Hot Shots 1: Test Shot Page 9

  She’s mine.

  He didn’t say anything when Aidan stepped back and murmured to Layla that he’d be right back. She didn’t move. Just shuddered.

  Sawyer swallowed hard. Damn, he’d never seen a woman come like her. How long could her afterglow really last? Unless she was shaking for another reason. He cleared his throat and braced his hands on his thighs. “Nebraska?”

  He wanted her to laugh again, as she had the first time he’d called her that. But she didn’t respond.

  Aidan returned with a damp sponge and cleaned her up. Then he was gone again, and Layla’s eerie silence didn’t lift with his exit.

  Maybe he should just leave. Just get the hell out of there and consider himself lucky he wasn’t part of their tangled relationship. He might be lonely now and then, but at least he only answered to and for himself.

  Layla rolled over before he could move, the expression on her face more than a tad disconcerting. He’d never seen such purpose before. And when she prowled over to him and took hold of his cock at the same time her mouth seized his, such sexy determination. “Don’t go yet,” she whispered.

  How had she known? “I wasn’t—”

  “You’re a bad liar, Sawyer Blake.” She licked his lower lip. “I’m not nearly done with you.”

  “Not really your call, is it?” He didn’t want to think about where she’d had her mouth last, but he couldn’t help himself. “It’s the Svengali of sex calling these shots.”

  Again she didn’t laugh. Something in her had clicked off. Or turned on, because her hard tugs on his cock didn’t match the softness in her eyes or the tremble in her mouth. If this was about desire right now, he sure couldn’t tell. It felt a hell of a lot more frantic than that.

  She started to slide down his body, her intended target clear, but he shook his head and yanked her back up by the hair. When she whimpered, he wound his hand through her curls and yanked again. Her moan broke over his fiery-hot skin like ripples in the tide.

  “You’re not sucking me right after him,” he said, voice low. “If you want my cock, it’s going inside you.”

  He didn’t give her time to think about it. This whole night had been about Aidan’s and Layla’s needs. His turn had finally come.

  Without checking to see if Aidan had slipped back in to watch, he drew her up and led her to the wide leather armchair by the fireplace. She turned away to grab a condom, then climbed atop him the moment he sat, settling her knees on either side of his hips as if she’d done this exact thing in this exact spot a million times before.

  But it wouldn’t be the same. He’d make damn sure of it.

  He took the condom from her and unrolled it over his length, not sure if he should be proud or embarrassed that his body was ready for hers again. She’d barely had to touch him, and he’d gone rock hard, his balls tight and full. If her lips had actually met his flesh, he would’ve lost it, and that wasn’t happening. She was probably used to all-night sessions with Mr. Inscrutable, so he’d have to bring his A-game this round.

  No more quick orgasms. No more fun and games.

  If she wanted to be fucked, she was about to be.

  Chapter Six

  Layla’s stomach pitched at the intensity of Sawyer’s look. What was he thinking? Then he slid his hand between her thighs, and she didn’t wonder anymore.

  He had such big hands, and he used them so differently from Aidan. Aidan’s touch spoke of skill and precision, as if he had a certain aim in mind and knew exactly how to get there. She was putty in hands, susceptible to every focused stroke. But Sawyer caressed her with raw emotion. His fingers weren’t steady, and eventually they weren’t gentle either. He watched her face while his breathing quickened, each clench of her body spurring him to move those wicked fingers faster and harder.

  And then it wasn’t his fingers inside her but his cock, thick and long and capable of breaking her apart with his insistent upward thrusts. He tunneled deep while he palmed her breasts and reintroduced her to another style of sex, one she and Aidan hadn’t engaged in for so long that she’d almost forgotten it existed.

  Wild, frenetic fucking.

  He rocked into her again and again, his plunges fierce. She’d warned him to be careful with her, though she hadn’t believed he would need the admonition. Even with that sly streak of dirty she’d glimpsed beneath his sweet exterior, she hadn’t thought him capable of this.

