Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance

by Georgina Penney

  ‘Choice. Yeah. I believe . . . in choice,’ Stephen rasped. He was beginning to pant somewhat, his face tensing.

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ Jo murmured in a voice that sounded even huskier than normal to her own ears.

  All thoughts of continuing the conversation were lost as she watched his face contorting in pleasure. She continued moving her hand, her own breath beginning to come fast as she felt his thighs tensing, felt his cock harden even more under her hand and his hips giving short jerking movements until he let out a long low groan and she felt him come over the tips of her fingers. She continued to stroke him as his body shook violently for a few seconds and then rested her hand on his stomach when he relaxed, loving the feel of him, all warm, sticky and alive.

  They stayed like that for a while, Stephen’s breath gradually slowing down, Jo feeling like she was flying after getting this close to a man she’d been fantasising about for months, years, before his voice broke the spell.

  ‘Wow. Thanks. Didn’t expect that,’ he said, his voice low and gravelly.

  ‘Yea-a-ah? Well, you’re welcome,’ Jo drawled, smiling smugly, lightly patting his stomach then withdrawing her hand to wipe it off on the blanket next to her. She made a fuzzy mental note to wash it the next day.

  He sat upright, reaching over and running his thumb over her cheek before leaning forward, cupping his hand behind her head and pulling her to him for a gentle, toe-curling kiss. For some reason it felt so much more intimate than what they’d just done.

  He pulled back, looking her straight in the eyes. They were close enough that their noses were almost touching. ‘You’re amazing.’

  Jo felt the heat of a fiery blush travel from her chest to her cheeks as she looked over his shoulder. ‘We should probably be getting home, hey.’

  Stephen leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers again, this time running his tongue over her bottom lip. ‘Sure?’

  For some silly reason she felt her eyes tear up. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was what they’d just done, but this felt too close, too soon and it freaked her out. Sex was easy. Sex was casual but this . . . this was something else. ‘Yeah.’ She really did pull away this time, dragging herself to her feet.

  To cover up the crack that was beginning to form in her wine-induced shell of confidence, she got busy capping the bottle of red and packing away the tarts before hoisting the picnic basket over one arm. Sense of bravado restored, she plastered what she hoped was a relaxed smile on her face.

  ‘Traffic’s died down now. Let’s get home.’

  Chapter 8

  Stephen stood next to the coffee machine in Jo’s kitchen, staring out the window at a bee buzzing around a box of red geraniums. Boomba, not having been fed yet, was circling his feet, broadcasting his displeasure at high volume.

  Distantly, he heard Jo moving around in her bedroom and then the sound of the bathroom door closing and the shower running. He probably had about ten minutes’ leeway before he would see her this morning. That was ten minutes to work out his plan of attack.

  The night before had been so unexpected, he wasn’t sure he’d handled it the best he could have. One minute he’d been pouring out his heart out and the next . . . Well, the next minute Jo had managed to shock him to his toes, and afterwards he’d been in such a euphoric post-orgasm daze, he’d probably come off as charismatic as a cardboard box.

  They’d left Jo’s bike in King’s Park and he’d driven them home in a crazy-stunned silence, acutely aware of Jo sitting next to him watching the scenery go by out the open car window, her windblown hair partially obscuring her profile as the salty, tangy smell of the sea drifted between them.

  When they’d gotten home he’d fully intended to continue where they’d left off in the park, at least getting in another couple of kisses, but had been foiled when Jo had disappeared to her bedroom.

  He’d ended up lying in his bed alone, staring at the ceiling, feeling simultaneously like the cat that had got the cream and the cat about to eat the canary. He still felt the same today, with the addition of feeling like the cat about to get a boot up its backside. He smiled at his own mental image before heavier thoughts took hold.

  He had no idea what had inspired Jo last night. He’d been damn happy she’d made a move on him, but . . . what if he fucked this up as well? He wanted her. If she hadn’t disappeared last night, he would have shown her how much, but would they be regretting it now?

  It could never be just sex between them.

