Sweet Agony

by Christy Pastore

  I keep moving, although seeking friction is probably the wrong move.

  Literally.

  Caroline swivels her hips against mine as she shimmies and my eyes roll back into my skull.

  Taking a chance, I pull her closer resting my palm on her flat stomach. She smells like lavender and mint and sex. Her head tips back against my chest.

  Whatever this feeling is—I crave it.

  I breathe in the night air, smelling the rain that I know is coming. The patio lights flick on and heat lightning splashes across the sky.

  “Looks like it might rain.”

  She spins around to face me, the lights from the patio glint off the gold chains around her neck. “Good observation. We’ll probably get wet.”

  Jesus. The innuendo.

  A deep breath leaves my lungs. When the songs ends, I step away and grab two more beers from the bar behind us.

  I hand her a bottle of Stella and she takes a huge swallow. All that does is make me think of her lips wrapped around my cock.

  Grasping her waist, I pull her to me. The solid feel of her against me makes me want to haul her up over my shoulder and carry her back to my apartment caveman style.

  Her hands come out in front of her and she backs away from me. I reach for her and guide her arms to the back of my neck. We’re a hair’s breadth apart. Caroline’s eyes flash with heat. There’s no mistaking how her gaze lingers with mine for a heartbeat.

  The sweat dances on her skin . . . our bodies fit together perfectly.

  She presses her breasts against my chest and my fingers knead the curve of her ass.

  “Caroline,” I whisper.

  Her nose brushes against my jaw and it turns me on.

  “Yes,” she answers.

  Her voice is different. Husky and seductive.

  She starts moving her hips and she’s practically humping my thigh. I don’t mind. I curl an arm around her waist dragging her closer. She feels like warm velvet against me.

  I lower my mouth to her ear. “Jesus, Caroline. I can feel your heat through my jeans.”

  She smiles up at me and by some miracle I manage to keep my body under control.

  The night is warm and the music thumps loud. The band starts playing a cover of “East Bound and Down.”

  “I love this song,” she shouts.

  “Me too.”

  She’s one hell of a dancer. We dance like we don’t have a care in the world. Like there’s not a throng of people around us.

  Droplets of rain splash around us and an ominous rumble of thunder strikes out. Caroline weaves her fingers through her hair making it messy. I like it messy. I want to mess it up.

  When the song ends, the band announces a short break to ride out the storm.

  We head back into the bar and I spy Maybelle near the jukebox. “You guys all good?”

  She smiles and gives me a thumbs up.

  “Shots?” I ask Caroline.

  “Absolutely.”

  I turn and nod to Luke. “Tequila, two shots.”

  Caroline leans against the bar, her hair is slightly damp and her tan skin glistens with rain and sweat. She looks so damn beautiful.

  When Luke slides the shots in front of me, I hand him my credit card. We pick up our glasses down the shots. She sucks on the lime and I watch her mouth in complete fascination.

  I slide my hand up her back and my fingers massage her neck under the curtain of dark blond hair. My cock has a mind of its own . . . it’s heavy and hard. So much for keeping myself under control.

  Her blue eyes flash up to meet mine.

  “Why didn’t I do this with you before?” I question.

  Her eyes fall to my mouth and she shakes her head. Caroline slips from my grasp and before I know it, she’s walking away from me.

  She’s leaving?

  When she gets to the door that’s when my feet decide to move.

  My chest aches when she doesn’t look back. What did I say?

  I step outside and the rain is coming down a bit harder. My eyes dart around the mass of people rushing to their cars. Caroline is across the street and heading in the same direction as my apartment.

  “Caroline, wait up,” I shout.

  She doesn’t turn around. Her shoes eat up the pavement as she blows past the flower shop and hardware store. Dodging through the crowd, I finally catch up to her at the wine bar.

  “Caroline.” I snag her arm, spinning her around to face me.

