by Jaci Burton
“I can’t believe the little brat was in on this,” Lisa said, pushing her plate to the side and reaching for her wine goblet.
“She can be devious.” Rick pulled out the bottle of wine and refilled her glass.
“So it seems. So can Connie. And you as well.”
“Only when there’s something I really want.”
Her face warmed. Wall sconces were their only source of light out here on the terrace, but enough that flickering shadows danced over his face. He looked positively Machiavellian, his lips curling in a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming through the fringe of his lashes.
What was he doing to her? Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was more than the wine, because when he pushed back his chair and came over to her side of the table to lift her up, she stood, feeling like she was made of water, like her legs weren’t going to support her. Which was okay, because Rick pulled her against him and it was oh so good to feel his body pressed up against hers. He didn’t crush her to him, just wrapped one arm around her waist and walked her to the balcony railing. Simply having his hand resting on her hip was unnerving. How would she react to having more than that?
For God’s sake, Lisa. It’s not like you haven’t had sex in . . . Actually, she hadn’t had sex in . . .
“We don’t have to do this if it isn’t what you want, Lisa.”
“I know.” He’d never pressure her. She knew Rick better than anyone else in her life. She could say no and he’d be content to take this vacation with her as friends, him sleeping in one room and her in another.
But is that what she wanted? To keep their relationship the same as it had been for fifteen years? Just friends? Her body knew she wanted more than that. It was pinging and firing all over the place, and all that was going on right now was his hand on her hip.
The only problem was in the what-happened-after? To them, to the solid foundation of friendship they’d built for each other, for Kayla.
He turned to face her, sweeping a windblown tendril away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Lisa inhaled and held her breath as Rick moved in closer.
“We’ll take it slow. One step at a time. Ease into it, rather than rushing headlong without thinking like we did the first time. I’m a little smoother now than I was back then.”
God, was he. He slid his palm across her neck—could he feel the wild pounding of her pulse there?
“Slow. Yes. That’s a good idea.”
At least her mind thought so. Her straining breasts, aching nipples, and wet panties thought something entirely different. She was millimeters away from a hot and sexy man she’d desired her entire adult life, his full lips so close she could feel his breath, inhale the scent of the wine, his soap. Her senses were going haywire and her body screamed anything but slow.
“But right now, I have to do this.”
He bridged that gap, inches that seemed like miles, and pressed his lips to hers.
As a shock of electricity curled her toes, she wondered how long slow would last.
Slow was a really stupid idea.
Four
It took every shred of willpower Rick possessed not to drag Lisa into his arms, to crush her against him, to deepen the kiss the way he really wanted to. But she tasted so damn sweet and right now her mouth was soft and yielding under his, and that was going to have to be good enough.
He knew she was hesitant about all this, that he’d hit her with too much too soon. Lisa wasn’t one to dive in headfirst without thinking things through. He’d give her time. But damn if it wasn’t hard to restrain himself, especially with her leaning into him, her body soft and warm and those sighing sounds she made.
Christ, a man had only so much patience and he’d wanted this for a long time. But he had control. For Lisa, he had mountains of control, even if his dick was hard and throbbing and he wanted to bury it deep inside her.
Control. C-o-n-t-r-o-l. He spelled it long and slow in his head, hoping it would ramp down his libido.
Yeah, right. No such luck. He doubted reciting the periodic table in his head would do much good. Not while he held Lisa in his arms, not when she whimpered and pressed against him, challenging him to kiss deeper, pull her closer, take this kiss one step further.
He tasted wine on her lips. How much had she had? He couldn’t remember, he’d been lost in conversation, in watching the cast of light on her hair. She’d gotten it cut and it just brushed her nape and chin now. He wanted to bury his fingers in the softness of her hair, to lose himself in everything Lisa.
Control. With every whispered moan, every slight adjustment of her hips against his, he felt her losing it. Which meant he had to hold on to his, because she’d said she wanted to take this slow. Her breasts pressed against his chest. He swept his hands across her shoulders. How easy it would be to slide those thin straps off, then push down the top of her dress and bare her breasts so he could taste her nipples. Lisa had always had sensitive nipples. Were they still? He wanted to capture them between his lips, nibble them with his teeth, lick and suck them right here on the balcony until she arched her back and cried out.
Control. Not yet. Even though the skirt of her dress was loose and flowy and it would be so easy to draw it up over her thighs, spread his palm over the heated center of her sex and rub her, caress her until she moaned and begged him to pull her panties aside. She’d be wet—he knew she was wet because her scent was already driving him nuts. He’d slide his fingers over her soft, moist pussy lips, teasing her until neither of them could stand it. Then he’d slip a finger between her folds, sliding inside her, feeling her walls clench, grabbing his finger while he pumped gently, finger fucking her while his thumb swirled over her clit.
He used to love to make her come, to watch the way her face tightened, her eyes closed, her hips rose, and she cried out with wild abandon. He wanted to make her come again, right now.
