His gaze darkened, then shifted. As if someone had slammed the book shut. The pain she’d sensed in the bar was there again, radiating from him like a silent sob of misery.
They’d spent two days sharing their bodies. Surely he’d share this with her, too.
She wanted to ask him what was hurting him so deeply, why he was hiding from it. Before she could find the words, he gave her a wicked look, then reached one finger into the jelly bowl and scooped out a dollop of glistening orange sweetness.
“Taste?” he asked, offering her his finger. “Your neighbor said it’s plum. Made from her own trees.”
Beneath the amusement in his eyes was a challenge. Purely sexual, totally tempting. She couldn’t resist. Alexia leaned forward, sucking the tip of his finger into her mouth. Yum. The sticky sweetness had a tart edge. As she swirled her tongue around, licking all the way to the knuckle, his gaze deepened. Intensified.
“More?” he asked, his voice husky.
Power, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, filled Alexia. This man had had her six ways from Sunday. He’d climaxed more times than she was years old. And he’d done it on barely any sleep. Yet just the swipe of her tongue, and he was all hot and bothered.
Totally turned on.
She stood, arched both brows, then unbelted her robe.
All it took was a shrug for it to drop to the floor.
“Gorgeous,” Blake moaned in delight. He leaned forward to pull her onto his lap, but Alexia shook her head. Nope, it was her turn to call the shots.
“Strip,” she ordered.
He grinned. Then, proving he was all for equality among the sexes when it came to loveplay, he stood, and in a few quick moves, had that incredible body bared for her pleasure.
Alexia dipped her fingers into the jelly jar, then smoothed them over his lower lip. With a delicate swipe of her tongue, she licked it clean.
“Yum,” she told him.
He grinned, waiting to see what she’d taste next.
She swirled the sweet jelly around his nipples. Then she sucked them clean. They tightened gratifyingly, first one then the other, beneath her lips. She smoothed her other hand down his slender hips, over the rock-hard angles of his sexy butt.
She dipped her fingers in the jelly again, dropped to her knees and kissed her way down his belly. His body was a feast. Every inch delicious. And she wanted to taste him all.
“Nope,” he said with a strained laugh, grabbing her sticky fingers just before they could spread the breakfast preserve over his erection. “That’d get in the way of what I have planned next.”
“But I wanted to taste,” she said with a naughty smile. Her hand still in his, she leaned down to blow a soft puff of air on the glistening tip of his dick.
It jumped.
She slid a glance up at Blake, noting the hazy, almost-stupefied-with-wanting look on his face. Still, though, he didn’t release her hand.
So she tasted without jelly.
First with just her tongue, sipping gently at the tip of his dick. Then she slid it down the hard length, and back up. His fingers, wrapped around her wrist, trembled. She sucked the velvety rounded tip. Just the tip. He groaned out loud.
Before she could take his entire delicious length into her mouth, he used her wrist to pull her to her feet. Her breath shocked right out of her, Alexia gasped. Still holding her hand, he lifted the jelly-smeared finger to his mouth and licked it clean. Then he grabbed her by the waist, flipped her around and pressed her body between his and the table.
“You’re the most delicious woman in the world,” he murmured against the back of her neck, his lips moving along her shoulder in soft, wet kisses. Both hands reached around, cupping her breasts. Fingers tweaked, pulled, swirled the tips until they ached with pleasure. Her butt brushed his erection again and again as her hips undulated, desperate for release. Wanting more, and since his hands were busy, she pressed her own down between her thighs, preparing, readying herself for the delight she knew he’d give.
“Mine,” he protested, one of his hands sliding down to cover hers, twining their fingers together so they worked the aching swollen nub in concert.
Alexia moaned, heat swirling, passion building tight in her belly. Before she could climb too high, too fast, Blake bent her low over the table.
Her face nestled in her arms, she let him position her, lifting her hips for his entry. Even with proof so many times over of how big, strong and fabulous he felt inside, she still gasped with shock when, his hands braced on her hips, he plunged deep.
Her fingers dug into the tabletop, the wood cool and unyielding under her. Her hips shifted. Back, forth and back again, meeting his thrusts.
One hand still guiding her hips, he slid the other between her thighs, flicking his finger over the quivering bud there.
She cried out with pleasure.
He thrust again. Flicked once more.
Two strokes, then three. Her body exploded. Stars danced a wild boogie behind her closed eyelids as she gasped, moaning his name over and over. The orgasm rocked her, her body pressing tighter to the table, to his hips, as if she could somehow wring even more pleasure from the climax.
Her moves were all the encouragement he needed. Blake’s fingers dug into her hips, holding her still for his body. With a guttural moan, he plunged again, then once more. Then he groaned, loud and long. His thighs, so hard and strong, quivered against the back of hers.
Spent, totally empty, her body lay across the table as she tried to catch her breath. To find her thoughts. To remember her name.
“I have to go,” Blake murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder, making her shudder as yet another tiny orgasm rocked her body.
“No,” she protested. She wanted to lift her head, to roll over and grab on to him. But she didn’t have the strength. There was nothing left, he’d drained her dry.
She heard him move away but still couldn’t open her eyes.
“Look, I’ve got a thing tonight,” he told her. His voice was distant, as if he was trying to put space between them. A hint of panic flamed in her stomach. Before it could grow, he continued, “But I should be done by eleven, midnight at the latest. I’ll come back.”
Alexia’s lashes fluttered. She forced her head to turn so she could see him. She wanted to protest. To tell him to ask instead of inform.
She might even have plans.
Her brow furrowed.
Wait.
She did have plans.
“I’m busy tonight,” she realized, not sure which she wanted more. To exert herself, proving that this was a two-way street and she’d be calling just as many shots as he would. Or to grab on to an excuse to ditch the admiral’s retirement party and
