She wasn’t going to stop.
Julie admitted that to herself as Dylan slanted his head and deepened the kiss she hadn’t been able to resist. His tongue plunged into her mouth to tangle with hers and she forgot every reason why she shouldn’t be here like this with this man.
When he kissed just so, it seemed too right. As if they were meant to be together like this but had simply failed to find their way until now. Dylan made everything else fade into the background until she saw only him, smelled only him, felt only him.
And he felt right.
Her hand went to his chest and she felt his heartbeat. The drumming matched hers as their tongues battled first, then probed, then tasted the other in a kiss unlike any she had ever experienced.
It was fast and furious and she found herself pulling away, gasping for air.
“I...” she began.
“I want this, but only if you’re sure,” he said, mistaking her hesitation for doubt. “Only if you want me. Me.”
She touched his jaw, rough and shadowed with stubble. Slowly, she moved her fingers down the taut muscles of his neck, then lower, over the hard chest muscles to the satiny ripples of his stomach.
Dylan stood still beneath her probing, his body rigid.
When she moved to dip her hands beneath the waist of his jeans, he caught her wrists. “I’m not just any man,” he said, his voice rough, raw with the desire sparking in the blue depths of his eyes. “And you’re not just any woman. You do this to me.” He touched her fingers to the hard length beneath the zipper of his jeans. “You.” He urged one of her hands down between her own thighs. “And I do this to you.”
Julie felt the heat through her pants, scorching her palm. The touch sent need spiraling through her.
He released her, then waited, his muscles still taut.
This time when her fingers went to the waistband of his jeans, he didn’t stop her. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she undid the button and slid the zipper down. She let her fingers linger at his erection, which throbbed and grew beneath her attention. Then she felt her way up his stomach, around his waist. She moved her hands up his back, over his shoulder blades, feeling the smooth, fiery skin beneath her fingertips and marveling at the raw power of flesh and blood.
“Julie,” he groaned, still not touching her, still not relaxing beneath her exploration. “I hope you know what you’re doing. Because once you start this, you can’t stop. I won’t let you,” he said, his voice tight, almost pained. “I can’t. I’ve wanted it too long.”
“So have I,” she whispered. “So have I.”
With a throaty growl, Dylan locked his arms around her and pulled her closer. He touched his lips to hers none too gently, sucking the breath from her body with his hungry mouth. She returned his fervor, losing herself in the storm of feeling that rose inside of her.
When Dylan eased her legs up on either side of him and lifted her, she wrapped her arms about his neck. A moment later, he pressed her back against the bed, then leaned away.
“Julie.”
At the sound of her name, she opened her eyes and stared up into the stormy depths of his.
“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see everything that you feel. Every emotion when I touch you.” He fingered the edges of her T-shirt.
With the expertise of a man well skilled in the art of lovemaking, he eased the shirt over her head and then trailed his hands down the creamy skin of her arms. “How does it feel when I touch you here?” With one finger he traced the outline of first one nipple, then the next. “Answer me,” he demanded in a soft voice. “How does it feel?”
“Like you’re touching me—you.” She murmured the only word that came to mind.
He smiled, then dipped his head to close his mouth over one swollen nipple. Julie gasped and wound her fingers in the silky roughness of his hair.
He sucked and nuzzled the throbbing tip until Julie cried out. Then he kissed his way to the other, to inflict the same delicious torture. And his mouth was as warm as his body...and as real.
Her nerves were alive as he moved his hands down to her waist. He leaned away from her then, letting the air breeze over her heated skin.
“You closed your eyes,” he said.
Guilty, Julie lifted her heavy lids to stare up at him through a veil of lashes.
“That’s better.” Their gazes locked as he slid her panties off in one sweeping motion.
When he stood, Julie leaned up on her elbows, intrigued by the lean lines of his body. He was perfection, she thought as he slid his jeans down over his hips, down his muscled thighs. His erection stood proud in the lamplight and she swallowed, afraid, yet thrilled at the same time.
Maneuvering himself down beside her, he pressed his hardness against her thigh. Then, with slow exploration, he moved his hand across her abdomen, down to the triangle of hair.
He kissed her cheek as he cupped the heated flesh between her legs. “So wet,” he said, slipping one finger inside the soft folds. Julie arched her back, pushing herself into his palm, drawing his finger deeper.
“You like that?”
She nodded, staring up at him, her lips parted, her body craving more.
“And this?” He slipped another finger inside and Julie felt the tense coil in her stomach wind dangerously tighter.
She took a ragged breath, then another and another as Dylan played inside her, driving her toward the edge of reality, into the world beyond—filled with excruciating pleasure and sweet, sweet pain.
Gasping, she arched her hips for him. Deeper, deeper his fingers pushed, caressing, stroking until her legs trembled violently and her mind reeled from the sensations flooding through her. Then he eased his hand away.
