by Donna Fasano
"It's not too bad," she said, but was terribly happy when he pulled her closer, wrapping his other arm around her protectively.
"Is this better?" he murmured huskily.
"Mmmm," she said. "Much."
The only thing that could make this fantasy perfect, she mused, was to feel his lips on hers.
Just as if he'd heard her speak the words aloud, Derrick slowly... methodically... inched forward. And Anna knew without a doubt that her ultimate dream was about to come true.
Chapter 8
He kissed the corner of her mouth, gently, sweetly, and the timorous reserve he displayed took Anna by complete and utter surprise. She'd thought that his commanding nature would compel him to cover her lips with his in an urgent and frantic manner. That's what she'd been prepared for.
But she was by no means disappointed, for she found this whisper-soft beginning achingly arousing.
Slowly he moved to the opposite corner of her mouth, the tender, affectionate touch of his lips so at odds with the timpani she felt thumping behind his rib cage. The pulsing of her own heart throbbed in her ears and at the very tips of her fingers, heightening her senses of hearing and touch.
His next kiss was square on her lips, but it was as feathery light as the whisper of a dove's wing.
Anna felt her palms grow moist, and she had to battle the urge that swept through her to scrunch up his shirt front in her fists and pull him to her. She won the war over the impulse by telling herself to savor each moment as it came. However, the victory didn't lessen the desire that coursed through her veins like liquid fire—to the contrary—the restraint she forced on herself only served to heighten her passion until she thought she would die from wanting to taste him, touch him.
When he trailed a row of tiny, heated kisses to her ear, she turned her head to give him full access. Her eyelids lowered of their own volition, and raw pleasure skittered across the muscles in her neck as his lips teased her skin on one side, his fingertips on the other.
The first sign of his growing bolder was when he nipped her earlobe with his teeth and then automatically soothed the sensuous pinch with his hot, silky tongue. He drew her earlobe between his lips, and when he sucked gently, the resulting shiver forced Anna to expel a throaty gasp.
Lifting the weight of her flowing hair, he moved down the length of her neck. His kisses scorched a path downward until the neckline of her sweater barred him from going further.
Derrick lifted his head, and she felt helplessly imprisoned by the hot and blatant desire she clearly saw in his glittering gaze. Anna instantly realized that he, too, was bridling the hunger he felt. She experienced a sudden flash of fear in the knowledge that, if they were to both allow their emotions to burst free, they would spark a fire so intense and so uncontrollable they would be wholly consumed by the flames that would dance and lick around them in abandon.
He must have read the panic in her eyes, because he inched his face from her in a motion she knew was meant to reassure.
"It's okay." His voice was low and hoarse.
He wanted to calm her, she knew, and the tiny, two-word phrase was a sort of oath—a vow that would let her know she was safe here with him. That nothing would happen that she didn't want to happen.
The smile that gently curled her lips was one of appreciation. She wanted him to know she was not only grateful for his implied pledge of security, she treasured it like it was worth more to her than precious bars of pure gold.
She was safe. The thought pacified the sudden alarm that had swept through her. But was that what she really wanted? To be safe and secure?
Every fiber of her being screamed a negative assertion.
She searched his gaze in the dwindling daylight and felt the desire inside her become roused and heated until it was simmering just below the surface of self-control.
No, she decided with crystal certainty, she did not want to be safe and secure at this moment. She did not want to be protected from the overwhelming feelings boiling inside her. And even more than that, she wanted desperately to tap into the emotions she could see seething and churning in Derrick.
She wanted risky. She wanted reckless.
When she moved her hand, the action was deliberate and unhurried. She lifted the palm that had been pressed against his chest and slid it to cup his jaw. She tilted her head, resting it on his biceps.
"Kiss me, Derrick," she whispered, desperation thick in her tone. With her eyes, her thoughts, her posture, and only the slightest pressure of her hand, she led him inexorably toward her. "Kiss me, now."
