Before the Rain

by JoAnne Kenrick

  Slamming the door, he said, “Get out of those clothes.” He added with a growl, “Now.”

  “No patience, eh?” Zoe inched back until she pressed against the wall.

  “You heard me. Undress.” He stalked toward her, his white shirt clinging to his muscular frame and highlighting his abs and hard nipples. Her gaze wandered to his crotch tented by his jutting shaft, need pooling at the juncture of her thighs.

  She wanted him. Bad.

  Breath caught, words strangled, she simply nodded and peeled away his heavy coat from her shoulders. She let the garment drop to the floor, hoping her top had the same wet-shirt effect as his and he could see her hardened nipples pert and demanding attention. Never had she been so glad to be braless.

  “And the rest of it. You don’t wanna get sick.”

  “No, no, I don’t,” she cooed, playing along, unsure where his game was leading but sure she wanted to roll the first die. “Neither do you.”

  He glanced to the floor. “I’ll get a fire started. Best you go find some blankets in the bedroom. You can undress in private there.”

  She slumped, a heavy sigh spilling from her. “Oh.”

  “What, you think I had something else in mind?” He shook his head like a wet dog, and oddly she craved to rake her fingers through his mop, to tug on his hair and hold him still while she claimed his mouth.

  Dripping with disappointment, she sighed again. “You know I did.”

  “Yes, but we’re frozen.”

  “You’re right.” Of course he was. But who cared about right when sex with him was on the table? “But—”

  “Chop-chop.”

  “Fine, bossy,” she teased, frustrated by his prolonging the deed.

  Using her phone as light, she searched the one-story home for a closet or a bedroom, somewhere she might find blankets; one long, narrow hallway with several doors to choose from. She searched each of the rooms. A bathroom, a gym, a bedroom with a twin bed, but no bedding, and then….

  “Jackpot.”

  She found a fully decorated room. A bedroom that was rather cozy and very pink, and big enough for a queen bed, bedside tables, and a wardrobe combined with a chest of drawers. A chaise lounge sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, and a paperback lay face down around the halfway point. This fuchsia and white scene screamed Betty.

  She stripped down to her panties and pulled the quilted throw off of the bed. Beneath, there was a fleece blanket, which she wrapped over her shoulders. Still cold, she grabbed the throw to carry to Dylan. She noticed a box of condoms on the nightstand. “Well, well, well. Aunty Betty, you old dog.”

  She took the box as she didn’t have any rubbers, and the likelihood of Dylan having some was slim, too. She hadn’t set out to start a holiday fling that would sate the sexual tension oozing between them, and her guess was he hadn’t either.

  Gathering the blanket in her arms, and holding the rubbers and her phone, she tackled the hallway and made her way back to the living room.

  Dylan had stripped down to a pair of black form-fitting boxers, and he crouched before the hearth. He poked the beginnings of a fire with an iron rod, the thick biceps in his sculptured arm flexing with the motion, and he blew at the tiny flame.

  Sizzles and crackles grew, and an amber flame burst through the logs.

  “There, we’ll soon be warm and toasty,” he declared, standing with his manly chest puffed out and his chin high as if he wore a full set of clothes and wasn’t in the slightest bit cold. The warm glow from the fire silhouetted every dip and curve of his toned body.

  “Okay, mister,” she said, her voice shaky. “I’m ready.” And she dropped her blanket and revealed her nakedness.

  “Zoe,” he rasped. “You should know I’m not so experienced.” Tracing an index finger over her wrist then up her arm, he continued. “I haven’t bedded anyone since Nessa.”

  “It’s been a while for me, too. Six or so months.”

  “Nessa walked out on me four years ago,” he muttered. “I’ve not been with anyone since.”

  She checked to make sure she wasn’t gawking. Four years, oh, my stars.

