Caleb held the small of her back, fought to keep his eyes open. “You’ve got me, gorgeous.”
She was smooth, slick over him, pushing herself down so hard that he went deep inside her, and the little bud of her clitoris pressed into his pelvis. It was almost too much, too fast, sensation winging through him, and he knew he couldn’t stand that hot, wet friction much longer.
But without warning, Trish dropped her hands onto his chest, eyes wide, and convulsed against him in an urgent orgasm, so damn sexy that Caleb gave up holding off and joined her.
He heard his own moan rushing past his ears, forced himself not to maul her too hard as his body jerked in its release, hard and satisfying. It went on for a good, long, hot minute, and when he finally relaxed back against the pillow, exhausted and satisfied, Trish gave a throaty laugh.
“My sentiments exactly.” And she draped herself across his chest with a sultry sigh.
While he liked having her there, he knew he was sweating, and probably smelled rank. He gave her a gentle nudge. “You don’t want to lay on me, I’m all sweaty.”
“So?” Trish played with the ends of his hair and yawned. “After we take a nap we can hop in the shower together.”
With an enticing little lift of her hips she moved off of him, then resettled on his thigh. “But first, I have to sleep. It’s hard to settle into good REM sleep when you’re orgasming.”
Caleb laughed and wrapped his arm loosely around her. But instead of sleeping, he tugged off the pink condom and listened as Trish’s breathing evened out. Wonder stole over him at how amazing she was, and how right she felt in his arms.
Trish was fascinating. She didn’t care that he was sweaty, she talked casually about her sex dream, and already had a shared shower planned.
He liked it.
Sleeping across a hard, naked man was therapeutic. Trish woke up rested and satisfied, more relaxed than she’d felt in months. She stretched her legs and snuggled back into his chest, glancing up to check him out. Caleb, the little cutie, was still asleep, a small snore emitting from his mouth.
Trish really thought he was just absolutely adorable, which struck her as funny. The man was huge, and yet she was constantly pulling out adjectives likecute ,sweet , andadorable to describe him. But he was.
He was probably one of the nicest guys she’d ever met, which maybe didn’t say much for the company she’d been keeping. But Caleb was just a good, solid, loyal kind of guy who worried that he might hurt her, and she might be interested in exploring where the whole thing could go beyond her bedroom.
Except that she didn’t cook, didn’t own anything appliqué, was ambivalent about children at this point, and worked relationship-killing hours. Not exactly marriage-making material.
So that left her this morning to enjoy Caleb.
She tickled his ribs.
He jerked in his sleep, making an “unnnn” sound of protest, but didn’t open his eyes.
Trish shifted a little, found his penis, and stroked it.
This jerk was enough to almost knock her off his chest. Green eyes locked with hers. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a hand job.” That hadn’t been her original intent, but he felt pretty dang good beneath her fingers. “But I’ve been going for like ten minutes now and my hand’s tired,” she teased. “So I’d better stop.”
He groaned. “Next time, wake me up first so I can enjoy it.”
Next time. The fact that it pleased her to think there would be one had her sitting up, annoyed with herself. She’d just given herself theGet A Grip lecture and here she was, already fantasizing about waking up like this with Caleb every day.
Yet she couldn’t quite make herself pull her hand off of him, not since he’d grown gratifyingly hard. Then Caleb sat up next to her. “Can you hold that thought, gorgeous?”
He shifted out of her touch. She was momentarily miffed until he yawned and rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin. “I really want to revisit what you’re doing in like two minutes, but first…where’s your bathroom?”
“To the right. Want me to make some coffee?”
He smiled and cupped her cheek. “That would be great, thanks.”
Then he stood and walked across her bedroom toward the door, gloriously naked, muscles rippling. Was it her imagination or had her ceilings shrunk? He filled her apartment and made it seem small, poky. She’d lived there two years and was really happy with the place. She had two bedrooms and an office, lots of windows and extensive woodwork and molding, which had all been painted white, setting off her red furniture to advantage. But the minimalist decorating and the sharp edges screamedsingle woman to her, for some reason, and Caleb looked odd surrounded by her things. He needed sturdier furnishings. Pine, cedar.
Trish dug a pair of red boy-short panties from her burgeoning lingerie drawer and pulled them on, along with a tight white T-shirt that claimedANGEL across the front. She had ordered it at Ashley’s Pleasure Party and had meant to check the box “Princess,” but somehow had checked the one below it and had wound up “Angel.” Which wasn’t exactly something she aspired to. But Ashley had given her crap when she’d asked to exchange it, so she’d have to be an Angel.
She rescued the condoms from the floor where they had dropped and set them on the nightstand. Just in case. Easy access. Then at the last minute tucked another one in the waistband of her panties. She liked to be prepared.
