Fools Rush In Page 5

  Stop thinking, Alesha. There are no answers here, and Sam is waiting. Focus on him. Just him.

  Shutting off the water, I stepped out of the shower and looked around. Once again, I hadn’t brought anything to change into. If I had some sexy sort of negligée, that would’ve been perfect. But since I didn’t, the hotel robes and nothing else would have to do. It seemed to work well for Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

  When I opened the door, my heart thumping a little faster than normal, Sam came straight for me, placing his hands on my hips before moving into the bathroom. “God, I love that mango smell.” He went straight for the shower and turned it on, holding his hand under the spray for a second to check the temperature. “You planning on watching?” he asked, pulling his worn T-shirt over his head and baring that beautifully defined chest of his.

  I didn’t look away, but I did blush. “You left the door open.”

  He grinned. “That’s because you’re standing right against it.” Hooking his fingers in the waistband of his board shorts, he met my eyes with quirked brow. I had to swallow a lump in my throat, but I still didn’t look away. “OK then.” He shrugged and pushed his shorts and anything he had on underneath them to the floor, then stood there in all his glory, hands on his hips.

  “Holy mother of God,” I gasped, my eyes no doubt wide with shock. “You have a small child’s arm for a penis. And that hasn’t even grown yet, right? I mean, it’s going to get”—I gulped—“bigger, isn’t it?” Maybe I could handle being a virgin for a bit longer.

  “It is,” he responded—looking incredibly pleased with himself, I might add.

  “It’s going to split me in two!” I blurted, horrified. That wasn’t normal. Men didn’t have appendages like that in real life, no way. I’d seen hundreds of penises during my job, but they were all flaccid and, er… dead, so I’d tried not to look. The hard and living ones I’d seen had only been via porn, and since they were only on a small computer screen, even the biggest porn dicks didn’t look that big. His thing looked like a cannon. A real-life motherfucking cannon.

  “It won’t split you in two.” He chuckled. “You’ll stretch. But don’t worry, I’m not giving you this until you’re ready for it.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at it. “I am not ready for that.”

  He chuckled again, making the damn thing bounce along with his shoulders. I couldn’t get over the size of him. Staring at it, I was transported back to the time our school had gone to a petting zoo where they had a donkey that let its dick hang low and swing while it nibbled on hay and violated the innocent eyes of a bunch of eight-year-olds. That’s what it reminded me of. A donkey dick.

  “Jeez, peaches, you’re lucky I’ve got such good self-esteem or I’d develop a complex.” He stepped into the shower cubicle and closed the door. It was clear though, so I could see right through it.

  “I’m sorry,” I started. “I didn’t me—”

  “Cartwrights don’t apologise, Alesha.” He opened the shower door just enough to pop his head out and look me in the eye. “Own what you say and do, and never take someone else’s shit on board. You’re the only person who knows the real truth behind your thoughts and actions, and as long as you can live with yourself, that’s all that matters.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself to justify what you do?”

  Rubbing shampoo through his dark hair, he held his head beneath the spray and spoke to me while he rinsed. “We take things that don’t belong to us and sell it for our own profit. That doesn’t make us bad people, it makes us opportunists. We aren’t hurting anyone. They’re all insured.”

  “Is that something you check first?”

  “Yep.” He shut off the shower, and I grabbed a towel and held it out to him. He dried off his hair first. I tried not to look but failed, staring at the movement of his cock with his body. The way it swayed was slightly hypnotic. If he clicked and told me I was a chicken, I’d probably start squawking. “It’s how we know who to hit and what to take.”

  With a quick shake of my head, I made myself look at his eyes. “Why Holland?”

  He wrapped the towel around his hips. My Lord, this man can wear anything and look good.

  “She wasn’t the mark. Nate went rogue on that one.”

  “What do you mean? Who was the mark?”

  “He was in that bar looking for someone else. But he saw Holland, got a massive boner over her and threw the plan out the window.”

  “Well, who was he looking for? One of the girls in the hens party?”

  “You could say that.”

  The night Holland and Nate had met, we’d been out at a karaoke bar because of a bachelorette party for my cousin. Holland loved karaoke and got up on stage whenever she could. She was good, like really good. And when she’d finished her song, Nate had approached her and talked his way into her bed. He’d seemed so nice and genuine that I was shocked when she told me he robbed her the next morning. That night was the catalyst of all the events that led us right here, right now, married to virtual strangers. Hot strangers, but strangers nonetheless.

  “What do you mean? Who—” That’s when it hit me. The police had told us that the Cartwrights preyed on lonely women. “Oh my God.” I took a couple of steps back. “It was me, wasn’t it?” It made sense. I was single, I had some pretty cool stuff at my place, and I was insured for it all, having recently changed insurance companies too. “Of course it was me.”

  Suddenly, my knees gave out and I dropped my weight on the closed lid of the toilet. They’d never wanted me. They’d just wanted my stuff. Holland was the only reason I was here. Had their plan worked out, I’d just be another statistic, another notch in the success column, and they’d have moved on without giving me a thought.

  I was a job. A fucking job. I felt sick. God, I was the worst kind of joke. “I am so fucking pathetic.”