  The light from the wine bar illuminates her face. A stark pain flashes in her blue eyes. That ache in my chest slices through me like a hot knife.

  “Why did you leave me, Brant?” she asks, and pushes her hair away from her face.

  “You’re the one that walked out of the bar just now.”

  “No, I mean all those years ago.”

  I wipe the water from my forehead. “I had to go to school.”

  She shakes her head. “And you left without saying goodbye . . . you just left . . .” Her fist pounds against my chest. Caroline’s words are choked sobs. “I don’t eat cake because of you.” She takes several steps back.

  I’m officially confused as hell.

  I approach her slowly. “Hey, hey, what’s got you so upset?” My hands frame her face and my thumbs sweep across her cheeks.

  Caroline is shaking. “I was in love with you or maybe it was just a stupid crush. And I bet you didn’t even think of me after that summer we spent together.”

  Her words hit me loud and clear—and every muscle in my body tightens. Fuck.

  “Is that what you think, Caroline? Fuck. You were seventeen and I was twenty-two, but . . . I liked you more than I should have . . . more than you even know.”

  “Then why didn’t you do anything about it?” Her voice cracks.

  A few couples standing under the covered patio at the wine bar stop their conversations and turn their attention to us. I’m not having this conversation in front strangers.

  “Come to my apartment,” I say, tugging her along the sidewalk with me. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

  She doesn’t fight against me. She trusts me. This must have been eating at her for a long time. Caroline needs to have this conversation and I’m jerk for not understanding her feelings.

  I punch in the access code. When the door buzzes, I guide Caroline inside the building and down the hallway to the elevators.

  “This way,” I say, just as the elevator door opens. A stab of pain hits me hard when she doesn’t look at me.

  We ride up to my floor in silence and my mind races trying to absorb the weight of her admission. I couldn’t touch her back then, but I wanted to. She was underage, for fuck’s sake.

  The elevator comes to a stop and Caroline waits for me to step out first. Her shoes squeak against the floor echoing off every beam and piece of iron.

  I unlock my door and open it wide enough for Caroline to pass by me. Once inside I shut and lock the door.

  “I need to text Ma and see if she can let my dog out,” she says.

  “Sure thing, I’ll get you towel.”

  As I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom, I hear Caroline pacing around the living room. Flicking on the light, I step into my bathroom and grab a towel from the linen closet.

  I pull open a drawer in search of a pair of shorts and t-shirt for her to wear. Nothing I have is going to fit her. My eyes land on an old football jersey from my fraternity days. Nah.

  I move into my closet and grab one of my dress shirts, at least she can roll the sleeves up and the shirt will easily hit below her knees.

  Blowing out a deep breath, I strip out of my wet clothes and toss them in the hamper. I pull on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

  I walk into the living room where Caroline stands near the window. She looks sad. The heaviness in my chest fucking aches at the hurt in her gaze.

  “Here’s a shirt for you. You’re welcome to change in my bedroom. I’ll hang up your clothes in my laundry room.”

&nbs
p; Caroline takes the shirt from me. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “I’ll be right back.”

  She sidesteps me and a wave of lavender washes over me.

  “First door on the left,” I call out.

  I shuffle over to the refrigerator and grab two bottles of water. From the corner of my eye, I see Caroline cross the hall toward my laundry room.

  “I’ll hang up my clothes,” she calls out.

  “Okay, that’s fine.”

  Warmth spreads in my chest at the thought of her feeling so comfortable in my place. I drop onto the leather couch and stare up at the black walls.

  Caroline steps into the living room, the light passes over her face and she licks her lips. My mind begins to race with fantasies. She looks sexy as fuck in my white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The buttons are undone and expose the rise above her breasts.

  She sits beside me and I hand her a bottle of water. She unscrews the cap and takes a long drink. My eyes drop to her bare legs and my fingers itch to touch her skin.

  She tilts her head in my direction. “Now I feel kind of silly sitting here.”

