And when they were beneath the shelter, the way he watched her eyes as he let her slide down the length of his body. How he’d kept his hand at the small of her back until she was on her feet, and then brushed the wet mess of her hair from her eyes. She’d reached for him, testing the contact of her fingers against his chest—but she’d been stupid to think it would end any differently than any other time her heart and imagination had run away from her. Still she’d sworn there was something different that time.
She’d been wrong.
Only now, standing in her living room with Sam’s fingers flexing against her hips, he was telling her she hadn’t been wrong after all. At least not completely.
“I didn’t think—”
Sam lowered his brow to hers, so she felt his breath on her lips. Spilling over her throat in one warm puff after another. “I never wanted you to think it. I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why not?”
His fingers tightened in the fabric at her waist, around her ass, across her thighs.
“Because it’s not like that with us. I knew better. I knew you deserved better than me treating you like every other girl I backed up against a wall.”
Ava could barely breathe. She could barely hear over the blood rushing past her ears, but she’d heard one thing she couldn’t rush past.
It’s not like that with us.
Oh God. What was this?
“What’s different now?” she whispered, only then realizing she was hanging on to him like her life depended on it. Like her heart did.
“We aren’t kids anymore, Ava. You still deserve better, but you’re old enough to know that for yourself and since you don’t seem inclined to find better anytime soon…I guess what’s different is that we’re two adults with compatible needs, a friendship we’d never risk trying to turn into something it wasn’t, and a proven record of success when it comes to making each other moan.” His eyes met hers, their playful glint and sexy promise becoming the anchor she clung to.
Because that’s what this was. All it was.
And Ava needed to get with the program fast. She needed to lock down that vulnerable part of herself she’d been stupid enough to let loose before Sam caught a glimpse of something he wouldn’t want to see.
The friendship we’d never risk business pretty well clarified that.
So no room for tears or pleading or too serious talk and questions that wouldn’t get her anywhere.
She just needed to answer. Tell him no. Tell him he was dreaming. Tell him anything that would make this moment a joke instead of the cold reality check it was.
Her mouth opened, but the easy deflection she’d been working on most of her life suddenly wouldn’t come. Her chest hurt as if it had been splintered apart and that fresh, open, aching wound was pulling pieces of her into it that had never been affected before.
Because for one minute, she’d let herself believe.
For one minute, the potential of everything she’d ever wanted was too tempting to resist.
And now she could barely breathe.
Forcing her fingers to release their grip, she brushed Sam’s hands from her hips and walked to the window. “Sam, we said just once.”
“We did.” But then those big hands were smoothing over her hips again, sliding around to her thighs, and crisscrossing over her belly. Pulling her in close and tight so his front was hot and solid against her back. “But that was before we realized once wasn’t going to be enough.”
“Says who?” she countered, trying to keep her tone joking and light, thinking he’d let out one of those deep, rumbly laughs and throw his hands up in gracious defeat.
Only Sam’s hands didn’t leave her body; they didn’t stop their slow exploration of her ribs and hips. And then he’d ducked his head so his mouth hovered next to her ear. “Says the three boxes of sex toys you promised could be my present.”
She hadn’t. Not really. And she could have said something to that effect. Made the clarification—shoved his hands aside and shown him she was serious.
Instead she shuddered, her whole body quaking under the sexy implication of what might happen if she gave Sam the green light. And then he was talking again, his lips skimming the outer edge of her ear with each word, his breath teasing, warm and wet.
“I admit it, Ava. I’ve collected a few unfulfilled fantasies over the years, and since I finally had you, all I can think about is playing them out. Haven’t you thought about it? Haven’t you fantasized even a little?”
If he only knew.
Sam’s teeth closed around the firm shell of her ear and she let out a needy moan as her knees went loose, pressing her ass into all that strength.
“We could give in,” he murmured, one hand snaking down to play at the hem of her skirt, the other at the bottom swell of her breast. “We could get this out of our systems once and for all.”
That scant touch at her breast, so close to where she’d gone tight and achy, was scrambling her thoughts, stealing her sense. And before she’d even thought to check herself, she’d whispered, “If only.”
Sam stilled, the arms around her tightening, the muscles at her back going harder than she could have imagined possible.
“You don’t think I can satisfy your fantasies?” he asked, sensual challenge infusing his words.
“No,” she gasped. “That’s not it.”
And this time, when his fingers skimmed over the layers of her suit, silk cami, and bra, he didn’t stop until that sweet brush of his fingers found her nipple.
Back and forth, he teased. Back and forth.
Each pass tightening the straining bud more, shooting sensation through her center, deeper and deeper until it spilled through her core, reaching that wet, throbbing point between her legs mere inches from where his other hand had worked beneath her skirt. Fingers fanned across her inner thigh, Sam coaxed her stance wider and wider still.
“Then what is it?”