“Dylan?” She forced her eyes open, to find him studying her heated face.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. He grabbed her wrist and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “I feel you, Julie—your wanting, your need. Can you feel it?” He guided her hand over her cheek, down the column of her throat.
Her skin, hot beneath her fingers, trembled from the touch—her touch. Dylan continued to guide her along. When she touched one nipple, the peak rose even higher. She tried to pull away, frightened by her reaction, but Dylan held her steady.
“Don’t,” he said. “Feel yourself, Julie. Feel what I feel.” He swept her hand down across her stomach to the pulsing center of her body.
With his hand over hers, they stroked the damp flesh between her legs until Julie writhed and whimpered, desperate for release.
Dylan made her an active participant in his game of torture, as well as his willing victim, and she reveled in every nerve-wrenching sensation. More, she wanted more. More of him, more of herself.
She cried out, feeling the slippery wetness on her fingers. She bucked against the invasion as release jolted through her. Dylan held her hand steady, making sure she felt every quiver as she spiraled higher.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips a steady vibration at her temple. He let go of her hand to feel his way up the length of her body, to filter his fingers through her hair. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
She could feel him, hard, hot against her thigh, and was aware of a renewed tighten-ing inside. Perspiration trickled between her breasts. He dipped his head and licked a drop, sending a shiver through her body.
Before she could think of a reply, he reached down and pulled a foil packet from the pocket of his discarded jeans.
Julie watched, her mouth dry, as he ripped open the packet and began to stretch the contents over his rock-hard length. Driven by her need for him, and a newfound sense of freedom, she touched his hands. She forced his fingers away, then eased hers around the smooth, pulsing shaft, feeling it swell beneath her fingertips.
Dylan groaned, letting Julie slip the second skin the rest of the way down.
“How does that feel?” She lingered at the base of his manhood to stroke the smooth flesh.
“Not half
as good as you’re going to feel.” He grabbed her by the hips and positioned her legs on either side of him. He pulled her down, driving into her until no space separated them.
He filled her, completely, perfectly, and Julie bit her lip to stifle the cry that sprang from her throat.
She grasped his shoulders, digging her nails into the hard muscled flesh as he gripped her bottom. He moved her up, then down the length of him. The motion, slow, steady at first, stoked the already blazing fire between her legs.
White-hot flame shot through her body and soon she moved of her own accord.
“You’re so warm, so wet,” he murmured, kissing the base of her throat.
His words pushed her even further than his feverish hands. She rose for the last time. With a shuddering cry, she slid down, drawing him fully inside. The room around her disintegrated, the floor fell away and tears slipped down her cheeks.
She wasn’t prepared for her reaction. For the warmth that spread through her, the burst of tenderness.
This was rough and raw and physical. Any man.
That’s what she wanted to think, but Julie had the hunch that no matter how far she searched or how long, she would never find a man like Dylan Garrett.
She ignored the disturbing thought. She wasn’t going to worry over the future with all its danger and complications. She would face tomorrow when it came, along with the inevitable regrets and the knowledge that she’d lost her best friend in the entire world for a night of pleasure.
But now... Now was all about Dylan and the way it felt to be in his arms. And the pleasure...
Mmm, yes...tonight was all about pleasure.
* * *
DYLAN THROBBED inside her, exploding with earthshaking intensity as her muscles clenched him. She filled his senses—the scent of her, the feel of her, the sight of her lost in the throes of an orgasm.
He slid his hands up her sweat-soaked back, to weave his fingers into her damp hair. Burying his face in the soft swell of her breasts, he held her close. He felt every quiver of her body, every erratic breath, the pounding of her heart as it beat a rapid tattoo against his own.
Finally, he leaned away from her and stared into her face—at her parted lips still swollen from his kisses, her closed eyes framed with a long sweep of golden lashes, the wetness glistening on her cheeks. With gentle fingers, he wiped the tears away.
“What’s wrong?”
At the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes. He saw a multitude of emotions reflected there—confusion, bewilderment, and ultimate-ly, satisfaction.
“No one’s ever made you feel the way that I did.”
“Humble, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Actually, darlin’, the sight of you is pretty darned humbling.” His gaze traveled over the smooth column of her neck, the delicate curve of her shoulders, to her full breasts, which rose and fell in a steady rhythm that stirred his blood.
No morning sunrise or starlit night could match the beauty of her skin, still damp and flushed from their lovemaking. And at that moment, Dylan felt more humble than he ever had before.
Then again, he’d known it. He’d known she would be different. Special. He’d slept with numerous women, searching for someone to make him forget her deep-blue eyes and her sweet smile. Someone to make his heart pound faster at just a glance. Someone to make him hot and hard at nothing more than the sight of her curvy body.
No one had ever come close.
He let his fingers drift down the curve of her jaw, memorizing every line as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. And his.
For the moment.
Dylan pushed aside the thought and focused on the here and now, on the steady beat of her heart and the sweet scent of her skin and the fact that he wasn’t going to let her go. She was his. Now and forever.