His mouth closed over hers, and Anna felt her world spiral and spin, loop and turn in some fantastic, chaotic ride. But rather than run from the experience, she knew without a doubt that she wanted to strap herself in and enjoy the exciting excursion.
The velvet heat of his tongue whispered across her lips, and every nerve in her body came alive. Her fingers reached up and slid to the back of his head, his short hair tickling her sensitive palm. Needing to feel his bare skin, she maneuvered her other hand into the collar of his dress shirt, and feeling totally risqué, she slid it into the curve between his shoulder and neck. The feverish pulse she discovered thudding there left her breathless.
Inhaling slowly, she strived to hold on to sanity. He smelled of warm, heady spices, and it mingled pleasingly with the aroma of the pine trees all around them. He breathed through his nose, and the sound of it so near her ears was deafening and explicitly carnal.
Her breasts became heavy, her nipples tightening against the soft fabric of her sweater until they were almost painful. She wanted not only to taste him but to feel his hands on her body; however, before she could do anything about it, she became distracted as he nibbled her lips open.
The faint taste of cappuccino was on his tongue as it skittered across her teeth. She happily met him and together they deepened the kiss.
Her hand slid to his cheek, and somewhere in the back of her mind she noted that his jaw was the tiniest bit rough with a new growth of whiskers. She found the bristly texture of his skin to be quite sexy and let her fingertips rove lightly.
His touch lowered from her neck, over her shoulder and forearm, never breaking contact, and came to rest just below her rib cage. His thumb grazed the swell of her breast. She stifled a hungry gasp, and he evidently perceived her reaction, because in an instant the weight of her breast was cupped in his palm.
The intensity and fervor of his kiss increased, and Anna felt herself whirling out of control. The pad of his thumb rubbed across one swollen nipple.
"Oh, God," she groaned in a husky whisper.
The sound of Anna's words sent even more adrenaline racing though his already overloaded system. If he didn't feel her skin against his—right now, this very moment—he would surely go mad.
With great reluctance he released his hold on her breast and let his hand shift around behind her. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of her sweater and slid his flattened palm up the bare skin of her back.
Her flesh was smooth as hot satin, her spine long and gently ridged, and the feel of her drove him wild with wanting. When he inched his hand higher, she arched her back like a sleek, exotic cat. He buried his nose in the flowery fragrance of her thick, dark hair and pulled her tight to his chest.
The small clasp of her bra grated against the fleshy part of his hand. He could feel her heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. His own pulse throbbed and thudded through his body at a rate that must certainly be dangerous to his health. He didn't give a single damn.
All he wanted was to be near this woman, to taste her blush-wine lips, to touch her silken skin, to smell her hot, mysterious fragrance, to hear her call his name in ecstasy. The only sense he'd omitted was that of sight, and although he didn't know it at the moment, it was that very sense that would be his undoing.
He pulled back, unwittingly shifting the position of his hand on her bare skin, and when he did, her sweater raised just hig
h enough for him to see a sliver of her black, lacy bra.
Derrick sat mesmerized for only a split second before dragging his eyes to hers. The desire displayed in her gaze rocked him to the core, and the last shred of control he'd had was ripped away.
His kiss was no longer gentle, and he tugged at the soft sweater she wore, conscious of the fuzzy fabric between his fingers. He plundered her mouth, and she met and matched his frenzied energy.
She was panting now, the sound of it registering somewhere on the periphery of awareness. And her frantic efforts to unbutton his shirt made his own breathing go ragged.
Then, somewhere in the farthest reaches of his brain, he heard a faint and faraway sound that fought for his attention. A warning. A sign of caution that his subconscious wanted him to heed.
Derrick wanted more than anything in his life to ignore whatever it was that—
Wait! He heard it again.
With great reluctance he dragged his attention from the intimate little circle he and Anna had created. He lifted his head, placing a quelling hand over Anna's fingers as they worked to manipulate another button.
"Wait."
