Project: Runaway Bride Read online

  Tugging her around the end of the sofa, he pulled her into the large open space near the windows. The sun was going down, turning the light outside to a smoky gray with hints of orange and lavender.

  Music spilled from Zoe’s iPod, the beautiful strains putting Juliet in mind of long, flowing gowns, tailored black tuxedoes and a ballroom full of couples moving about the dance floor in perfect synchronicity.

  Pulling her back against his chest, Reid wrapped one arm firmly around her waist while folding his other hand over hers. Almost of their own volition, the fingers of her free hand trailed upward to his shoulder, where she rested them lightly and tried to ignore the pinpricks of sensation that heated the pads of each digit before soaking into her skin and spreading through her veins.

  He started swaying to the music, holding her tight, pressing his cheek to her temple. Juliet let her eyes slide closed, taking a deep, shuddering breath and then letting it out again on a sigh.

  “Where are your sisters?” he whispered just above her ear.

  It took her a moment to find her voice...and the will to speak at all.

  “Zoe is closing up the store, then going out clubbing with her friends,” she told him. “And Lily is in Los Angeles with Nigel.”

  “So you’ve got the place to yourself tonight, huh? No chance of being interrupted?”

  She swallowed hard and gave a small shake of her head.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  Then, before she knew what he was doing, he tipped her head back and lowered his mouth to hers.

  His lips were warm. Salty from the Chinese they’d shared but sweet from the wine. And, man, did he know how to kiss.

  He possessed her, took from her, but gave her oh, so much in return. At first the pressure of his mouth was light, testing. But once he knew she wasn’t going to push him away, he delved deeper. The pressure of his lips against hers grew, and with one quick swipe of his tongue along the seam, he beckoned her to open, to let him in.

  And she was powerless to refuse. She’d wanted him—wanted this—for too long.

  The music swelled through the room, filling her head, sending shivers along her arms and down her spine. Or maybe that was Reid. His touch, his kiss, the anticipation of what was to come.

  His hands were stroking her from her shoulders down her arms to her wrists. Her waist down to her hips, then up again over the length of her back. Her own hands simply clutched his wide shoulders, afraid that if she let go, she would slide to a puddle at his feet.

  Dragging his mouth from hers, Reid continued to nibble at her jaw, moving assuredly toward the lobe of her ear. She moaned at the loss of his kiss, then again as he suckled a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

  “If we do this,” he said softly against her skin, “are you going to hate yourself in the morning?”

  “Probably,” she admitted truthfully. Though right this minute, she wasn’t sure she cared.

  “Are you going to hate me?”

  At that, her eyes snapped open. Her head cleared, maybe because he’d stopped nuzzling her throat, her cheek, just behind her ear. He was watching her now, his brown eyes gone dark, his gaze intensely serious.

  He was waiting for her answer, and the entire direction of the rest of the evening depended on it.

  “No,” she told him. Simply. Honestly.

  She could never hate him, no matter what passed between them. No matter how much guilt it might leave her to carry around for the rest of her life.

  Whatever happened—here, tonight, with him—would be on her and her alone. And heaven help her, she wanted it. She wanted to be here with him, to be with him the way she’d imagined so many times, for so long.

  Anything else, she pushed to the back of her mind. Far, far away from Reid’s hands on her body, his gaze on her face, his mouth promising untold pleasures.

  “Good.”

  He drove his fingers into her hair, cupping her head and holding her in place while he ravished her mouth. Her own hands came up under his arms to clutch his back, fisting the fabric of his shirt.

  For long minutes, he kissed her while she all but sagged in his embrace. And then he released her mouth, dropping one arm to her waist and the other behind her legs to scoop her up off the floor.

  She wasn’t expecting it, but it didn’t surprise her, either. It felt right, and she relaxed in his hold, wanting to rest her cheek on his shoulder in true damsel-in-distress fashion.

  “Which way?” he demanded, and she didn’t need to ask, “To what?”

  She pointed toward the stairs and he marched in that direction, taking long, determined strides. When he got to the steps, he took them two at a time. Another lift of her finger told him which room was hers, and he pushed open the door, kicking it closed behind them with the heel of his shoe.

  He carried her to the bed, which was neatly made, two rows of decorative pillows looking as though they were ready for a House Beautiful photo shoot. Everything in her room was picture-perfect. Style and organization helped her feel more in control of the world around her.

  Reid clearly didn’t feel the same. Shifting her weight in his arms but not letting go of her in the least, he reached for the pillows, tossing half of them to the floor before snagging the corner of the duvet and flicking it to the end of the bed.

  Then and only then did he turn and deposit her in the center of her pressed floral sheets. They had tiny purple violets on them to match the solid purple of the coverlet and pillows, and she suddenly felt self-conscious about the overly feminine tones of the room when Reid was so very masculine. She almost expected the little violets to turn into footballs or some such from his presence alone.

  But he didn’t seem the least bit interested in the room’s décor. He only had eyes for her, as he towered over her with one knee on the bed, his gaze burning like a bonfire.

  A shiver ran through her as he reached for the top button of his shirt, muscles rippling beneath the crisp cotton. His fingers were bronze against the stark backdrop, working easily, deliberately moving in a slow line down the center of his chest.