  He already owed Jo big time. There was so much history, so much they hadn’t talked about . . . The more he played it all through his mind, the more he felt like he was standing on the edge of a minefield wearing clown shoes.

  Jesus, his life was complicated, and the tent in his pants wasn’t helping matters.

  Boomba tried to climb his leg with razor-sharp claws, painfully derailing his train of thought and Stephen finally relented to the cat’s demands.

  ‘Do you mind? I’m trying to think here,’ he grumbled.

  The cat didn’t look as if he cared, running to the fridge and then to his food bowl before giving Stephen a gold-eyed stare that clearly said there were more important things as far as felines were concerned. Sighing and gently shoving Boomba out of the way with his toes, Stephen retrieved a can of tuna cat food and filled up the cat’s bowl, grimacing at the fishy smell, before resuming his position in front of the window.

  Since getting up this morning, he’d gotten as far as deciding to make coffee, and that was it. Once the coffee machine was finally done gurgling, he poured two cups and lifted them off the bench to take them into the other room, ready for when Jo emerged from the shower.

  ‘Is one of those for me, or are you really not a morning person?’ A husky, sleepy voice that sang to his libido came from behind him.

  He grinned the minute he got a look at Jo’s get-up: the old T-shirt Scott had stolen off him and a pair of boxer shorts. ‘Yep.’ He held a coffee out to her and she took it, meeting his eyes.

  He paused. The shyness he was pretty sure he saw in her expression threw him. Yeah, he’d noticed it before, but after last night it was a bit of a shock she’d still feel shy.

  He watched a deep flush travel up her neck to her cheeks, and felt his mouth twitch; not because he thought it was funny, more because he found a woman so kickarse blushing cute—

  ‘Fuck.’ Jo’s exclamation jerked him from his musings.

  He looked down to see steaming hot coffee sloshing from her cup all over her hand. He went on immediate autopilot. Snatching the cup back off her, shoving it on to the bench and pushing her over to the sink, running the cold water before forcing both her hands underneath it.

  ‘Here. Hold them there,’ he ordered, his voice sharp, authoritarian. ‘Does it hurt? How bad did you burn yourself?’ He was pressed up against her side, eye-level with her, all his concentration on her hands as she held them under the running water.

  She smelt like the coconut shampoo she used. Her hair was damp and curled around her face, her cheeks still a deep red, either from pain or embarrassment now. He couldn’t tell and that worried him.

  ‘Jo? Does it hurt?’ he asked, raising his voice to get her attention.

  ‘What? Ah, not that badly now,’ she said, looking into his eyes, her expression a little dazed. She was standing close enough that he could even smell the minty toothpaste on her breath when she talked.

  Stephen ran his fingers gently over the back of each of Jo’s hands before turning off the water. ‘Well, they’re a bit red, but it doesn’t look like you’re going to blister.’ He grabbed a tea towel from the counter next to the sink and gave it to her. ‘Here. That’ll probably do it, then.’

  There was an awkward silence.

  It was Jo who spoke first. Two lines furrowed the space between her brows. ‘Maybe we, ah . . . Maybe we should talk,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yeah. That was my thought as well.’ He turned to pour her another cup of coffee. ‘W
ant me to carry this for you?’

  ‘Thanks. I’m pretty uncoordinated in the morning.’

  He caught her looking down, no doubt catching sight of the tent that he’d forgotten was lurking in his pants. He braced himself for a comment, a look, anything, but was met with nothing. Instead she kept her face blank and friendly, eyes resting below his waist for only a millisecond before she glanced at Boomba.

  ‘You coming too, cat?’ she asked, her voice low and husky, and was rewarded with a meow before she wandered into the living room, leaving Stephen watching her swaying hips, feeling his internal temperature hit boiling point.

  Jo’s stomach was jitterbugging to a pulse rate that was so accelerated, she was worried a heart attack was imminent.

  Considering she was usually the last candidate for the Bright and Cheerful Award in the morning, it was taking a massive effort to try to appear casual and calm now the initial scare of burning herself was over. She’d spent a few hours already this morning lying in bed, wondering what the hell she was going to say to him about the night before. Nothing appropriate had been forthcoming as yet.