A cheer, his brain reasoned. That's what he'd heard. A distant cheer had risen from the crowd across the way.
He and Anna were in a public park! And here he was trying to get her out of her clothes as though he were some randy, hot-blooded teenager. How could he be so stupid? How could he have let things go so far?
He swallowed hard. "We can't do this here," he said, the words actually paining his raw throat.
"Of course," she murmured, straightening and automatically finger-combing her disheveled hair.
It killed him to see her beautiful face flush with deep embarrassment.
"No, no," he said softly, taking her chin in his fingers and forcing her to look at him. "This was my fault."
They bantered back and forth, each taking the blame in whispery voices, as she tugged her sweater back into place.
Finally she chuckled, a deep and sexy sound that took him off guard.
"Okay," she said. "It's all your fault." Then she grinned at him. "But I don't mind telling you that I certainly enjoyed myself."
She reached out to refasten the buttons of his shirt, and he held himself very still, taking pleasure from her attention.
When she was finished, she smoothed her hand down the front of his shirt. "All better," she said lightly.
The urge to hug her came upon him quickly and abruptly. He stood and held out his hand to her.
"If I don't get a chance to hold you close for a minute," he told her, "I think I'm going to go out of my mind."
"Well, we can't have that, now, can we?"
He found her smile seductive, even though he didn't think she meant for it to be. But the sight of her luscious, still-moist mouth curling so alluringly reignited the fierce fire he'd just tried to smother.
The feel of her slender fingers sliding into his palm only served to fan the flame of his desire. He pulled her to her feet and enfolded her in his arms.
He knew she was bound to feel how his body had reacted to her nearness, to her kiss, but he didn't care.
He wanted her to know what she did to him. He wanted her to know how very much he craved her.
She wrapped her arms around him, rested her head on his chest and hugged him tight, and it was like being jolted with a thousand watts of electric current.
He wrestled and then warred with the need and frustration that coursed through his body.
"We need to get away from here," he said, irritated by the distress he heard in his own voice.
Hell, he thought, why fight it? You wanted her to know how you feel. Tell the woman how you feel!
"I can't stay here with you." He kept the words as candid as possible, even though they came out a bit rusty-sounding. "I just can't be responsible for my actions—"
She placed her warm fingers against his mouth, stopping him from finishing what he wanted to say.
"I understand," she said. "I understand perfectly."
He took her hand, and as they hurried back in the direction of his car, he felt... good, and he was having the damnedest time keeping himself from strutting like a rooster.
* * *
"I say get rid of her."
The strong, gruff statement was so like Reece that Derrick couldn't help but grin. In fact, he'd anticipated his friend's negative opinion and it didn't even affect Derrick's shot as he eyed up the cue ball and dropped the seven neatly into the corner pocket.
"Great shot," Reece conceded. "But I still say get rid of her. Before things go too far."
Too late. The two little words flashed into Derrick's thoughts, making him chuckle. He didn't dare explain to Reece and Jason just how much Anna had come to mean to him. Hell, how could he tell his friends how he felt without sounding lewd?
She caused a hunger he couldn't sate, an itch he couldn't scratch, a craving he couldn't satisfy. Yes, all of those phrases had him looking like a total letch, yet none of them fully expressed what was going on inside him when it came to Anna.
"Look, Reece—" Jason crossed his arms over his chest as he stood on the sidelines watching the game "—don't go throwing around advice when you have so little information to go on."
"Oooo," Reece said, chalking the end of his cue stick, "better pull down your skirt, Jason. Your cop slip is showing."
Derrick laughed aloud, his stick glancing off the cue ball and barely rolling it forward an inch.
"That shot counts," Reece called gleefully. "Sorry, buddy. My turn."
"You're such an ass sometimes." Derrick grinned as he stepped back from the table and gave a slight bow to show his good-natured sportsmanship.
"Hey, I'm a winner—" Reece lined up his shot "—and winners have to take every advantage."
