The Sparkling One

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The Sparkling One Page 21

by Susan Mallery


  Because she knew that eventually he would touch her in every place she wanted to be touched. As their kiss went on and his hands continued to move, she thought about him touching her breasts or between her legs and the tension grew.

  When he reached for the hem of her sweater, she nearly moaned in relief. He tugged off the garment and tossed it onto the floor, then flicked open the front hook on her bra. The lace sprang free, leaving her breasts exposed to the evening air. For a second her heart stopped. She froze in anticipation. Then he touched just the tip of one finger to her hard, tight nipple.

  The sensation was exquisite. She almost bit her tongue as fire shot through her. Before she could fully comprehend the feeling, he gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped. Then his mouth was on her other breast, and she had her fingers in his hair urging him on.

  “Don’t stop,” she breathed, surrendering to the wanting.

  He continued to caress her until she alternately clung to the bedspread, then to him. Tension increased, impossible tension that had only one cure.

  When he finally lifted his head, she wanted to cry out in protest. Fortunately he went right to work on unfastening her jeans. While she kicked off her shoes, he pulled down the zipper. Jeans, panties, and socks came off in one easy push that left her naked.

  She made a halfhearted gesture toward his shirt, as if maybe she would undress him. Bless the man, he never gave her a chance. Instead he slipped between her knees and kissed her stomach. Muscles tightened in anticipation. He stroked the length of her legs, then bent low and licked the inside of her knees.

  He’d done this before, she thought, already finding it difficult to think. He’d done it and done it well.

  She tried to sigh, but the sound came out more like a purr. This time, when he moved slowly and deliberately, she abandoned herself to the reality that was his fingers, his mouth, and his tongue. She didn’t urge, didn’t plead, didn’t do anything but let him seduce her into sensual mindlessness that made every cell in her body stand up and applaud.

  He rubbed her thighs, moving closer and closer to her waiting heat, but not quite touching her there. He licked and nibbled and sucked on her skin, moving north, always moving north, but again, not touching there.

  She arched her hips slightly in invitation, her legs parted, but he ignored her. The man had his own pace and he would not be rushed.

  She soon found that pace suited her just fine. Slowly, and slowly, inching up until she could feel his hot breath on the apex of her thighs. Need, want, and desire collided. She trembled and he hadn’t even touched her intimately. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.

  Finally he slipped his fingers along the seam of her outer lips and gently drew them apart. The cool air contrasted with her hot skin. He put his mouth on her and gave her an openmouthed kiss that sent a scream of satisfaction racing through her body.

  Katie stiffened and melted all at the same time. He licked the length of her, then found nature’s magic place and reintroduced himself.

  Quick flicks and slow sucking robbed her of free will and left her gasping. He inserted one finger inside of her, touching her from below. His finger and his tongue circled in perfect harmony, once, twice…and she was lost.

  The release caught her off guard, sending her flying. She found herself coming endlessly as her body shuddered, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. Zach read her mind, or maybe just her body, continuing to touch her perfectly until there was nothing left but a gentle hum of contentment.

  When it was over, he kissed his way up her body, first her stomach, then her breasts. Finally his head was level with hers. She had a feeling she looked as wiped-out and two-dimensional as a badly drawn stick figure. Zach had that expression of male superiority that claimed he’d just pleased his woman. Frankly, Katie thought he’d earned it.

  “Wow,” she whispered because she didn’t have the breath left to talk any louder. “That was really—”

  Words failed her. She gestured with her hand, flicking her wrist and then touching his cheek. He smiled.

  “Wow works,” he said.

  She stared at his face, at the lines by his eyes, and the firm set of his jaw. For the rest of her life, whatever happened, she would remember this moment, this night, this time with him. Even if she had to face him over breakfast at family Christmases for the next forty years, she couldn’t find it in herself to be sorry.

  She reached for his shirt, but found she didn’t have the strength to do much more than lay there.

  “Maybe you’d like to get naked,” she murmured.

  “Maybe I would.”

  He stood. While he unfastened his shirt, she reached in her nightstand for the promised box of condoms.

  “Jumbo size?” he joked as he unfastened his trousers.

  “Super colossal.”

  He pulled off his trousers, then his socks. Finally his briefs joined the pile.

  She studied his naked body. He had long legs, narrow hips and an impatient erection that seemed to demand her attention. He looked as good as she remembered.

  She shifted onto her knees and moved to the edge of the bed. Once there, she wrapped one arm around him, drawing him close, and slipped her other arm between them so she could touch his hardness. He responded by cupping her rear and squeezing.

  Something about touching him made her start to tremble. When he kissed her, she found herself frantic. He responded in kind, sucking on her tongue, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples.

  She released his penis and ran her hands up and down his chest. The contrast of cool hair and hot skin delighted her. She slipped lower to cup him, then parted her legs, wanting him inside.

  “Not so fast, young lady,” he whispered.

  She rolled onto one hip, then onto her back while he opened the box of condoms and pulled out a plastic packet. He ripped it open and slipped on the protection, then moved between her knees.