Ava blinked, her mind reeling. This was going way too fast, and she knew it was a mistake like she knew her own name. She wanted so much more than sex, more than however many days it would take for Sam to exorcise his high school demons. Her heart was already bruised and defenseless after giving in to just one night. She’d be crazy to open herself up to more pain. To more vulnerability. To the risk of exposing her most closely guarded secret.
“What?” he asked again, nuzzling his face into her neck. The fingers at her breast gently pinched her through the fabric of her clothes just as the fingers between her legs met the wet silk clinging to her sex.
And it felt so good. So hot. So dirty having him massaging her like this before she’d agreed to anything—except even as she thought it, she realized it wasn’t true.
She’d agreed the minute she let him put his hands on her without swatting them away with a friendly laugh. This was just the first fantasy come to life—Sam seducing her. And it was amazing.
Too incredible to willingly give up.
She was never going to be able to have Sam the way she wanted. Completely. But she could have him like this.
Turning her face into him, she answered him. “It’s just that my fantasies…there are more than one or two.”
Sam shuddered behind her, and she didn’t care how badly she got hurt. She’d get over it. And he’d never know.
Chapter 13
More than one or two? Oh hell, yes.
“How many more?” he groaned, sliding his fingers inside her panties as she rocked her hips into his hand. Into his touch. Into him.
He wanted dozens. Hundreds. Not because he needed his ego stroked, but because if they were going to work all that unfulfilled fantasy out of their systems, he was hoping like hell it would take some time to do it. Sure, his personal spank bank was chock-full of depraved ideas, but in all decency he couldn’t expect Ava to clear the lot of them. So he’d use hers as a benchmark and just hope she was talking about more than three.
“I don’t know. I can’t t
hink like this.” Ava’s breath was coming rough, her words weak as he played with her body, teasing her most sensitive spots until she gasped, her head falling back against his chest. “Sam, please. More.”
And if the desperate sound of his name on her lips wasn’t the most powerful fucking thing in the world—well, then, it was the way she’d spread her legs for him while they were barely deep enough into the apartment to be shielded from outside view.
Hot.
But she’d asked for more. And if there was one thing Sam was going to make sure of, it was that Ava got what she wanted. That he gave it to her.
“More?” He eased a single finger inside her, working it in and out as he used the heel of his palm to rub her. His teeth closed over her ear and he ran his tongue along the delicate shell, nearly losing it at her sweet cry and the added slickness coating his hand. “Or more like this?”
He gave her a second finger then. Felt the fracture of her breath as she started to come apart, urging him on with her “yes, yes.”
Christ, he’d never had a woman so ready to come for him.
He wanted to take her right then. Push her up against the bar he’d built strong enough for Tony to River Dance on, shove up her skirt, and sink full length inside her. He wanted to feel her body clutching at him as he filled her, stretched her. Gave her everything he had. But more than that, he wanted to make it last, make it good.
He wanted Ava to get a little bit of whatever fantasy was behind her bulk purchase at the adult superstore.
Right after he made her come all over his hand—which, selfish bastard that he was, happened to be his fantasy du jour.
Reaching deep, he curled his fingers and stroked over his favorite hidden spot inside.
Another broken cry, and he did it again.
Ava’s hips were starting to buck, his own breath unraveling fast with his control, because, damn, the sounds she made!
Continuing to stroke, he flicked her suit jacket open, banded his free arm across her torso, and took her breast in hand. She fit exactly right, filling his palm when he kneaded and cupped her. Catching her nipple through the silk and lace, he rolled the stiff tip and stroked again. Harder.
That was it.
“Sam!” she cried, her inner walls clamping down on him as her legs lost their strength and he carried her through to the end.
And then she was panting in his arms, turning slowly in his hold so she was looking up at him with those huge brown eyes, soft and sweet and sated. Sexy as fuck.
How was she still single?
That gorgeous red mouth spread into a wide grin. “Okay, I’m convinced.”
Letting out a tight laugh, because, well, he was still hard as a spike, he raised a brow. “You sure? Because if you’re not, I’d be happy to try again. Give it another go.”
“No, I’m sold.” She looked away, the hot blush riding up her cheeks almost enough to distract him from the flash of something he’d seen in her eyes the second before they left his. He brought her chin back up with the crook of his finger.
“You okay?” he asked, searching for whatever had been there the moment before. “If this isn’t what you want, we can stop. I know it sounds nuts to say that now. But you know, anytime, you only need to say the word and we go back to just friends.”
Sam hadn’t exactly been playing fair when he got this ball rolling. He knew it. But after he’d seen those boxes. After he’d seen her eyes—shit. Maybe he’d pushed too hard.
Only Ava didn’t seem to be freaking out. She wasn’t backing away. She was just smiling up at him, letting her hands drift over his chest and arms, then lower to his abdomen. “I know. I don’t want to stop.”
In a way it was weird, because this was Ava and he’d been telling himself “no” for twenty years where she was concerned. But in another way, it seemed like the most right feeling in the world. Because there was no one he was closer to or more comfortable with. He didn’t have to guard his thoughts when they were together; he didn’t have to break the eye contact because it was starting to creep him out and make him wonder what the girl he happened to be with was trying to find.
