Lucky Streak by Carly Phillips

the swell of her breasts beneath her T-shirt. He teased her withhis touch, dipping lower, but not quite touching where she needed it most. The throbbing tips of her nipples pressed harder against her shirt, begging for him, while moisture trickled between her legs, building an empty, aching pressure only he could fill.
    She arched her back, silently imploring him to stop teasing her with featherlight strokes of his hands on her breasts.
    He raised his head and met her gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff. “You need to tell me.”
    She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest, desire swamping her, yet not fulfilling her needs. “You. I want you.”
    â€œI want you, too,” he said, not sounding at all pleased with he admission.
    â€œAnd it makes you angry that you do.”
    A muscle ticked on the side of his face. “That about sums it up.”
    She knew it would take time for him to believe in her again and that was okay. That he still wanted her was enough. It gave her something to work with.
    â€œOne step at a time,” she told him, referring to their relationship. “Then you’ll see how good things between us can be.”
    Never breaking eye contact, she took his hand and placed it on her breast. Over her shirt and through her thin bra, his touch burned and aroused her, but she was more concerned with breaking through hisself-directed anger. He wanted her and was furious with himself for it.
    â€œOne step at a time. Starting here and now,” she said, encouraging him.
    He curled his hand tighter around her breast. She felt her nipple tighten, turn rigid against his palm. Unable to control her reaction, a low moan of satisfaction rumbled from deep inside her. She watched the fight he waged within himself and she saw the minute he lost the battle.
    The angry tension in him eased. He kissed her again, more gently, more accepting, yet still demanding in intensity. She shifted her body and his hips settled around hers, the hard length of him fitting directly between her thighs. The thick, bulging pressure hit her at exactly the right point and she moaned aloud.
    His hands cupped and molded her breasts while, attuned to her other needs, he rocked against her, each thrust of his body bringing her higher and closer to a fast-coming climax. She needed to feel him harder against her and bent her knees, seeking more intimate contact.
    Without warning, the chair tipped back and Mike lost his balance, nearly toppling over her and onto the floor.
    â€œOh my God, that scared me half to death,” she said. “Are you okay?”
    Mike drew a deep breath, still trying to calm histwisting stomach. “Too damn close to a roller coaster for my peace of mind.”
    She met his gaze. And laughed.
    They’d been both caught off guard and the shock of being jolted back by the recliner interrupted the moment, yet it sent her into a fit of laughter.
    He began laughing, too.
    He couldn’t remember the last time a makeout session had turned into something fun. Amber, her blue eyes dancing, her curls a mess around her face, gave the most normal things a unique spin.
    She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Too funny. I thought for sure you were doing a header over the chair.”
    â€œWith our combined weight, I’m surprised I didn’t.”
    â€œMike?” she asked, no longer laughing.
    He stood beside her. “Yeah?”
    â€œYou left me hanging. You?”
    He shook his head and grinned. “Yeah, I’m a little unsatisfied myself.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom where he had protection stashed in the back of one of his drawers.
    He lowered her to her feet by the side of the bed, which was still—stupidly—covered in cold hard cash. He began to scoop it up and toss it into a bag, trying like hell not remember that she’d walked out on him. At