  He deliberately pushed her knees farther apart so that he could see all of her. She looked at him looking at her. A shiver rippled through her. Being with Zach was more intimate than being with anyone else. There weren’t any secrets between them, no masks or disguises.

  When he rubbed a finger against her dampness, he shifted his gaze so he could watch her reaction. She bit her lower lip and groaned. He moved again. She wanted to close her eyes, but she wanted to watch, too. She’d never watched before. At least not so obviously.

  He continued to touch her, stroking faster and faster until she started breathing heavily and straining toward him. Tendrils of excitement moved through her; tension increased. She could feel herself getting wetter, swelling, needing.

  Faster and faster, rubbing over and around. She pulsed her hips in time with his movements. Then she felt something thick and hard pushing into her. Even as he continued to touch her, he filled her.

  She couldn’t believe the sensations he created within her. He withdrew and plunged into her again. Her release was just out of reach. She pulsed faster, her breath coming in gasps.

  “Zach!”

  She didn’t know what she wanted from him. Maybe that he wouldn’t stop. Maybe that this would go on forever.

  Zach watched the passion flare in Katie’s eyes. He could feel the tiny shudders building inside of her. Every part of him screamed out to simply bury himself inside of her and have his way, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she was so close.

  So he gritted his teeth and thought about the baseball card collection he’d had when he was a kid. If he’d kept it, it would have been worth a fortune. Except then he started thinking about Katie in a baseball jersey and nothing else, and her perched on a counter while he plunged his hard, throbbing c—

  Math. Times tables. Seven times seven was—

  She gasped. He felt the hard knot of nerves pulse, and suddenly she contracted around him. He groaned as she milked him, making her sweet, slick body impossible to resist. He continued to touch her until the shudders st
opped, then he leaned forward and dropped his hands to the bed.

  In and out he pumped, feeling the pressure build and build. Her eyes locked with his. Her legs came up around his hips. Suddenly her hands were on his ass, her nails digging in as she pulled him deeper and deeper. Her head arched back and the contractions began again. This time she screamed.

  It was as if her entire body conspired to send him over the edge. The pressure was unbearable and the point of no return was a heartbeat away. He squeezed back as hard as he could, waiting until the last of her contractions faded. Only then did he give in to the rush of release that exploded out of him like a bullet.

  When rational thought returned, he wrapped his arms around her and shifted them both onto their sides. Katie stared at him wide-eyed and flushed.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t learn that in law school,” she whispered.

  He laughed. “I did. It was extra credit.”

  “Where did you study? There weren’t any classes like that at UCLA.”

  “Sure there were. You just have to know what they’re called.”

  She smiled.

  Zach kissed the tip of her nose, pulled back the covers, and waited for her to slip under them before sliding next to her. When they were settled, he turned out the lamp on the nightstand.

  Katie rested her head on his shoulder. “I guess it’s your turn to sneak away in the night,” she said teasingly. “I promise not to take offense.”

  “I have a seven A.M. meeting. My leaving won’t be about you.”

  She sighed. “You say the sweetest things.”

  He pulled her close. “I mean them.”

  “I’m glad.”

  While her breathing slowed, he stared into the darkness. He did mean them. In this case, if he didn’t have an early meeting, he would be content to stay in her bed and wake up with her. He could imagine a long time spent in the shower while they discovered just how limber each of them could be, followed by breakfast at her small, painted table. Surrounded by plants and candles and too many pillows, he would listen to her plans for the day and talk about his own schedule.

  The concept of domestic bliss usually sent him screaming for the hills, but not this time. This time he didn’t want to walk away, and for the life of him, he couldn’t say why.

  Katie watched the clock slowly ticking off the hour. She stared at the lining for Mia’s wedding gown that she’d spent most of yesterday sewing together, then back at the clock.

  “Where are you?” she asked aloud, more than a little annoyed that her baby sister couldn’t be bothered to show up on time for the very first fitting of her wedding gown.

  Katie paced the width of her small living room. She had a thousand and one details to take care of for the fund-raiser. There were phone calls to make, details to confirm, prizes to be picked up, and inventories to go over.

  “I don’t need this,” she muttered and headed for her phone. She punched in her sister’s number, then clenched her teeth when she heard the familiar message.

  “Hi! It’s me, and if you don’t know who ‘me’ is, then you probably have the wrong number. Leave a message.”

  “Mia, it’s Katie. I can’t believe you didn’t show up for the very first fitting of your wedding dress.” She tightened her grip on the phone. “Dammit, Mia, I was defending you and your right to have your own life. I understand the rest of the family not talking to me, but you have no right to be mad at me.”

  There was so much more she wanted to say, but what was the point? She was being given the cold shoulder. Only time would fix things. She hung up and reached for her ever-present briefcase. With the countdown to the fund-raiser beginning, she had plenty of work to keep her occupied.

  17

  Brenna pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with an old elastic band she’d found in her jacket pocket. She was having a bad hair day—probably because she hadn’t bothered to shower that morning. Actually she hadn’t done much more than wash her face, brush her teeth, and put on clean underwear.