Caleb appeared in the door. He glanced at her chest. “Angel?” he asked dubiously.
Trish tried to move around him, but he blocked the whole damn door. “Yes. I’m an Angel, through and through. Pure as the driven snow. Now move your big body so I can make the coffee.”
“Give me a kiss first, Angel,” he said, and lifted her up, straight off the floor.
Trish dangled in the air like a slutty puppet. Her T-shirt rode up, panties likewise. Her hands were pinned against his chest, and even though she felt ridiculous, she had to admit she was impressed with his strength. He wasn’t even straining to hold her.
She laughed. “Put me down, you oaf.”
“Kiss me first,” he ordered, nuzzling in her neck.
“I can’t with your mouth down there.”
“Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“Never doubt it.”
He lifted his head, stared at her, his mouth inches from hers, waiting. Trish forgot about the coffee.
Dragging her tongue across his bottom lip, she maneuvered her arms around his neck. Then slowly, slowly nibbled her way across his hot mouth while her legs drew up and locked around his waist.
Over and over she licked, tasted, touched across his mouth, while his breathing grew hitched and his grip on her hard and tense. Trish rocked forward, bumping his erection with the apex of her spread thighs, drawing a shaky groan from both of them.
Still she didn’t give him the kiss, just rubbed and sucked and tormented until her nipples ached and her clitoris throbbed and she wanted him so very, very bad. Then she kissed him, her tongue pressing hot and hard into his mouth, demanding, claiming, ordering him to respond.
He did, matching her tongue thrust, gripping her ass, grinding her against him.
Drowning in desire, Trish fumbled for the condom in her panties. She held it up as he bent over her, shoved her shirt up, and pulled her nipple into his mouth. Hard. Rougher than anything she’d seen from Caleb yet. And it turned her on, to see him let go, forget to hold back.
“I bet you’re strong enough,” she murmured into his ear, “that we could do it just like this, standing up.”
“I bet I am,” he said, starting to stroke between her thighs, running along her damp panties.
With her teeth, Trish opened the condom. “Hold on to me.”
“Trust me, I’ve got you.”
She did trust him. Letting go, she let Caleb hold her up by her waist as she reached below to unroll the condom onto him. She fumbled, her hands slipping around, but eventually she got it in pla
ce over his erection.
It never even occurred to her to laugh at the pink color this time. She was in agony, aching with want, arching to rub her nipples across his chest. “It’s on.”
Caleb kissed her—deep, penetrating and possessive—before urgently walking her backwards and slamming her into the wall. Her shoulders made contact with enough force to rattle the pictures hanging there.
It forced the air out of her lungs in a startled, “Oh!” Trish grabbed Caleb’s arms, and held on as he shoved her panties to the side, and when his finger ran across her, sinking in, her exclamation drew out in a shaky sob of pleasure.
“Oh, God, yes.”
Then Caleb replaced his finger with his cock in one out-of-control thrust that sent Trish’s head snapping back into the wall, and her body into ecstasy.
Caleb held Trish around the waist with one hand, the other on the wall for leverage and he sank inside her over and over, lost to anything but the incredible reception of her body gripping around his. She was digging her nails into his flesh, making loud, encouraging sounds that drove him into her harder.
It felt incredible, raw, everything between them stripped down to the basics of lust and want, cushioned by trust. He knew she trusted him not to take it too far, and that was just as arousing as anything else.
Trish wrapped her ankles tighter around his ass, dropping her thighs wider to him, and when he gave another rhythmic push, he heard the sound of fabric giving way as her panties tore. She gave an excited little laugh, her eyes wide, lips shiny from his kisses, skin flushed, head tilted against the white wall.
Damn, damn, double damn, she was hot.
“Oooh, just like that.” And her eyes closed as she came, arching forward into his arms, forehead falling on his chest in a sexy little shudder.
He was okay until she gave a vulnerable little whimper. “Caleb.”
The way she spoke his name, so soft, so sweet, stole his last bit of control and sent him over into a pounding orgasm, as he let out a groan Joe probably heard back at the bar. A groan that strung out long and hard as his body pulsed with pleasure like he’d never felt before.
They stood together, holding each other, panting, his muscles straining and tired, for a drawn-out minute, as Caleb tried to rein his control back in, and figure out what in the hell had just happened to him. And how he could convince Trish that something powerful was stirring between them, something fun and fascinating, and damn well worth pursuing.
“Am I heavy?” she asked drowsily.
“Not at all.” He liked holding her there, tucked around his waist, his hands on the sexy rise of her backside. But after a minute her panties were starting to cut off his circulation so he pulled back. Trish gave a sigh of disappointment, her inner muscles squeezing him a little.
“Sorry, Angel.”
Her breath tickled his skin as she laughed. “You’re not going to start calling me Angel, are you?”