  She settled with parking her backside on a couch and trying to nonchalantly sip her too-hot coffee without staring at the impressive party in Stephen’s pyjama bottoms. Never mind how impressive it was, it would be stupid to read too much into things. Like that maybe he’d want to continue the little scenario she’d begun the night before. Maybe it was just morning glory or something. He’d kissed her last night afterwards. That had been the thing that had snapped her out of it. What kind of woman went straight for a guy’s crotch before even kissing him? Just that thought alone left her blushing again. The whole thing had left her feeling so jittery and freaked out, she’d escaped to her bedroom the minute they’d arrived home and now she felt like an idiot. That wasn’t surprising, really. She’d made a fool of herself over him as a kid and here she was doing it all over again at thirty years old.

  Stephen took a seat on the other couch, folding one long leg across the other, successfully hiding his arousal, his expression friendly.

  This was probably her cue to say something. After all, she’d been the one who’d announced they needed to talk. Idiot. Why had she opened her big mouth? She would have been better off sneaking out and riding over to Amy’s or Scott’s place first thing this morning to ask their advice. Except Amy would probably laugh her head off, and Scott was more than likely enjoying a bit of morning time with the latest little art student acolyte.

  Stephen cleared his throat. ‘Jo—’

  ‘So,’ Jo spoke at the same time.

  ‘Go on.’ Stephen tilted his head, waiting for her to continue, his expression attentive.

  ‘Look. I’m really sorry if . . . well, you know things might have . . . um. Yeah. I didn’t plan for last night to happen, but it did,’ she stammered then raked her hand through her hair, waiting for his response.

  ‘Stephen?’ she prompted when she couldn’t handle the tension any more.

  He pressed his lips together in thought, averting his eyes and gazing somewhere over her shoulder for ages before aiming those blue-on-blue eyes at her. ‘You know . . . I didn’t get a chance to thank you. Did, ah. Did you enjoy yourself?’

  Jo let out a strangled laugh born partially from the knot in her chest. ‘I think it was pretty obvious I enjoyed myself. I just . . . I just came on pretty strong. I think I freaked myself out a bit.’

  ‘Honestly? You can come on to me like that any time you want.’ He spoke in a gravelly voice that was both sexy and surprisingly vulnerable, coming from such a big guy who didn’t look like he had a care in the world. He ran a hand through his hair, making the curls stick out at odd angles. ‘Jesus. Okay, let me get this right so I don’t put my foot any further down my throat. I, ah . . . what I’m trying to say is that I enjoyed myself. And well. I, uh, wouldn’t mind reciprocating, actually.’

  Jo’s eyebrows hit her hairline, relief and a hell of a lot of anticipation surging through her system. ‘Seriously?’

  Stephen gave her a look that combined a sexy amount of shyness with cockiness. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So would you . . . would you mind if I ah . . .?’ Jo carefully set her coffee down on the table in front of her, not wanting to make any sudden movements just in case he changed his mind.

  He slowly shook his head, his mouth curving in a slow, sexy smile, the shyness evaporating. ‘Well, no, no, I don’t think I would.’

  ‘So if I came over there right now?’ Jo said.

  Stephen’s smile widened as he gave her a very obvious and deliberate once-over. The mood in the room made a right turn down Lust Street. ‘Yeah. Why don’t you do that?’

  It was the effort of two seconds for Jo to move from point A to point B. Yet another second to straddle Stephen’s thighs. He met her halfway, framing her face with his big hands, kissing her deeply, sucking her tongue into his mouth while she ran her fingers roughly through his hair, not caring if she hurt him a little bit.

  She’d hadn’t shared this kind of physical connection for far too long, and her body was humming with a sexual awareness she hadn’t felt in years, maybe since she’d been an awkward teenager harbouring a painful crush.

  Her hands tightened in his hair and she bit him, wanting to hurt him a little for the way he still made her want him after all these years; maybe wanting to test him, to see if he’d pull away and tell her this wasn’t really happening.