  One by one, the buttons slipped from their holes. Inch by inch, she was teased by glimpses of smooth flesh. When he reached the bottom, he tugged the tails from the waistband of his slacks and shrugged out of the shirt altogether, letting it float to the floor in a cloud of white.

  Juliet swallowed hard. His chest, which she’d pictured in her mind for weeks, was now gloriously bare in front of her. Broad and well defined, it was covered with a light sprinkling of dark hair. It was obvious he worked out, stayed in shape, kept his military physique despite his current corporate vocation.

  Leaning over her, he unbuckled the narrow belt at her waist, sliding it free before moving his hands to the hem of her satin dress. He pushed the material up, up, slowly upward. His warm, callused palms remained flat against her skin, raising goose bumps the entire length of her body as he skimmed them over the outside of her thighs, her waist, her chest, lifting her arms and tugging the dress off over her head.

  She was left in her bra and panties. A sexy, matching set in magenta satin and lace to go with the dress Reid had just disposed of.

  She swallowed hard, trying not to squirm beneath his intense scrutiny. His brown eyes smoldered like pools of molten lava as he raked her from head to toe and back again.

  He started to reach for her at the same time she sat up. They met in the middle, mouths meshing, bodies pressing together.

  His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her steady for his kiss while she fumbled for his belt. He grunted and gave an involuntary jerk when she hit pay dirt. Slipping the smooth leather from its buckle, she let the ends fall aside to concentrate on the front of his slacks.

  By touch, she undid the top clasp and slowly lowered the tab of the zipper. He groaned as she reached inside to cup him through the thin barrier of his briefs, and she reveled in his heat and hardness, in the power of holding him at her mercy in the palm of her hand.

 
Or maybe she was at his mercy. Sliding his hands around her back, he unhooked her bra. The straps slumped from her shoulders and he dragged them the rest of the way down her arms, leaving her bare to the evening air and his intent gaze.

  She released him long enough to shrug out of the bra entirely and drop it over the edge of the bed. Clutching his shoulders, she let him lower her back onto the mattress, but brought him with her. He snaked his fingers under the elastic band of her panties, drawing them down her legs and off. Then he sat back on his haunches.

  Without taking his eyes from her, he dug into his hip pocket, removed his wallet and took out a single condom. He tossed it onto her stomach, the cool plastic on her bare skin causing a chill.

  Once he had what he needed, he kicked out of the trousers altogether, dropping them to the floor with the rest of their discarded clothes. She moved the condom packet aside and raised her arms, inviting him closer.

  The look in his eyes as he lowered himself against her chest and into the cradle of her thighs was wolfish to say the least. She had a brief flash of being Little Red Riding Hood, about to be devoured by his wild, furry badness. My, what big...everything you have.

  As eager as she was—as they both were, she knew—he rested atop her gently and kissed her with soft, sweet abandon. Her breasts were pressed nearly flat between them, the nipples peaking at the slight abrasion of firm to delicate, rough to smooth.

  She shifted, letting that friction heighten the sensations filling her even more, loving the weight of him sinking her farther into the mattress, the heat of him rubbing suggestively against the mound of her sex.

  She stroked his back, down the line of his spine to tickle the top of his buttocks, then back up to sift through the short strands of his hair. He groaned, and she returned the sentiment with a long, drawn-out, pleasure-filled moan.

  Reid rolled toward the center of the bed, bringing her with him. His hand slipped between them to cup her breast. He kneaded the mound of pillowy flesh, running the pad of his thumb across the tight tip until she wiggled in his hold, wanting closer, wanting more.

  And he gave it to her. Rolling the other way, he switched hands, switched breasts, pressed his pelvis even tighter against her own. Her legs were up around his hips, canting forward, straining.

  She was panting when he pulled his lips from hers, but at least she wasn’t the only one. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breaths, his smooth, tanned skin glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration.

  “You’re killing me,” he murmured raggedly, his lips trailing across her collarbone, her shoulder, the slope of her breast.

  Juliet tried to laugh, but it came out nothing more than a strangled gasp. “You should be inside my skin,” she managed. Barely.

  What could only be described as a wicked, lascivious smile crossed his face. “I’d love to.”

  Searching the top of the bed for the condom, he found it stuck to her left buttock. He chuckled as he peeled it away.

  “That’s not where that goes.”

  “Uh-uh,” she agreed, letting the sound roll from her throat. “Would you like me to show you where it does belong?”

  The cords of his neck went taut, standing out in stark relief as he swallowed. Taking that as a yes, she snatched the plastic square from his loose fingers, tearing it open at the corner. Her own hands were trembling a bit, though, so it took her a minute to get to the thin circle of latex inside.

  Finally, after struggling for so long she wanted to weep, and before Reid could yank the protection away from her in frustration and do it himself, she had the condom out and was able to cover the very tip of his straining erection.

  It was hot to the touch, hard as steel, but soft as velvet at the same time. She stroked its length from the base to where the first hint of latex rested.

  Reid growled low in his throat, head tipping back and nostrils flaring. “If you take too much longer with that, we’re going to miss having any real fun.”