But he promised control. Tonight he was just going to kiss her, even if it tore him apart inside. They had seven days to get to know each other again, to take this one step at a time, a slow, deliberate seduction.
He withdrew his mouth. She opened her eyes slowly, staring into his.
“Slow sucks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He laughed, swallowed. “Yes, it does.”
She cupped his cheek, ran her palm along his jaw. “I remember kissing you.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“It’s better now than it was before.”
He arched a brow. “Are you saying I wasn’t good at it before?”
She giggled and stepped toward the balcony, placing her fingers on the warm concrete. “Of course not. It’s just . . .” She swept her fingers through her hair. “It’s just . . .” She turned to him. “Wow, Rick. I don’t remember being so . . .”
“Turned on?”
She glanced between his legs, her lips curling upward before shifting her gaze back to his face. “Yes. Turned on. I know we got hot and heavy when we were teens. But we were so new at it. Neither of us really knew what we were doing. Now . . .”
“Now we do know, and we know what we want.”
“Not that I’m all that experienced, because I’m not. It’s not that I’ve had tons of lovers since you.”
“Neither have I.”
She smiled at that. “But I’ve lived a lot, and thought a lot, and I know what I want now. I know what I need. I’ve learned a lot of things about my body in the past fifteen years.” She turned to him, her face soft, her eyes like liquid chocolate. “You touch me in all the right places.”
This conversation wasn’t making his hard-on go away. “I’ve thought about you a lot.”
Her gaze shifted, almost as if the conversation were too intimate. But then she looked at him again. “I’ve thought about you, too. About what it would be like if we—”
“And now we can.”
“Yes. We can.”
The one thing he’d learned in twenty years of knowing Lisa was the ability to read
her. Right now he read desire. As heady as that was, he also read hesitation.
She needed to think. He moved forward, pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He left her on the balcony and grabbed his suitcases, took them to the spare bedroom, and closed the door.
Hopefully he’d have to spend only one night there. But even if it was more, he was determined to do this on Lisa’s terms. He wasn’t going to push her to do anything she wasn’t ready for. He’d been thinking about this a long time. For Lisa, it was just a few hours.
Having the night to ponder it might help.
He hoped so, because his dick was rock hard and ready to go off at the slightest touch. And he had no intention of touching it himself. He craved Lisa’s touch.
If he was lucky, he might just get it. He prowled the room, stepping out onto the balcony, too pent up even to think about going to sleep this early. He stared at the moonlight glinting off the water, waiting for his erection to subside.
It might take all night, since his thoughts stayed on Lisa, on how she looked, how she smelled, how she felt in his arms, the way her mouth tasted when he kissed her.
It had just been a prelude of things to come.
Lisa stared at the closed door to the spare bedroom, having half followed Rick after he left her on the balcony.
Left her. Just kissed her on the cheek, told her good night, and walked out.
Then again, he knew her better than anyone, didn’t he? He knew she wouldn’t want to rush into anything, would need some time to think everything through.
Yes, that was her, wasn’t it? Everything carefully planned out. If it was a monumental choice, she’d have to think long and hard about it. She had to ponder every decision ad nauseam. She drove Connie crazy when they went shopping because it took her hours to decide what clothes to buy.
She walked into the master bedroom and closed the door, went into the bathroom, and frowned at her reflection in the mirror.
What was so difficult about this decision? She’d been lusting after her ex-husband for years. What was so wrong about jumping him during this vacation?
Because there would be an after-vacation, that’s what the problem was.
So what? They could still go back to the way things were, couldn’t they?
Probably not.
Dammit. Sex always screwed things up, got in the way of a perfectly good friendship. She and Rick had spent years mending the tears in their relationship after they divorced. It had been easier back then because they’d had Kayla. Kay had been a toddler, helpless and needing both her parents to care for her. They’d done it for her sake, had put their ridiculously petty irritations with each other aside and taken care of their daughter.
But they’d both been young and immature back then. They were adults now.
Besides, sex had never been a problem between them. That wasn’t where their issues had been. And oh God, she needed sex in the worst way, had denied herself over and over again, year after year, mainly because of Kayla, but also because she still carried a major torch for Rick.
Okay, so fine. Rick was here now. In the flesh. She had him all to herself for one glorious week. What the hell was stopping her besides her own stupid head ticking off all the reasons this was a bad idea. Though there were valid reasons. Good reasons. Like why-mess-up-a-good-thing? kind of reasons.
She stalked back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, kicked off her shoes, blowing out a breath filled with frustration.
Could she be more conflicted? Was she doomed to spend this entire vacation being close to Rick, but never taking that step that would lead her into the arms of the man she’d desired for years? What was wrong with her? Why did she always have to be so damn logical?
Any other man would have read the signs and pushed her hesitation, would have stormed over to her and kissed away her uncertainty until she couldn’t think straight.
But Rick wasn’t any other man. He knew her, knew if he pushed, she’d regret it.
He put the decision in her hands. If this was going to happen, she was going to have to initiate it.