  He didn’t seem to mind. Within seconds, one of his hands was grasping her hair just as hard, holding her head in position while he licked at her lips, driving his tongue into her mouth again with more raw passion than finesse. His other hand went to the small of her back, pulling her harder against him as his hips began a rocking motion that sent them both wild.

  Jo heard a low, husky moan but wasn’t sure who it came from. Didn’t care, just didn’t want him to stop moving, stop touching her. She felt a sharp desperation to have him inside her before he started thinking and changed his mind, and she became more aggressive, running her hands over every available inch of his skin, feeling warmth, smelling his sun-and-soap scent. Within no time, contact through clothes wasn’t enough, and she wrenched herself back, frantically dragging his T-shirt over his head.

  She gave a purr of satisfaction at the sight of bare skin and taut muscle before latching her mouth onto one of his pebbled brown nipples, biting down and enjoying Stephen’s groan of pleasure-pain. He responded by sliding her top up under her arms, twisting and pushing her sideways back against the arm of the couch.

  Pulling himself upright to look down at her, he groaned, palmed her breasts together and took one ultra-sensitive nipple in his mouth, sucking deeply, while he deftly tweaked the other one.

  Jo’s hips jerked so hard at the sparks of pleasure arcing through her body, she almost bucked him off her. She shivered, groaning huskily.

  He murmured his approval as his hand worked its way down her belly to the top of her shorts. She sucked in her breath in expectation, but instead of going any further, he simply ran his fingers along the sensitive skin just above her waistband, driving her insane. She told him as much, but he ignored her.

  In retaliation, Jo shoved Stephen’s pyjama bottoms down with both hands and dug her short nails into his backside, drawing him hard against her. He growled, moving his body up over hers to give her a deep, ravenous kiss. His teasing hand finally pushed her shorts down her legs, throwing them across the room before moving up her thigh to where she needed him. His searching fingers found her wet and ready and began circling her clitoris in an infuriatingly slow, intensely arousing movement that was too much.

  ‘Inside!’ she demanded, biting his lip.

  He shook his head. ‘No. I want to—’

  ‘I need you. God. Fuck me.’ Jo moaned, tugging at his hips, wanting to feel him inside her, wanting him to be as out of control and vulnerable as she felt.

  ‘Protection?’ he asked in a rough voice, fingers still working their m
agic. Not enough, not nearly enough.

  ‘Pill, no sex for ages, I’m clean. You?’ Jo almost screamed as a warm tingling sensation began to take over her body.

  ‘Completely clean, haven’t had sex without a condom for years.’ Stephen drove two fingers deep inside her, stretching her, sliding them in and out in a slow movement, like he had all the time in the world.

  She wasn’t having it and bit his earlobe sharply.

  ‘Fuck, you are ready, aren’t you?’ he groaned, moving down and latching his mouth onto her nipple again, tripling the sensation. She bucked against him, trying to dislodge him, trying to bring him closer. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, come without him. It would leave her too open, too exposed.

  ‘Yes! Now! Dammit!’ Jo slid her hand from his backside to between them, grasping his rigidly hard cock. She guided him, gasping and then holding her breath as he entered her, overcoming the delicious bit of resistance her body offered to penetration before sinking deep.

  They groaned in unison. Jo wrapped her legs around Stephen’s back, pulling him close, arching her hips up to meet him.

  They weren’t gentle. Lost in the moment, they hammered against each other, groaning, bodies slapping together. Stephen reared up to drive deeply, his pelvis contacting with Jo’s in a way that sent her wild, screaming and pushing against him, forcing him to move faster, rougher, until she came hard, grasping his shoulders and clamping him against her as tremors slammed through her, triggering his own release.

  He grabbed her head in both hands and they shared a messy open-mouthed kiss as he shuddered one last time before he let his head flop down next to hers on the couch.

  It took a while until Jo could find her breath to talk, and then she decided she didn’t want to say anything to spoil things. Instead, she wrapped both arms around his back, holding him tight.

  ‘Well, that’s one way to have a talk.’ Stephen’s voice, hoarse with suppressed laughter, was muffled against her neck.