  I shift my position on the couch to face her. “No, don’t feel that way. I want you to talk to me.”

  She blows out a deep breath. “If you liked me back then, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

  Even though I knew it was coming, the question hits me like a punch to the gut.

  Caroline

  Emotion clogs my throat.

  His gaze flicks over me and his big hand rubs the curve of his jaw. My pulse pounds low in my belly.

  I like the way he looks at me.

  I like the way his eyes light up when he smiles at me. The way they darkened as we danced. I’ve never felt sexier or more desired in my entire life. Not that I have too much to compare this feeling to. For the record, I’m not a virgin like Courtney Leigh and Whitney suggest.

  Brant clears his throat. “I didn’t do anything back then because you were underage.”

  “The age of consent in this state is sixteen.”

  He winces. “Consent or not . . . the law varies.”

  My eyes snap to his. “You could have told me how and what you were feeling.”

  “I suppose I could have, yes. Should have.”

  “Should have,” I repeat. “And I turned eighteen the day you brought me the cupcake.”

  Brant smiles. “I know that. I didn’t say anything because you kept telling me how busy the school year would be for you. I thought you kept saying it over and over to remind me of our age difference. I thought you were pushing me away—letting me down easy.”

  “Oh, my gawd,” I drawl out. “You don’t strike me as a guy who lacks confidence. Does anyone say no to you, Brant? Women in particular?”

  He laughs and his thumb scratches along his jaw line. I want that scruff to scrape against my skin. I had a small preview of that feeling earlier when he pulled me close on the dance floor.

  “Some women have said no to me,” he confesses. “My ex-girlfriend decided that she wanted my boss instead of me.” His eyes drop to the floor.

  My heart takes a dive at his admission. What dumb female would ever let this man go?

  I don’t know what possesses me to make this move, but I lay my hand on top of his. He looks up at me and I burn. The way he’s looking at me so intently—his soft eyes turn to steel.

  “So, you ran from me at the bar,” he says, and that gravel is back in his voice. “What’s up with that?”

  I inhale a shaky breath. “Are we calling it running? I’m pretty sure I casually strolled away.”

  He leans closer and I lick my lips. My body vibrates with heat and it’s like being on the dance floor with him all over again.

  “Why have I been thinking about you since the other day when you were running along the river?”

  I shake my head slowly. “Why have I been thinking about you for the last twelve years?”

  Brant slides closer to me on the sofa. He curls an arm around my waist dragging me to him. My ass glides across the smooth leather.

  “Caroline,” he whispers and his other hand comes up to cup my cheek. His shirt feels like sandpaper against my skin and I want to tear the t-shirt he’s wearing off.

  His lips move over mine and my hand fists his t-shirt. He kisses me and the deep low rumbling in his chest sends me over the edge, right into the abyss.

  Our mouths collide over and over, and I barely register when my back hits the leather.

  I groan feeling the ridge of his cock between my legs. “Brant,” I murmur.

  “Hmm, Caroline.” He captures my bottom lip between his teeth and desire swims in my chest. My hands tangle in his hair. “God, you taste good, so sweet.”

  Holy fuck my life. Is this really happening? Am I really making out with Brant Cardwell?

  His tongue finds mine again lapping with purpose. The kiss is deep—hungry and primal. I melt for him. The scruff, that dirty sexy scruff, scrapes over my skin. Fine tremors of pleasure build low in my core.

  There’s no coming back from this kiss. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. My toes are literally curling.

  Brant shifts and pins me beneath him. The full weight of his hard body on top of me is delicious. His fingertips connect with my skin making me moan.

  “When I saw you running in those shorts that barely covered your ass, I wondered what it would feel like to dig my fingers into your skin as I fuck you from behind.”

  Oh. My. God. That’s hot as hell. A dirty talking Brant? Yes, please!

  His lips map over my cheek and down my neck. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been before.

