in his head, his lungs, and her tender flesh tasted so good to him. He drew his mouth to her other breast and went straight for the nipple, sucking with lusty strength. Her hands were running over him now, rubbing his back, tickling his ribs, toying with his nipples. He reached up, grabbed her wrists, yanked them down. Her frantic touches were going to do him in.

  When he let them go, they dove beneath the waistband at the back of his pants to squeeze his ass.

  He bit her nipple.

  And her whole body rippled in sinuous delight.

  Bing lifted his head to give her a stern glance. “Be careful, doll,” he said, removing her hands from him again. “I’ve got things I want to do. Mustn’t end it too soon.”

  A knowing little smile ticked up the corners of her mouth. He could see she was just now realizing this power trip wasn’t a one-way street. Then she went back to tiptoe, fit her lips to his, and laid a wild kiss on him. He dived into it with her, tangling tongues, banging teeth, eating greedily at her.

  His head was so consumed by their mouth-to-mouth that her sneak attack caught him by surprise. One moment he was stroking deep with his tongue, in the next he froze as her hand slithered into his pants, found his dick, and wrapped it in a strong grip.

  He lost his breath. He lost his head. His agenda was burned in the conflagration created by the stunning, maddening sensation of Alexa Alessio stroking his naked cock.

  In the next second he took her down to the floor. There was nothing but the wool carpet between them and concrete, but if she ended up with rug burns on her pretty butt or a red rash on her face when he took her on her knees, well, that was just the way it was going to be. He pinned her with his weight as his hand worked at the fastening of her jeans.

  She wiggled as he drew down the zipper and he leaned lower and took a quick bite of her nipple. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

  Another little sex kitten-smile. “I’m making you hard?”

  “I’m a rock and you know it.” He started pushing down denim, hooking her panties at the same time. “Lose the sandals.”

  Then she was nude. Alexa Alessio who had strolled around in his dreams and fantasies for months. Who had been hit by a car. Hurt.

  But he couldn’t think about that now. Wouldn’t!

  So he drank in her body. Golden where it wasn’t pink, curved and planed in all the right ways, was there in the half-light, all for him. His head spun and he knew it wasn’t the whisky, he was getting drunk on the sight of her and the scent of her. The scent of her sex, that sweet and creamy fragrance that bewitched him. She began to draw up a leg, started to fold one knee over the apex of her body, but he caught it to pull her open to him.

  “Take off your pants, too,” she whispered.

  “Yeah.” But instead he kneeled between her thighs and buried his face in the smooth skin of her belly. She bucked up so he placed the flat of his hands on her hips and breathed in her skin, rubbing his face from hipbone to hipbone. His tongue circled her navel and then he fucked her there with it, as the smell of her sex rose around them. Beautiful.

  He lifted his head to check her response, and saw ther
e were tears on her lashes.

  Shit. His heart jolted in alarm. He was a bastard, but not that kind. “Lex? You’re crying?”

  Her hands wiped hastily at her cheeks. “Don’t pay any attention to me.”

  “I think that’s the whole point.” He moved up until he was lying beside her. “Lex…”

  She turned into him and sank her fingers into his hair and pressed a fierce kiss on his mouth. “Don’t stop,” she said against it. “Never stop.”

  He caressed the side of her face as they kissed. He felt the passion in her small frame, the desire in the way she surged against him. She slid her hand in his jeans and he gave her that because it felt so damn good. His mouth chased the last of her tears and then she was tugging at the button, his zipper, and he only wanted this…the this that she wanted. Not that he wasn’t near-desperate for it himself.

  His hand shook as he rolled on the condom that had been in his wallet.

  Then he positioned them on their sides and lifted her sleek thigh over his hip. “Bing,” she whispered. “Please, please, please.”

  As he predicted, it was slow going, though she was so aroused that her wetness trickled onto his fingers as he brought himself to her opening. What a fucking turn-on.

  Her eyes closed as he breached her in increments. Reminding himself this was a single event, he forced more slowness so it wouldn’t end too soon.

  Then he was in, and she was moaning, lifting herself into his shallow thrusts, gripping his flank to pull him tighter to her. He tried to resist, but God, so good. So, so good.

  The rhythm took him away, and like when he sat at the drums, he was pure sensation. All the voices in his head quieted as he drove into Lex. As she grasped at him and cried out in sweet eagerness. He knew he wouldn’t last. Cursed himself for not lengthening this because it was all they would ever have.