With Ava, she already knew what was inside him. She knew his darkest secrets. She knew his shame and his pain and all the things he’d never been able to let another person see. No one but her.
She knew everything.
Walking them over to her couch, Sam dropped into the seat and pulled Ava to stand between his legs.
She was looking down at him, that spill of midnight hair streaming over her shoulders, her eyes intent on his.
Reaching for her jacket, Sam eased it from her shoulders and tossed it onto the chair across the way.
“So let’s have it, Ava,” he prompted, taking in the silky spaghetti-strapped top and the way the pattern of the lace showed through at her breasts. Fucking hot. “What’s the first fantasy?”
Ava bit her lip, more sexy red tinging her cheeks. “I’m pretty sure I’m living out my most recent one right now.”
Could he get any harder?
“Yeah?” He moved to her skirt, the one he’d had hiked above her waist while he fingered her senseless. He loved this skirt. Carefully he unhooked the catch and lowered the zipper, letting it glide down her hips to where she could step out of it.
“Yeah. Because the only thing I’ve been able to think about was how much I wished we could do this again.”
She pulled off the creamy cami as he swept the skirt up and tossed it in the general direction of the jacket—though whether he made the shot he had no idea, because then Ava was standing between his knees in her lacy panties and bra. White. Pretty. Sexy as sin. And the only thing he could think was she was a living fantasy. And that was before she straddled his lap.
—
He’d made her come less than five minutes ago, but already Ava was edging toward desperation. It was never like this with her. She didn’t get breathless or soaked or achy. But now, as she spread her knees, sinking into the cushions of the couch so she could feel Sam’s hard-on through the faded denim of his jeans, she was all three at once.
Sam caught her hips in his hands, stilling her movements and then bringing his hands up to the cut of her waist, to her ribs, and just when she was about to press her breasts into those roving hungry hands, he bypassed them completely. Reaching for her face, he cupped her jaw as he threaded his fingers into her hair.
“So how are we going to do this, Ave? Right now, all I want is to flip you over and sink into that tight little body of yours, but something tells me we ought to set up a few ground rules before we get our hot and heavy on.”
Rules. Right.
They were probably a good idea.
She’d had a few of her own that until she’d let them fall by the wayside had kept her out of trouble pretty well.
So maybe a replacement rule or two were in order.
She brushed a thumb across his bottom lip, wanting more than anything to kiss him. To have his mouth on hers.
But because of all the other things she wanted too—the things that weren’t within minutes of being within her grasp—the rules had to come first.
Sam rocked his hips, pressing his length into just exactly the right spot.
Friction.
Contact.
“Rules,” she gasped, watching his gorgeous mouth curve beneath her thumb.
“What are you going to give me, Ava? How many fantasies?”
Ava’s belly tensed, because she’d gladly give him all of them. But that wasn’t really what Sam wanted.
Which meant she needed to proceed with caution.
“Oh, sure, put it on me to number up with the fantasies,” she teased, with another slow rotation of her hips.
“What, you don’t want to tell?” Sam’s voice was low, seductive.
She cocked a brow. “Do you?”
Sam’s focus shifted as he seemed to consider. Then, “No. Maybe not.”
“So what do we do? Keep it to tonight?” she as
ked, hoping the disappointment wouldn’t come through in her voice.
But Sam was already shaking his head. “Not a chance, Ava. Not when I can feel how hot and wet you are through my jeans. But how about this? We’ll trade off. Take turns. I’ll give you one of my fantasies, then you give me one of yours.”
“For how long?” she asked.
“Until one of us runs out.” Rubbing his mouth against her thumb, he smiled again. “And I’m kind of hoping that isn’t too fast.”
Reaching behind her, Ava unclasped her bra, then pulled the lacy cups free, tossing them aside. “So what do you want, Sam. Tell me.”
Chapter 14
Maggie was staring her down from across the white tufted settee in the bridal boutique while they waited for their final fitting. The scrutiny was like an itch making Ava want to squirm and wiggle and spring away, but if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was deceive. Everyone. Forever. And while most girls might not consider a lifetime of successful lies to the people they cared for most boast worthy, Ava was confident in her decision to keep her feelings for Sam private. After all, it wasn’t just their friendship she’d been protecting, it was Sam’s relationship with Ford, her parents, and later their group of friends too.
Sam needed those relationships. For a guy who seemed to know half the city and was friendly with just about everyone, he didn’t actually have very many close friends. Not people he trusted and cared about on more than the most superficial level, anyway.
He’d been that way as long as she’d known him and she knew why. His jackhole of a father was bad to the point of being criminal, but he was nothing compared to Sam’s mom. The number she’d done on him—
Ava couldn’t even think about it without a queasy churn of her stomach. She didn’t need to. All she needed to do was keep protecting the friendships that made up the foundation of Sam’s life, by protecting the secret she’d carried for twenty years. And now, its kissing cousin, the dirty secret about her and Sam’s recent foray into fantasy fulfillment.
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