She just didn’t know it yet.
“Answer my question,” he demanded, his voice quiet, compelling. “When’s the last time a man made you feel the way I just did.”
“No,” she challenged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
He grasped her hips and pressed her back onto the bed. The swift motion pushed him a fraction deeper into her moist heat and they both trembled.
“I didn’t ask you about kissing,” he murmured when he could breath again. “That was your first orgasm.”
“No,” she breathed, her eyes hooded, her features mirroring the ecstasy his touch brought her. “My second.”
It was Dylan’s turn to smile. “But you had a hand in the first one, sweetheart. I want to know if anyone has ever made you feel the way I did the second time.” He traced the pout of her bottom lip with his tongue. “Have you ever felt the hunger driving you on, demanding to be satisfied...then the explosion...like the world stops rotating for those few seconds and nothing else seems to matter?”
“No,” The one word was a breathless whisper. “Not like that. Never that intense.”
He smiled, the knowledge singing through his head, firing his blood all over again. He licked a drop of perspiration that trailed down the valley between her breasts. She trembled, then gasped as he outlined one aching nipple with his tongue.
He eased his hands beneath her bottom and cupped her buttocks. In response, she moaned, wiggling her hips and drawing him deeper.
After what had just happened, he should have been prepared for the fire that ignited between them.
He wasn’t. Over the next hour, it was as if he hadn’t touched her, stroked her, loved her. The feelings were just as wondrous, as intense as the first time, and Dylan found himself wondering how in the world he would ever be able to let her go.
And he would have to. Sebastian wasn’t simply going to disappear. He was going to make things as difficult as possible.
As deadly.
Doubts rushed through him, along with a deep-seated dread for what awaited them tomorrow. But for the first time, Dylan ignored his instinct and focused on the positive. On the satiny feel of her skin and the deep, even sound of her breathing and the freshness of her hair.
He refused to think beyond this moment. He’d waited too long for this and he intended to relish every second. As much as he hated to admit it, he had the gut feeling that it would be over all too quickly.
And damned if he didn’t know only too well that his instinct rarely steered him wrong.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY’D MADE LOVE.
Not love, Julie reminded herself as she sat on the edge of the bed just before daybreak the next morning and watched Dylan pull on his T-shirt. Lust.
He was wearing faded jeans that hugged his thighs to perfection and a soft cotton T-shirt. For a fleeting moment, she had a vision of him as he’d been the night before, dark and naked and powerful as he’d pressed her into the mattress and made love to her.
Not love. Lust.
Last night had been purely physical. She didn’t love Dylan, nor did he love her.
Sure, she felt for him. They were good friends and it was only natural that she would feel such tenderness when she looked at him. But love?
Julie didn’t trust herself when it came to that emotion. Never again.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said as he pulled her to her feet and stared down at her. “Then again, maybe I’d rather not know.” For a split second, he actually looked worried, but the expression faded.
“Come on,” he persisted. “What are you thinking?”
That I liked last night. That I want another night just like it. And another. And—
“That we’d better hit the road if we want to get an early start.”
Never again.
They were friends, first and foremost.
But as Julie stared up at Dylan, the last thing she felt was friendly toward him. The realization sent a rush of sadness through her. She’d known it would happen. Last night had forever changed their relationship. There would be no going back. No companionable evenings spent watching the Spurs on TV. No
shared pizzas. Never again would she be able to look at him and not think about what they’d done.
Her eyes blurred.
“You’re having regrets?” His deep voice echoed in her ears.
She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “It’s just...we’re friends. We were friends.”
“We’re still friends.”
“No, not after last night. We can’t take it back.”
“No matter how much you want to?”
Did she feel regret?
Yes. No. Maybe. That was the trouble. She didn’t know. Her instincts told her one thing, but she’d learned the hard way never to trust those instincts.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I lost control. I—I was still so worked up over what happened and then I saw you and...I’m really sorry.”
“I’m not. I don’t regret last night. Not one minute. I needed last night, and so did you.”
Need, as in the need to feel alive and forget that death was dogging them at every step. That was the truth, yet when he stared at her as he was doing right now, she could almost believe he was talking about a different sort of need. The kind that meant happily ever after.
If Julie had been a betting woman, she would have put her money on the fact that he actually felt something for her. Something deep and pure and strong enough to make her heart skip its next beat.
But she wasn’t a betting woman. She’d lost too much already on what she’d thought to be a sure thing.
Never again.
“It shouldn’t have happened.” She shook her head. “Because of it, things will never be the same between us.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, darlin’. That’s what I’m counting on.”
* * *
LORD, he wanted to hold her.
He watched from the corner of his eye as she sat in the passenger seat, her hands clasped in her lap as they drove the final distance down the winding dirt road that led to Hattie’s place.
She was thinking about the old woman. He could tell from her expression that the drive was bringing back memories, stirring feelings. She was grieving. And crying.
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