After Hours

by Lynda Aicher

  His heart did another one of those weird twisting things that aligned so clearly with the happiness flowing through him. It was just the day. The beauty of the morning. That was it.

  And he wasn’t fooling himself.

  The sky was a stunning pale blue with a few wispy clouds streaking through it. The Golden Gate Bridge stretched in the distance, one tower clearly visible through the foliage. A slight breeze ruffled her hair and swayed the palm fronds on the surrounding trees.

  The scent of breakfast teased the air, along with the ever-present freshness of the bay. His stomach growled, and he paused to take another hit of his coffee. He needed something to clear the wild thoughts from his mind.

  Avery lifted her head, smiled when she saw him. “Hey,” she said as he approached. “I hope it’s okay that I’m up here.” She motioned to the deck.

  “It’s fine.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat next to her. He glanced at the view, which also included the dome from the Palace of Fine Arts and the surrounding hills both behind them and across the bay. “I forget this is here.” He said that more to himself. He couldn’t remember when he’d last used the deck.

  She set her phone on the glass table and turned toward the water. “The views are gorgeous.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed distractedly. She is beautiful. The cheesiness of the thought didn’t bother him like it should. “Sorry I slept so late,” he said when she remained silent.

  “It’s fine.” She shrugged, her smile still there. “I thought you might need the sleep.”

  “You could’ve woken me up.”

  “And then I would’ve missed this.” Her tone was light as she extended her hand to encompass the surrounding vista, but her smile fell as she stared at the view.

  “Hey.” He leaned over and touched her chin until she turned her head to look at him. The hesitation and doubt in her eyes kicked at his guilt even though he wasn’t sure why. What he did know was he didn’t like seeing it. “I’m glad you stayed last night.”

  She blinked, the doubt still there. “Me, too.” Her admission was soft and contained more of that hesitancy.

  He urged her closer until he could finally kiss those lips he couldn’t seem to get enough of. He meant to keep it short, light, but one touch blew his intentions to hell. He shifted closer, licked her lips and found the wet heat when she opened to him. Coffee and that sweet underlying flavor of Avery flowed into him, and he forgot about thinking.

  Slow swipes, lazy circles of his tongue, a free fall into things he had no grasp of. He pulled back after one last pressing touch. Her eyes had softened, that hesitation erased. He brushed his thumb over her lips, lost on what to do next but so damn content in the moment.

  He sat back, took a drink of his cooling coffee simply to let his thoughts and emotions settle. She leaned back in her chair, tucking his shirt around her legs. Her movements were more relaxed, and he was glad about that.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed this.” She plucked at the shirt she wore. He’d had that gray T-shirt with the stretched-out neck and faded baseball logo for years. He’d never look at it again without picturing her in it. Just like this.

  “It’s fine.” He ran a finger down her bared shoulder. She shivered, her gaze flirty when she glanced at him. He dropped his hand and jerked his thoughts away from the path of taking her back to his bed for the rest of the day. “Do you need to get home for anything?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Sundays are usually laundry and random errand day.”

  He nodded in agreement. He also used the day to catch up on work or to simply program. But he was in no rush to do anything today. “Do you have family in the area?” There was so much he didn’t know about her.

  “No.” Her expression warmed. “They all live back in Ohio.”

  He raised a brow. “They?”

  She shrugged. “Parents, older brother, grandparents, cousins... You get the idea.”

  “You’re the only one who ventured away.” And that in itself was intriguing. But it matched that underlying courage that hid beneath her reservations. “How come?”

  Her brows went up. “What? That they’re still there or I left?”

  “Both?”

  Her soft laugh drifted through the air to tease a smile from him. “I don’t know why everyone remained close to home. But me...” She shrugged again. “I had an opportunity and figured why not?” She stared into the distance, voice lowering. “What did I have to lose? I could always go back, right? But if I’d turned down that initial job offer, it would’ve been a fear-based decision, and I refused to let that rule me.” She glanced at him, her determination stamped on her face. There was so much unsaid in that statement, but it was clear how proud she was of herself for making the move.

  And damn, he was proud of her too when he had no right to feel it. Yet it still spread on a wave of impressed admiration. “Do you miss them? Your family?”

  “Yeah.” She tipped her head. “But it lessens the longer I’m gone.”

  He nodded in understanding. “I get that. Your lives become separate where before they were linked.”

  “Exactly.” Her grin flashed. “And I love them dearly, but they don’t really know me anymore.” She leaned on the table, posture relaxed. “They’re all the same. Their friends haven’t changed or their routine or their beliefs. But me? I don’t even feel like that girl who left home five years ago.”

  “Five years?” He crossed his arms on the table and leaned in like her. “Is that how long you’ve been out here?”

  “Yeah.” She glanced at the view. “And I don’t see going back. Ever.”

  Yet another thing they had in common. “I get that.” He’d had no desire to return to Southern Cali after graduating from Stanford.

  “What about you?” She flicked her chin at him. “Are you local or a transplant?”