  She gasped when he bottomed out inside her. A quick flash of pain heralded the bloom of pleasure as he dragged himself out and sank back in. His response was little more than a grunt. No whispered apologies. No slowing down.

  He reached up, not to smooth her tangled hair from her cheek as she’d expected. Instead he grabbed hold of her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Too rough for you?”

  There it was, his concern couched by cocky swagger. He hadn’t disappointed her. Sweet Sawyer hadn’t gone far, just retreated into the safety of their storm of lovemaking.

  Maybe he had the right idea. God knows she didn’t feel safe anywhere beyond the bliss his body wrought on hers. Everything else was an illusion.

  Shaking her head, she moistened her lips and dug her nails into his shoulders, taking him so far inside that any response she might’ve made was sucked away. She wanted to smile. Almost needed to. They’d lost that connection they’d had the first time they’d been together, and she missed it.

  But when she started to, he closed his eyes. Shutting her out while he methodically drove his cock in and out of her grasping walls.

  This time he wouldn’t be coming first. She sensed that from every controlled surge inside her. He was on the attack, with her orgasm his eventual prize. If she tried to hold off, tried to shift the power balance, he would just alter his style of offense. And she would lose.

  The knot of lust within her belly expanded. She clung to his arms, helpless against the hunger he’d provoked. Already the knot had begun to unwind. It was too much. Too wild. But he never relented, just pummeled into her while her eyes blurred with sweat. Or tears.

  Somehow she managed to gasp something incoherent before he tugged on her nipples and jolted her over the edge into his waiting hands. She pulsed around him, the waves of pleasure so strong she couldn’t draw a breath to scream. He never slowed. But he growled way back in his throat, a primal warning she felt more than heard in her euphoria.

  Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, so loud in the wake of the orgasm that stole everything but her capacity to feel his continual strokes. She’d be sore soon, too abused to walk. But he jerked her up and down him as if she’d become a vessel. Just a tool for his enjoyment.

  She should mind, probably. But since she still hadn’t come down from the high he’d given her yet—and since a man hadn’t sought that sort of mad refuge in her body for far too long—she held on and savored the ride.

  He jerked back, and for a moment she was afraid he intended to pull out and mark her as Aidan had. She tightened around him, unwilling to let him go that easily. Some things she wouldn’t concede. The sensation of him draining himself inside her body was one of them. If he wanted to come, he was going to do it in her pussy.

  But he only surged home again, his mouth falling open on a shout that drew a cry from her, as well. God, he was going to break her back. Put her in traction. Worse.

  He heaved his hips against hers, giving up everything she’d fought to keep. Throbbing while he spent himself and pulled her along with him again.

  “Layla.” Just her name, barely audible. Then he opened his eyes and hauled her mouth to his so that she could taste his unsteady breaths.

  Like victims battered in a turbulent sea, they held each other, hearts racing, bodies still quaking. Words seemed superfluous. Everything did.

  Eventually he stirred and drew himself away. Wordlessly, he lifted her off him and set her aside, then strolled out of the room as if he knew exactly where he was going.

  Surreal. This was all so surreal. How could her bod
y experience so much pleasure when her mind and heart were so confused?

  She crumpled into the chair, still warm from his body, and dropped her head into her hands.

  Soft footsteps crossed the room just before Aidan brushed his hand over her hair. “Lala.”

  Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled to hold them back when Aidan crouched before her, compassion written in every taut line of his face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, kissed her softly on the lips. “Don’t feel guilty for taking what you need,” he murmured, eliciting a sound in her that verged on grief.

  “We’re engaged.”

  “Yes. And we’re still engaged, even after tonight. I still love you, as much as I ever have.” She wasn’t sure why his voice shook or why she wanted to bury her face in his chest and sob.

  Nothing she’d ever known had prepared her for this. Loving one man while screwing another didn’t make sense in her world. That what she had done with Sawyer had gone way beyond simple fucking made it even worse.