  Sam was in front of me in a flash, kneeling at my feet and gathering my hands in his. “What did I say about putting yourself down? The way all this worked out, I’m glad it wasn’t you. If you’d gone home with my brother and given your virg—”

  “I wouldn’t have.” Despite feeling shell-shocked over the fact that I was their target, I had no doubt that they would’ve failed. I didn’t respond to Nate the way I responded to Sam. He never would’ve made it back to my house.

  “You say that now, but that guy can talk any woman into his bed. I’ve seen it.”

  “Well, I would’ve been the kryptonite that would turn him from lady killer to mere mortal. If he’d approached me, I would’ve clammed up. At best, I’d have embarrassed myself and bolted. That’s just what I do around men. I can’t talk to them.”

  “You talk to me.”

  “That’s because you’re special.”

  He frowned a little. “Because we’re married?”

  “No. From the moment I met you, I don’t know why, but you make me feel safe. And you don’t freak out when my weird comes out of my mouth. I don’t feel so awkward when I’m with you.”

  “And you felt like that instantly?” I could understand why he was questioning it. In his presence, I had been quite verbal, verging on outgoing. My shy only really kicked in around the rest of his family.

  I nodded. “From the moment you put your arm around my shoulders and offered me a beer.”

  “Huh.” He seemed to mull the information over in his mind for a moment as a slow smile crept over his face. “So let me get this straight. If my brother, the man with the golden tongue, had approached you in that club, there’s no way you would’ve gone home with him?”

  “That’s right,” I said with absolute conviction. I wouldn’t have been able to form a word, let alone invite him home with me.

  His smile grew wider. “But you probably would’ve left with me?”

  I felt the blush creep over my cheeks as a smile fought with my lips. “Probably.”

  His eyes positively shone with delight. “You’re a unicorn.”

  “What?�
�� I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “No woman resists my brother. I believe you’re the only one who can. Therefore, you’re a unicorn.”

  “Maybe I was just made for you to find?” I suggested. It was cheesy and wishy-washy, but maybe it was also true.

  Reaching up, he brushed the backs of his fingers against my flushed cheek. “To steal. I’m a thief. I stole you. I stole a unicorn. And now you’re mine.” He grinned and then pulled me to my feet, kissing me the way I always longed to be kissed. He held me with both hands cradling my face like I was the most precious thing in the world. He made me feel safe. He made me feel special. He made me feel wanted.

  If this was what it was to be stolen, I never wanted to be recovered. I wanted to stay gone.

  Chapter Six

  Kiss Me Again

  “I am stuffed,” I said, flicking a fry onto my plate because I couldn’t face eating anymore. I leaned back and ran a hand over my belly.

  “For a skinny girl, you can certainly pack it away.” Sam wiped his mouth with a napkin, then scrunched it up and dropped it on his room service tray. “I can’t eat any more either.”

  “Want to compare food babies?” I asked, leaning back on the bed against the pillows, lifting my top enough so my stomach poked out. I’d since pulled on a pair of pink cotton panties, my blue-checked sleep shorts and a white singlet. I’d skipped the bra because the top had one of those shelf bras in it and I didn’t need the support.

  “Is the pope Catholic?” He grinned and slid up to me, placing his hips next to mine. He was only wearing a pair of burgundy boxers and briefs. I didn’t think it was normal to wear briefs under boxers, but my guess was that if he didn’t wear the briefs, that third leg he had going on would constantly hang out the bottom.

  “I think mine is bigger,” I said, pushing my stomach up so it was as round as possible.

  “Nope, I totally win this one. Your little pot has nothing on this keg.” Filling his stomach with air, he pushed it high enough that mine was but a hill to his mountain.

  “That’s cheating.”

  “Let out your breath and then tell me you weren’t doing exactly the same thing.” Rolling onto his side, he laid a warm hand over my belly, sending a thousand little zings all through me. I sighed from his touch and my stomach deflated. “I knew it.” He chuckled, his fingers moving lightly against my skin.

  It felt amazing to be touched. I turned my head to face him. “Will you kiss me, Sam?”

  I didn’t need to ask twice. His mouth tasted mine, gentle lips and probing tongue. Then I let out the tiniest moan, which caused him to groan and deepen our connection, his tongue diving farther, his hand sliding to my hip and gripping tighter, pulling me flush against him.

  With my fingers in his hair, I responded as best I knew how. I was eager, perhaps too eager, because when those endorphins kicked in, I couldn’t stop myself from making all these crazy-sounding noises or from rubbing my body against his. He groaned back and slid his hand beneath my top, fingers pressing into my back like he was trying to bring me even closer.

  I rolled my hips.

  “Peaches.” The word came out as a moan, and it sounded like a good kind of moan, so I did it again. He was so hard, and I wasn’t talking about his muscles. I could feel him pressing against my thigh. I liked that I was doing this to him. “Jesus,” he groaned, his hands going back to my hips and digging in a little. It kind of hurt, but in a good way. The slight pain felt like his answer to the aching need that was building inside of me. Why haven’t I been making out with guys all my life? This is amazing and so much better than that drunken moment ten years ago.