"You butthead," Jason intoned flatly.
Reece smiled. "The day you guys stop calling me names," he said, "is the day I know our friendship is over." He bent over the billiard table and made another clean shot.
Derrick checked the clock on the wall. He had forty-five minutes before he had to pick up Tim at his swimming lesson. He'd stayed for the first 90-minute session, but Tim had complained that having an audience made him feel like a sissy so Derrick had found a way to pass the time once a week. Playing pool with Reece and Jason was fun, even when hyper-competitive Reece acted like an ass.
"Let's get back to Anna," Jason said, directing his gaze at Derrick. "You've told us that you've seen her a couple of times. She's helped a lot with Timmy. I say go for it. Who knows? She just may be your—" he searched the ceiling for a second "—soul mate, or whatever the heck they're calling it these days."
"You're a big boy." Reece smirked at Jason. "You're allowed to curse. It's okay to say hell."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "You know I'm trying to cut out the bad language."
"Gina's not here," Reece pointed out as he glanced around the nearly empty pool hall. "She can't hear a word you're saying."
"But, Reece, the point is that I want to stop using bad language all together."
"Oh-h-h, so that's the point."
Jason glared. "You are such an ass. How's that for bad language?"
Reece gave a hearty laugh. "Keep calling me names," he said. "It lets me know you care."
"Are you going to play pool?" Derrick asked. "Or are you going to stand here and bicker all night like two old ladies?"
"Don't even dignify that question with an answer, Reece," Jason said, siding with the friend he'd just been quarreling with. "Just take your time... and beat the pants off the man. He needs to learn who's the better pool player."
Reece was quiet a moment as he marked his next shot.
"As I was saying," Jason went on, "Anna might turn out to be the love of your life."
"God help us all," Reece grumbled.
"I'm serious here," Jason said. "Marie was the love of my life. We did everything together." He was quiet a moment. "I still can't bel
ieve she's... gone."
Derrick glanced at Jason. Every time the man talked about his deceased wife he grew melancholy and seemed riddled with guilt. Derrick wanted to keep that from happening tonight.
"Since I've met Anna," Derrick said, raising his voice in order to really capture Jason's attention, "I can't think of anything else. The woman is just so... hot." He grinned as he spoke the last word.
He thought that Anna probably wouldn't appreciate being talked about in such a manner, but he was only trying to keep Jason from dwelling on the fact that he was a widower.
"Yeah?"
It was Reece whose eyes glittered with curiosity.
"Yeah," Derrick tossed out at Reece absently. "Hey, Jason—" he waved to get his attention "—the other night Anna and I were out together, just taking a walk, and we couldn't seem to keep our hands off each other."
Derrick hated that he was boasting about his conquests, like a great ape pounding on his chest.
"Yeah?"
Again it was Reece who stepped closer, the pool game forgotten.
"You idiot," Derrick hissed at Reece. He jerked his head to get Reece to notice the way Jason was once again fading off into his own little world, slipping into depression.
"You know," Jason said softly, "I don't remember it being like that between Marie and me." He looked across the table at the two of them. "That fiery passion was never there."
Reece laughed. "That's because you and Marie were an old married couple before you even started," he joked. "You got married way too early."
"Right out of high school," Jason offered automatically.
This time Reece's laugh held a bitter edge, and he said, "Well, while Jen and I were married, she was much too busy working on her career to go necking in the woods."
"Anna and I were not necking in the woods," Derrick felt forced to defend his actions. Then he couldn't help but grin as he added, "It was the park."
Both of his friends found his confession hysterical and insisted on making smutty comments which Derrick chose to ignore. The two of them might be razzing him, he realized, but at least Jason seemed to have snapped out of his somber mood. Derrick thought the weight of guilt Jason carried in regard to his wife's death was overwhelming, but he had no idea how to help his friend. All Derrick felt he could do was be there when Jason needed him—even when Jason himself didn't know he was in need.