  Aidan had seen it. Had been complicit in it. Shouldn’t that have made her feel less guilty? So why did she feel so goddamn wretched?

  “Layla. Look at me.” Aidan’s sharp command brought her attention back front and center. “I encouraged this. It’s just sex, just release. Don’t make it more than it is.”

  He was right. Of course he was. She didn’t know Sawyer, and he didn’t know her. Probably wouldn’t want to after this. She couldn’t blame him.

  Nodding, she reached down to squeeze Aidan’s hand. “Do you want to go to bed?”

  “Yes.” He stood and looked down at her, an expression in his eyes she couldn’t read. “It’s been a long week, and I’m exhausted. Say good night to Sawyer for me.”

  He was just leaving her to handle this? No way. This was their mess. But he didn’t give her a chance to formulate a response before he walked out of the room. A moment later, their bedroom door closed.

  Great.

  Rubbing her grainy eyes, she huddled in the chair. She knew she had to go find Sawyer and somehow end this awkward, amazing night on a positive note, but she had no clue what to say.

  Sorry we can’t see each other again—at least not naked—but this was incredible. Thank you for inhibiting my ability to walk for the next two days. I do hope your orgasms exceeded your expectations.

  She waited, hoping he would return on his own. Naturally that didn’t happen.

  Clearly it was on her to make this right.

  She found him in the bathroom. He’d left the door wide open and stood with his hands braced on the sink, his eyes on his own in the mirror. His hair shone golden in the overhead light and his tight ass demanded inspection, but it was the tension in every line of his face that stole her focus.

  “Sawyer?”

  He glanced at the doorway, his mouth tipping into its usual smile. But his eyes remained dark and brooding. “Hey, you.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  “You’re not.” He raked his hand through his hair and turned, propping his hip against the sink. “Need this?”

  Since she was so fixated on his sinful body, it took her a moment to grasp his meaning. Need this? What this? Him? That beautiful cock that even now stood at half-mast, urging her forward to drop to her knees?

  But no. He meant the bathroom.

  She glanced up and noted his knowing smile. “No. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t think so. I think you need something else.” He motioned her closer with the crook of his finger. Once she stood in front of him, he lifted her onto the double-sinked vanity and stepped between her legs. “You’re insatiable.”

  “That’s what Aidan always says.” Somewhere in the dusky recesses of her mind, she registered the way he stiffened.

  “Do the two of you have sex a lot?”

  His voice sounded lazy, but she didn’t believe the question was idle. Nothing about Sawyer was, despite his seemingly lackadaisical approach.

  “Not enough,” she said, before more could pour out of her. Confessions of the kind that a lover she’d just met didn’t deserve to bear. Especially Sawyer.

  “What’s enough for you? A couple of times a week? A night?”

  “I can’t ever get enough,” she whispered, knowing she probably should be embarrassed. Not caring anymore.

  His low curse would’ve made her laugh earlier that evening. Now she just gripped the sides of the sink and waited.

  He nuzzled her jaw while he closed his hands around her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and straining. Eager for the pluck of his fingers. The strum of his mouth. “Are there rubbers in here?”

  Deep within her belly, she trembled. He wanted her again, and she wanted him. That want was like a constant burn inside her, chafing her with its intensity. And what a miracle that was, to experience such crazed need and have it reciprocated.

  But what about Aidan? He hadn’t said Sawyer had to leave. Nor had he given her his approval for him to stay.

  His approval. Like he was her father and she needed permission to stay up past curfew.

  “Dammit,” she said under her breath, wishing she’d remained silent when Sawyer jerked back.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She rubbed her hand under her nose, hating the annoying tickle in her throat. The attack of sniffles was almost more embarrassing than a good old-fashioned sobfest.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  The steel in his tone made her jut out her chin. Figured she’d hooked up with yet another alpha male. “It’s just, Aidan’s in bed, and he didn’t say if he was okay if you and I… God, this is awkward.”