  He pulled the blanket from her grasp and laid it out before the fireplace, his glance focused on his activity and away from her gaze. Straightening, he stretched out his arm and ushered her to join him, still refusing to make eye contact.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, not with me.” She rubbed his arm, his very hard, very muscular arm. “Let’s not waste any more time.” She dropped the box on the splayed blanket. “I found these in one of the bedrooms.”

  He twitched. “I think this might be her little love nest with the Rev. I found a pack of crumpets in the kitchen, too.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. Let’s hope they aren’t planning on coming out here tonight.”

  An edge of danger heightened the mood.

  “I’ll bolt the door in case,” she offered and turned to head to the opening.

  He grabbed her waist and pressed her into him.

  She’d dreamed of quenching her hunger for him, but now she sat beside him with the promise of sexy times ahead, the repercussions were at the forefront of her mind.

  “So it’s just sex?” she confirmed.

  “Ia.” He swept her hair back. “Zoe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Breathe.” He smooched his lips against her forehead and he coated her cheek in sweet kisses.

  Rubbing her shoulders, he moaned. “Haven’t I proven I’m a gentleman? That my word is truth?”

  “Yes, but….”

  “But if you wanna back out of this, us, I’d understand. Totally.”

  “Stop being so nice.” She raised a brow. “I’m not supposed to like you.”

  “But I’m irresistible.”

  “Dyl, I’m serious. I’ve a terrible track record. If we start something, I need to know we’re on the same page, that there’s no promise of romance.”

  He cupped her face and leaned closer, his mouth a whisper away from hers. “No romance at all. You have my word.” Warmth encircled her, his breath skated across her mouth, and her lips puckered in response. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you in that tiny car of yours.”

  “Bet you wanted to punch me, too,” she teased.

  He put a finger to her mouth to shush her then slammed his mouth against hers.

  A devouring hunger took her over, the kisses deepening, all worry wiping away.

  The heat between them intensified and he explored her with an appetite surpassing her own, spiraling and expanding and throbbing until her stomach whirled and she melted.

  Pulling back, he whispered, “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine.” She folded to the floor into her best come-hither pose. “Better than fine.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “Sure?”

  “Uh huh.” She ushered him down, the thrill of anticipation making her head spin.

  He yanked his boxers off and stood before her in all his glory, his shaft jutting, engorged and really rather quite magnificent. A smile swept his expression, showing he was proud of his endowment.

  “Quit stalling and get down here.” She crooked a finger for him to join her.

  He crouched and pushed her wet locks back. “God, you’re beautiful, Zoe.”

  She reached around his shoulders and pulled him down. “I want you, Dyl. I want you so bad.”

  “Ia.” He planted kisses on her neck then caught her gaze in his. “But you’ll have to wait a little longer,” he teased, voice wavering.

  “No, no more waiting.” She maneuvered him to his back and straddled him. “If there’s one thing you should have learned about me, Dylan Mostyn, is that I’m not a patient person.”

  He grinned and rested his hands on her thighs. “Ia, I was counting on it.”

  “Ah, you like the woman to control the fun?”

  “Not always.” He circled her breast with a soft touch
and trapped her hard nub between a finger and thumb, and he squeezed her pink flesh. Tingles shot from her nipple down to her toes, and she quivered. “But I’m curious to see where you take us.”

  No more words were needed. She’d show him. Heck if she knew what she was doing. She never took the reins. But she knew the Leo in him would appreciate it, and somehow, that’s all she wanted to do. Please him.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, she teased him with kisses over his chest then lowered her focus to his belly button and followed the subtle line of curls leading to his hard-on.

  He growled. He fidgeted. He begged her to continue.

  She ignored every hint he threw her way and continued to smother him in kisses, knowing how torturous her actions were judging by how loud or how hard he moaned in response.

  “Enough, woman. Enough.”

  Flicking her tongue over his swollen head, she then licked him from his base all the way to his end, slowly, meticulously covering every centimeter of him.