  She looked like hell, which suited her mood because she felt like hell. Whoever said change was good was either an idiot or had never been through a divorce. She alternated between blinding rage and numbing depression—not that she liked either state. She wanted to feel normal again.

  She wanted not to be fighting with Katie.

  She still felt badly about what had happened last week. While she didn’t agree with her sister’s stand, she understood why Katie was worried about her. In truth, she kind of liked her concern, which meant not talking to her was really stupid. But calling meant admitting Katie might be right, and Brenna hardly wanted to have that conversation.

  The truth was, she missed her sister, and now that Francesca had contacted Jeff and arranged to meet him, Brenna was having second thoughts. Did she really want her ex-husband to come on to her twin?

  Rather than dwell on the mess that was her life, Brenna raised her face toward the sun and breathed in the sweet spring air. It was May—a busy month at the vineyard. Training had begun a week ago in the southernmost fields.

  Speaking of which…she squatted down to examine the vines more closely, then fingered the sturdy plant. Already green leaves covered all the new growth and much of the old. Tiny clusters of flowers danced in the afternoon breeze. Green tendrils found their way toward the sun.

  “Not for long,” she said, tugging on one tendril, then pulling it free of the stem.

  Training the vines was both an art and a science. Each plant produced an excess of leaves, flowers, and new growth. Skilled workers came through and stripped off what wasn’t needed, leaving the most healthy and strong growth to produce the best grapes. If too much was removed, the harvest would be small and disappointing. Not enough removed, and the grapes wouldn’t grow and ripen as well as they could. Sun and air needed to flow through the vineyard, rolling across like a wave from the sea.

  Brenna straightened and arched her aching back. They were well into their first week of training, and she had the sore muscles to prove it. The ache was like an old friend—almost forgotten, but still a bit of a lingering memory. She knew that Grandpa Lorenzo had insisted on the manual labor to test her determination. Brenna wasn’t worried; she refused to fail.

  She touched another leaf. Here in the southern part of central California, frost wasn’t an issue, but it could cause damage in their northern vineyards. Every day she spoke to the managers there as she slowly returned to the rhythm of the vineyards.

  She headed toward the property line. For the past couple of weeks she walked a different portion of the land to refamiliarize herself with what had once been her entire world. When she allowed herself to consider all she’d lost by marrying Jeff, she wanted to raise her fists to the sky and demand justice. Unfortunately she had no one to blame but herself. She had chosen what seemed like the safe path because any other was out of the question. Unfortunately she’d chosen a selfish man who had taken advantage of her devotion and left her with nothing to show for giving away her very soul.

  She reached the edge of the property and checked on the railings. The posts sat securely in the ground. She was about to return to the east fields when she saw someone walking toward her. Someone on the other side of the fence. The evil, Wild Sea Vineyard side.

  She wanted to run for cover for a number of reasons, one of which being that she was dressed like a day hire, the second being the fact that she’d gained five pounds in the past six or seven weeks. The combination of self-pity and the Grands’ cooking had done nothing good for her hips and thighs.

  The third and perhaps most important reason was that he was the last person on the planet she wanted to see when she wasn’t at her best.

  But there was no way she could escape. Not without seeming like an idiot. Brenna figured she’d done enough of that in the past nine years without continuing the pattern. So she squared her shoulders, took a breath for luck, and turned to face the man her grandfather thought of as the devil i
ncarnate.

  Nicholas Giovanni. Nic to his friends.

  At one time Brenna had known him well enough to call him Nic. She’d called him a lot of other things, too, depending on her mood and the circumstances. Sometimes he’d laughed, sometimes they’d fought, and sometimes they’d simply lost themselves in sensual lovemaking that had left them both breathless.

  The sun was in her eyes, making it difficult to see details. She saw a tall, powerful silhouette walking toward her. The man from her past had always dominated the landscape. Too arrogant, too handsome, too many things. It was pathetic to think that at the ripe old age of twenty-seven there had only been two men in her life. She really needed to get out more.

  She hadn’t seen Nic in nine years, and she didn’t doubt time had been kind to him. Sure enough, as he approached, she saw that he looked good enough to be served with marinara and some fresh focaccia bread.

  The passing years had added a few lines around his dark brown eyes, which only made them more appealing when they crinkled as he smiled that easy smile that had once kept her up nights. Stubble darkened his jaw, making him look dangerous and incredibly sexy. His clothes were as worn as hers, but somehow they looked better on him. Wasn’t that always the way?

  “I heard you were back,” he announced when he came to a stop by the fence that separated their property.

  That was it—five words and a welcoming smile. As if he wasn’t angry. As if the past didn’t matter. And then she realized it probably didn’t. Based on Jeff’s treatment of her, she hadn’t made an impact on him, and they’d been married for years. Why would she have been more than an uninteresting blip on Nic’s radar screen?

  “I’m working the vines,” she said, because saying why she was back was simply too depressing. Besides, while there might be acres between houses, this was still a small community. She didn’t doubt that word of her divorce had spread quickly. Except if she didn’t say she was getting a divorce, he might think she thought he didn’t know and that she was hiding the fact. Which would make her look stupid.

 

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