  “Yeah, well, did you think of that before you dragged me into this weird-ass little triangle?”

  She stared at him in shock. This was the first time she’d seen him the slightest bit annoyed. Pensive, yes. But flat-out pissed? No.

  It just proved she didn’t know much about him. How could she in such a short amount of time? Having sex with a guy didn’t offer some sort of Cliffs Notes into his psyche. As for his sincere, open personality, that could’ve been a facade. They were strangers, plain and simple. Even if every molecule inside her screamed otherwise.

  “It’s not a triangle,” she said, rather than all the other things she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted him to stay. And that wasn’t only not feasible, it wasn’t fair to him. Why prolong the inevitable?

  “No. You’re right there. It’s a circle I’m not a part of.” His mouth moved into a semblance of a smile. “I think it’s best if I go. I’m sorry.”

  “Sawyer, wait.” She grabbed his arm, and he turned back, eyes wary, jaw clenched. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  “Just what are you sorry for, Layla? So we’re clear.”

  “I knew this would happen. That it would be odd after.” She swallowed. What was she supposed to say? How could she make this better? “You can’t say I wasn’t concerned.”

  “You were. I encouraged it as much as Aidan, so the blame is on all of us. I was fine with it. I am fine with it,” he corrected, glancing down at her hand on his arm as if he’d forgotten it was there. “It’s just time for me to leave.”

  She probably shouldn’t argue with him. If he felt he needed to go, then he should. It wasn’t as if there was anything else on the table except sex—and they’d already had that. The friendship part was more iffy. Maybe in time he’d decide they could be pals.

  And maybe not.

  “Okay. Sawyer, I—” Her response flashed into her mind. Thank you for sharing this strange, incredible night with us. I hope we can be friends. Best of luck with your career. All reasonable, polite things to say.

  He curved his hand around her cheek. “What?”

  She wanted to turn her face into his palm. To hold on just a little longer. But if she needed comforting, her fiancé was waiting in their bed.

  “I like you a lot.” Dammit, she couldn’t leave it at that. They’d shared so much tonight. Not words, but they
hadn’t needed them. What had occurred between them was much more primal—and much more dangerous—than the simple construction of consonants and vowels. “I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other,” she blurted. “Platonically, I mean.”

  “Of course.” His other hand came up to frame her face, and he leaned down to brush his lips over hers. The pressure of his mouth echoed between her breasts, a fleeting, bittersweet pain. He stepped back. “Thank you for tonight, Layla.” He smiled, though the darkness in his eyes never lifted. “Best of luck with Aidan. You’re going to make one hell of a beautiful bride.”

  Then he was gone, and she was left staring at the empty doorway.

  * * * *

  It should’ve been weird after. She expected it, even planned all the psychology-textbook-type things she would say. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re just at a crossroads, and we’ll enter into the next phase of our relationship together.

  But Aidan didn’t seem to need any of that. He woke on Saturday and asked if she wanted eggs as he usually did, then went off to make coffee. As if this Saturday was the same as a thousand others they’d shared.

  She’d lost her definition of normal. Or else what she’d thought was normal had been disguised in the first place.

  That afternoon, they went shopping for new furniture for their bedroom sitting area, something they’d planned to do for weeks. They settled on white wicker with navy accents and sprang for a new navy-and-cream rug to match.

  If this had been a regular Saturday, she would’ve ridden the shopping high for hours. This time, it barely made a dent in her fuzzy state of discontent. Clearly she wasn’t cut out for threesome sex—even their modified style of it—if she ended up depressed afterward.

  That night they attended a small dinner party with some of Aidan’s colleagues from the college. She yawned all the way through it.

  She’d spent the previous night tossing and turning as noiselessly as possible in a futile attempt not to wake him. So much for orgasms putting people to sleep. She’d had several, and it hadn’t helped in the slightest.