  “Transplant.” He puffed out a laugh at how that sounded. “But not as far as you. I was born and raised near LA.” She looked at him expectantly, and he gave in with another laugh. “Fine.” He sat back, stretching his arms over his head before he let them drop. “I have two older brothers. One who still lives in the same town we grew up in and another who’s in Seattle. My parents are divorced, but they’re both in Southern Cal.” And that was the short version of his family tree.

  How long had it been since anyone had cared enough to ask? For the most part, guys didn’t dig beyond the surface unless they’d known each other for years.

  “What do your parents do?” She propped her head on her hand and studied him. Her hair fell over her shoulder, her face mostly makeup-free—and she was even more beautiful. Was that possible?

  “My dad’s a high school football coach,” he said, jerking his thoughts back to their conversation. His dad loved and had sweated that job into his sons through years of practice, lectures and demands. “And my mom’s a college math professor.”

  “Really?” She reached out to run a finger over the bump on the side of his nose. “Did this happen playing football?”

  “Yes.” His bemused smile flowed in an easy stream, relaxing the tension that still lingered years after the event. “My junior year of high school. I was hit by an illegal blind tackle that knocked my helmet off and slammed my face into the ground.” His swallow was reflexive as he prepped for the next part. “The guy had his arm around my neck when we went down.” He shrugged at her frown. There was nothing he could do about it now. “The damage to my throat, along with the concussion, left me in the hospital for over a week and my voice like this.” He motioned to his mouth in vague reference to the rumble that accompanied every word he spoke.

  “Wow.” Her brows were raised in impressed shock. “That must’ve been traumatic.”

  The husky rasp was a part of him now, but for a long time it’d been a reminder of what’d almost happened. He gave an
other shrug. “For my mom more than me, I think.” He smiled at the memory. “She declared my football career over right then, and my father didn’t try to argue.”

  “And you were okay with that?”

  “For the most part.” He tried to remember back to that time, but history had a way of mellowing emotions. “I focused on school after that, which worked out well.” It’d gotten him into Stanford and where he was today. “What about your parents?” he asked, both interested and ready to change the subject. “What do they do?”

  Her lips twisted. “My dad’s an accountant. My mom stayed home with us and then worked in a day care center once we were both in middle school.”

  “That must’ve been nice.”

  “What?” She sat up, stretched her shoulders back. “Having my mom home?” He nodded. “It was.” She frowned. “Yours wasn’t?”

  His stomach sank a little and he focused on the hillside in the distance without really seeing it. This was why guys filtered over the surface. The deeper stuff always stirred up emotions better left untouched. He took a drink of his coffee before answering. “My mom was a high school teacher when I was kid. She took night classes to get her master’s and eventually her PhD.”

  Her nod was slow with understanding. “Which meant she was busy.”

  He shrugged in dismissal. “She was—is—a good mother. And I’m proud of her for going after her dream.”

  “But...” Avery dipped her head until he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “You missed her as a kid.”

  His heart clenched around the truth he’d gotten over long ago. He was a fucking adult and way past his childhood. He stood, hand extended. “Should we go get breakfast?”

  Her brows dipped, confusion clear before a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I don’t think I’m dressed for eating out.” She glanced down at her shirt.

  His thoughts instantly went to the fact that she was absolutely naked under it. Unless she’d stuffed extra underwear in her purse. “Right.” And there were better things to do than eat.

  He ducked down to steal a kiss, one hand snaking under the collar of her shirt to cup her breast. She squeaked into his mouth and shoved lightly on his shoulders. Not in real protest, or he would’ve stopped. He played with her nipple until the nub hardened into a tight peak. Her moan rumbled in her throat and she wove her hands around his neck, any resistance gone.

  His dick hardened, heat racing to center in his groin. His mind blanked for a moment until a car horn blared from the street below. Fuck.

  “We could go back to bed,” he said near her ear once he’d dragged his lips from hers. He found her other nipple and worked it into a mirror state of the first, thoughts running to all the things he wanted to do with her. Anyone could walk up here. Hell, there were numerous buildings around them that had clear views of their rooftop.

  His kink went wild just thinking about it. The risk. The excess. The wrong of it.

  She tilted her head, chest lifting. “What if I’m hungry?”

  He nipped at her neck. “I’ll feed you later. I promise.” He pulled away, her groan of regret tempting his desire. He should’ve been satisfied after last night, yet he wanted her again. Now.

  He sat back down and drew her forward until she straddled his lap. He held her gaze the entire time, and she read his intent if her wicked smile was any indication.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she wrapped her hands around his neck. Her knees were bent, her bottom resting on his thighs.

  This was a bit insane, even for him. His heart beat harder and his dick twitched beneath his shorts. The wind rushed in to blow her hair over her eyes. He brushed it away from her face and drew her head down. “Kissing you.”

  Their position put her at the height advantage, and she made use of it. Her mouth pressed to his, and he let his head fall back, giving her the lead. The thrill of seeing how she’d grown with her sexuality made it easy to give over his power—for a little bit.

  She cupped his face, tongue thrusting in to claim him in a fierce kiss. The want and need were front and center even in the light of day. He groaned, the urge to sink into her blazing through his groin, damn their location. But that was out of the question.