Good God, Lisa, it’s just sex. It’s not like he’s asked you to marry him.
She should go for it, and damn the repercussions. Connie and Kayla wanted her to have fun.
She wanted to have fun. She needed to have fun.
She pushed off the bed and pulled open the bedroom door, shutting down the logical side of her brain, the one hammering at her even now as she walked down the hall toward the closed bedroom door. She knew Rick wasn’t asleep yet. Before she chickened out, she knocked.
In seconds, he opened the door. He was still dressed, though he’d unbuttoned his shirt, had pulled it out of the waistband of his slacks. Her mouth went dry at the dark expanse of his chest, the crisp hairs scattered there. Instead, she focused on his face, the way his eyes questioned.
“I want this,” she blurted out before she lost her nerve.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask her to be sure, instead swept her into his arms, and without saying a word, walked out of the room.
Five
Rick carried her down the hall and to the master bedroom before setting her back on her feet, but he didn’t let go of her. Instead, he slid her down his body, letting her feel every hard inch of him. She shuddered as her bare feet touched the soft rug next to the bed. He still hadn’t said anything either, but the look of intense desire in his eyes spoke volumes.
Lisa’s chest was tight and she found it hard to breathe. She wanted to say something, but didn’t dare. She didn’t want anything to shatter this moment, not with the way Rick looked at her, the way he slid both hands in her hair—slow and gentle, pulling her face toward him. When he brushed his mouth across hers, it was light, easy, and yet it took her breath away. The tip of his tongue touched hers and sensation exploded. Just that tiny lick of tongues and her clit vibrated, her pussy swelling with need. It felt so good she wanted to reach between her legs to massage the ache, but that was because she was so used to taking care of her own aroused state.
Tonight, she wouldn’t have to. What a heady thought that was. Her mind was already awash with visuals of Rick touching her, of the things they could—no—would do together.
Wait, she reminded herself. She was getting ahead of the game. She had to stay in the moment, not get lost in fantasy. This was reality, it was happening. She didn’t have to imagine sex, didn’t have to conjure up Rick as a lover like she usually did when she was alone. He was really here, touching her, sliding his hands down her bare arms, creating goose bumps in his wake despite the warmth in the room.
“You cold?”
Even the sound of his voice turned her on. Deep, low, he definitely had her attention.
“No.” She was hot, feverish, every inch of her skin on fire and needing his touch.
“Good.” He kissed her neck, his tongue snaking out to lick along her erratically beating pulse before pressing his lips to her jaw, then her mouth, taking her lips in a ravaging kiss that drove her heart rate into danger territory.
And when his fingers slipped under the straps of her dress, her heart rate blipped off the charts, pounding hard and incessant against her chest. Rick could probably hear it slamming against him as he slid her straps down her arms, following them with his mouth, kissing her bare skin. Thankfully, he pulled away from her.
God Almighty, she wasn’t a teenager anymore, and this was hardly her first time. She and Rick had had sex before. Lots of sex. But she was—what?—nineteen the last time? She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched her this intimately, and hell, it had never been like this. The practiced moves of a man, not a boy.
It was wholly different now. She was different. They were different.
New ball game. But she couldn’t deny that she was hyperventilating like a teenager in the throes of first-time passion, couldn’t ignore her wet panties, her throbbing nipples, or pulsing clit.
Wow. She hadn’t
expected it to be this . . . intense. Not with someone she knew so well.
She lifted her gaze to his. “Is it supposed to be like this?”
He smiled, swept his hand down her arm to twine his fingers with hers, seeming in no hurry. “Yeah, babe. It is.”
He hadn’t realized, but she’d seen it. As he reached for her, his hand shook. He was as affected as she was. He was holding taut to barely leashed control, and he was doing it for her.
Dammit, she’d waited a long time for this. She didn’t want control.
“Rick,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “I’m not made of porcelain. I won’t break.”
“I’m trying to restrain myself, Lisa.”
“Don’t try so hard.”
Rick sucked in a harsh breath, then released his fingers from hers, grabbed her shoulders, and jerked her against him. She gasped at the sensual violence as he smashed his mouth against hers, reveled in his possession of her mouth, especially when his tongue slid through her teeth and took control, claiming her tongue, licking against it with demanding strokes.
Now there was nothing slow and easy about what he did, walking her toward the bed as he simultaneously freed her arms from the straps of her dress and drew the bodice to her waist. She felt air across her breasts and nipples, her mind trying to process too much. Her nakedness, what would Rick think, where the hell were they going. She felt the back of her legs brush the mattress. Rick pulled his lips from hers, drew back several steps, and stared at her.
“No,” he said, blowing out a breath. “We have to slow down. It’s been a long time and I want to look at you.”
He was right, of course. She expected this big explosion of a consummation, this throwing-her-down-on-the-bed-and-fucking-her-blind situation where she wouldn’t have to process, to think about anything. But their first time together after all this time was monumental, and they shouldn’t rush through it.