  When he raised his hips to edge inside of her, she knew she’d teased him enough and sought to quench his need. Taking him in, all of him, she slid her mouth up and down his length and reveled in his moans of enjoyment.

  He growled, breathy and low. “Oh hell, I’m gonna come if you keep at it.”

  Zoe peered up at him and checked if he was watching. He was. She pulled up and over his length, sucking every second of the way. Easy does it. She didn’t want him exploding in joy yet.

  “Ah, Zoe.”

  She squirmed atop him, the temptation to ease him inside of her too much to resist.

  The fire crackled beside them, and his kisses enveloped her in a fantasy she no longer controlled.

  “Arafu.”

  She had no clue what he had said, but his motion told her he wanted her to slow. He caressed her ass, controlling her motion. Capturing her mouth with his, he claimed her. Groans of pleasure seeped to her core.

  They kissed, harder, faster, deeper, his beard chafing the skin around her mouth and stinging with a delicious reminder of whose mouth pleasured her. He pushed down on her flesh and coaxed her hips so she gyrated over his length. Up and down. Side to side.

  “Fair warning, love, I’m so fucking aroused I may come before you.”

  She shushed him by pressing her mouth on his. He flipped them so he was on top then splayed her legs and quickly put on a rubber.

  He pushed at her sex. “Ah, fuck. I needed this, needed you.”

  Sliding into her with his width, he barely fit. A rotation of his hips and a gentle dip edged him deeper still.

  She arched her back and clung to his, her fingers digging into his hard flesh.

  “Are you close, love?”

  “Ia,” she cried. “Ia.” Welsh? I’m speaking Welsh now?

  “Cyflym. Cyflym.” He picked up the pace, and drove for the win.

  She edged him to go faster with her hips.

  Faster. Faster.

  Lightning crackled and lit up the room, severing as a reminder of the storm outside.

  The white brightness filled the room with each crack, and the booms of thunder echoed above and vibrated through the house and across the floor.

  Her release exploded, and her muscles fluttered over his length.

  And he came, shooting warmth deep within.

  He continued to push inside of her until he was spent.

  He lifted his hips and rolled to his side.

  Coldness hit her, and her lips burned in the aftermath of his passion and his beard. But she’d happily do it all over again. And again.

  He lifted the blanket and covered them both, edging them into a warm embrace. She snuggled into him, all her thoughts pushed away. The crackling of the fire and the pitter-patter of rain falling cradled her in a sense of safety. She closed her eyes and curled against his chest, reveling in his warmth.

  Chapter Twelve

  The morning after the morning after.

  She applied lip balm to soothe her chapped lips, swirled in her chair, and huffed.

  Turned out guilt-free sex with a hella sexy, macho man wasn’t as guilt-free as she’d expected.

  Alex, her last fiancé, kept creeping into her writing. Why? He was meant to be a distant memory, not saving the damsel in her story. What good was a hero in a murder mystery if he let women down?

  Perhaps she was being unfair.

  Alex had let no one down. She’d crushed his spirit and pushed him so far away he’d never find his way back to her, all to ensure he would plan on skipping the wedding. He hadn’t been the right man for her. None of them had been. But for a short while she allowed herself to pretend the match was perfect. The big day would roll around, and all she could think about was how she’d feel when they walked out on her. And then she’d think of how broken her dad was. She didn’t have the heart to break their spirit the way her mom had broken him. It was kinder to make them think they were the ones calling off the wedding, that they were the ones walking away from the relationship. And it was easier on her.

  Plain and simple, she was doomed to be alone and single forever.

  If only she knew men like Dylan in Georgia. No sooner had she come than she needed him inside of her again. Arggh. That was not the way it was meant to happen. A one-time, no-strings-attached sex session. And now, now she was thinking of him even more and comparing him with her exes.

  Frustration had beaten Zoe down. She deleted the three thousand words she’d written which took her back to chapter two, and she stared at her laptop screen. The icon for the next word blinked in impatience.