  This was fun, watching his features tighten as she toyed with him, delighting in the fact that she held him teetering on the edge. But she definitely wanted more. She wanted the real fun she knew awaited them.

  Nibbling her bottom lip, she resisted the urge to explore him further and concentrated on carefully rolling the thin layer of protection into place.

  Truth be told, she’d never done this before. She could count the number of men she’d been with intimately enough to require a condom on one hand, and the man she’d been with most often—Paul—tended to take care of it himself so they could get down to the perfunctory act of sex. It had been so long since she’d been with him that way, in fact, she couldn’t even remember if it had ever been more than that. Passionate, desperate, necessary instead of simply predictable and obligatory.

  They hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet, and already being with Reid was heads and shoulders and arms and legs and all the naughty bits in between above anything she’d experienced with Paul.

  Reid made her elbows sweat. Her toes curl. Every hair on her body stood up with static electricity just from being in the same room with him. Being naked and lying beneath him made that electricity increase in voltage about a thousand percent and zing through her bloodstream like a live wire spinning out of control.

  Guilt at that thought—not to mention what she was about to do—tried to rear up, but she tamped it back down. She’d made her decision.

  She knew now that she couldn’t go through with a marriage to Paul. She would have to break things off with him immediately. Was beginning to wish she’d listened to the tiny voice at the back of her head that had been nagging her for weeks now and done so already.

  But for now, she wanted to be with Reid. Here, now, at least once. Damn the consequences. Whatever they were, she would deal with them in the morning.

  Her fingertips lingered where she’d finished covering him and he grasped her hand, moving it where he wanted. In strong, self-assured strokes, he double-checked the smoothness of the condom, making sure it was properly in place.

  Then he linked his fingers with hers and, palm to palm, raised her hands over her head to lie flat on the mattress.

  “Better,” he murmured against the corner of her mouth, nipping her lips with his teeth. “Are you ready?”

  Her entire body went taut, as though someone had threaded a string from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck and given it a sharp yank. She was so ready. Beyond ready. Starter-pistol-at-the-beginning-of-a-race, just-hit-Play, melted-chocolate-fountain-just-waiting-for-a-piece-of-succulent-fruit ready.

  She did not, however, seem capable of simple speech. Her lips parted, but nothing came out past her dry, cottony tongue. She swallowed and tried to lick her lips...for all the good it did.

  Giving up, she took a deep breath, shuddering again as the action lifted her breasts to brush the firm wall of his chest and sensation rippled through her. She nodded.

  He smiled down at her, his expression so kind and understanding that her heart swelled. Then he kissed one corner of her mouth, followed by the other, and finally the center, slipping his tongue inside for a long, leisurely exploration.

  Lower, he caressed her waist and hip, the inside of her thighs. Gently, he pushed them apart, making even more room for himself. Room to move and rub and drive her crazy.

  Still kissing her senseless, urged on by her fingers in his hair and her nails raking his scalp, he cupped her rear in one hand, her feminine mound in the other. She moaned into his mouth, writhing against him, straining even more as his fingers teased her swollen folds.

  She was wet with desire, growing even more so as he tormented her relentlessly. Rubbing, kneading, mimicking with his hand what she wished he were already doing with his strong, hard body.

  “Reid,” she panted, her voice little more than a thready whisper. “Please.”

  “Done with the foreplay, huh?”

  She felt his grin as he brushed the sandpaper roughness of one cheek against her
own.

  She gave a strangled laugh. “Hours ago. I didn’t need it to begin with.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so,” he all but growled.

  Bending her knees and hitching her legs at his hips, he found her slick opening with the tip of his shaft and slid inside in one slow, easy glide.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and held it as his size, his heat, the fullness of his entry swamped her.

  “Okay?” he asked just above her ear, his own breath sawing in and out raggedly.

  In answer, she gave a long moan and tightened her legs around his waist.

  He chuckled. Or attempted to, anyway. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him even closer, arching her pelvis and giving her inner muscles an encouraging squeeze. “Yesss.”

  Reid muttered a curse, lips peeling back from his straight white teeth and eyes nearly rolling in their sockets. In the next moment, he was moving, thrusting with smooth, powerful strokes. Each time he withdrew, she wanted to whimper at the loss. Each time he filled her again, she wanted to cry out in ecstasy.

  Pressure and sensation built, first flowing outward like the ripples of a pond after a pebble has been thrown in, then winding tighter and tighter like the coils of a spring. She scored his back with her nails, afraid she would leave welts but unable to control herself.

  Reid’s own hands seemed to be everywhere at once. He clutched her shoulders before running his palms down either side of her spine, cupping her bottom, roving back up to her waist and around to plump her breasts, plucking the nipples until every nerve in her body sat up and took notice.

  For long minutes, only the sounds of their heavy, staccato breathing and their bodies moving in tandem filled the room. She thought she tasted blood from where she was biting so hard on her lower lip, her head thrown back in growing ecstasy.

  She clutched at him, panting, desperate, murmuring his name over and over as she strained for what she needed. That pinnacle of pleasure only he could give her, but that he was holding just out of reach.