  Which was when it hit me: it wouldn’t have felt this way with anyone else. It felt this way because there was something special about the man I was with. Simply put, he felt right.

  “I want more,” I gasped, hooking my leg over his and rocking myself against him. I needed some sort of pressure to ease the throbbing need I was experiencing.

  He hummed in this really sexy way, then rolled onto his back, bringing me with him. I spread my legs wide, straddling him while our mouths stayed joined, moving, licking, sucking and nibbling. I didn’t want to stop kissing him. He tasted so good that I thought I’d rather die than be forced to stop.

  “Ohhh,” I moaned when he positioned my hips so his hard length was pressed perfectly against my ache. He reached up and slid his fingers into my hair, brushing it back from my face as he held me still then looked into my eyes. He rolled his hips. My eyes lost focus and my mouth fell open. “More.” I placed my palms on his chest and ground myself against him, his long shaft feeling so good against that empty yearning. I couldn’t stop myself from moving, needing the friction so desperately.

  “That’s it, peaches. Take what you need from me. Let yourself go.”

  There was this insane kind of feeling going on in my head, like a thick cloud of desperation driving my movement, urging me to grind against him, faster, harder, until…

  “Holy fuck!” My entire body shook, an explosion occurring between my legs as whimpers leapt out of my throat. For some reason, my breasts ached, and I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing them and arching my back while my hips rocked and rocked until the spasms in my core turned into tiny euphoric waves. A warm and fuzzy feeling buzzed all over my skin as a dopey smile curled my lips.

  Then I opened my eyes and reality set in.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped, releasing my breasts and scrambling off Sam’s lap. “What the hell was that?” I was so embarrassed. It was the first time we’d made out, and I’d just dry humped him and grabbed my tits. What did he think of me?

  “That,” he said with a grin before he sucked gently on my lower lip, “was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really?” It didn’t feel hot in the aftermath. It felt out of control and over the top.

  He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth and nodded. “Incredibly hot. Watching you lose control like that. Mmm, it was a beautiful thing to witness. Was that your first orgasm, or have you—”

  “Masturbated? No. No way. I never….” My eyes were wide as I shook my head. Then I met his eyes and a smile spread over my lips. “I had an orgasm.” A sudden giggle burst past my lips, and I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Yeah you did. It was so hot I almost blew in my pants watching you.”

  “You mean you didn’t have one too?” The idea shocked me. I thought guys always had one. Did that mean I’d done something wrong?

  Sliding his hand into my hair, he pulled me closer so he could kiss me. “Let’s just focus on you for now. I can wait.”

  “But that doesn’t seem fair. Don’t you want to… finish too?”

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “Sometimes the reward is in the build-up.”

  “If you say so. But I don’t want to be one of those selfish lovers. I’ve heard about them, and I want to give just as much as I receive.”

  It was a dead serious comment, but for some reason Sam found it the funniest thing. He laughed and gathered me in his arms, kissing my head before telling me to get some rest.

  His breathing seemed to even out fairly quickly, but I couldn’t quite relax while lying in bed with my head and hands resting against the most divine-looking chest I’d ever seen. I wriggled against him, trying to get comfortable while also trying not to let my hand wander down, down his chest and to his boxer area. I wanted to know if he was still hard or if it would still go down even if he didn’t come, and it was making my hand itch with curiosity.

  “Sleep,” he commanded when I wouldn’t stop wriggling.

  So I closed my eyes and tried my best to do just that. But I couldn’t. I could only think about the hot hard male lying next to me, and the gentle throbbing taking place between my thighs.

  “Sam?”

  “Yes, peaches?”

  “Will you kiss me again?”

  When he didn’t answer right away, I grew a little worried, but then I noticed
the sheet lift right above his crotch and I knew. There wasn’t going to be much sleeping tonight.

  “I’m ready,” I rasped, my body aching so delectably that I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Sam paused his tongue’s torture of my nipple, but his fingers continued moving inside me. It felt so good. I wanted more, more, more.

  “Not yet.”

  “Please. I want to.” I moved my hips against his hand, a night filled with orgasm after orgasm having left me feeling greedy. I knew there was something I was missing, and I wanted it. Now. I didn’t want to be patient. I’d been patient all my life.

  His mouth returned to my nipple as he added an extra finger, pushing a little deeper, stretching me a little farther. He made a soft rumble in his throat that sounded like pleasure, and I loved that something we did elicited such a response.

  I moved against his hand, whimpering and gasping. My lady parts had never known such attention. I felt like an addict, each orgasm spiralling me closer to obsession.

  Then he pressed this part inside me that caused my eyes to roll back in my head. “Oh yes.” It turned out that I was quite vocal too. Sam seemed to like it; he made that rumbling noise a lot when I told him what I wanted. He even asked me questions to keep me talking.

  “You like that?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “How about this?”

  I felt myself stretching more as it seemed like he was adding yet another finger and massaging my internal walls with firmer strokes. The aching was sublime.

  My hands flew down and wrapped around his wrist. “Oh, God, yes!”

  His mouth captured mine, my cries of ecstasy muffled in the kiss that started aggressive then became tender as the tremors subsided. I’d lost count of how many orgasms I’d received.