  Chapter two.... |

  She tapped her pen on the desk, swirled in her chair, and admired the tile work around the fireplace. Anything to avoid staying focused on those all-important first sentences.

  She dragged her chair back and stood. “If only Dyl was here right now, his hard abs and his full, warm mouth pressed against me.”

  She slapped herself and chuckled. “Silly woman, you’re not writing a romance. Snap out of it.”

  Focus set back to her story, she stared at the screen. Her mind drifted to Dylan.

  She dragged a thumb over her mouth, her lips still sore from the sharp rub of his coarse bristly beard, and she longed for the touch of his kisses once more.

  She needed a fix. A Dylan fix.

  But didn’t that break the rules she’d set out for her little vacation? She wasn’t sure she even cared.

  Purse slung over her shoulder, she slipped into her tennis shoes and reached for the door handle. If she went to see Betty to make things good between them, maybe she’d bump into him.

  No. Get a grip.

  “This is no use. Perhaps I should stick to the non-fiction articles versus a novel.”

  A ping alerted her to a new text.

  Hooray for distraction.

  She clicked to see the latest message.

  It was from Dylan, and a buzz of excitement thrummed through her. Could that one time turn into two?

  “Feeling bad about your ruined shoes. Taking you shopping. Be ready in ten.”

  Day trip! I’ll write when I get back.

  It had an odd “date” vibe, but she quickly dismissed it. New shoes.

  Dressed in her usual attire of fancy yoga pants and a spaghetti-strapped top complete with coffee stains, she had to change. And sort out her blonde locks currently tied back in a scraggily ponytail.

  This wouldn’t do.

  She had ten minutes to get respectable, to slip into her pretty panties in case an opportunity to show them off arose.

  And go.

  Zoe overhauled her look in a flash, changing into a floral racerback dress she’d bought in the village. She added pearl stud earrings to complete the look. Daringly, she slipped into cotton booty shorts with a lace trim, and opted out of a bra for her 36B chest. Sexy enough, but not too sexy so it didn’t seem as if she’d made a special effort to be seductive.

  She
added a touch of blush and bronzer to brighten her pale complexion, a little neutral lip-gloss, and a lot of eyeliner. She was a pro at the quick makeup job. So long as she had liquid eyeliner on to show off what she’d been told was her best feature—her icy blue eyes. Yes, she was all set.

  At the last second, she remembered to slip off her woolly socks and to throw on cute pumps in a shade of pink similar to her dress.

  Not bad for ten minutes.

  “Hi, y’all.” Dylan banged on her living room window and peered in, his take on the American accent just awful. And he continued, “I’m fixin’ to go to the beach. Ya’ll coming with us?”

  She raced to the door and flung it open. “That’s so bad, but I don’t care. Now strip and let’s get to it.”

  “Good morning.” He beamed. “I see you’re left in the same predicament I am in.”

  “Oh?”

  “Hungry for more. I propose a holiday romance.”

  She gulped and struggled for breath. “Romance?”

  “Oh, Chantilly, breathe. It could be fun. We’ll sex it up, we’ll dine, and I’ll be your tour guide and—”

  “But there will be no actual romance, right?”

  He nodded. “Affirmative.”

  “How about vacation friends with benefits? That sounds better.”

  “Deal. Let’s get a move on. I’ve got breakfast ordered at a place I know you’ll love.”

  She side-eyed him. “You seem different this morning.” Had his simple mention of romance switched up the way she saw him? Or had he changed the way he wore his hair?

  “Na.”

  “Yes. Did you do something to your hair?”

  He grabbed her. “No, all dressed to impress today. Didn’t wanna scare the town folk. Now come on.”

  “There’s something else.”

  He rubbed his chin. “No, I’m still me.”

  “There, that’s it.” She couldn’t believe it. He’d shaved off his beard.

  “What?” He threw his arms up and shrugged.