  I whimper and rub myself against him. All my rational thoughts take a flying leap out the window and soar to the pavement below, crumbling into a pile of debris.

  As rain taps against the window, the lights flicker. I don’t want the lights to go out. I want to see him—all of him. I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life.

  “You okay, darlin’?” he growls against my skin.

  “Yeah, don’t stop,” I reply and slide my hand lower. My nails skate along the hard planes of his body. He’s hot. His abs are a wall of muscled ripples and ridges. They’re wonderful.

  Brant deepens our kiss which I don’t think is possible. Our breathing is rapid. He’s hard against my thigh.

  He feels big. But he’s a big guy—thank you genetics.

  The ache between my legs throbs as my fingers trace over his happy trail. He breaks our kiss for only a moment when he reaches back and tugs his t-shirt over his mass of dark hair.

  A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips and his blue eyes brim with lust.

  That look. I put that there.

  In a fluid motion he discards the shirt to the floor and returns his lips to mine. He’s shirtless and on top of me. I can’t get enough of him. The way he feels against me. The smell of him.

  “I showed you mine, now you show me yours,” he teases.

  Thank god I wore a sexy bra tonight. It’s pretty—pale pink and ivory lace.

  Brant’s fingers brush down the row of buttons working them apart one by one. My chest heaves in anticipation.

  His eyes go hazy when the last button pops open. As if he can read my body, he rolls his hips against me. If he wants to fuck me tonight, I might not turn him down.

  “Look at you, Caroline. You’re stunning.”

  The next thing I know, he’s pressing a scruffy kiss to my chest. His lips map over my breasts and I feel it all the way down to my clit. My body’s buzzing and I’m drowning in need for him.

  My arms sling over his thick shoulders. And when he dips his head and takes my nipple into his hot mouth, I arch and his name leaves my lips on a moan. He sucks hard through the fabric.

  Everything else fades into to background. It’s the two of us and he captures my mouth again. His thumb flicks over my nipple. The wetness and the pressure of his thumb bring new sensations of pleasure.


  His scruff scrapes along my stomach and I writhe beneath him. He moves one hand under my ass and the other curves around my waist. In a blur of movements, he pulls me up off the couch. My legs wrap around his hips. His cock presses firmly against my stomach.

  We’re moving. The hardwood creaks under our weight.

  I’m on fire.

  Brant’s mouth never leaves mine as he carries me down the hallway to his bedroom. The sound of rain hits softly against the windowpanes.

  He stops. One big hand glides up my spine and cradles the back of my neck.

  I’m speechless, all I can do is moan as I dig my fingers into his hair.

  “Caroline.”

  The sound of my name comes out in a half growl, half plea. There’s an aching there—desperation.

  Brant kisses me senseless. His tongue licks over mine, it drives me crazy. I’ve never felt this way before.

  I slide down his big frame and my legs nearly give out as I try to stand. Instead of allowing me to fall to the floor he holds onto me.

  “I need you to lose the shirt, darlin’.” He kisses the corner of my mouth and slides the fabric over my shoulders. Gravity does the rest.

  My back hits the mattress. Brant drags me to the middle of the bed with him. He rolls up and plants his palms on either side of me.

  I part my legs inviting him to settle between them.

  His gaze on me sharpens and when he grinds his cock against me my eyes roll back in my skull.

  “Brant,” I moan against his lips.

  He teases me, slowly rolling his hips and my heart thrums in my chest.

  “I’m gonna keep you in my bed all night,” he rasps. “We’re going to keep doing this good old fashioned making out.”

  My finger traces along his jaw. “You mean dry humping?”

  He laughs. “Yeah. You down for that?”

  “You asking me to spend the night with you?”

  “I am. But I want to ask you something else.”

  My palms skate up his forearms. “What’s that?”

  “Will you go on a date with me?”

  I can’t help the smile that breaks across my lips. I’ve had fantasies about this moment over the years. And it’s perfect.

  “I’d love to.”