  At least the full fucking part.

  He drew a hand down her back, then up her thigh to snake between her legs. She gasped, her mouth withdrawing from his when he found her clit. He was ready, though. Her eyes went wide. Her objection was on her lips when he cupped her neck and jerked her down into another kiss.

  She squirmed on his lap, but not to get away. No, her hips worked to meet his quick, persistent rub on her clit. She rotated them in a circle before changing to a rock in unspoken guidance. She was so damn hot.

  His pulse raced, stomach clenching, dick aching for her heat. He dipped his fingers into her and groaned. She was soaking wet. Memories of how good it felt to sink into her raced to his dick, which was already so fucking hard.

  She rocked forward, a hand braced on his chest as she kissed him with full abandon. “Oh. My. God,” she mumbled, her lips grazing his with each panted breath. Her hair had fallen around them to create a semi-shield against the world. An illusion that wasn’t real, not by a long shot.

  He turned his head, glanced at the buildings across from them, never stopping his play with her pussy. The wetness slicked his way as he drew his fingers back to her clit. The soft sucking and flicking sounds added to the eroticism when everything he was doing was hidden beneath her shirt.

  No one could see anything blatant. She was fully covered, as was he. But there was no hiding her passionate expression or their movements. That knowledge jacked his excitement into the stratosphere.

  He nipped at her lip, worked her clit faster. “Someone could be watching us,” he murmured. He drove his fingers into her when she stilled. She cried out softly, throat working as her hips rotated to meet his thrusts.

  Her eyes were closed, head tossed back, hair draping down to brush the back of his other hand. She was a vision of wanton lust, and he loved it. He dipped forward and bit her nipple through the material of her shirt. He wished he could taste her skin, her pussy, screw who could be watching or if they were caught. But he restrained himself, loving the insinuation almost more than the blatant.

  She straightened and dragged his head closer to her chest. She held him tightly, grinding down on his fingers. “Yes.” Her soft pant was music to his own need.

  He sucked on her nipple and used his thumb to stroke her clit. He kept his fingers in her, pumping despite the cramp building in his wrist. Her muscles contracted around his fingers, and her soft whimpers shortened into abbreviated notes.

  She trembled, nails digging into his nape. He forced his head up and hauled her into a hard, claiming kiss. He swallowed her cries, holding her to him as her orgasm crashed free. She rode his hand without hesitation, completely abandoned to him.

  That alone drove him wild. Once again, that strange possessiveness reared up to stamp his claim on her. He’d brought her to this state. He’d shown her how gorgeous she was when she let go. How passionate she could be.

  How brave and free.

  And he wanted more of her. This. Them.

  * * *

  Her movements slowed, breath releasing on a shuddering sigh. Avery’s mind was completely blank, overwhelmed by the endorphin high.

  She sucked in a long draft of air, forehead pressed to Carson. Everything tingled, even her toes. She didn’t want to think either. Not yet. Not when she could still float in the glow of another stunning orgasm.

  Carson’s fingers should be enshrined in gold. Or maybe cast into an amazing vibrating dildo.

  Her soft laugh bubbled up in a weak escape at her inane thoughts.

  He flicked his thumb over her clit, and she shivered, muscles tensing. Pleasure burst on a dagger’s edge of too much and more. She didn’
t know if she should beg for another touch or demand he stop. Was it possible to do both?

  He rubbed her slowly. The hard circles on her clit started a wave of sensation through her pussy. She squeezed her eyes closed, both embarrassed and enthralled.

  “You are so gorgeous like this,” Carson rumbled. His breaths were short, tone so rough it scratched over her skin. “I want to fuck you.” He thrust his fingers in her. Her walls clenched, trying to hold on to the fullness. “Right here. Right now.”

  She nodded, lost in the orgasm building yet again. Her entire body was flushed in heat, the breeze doing nothing to cool it. “Yes,” she said on a soft exhale. She’d let him too. Out here. In the open. Where anyone could watch them.

  Awareness prickled over her nape, plucked at her mind. People could be watching right now. She should object. Be horrified.

  She wasn’t.

  She was covered. No one could see anything revealing. Just her response. And his. The wanton freedom of being the show without showing a thing turned her on so damn much.

  She opened her eyes to watch Carson’s hand where it moved between her legs. Her hips rocked with a mind of their own, following the demands of his fingers. The eroticism of it drove her desire higher. Her lust insane. The combination of seeing the action while feeling and hearing the distinctive sounds lit up that wild side of herself that she’d only set free with him.

  She could be this woman with him—and he still respected her.

  “See how wet you are?” He slipped his fingers out of her just far enough to show them covered in her juices.

  Her blush rose in another wave of heat. The pungent scent of her arousal filtered into the air, and she inhaled even deeper, longer. Her abdomen contracted with the want building below it.

  He tilted his head so he could kiss her jaw. “I can’t get enough of you like this.” He drove his fingers back into her. She shuddered, hold tightening on his neck, every nerve ending buzzing with expectation. “Wild. Free.” She whimpered. The pressure on her clit increased with his circling pace. Another shudder raked her. Her release was so close.