“Maybe.” She’d certainly popped into his life right when he’d needed one. Right when he’d been feeling sorry for himself, Trish had sat down next to him and had ordered him to stop being an ass. To take responsibility for his own happiness. If he wanted a relationship, wanted passion and love in his life, he had to go out and get it.
He wanted it with Trish.
He was about to open his mouth and tell her when the doorbell rang.
Sliding her down to the floor, he jumped when she yelled, “Go away! I don’t want any.”
Trish had a voice that carried when she wanted it to.
An astonished female voice yelled back. “Trish, it’s Ashley and Violet. Let us in.”
“Oh, crap.” Trish let go of him and padded toward her room, shimmying out of the destroyed panties. “Caleb, it’s my friends. You jump in the shower and I’ll get rid of them, okay?”
Caleb took a full ten seconds to process the second half of her sentence. Once she’d started wiggling out of that red lace, he’d gone stupid. “Huh?”
His jeans hit him in the face as she reappeared, wearing a bulky nightshirt. “The shower. Get in the shower.”
“Right.”
“Trish, are you sick? Open the door!”
“Coming!” she called, then gave him a shove.
Caleb did as he was told and stepped into the bathroom, distracted with visions of pulling that nightshirt up and tasting between her thighs with his tongue.
Trish hoped Ashley had a damn good reason for pounding on her door on a Saturday morning.
“What?” she said as she opened the door, running her fingers through her hair. “Is the building on fire?”
Ashley and Violet gaped back at her. They were both wearing dresses, Violet pushing up her glasses, while Ashley twisted her engagement ring around and around her finger.
Why did Trish have the feeling she was forgetting something here?
“You’re not even dressed! We’re supposed to be at the restaurant an hour early to set out the party favors.”
That’s what it was. “Damn it! I forgot all about the shower.” Trish craned her neck to see her platinum clock.
“How could you forget?” Ashley pushed past her and looked around the room, obviously seeking an explanation for Trish’s sudden amnesia. “We spent all afternoon yesterday shooting e-mails back and forth with Kindra until I thought I would scream. Kindra has totally entered the frantic-bride phase.”
“She’s just nervous,” Violet protested. “She wants everything to be perfect.”
“You can say that because she left you alone since you were puking your guts out with morning sickness for four weeks straight. I work with Kindra, have no excuses, and trust me, this has been a painful process.”
All the more reason not to be late and aggravate Kindra, aka Bridezilla. Trish stood there with her arms crossed, mentally ripping through her closet to find something to wear. “What time do we have to be there?”
“In fifteen minutes.”
“Well, hell, go ahead without me. I’ve got to take a shower. It’s only five minutes from here. I’ll drive myself.” Then she slapped her head. “Except that I left my car at Ryan’s last night. Shit!”
She was already moving ahead to plan B, figuring she could take the bus or ask Caleb to drop her off, when Ashley flipped back her blond hair and narrowed her eyes. “Late night?”
Trish nodded.
“Is your shower running?” Violet asked, peering down the hall.
Ashley laughed, glee evident in her expression. “You have aguy here, don’t you? We’ll wait for ten minutes for you to get ready if you tell us who he is.”
Since Ashley had parked her little floral-dress-covered butt on Trish’s couch, she figured she might as well tell her. “He’s one of Joe’s friends—I met him at Ryan’s last night.”
“You just met him?” Violet sounded shocked, which irritated Trish.
“Ryan’s known him for fifteen years, he wasn’t just some freak on the street.” She loved Violet, but she really wasn’t one to talk. “And if memory serves, Dylan had you pregnant like ten minutes after you met.”
Violet’s face turned a guilty red. Good.
Ashley just laughed. “But this is cool, Trish. We’re all part of a couple now. We can take vacations together and stuff. And go out to eat and to Cedar Point amusement park…”
As charming as that sounded, she needed to stop Ashley’s couple train before it rolled any further. “Except that Caleb and I aren’t a couple. His ex-wife is getting remarried today and he was just looking for a distraction. I provided one. I’m not his type.”
Saying it made her feel like complete and utter dog crap, even though she knew it was true. Yet she wanted it not to be true.
Annoyed at her weakness, she stood there, leg out in defiance, and said firmly, “I’m the transitional woman. That’s it. Nothing more.” Only it had felt like a heck of a lot more to her last night when they had talked for hours. And this morning, just minutes ago, when he had been holding her, their bodies
joined intimately.
Dammit. She should have just stuck to unconscious orgasms—they were a lot safer, though not nearly as satisfying.
Ashley’s eyes darted past her, then went wide. “Hello.”
Violet put her fingers over her mouth. “Oh, my.”
Trish turned and saw Caleb in the doorway, wearing only his jeans, water still running down his chest, hair sticking up like toothbrush bristles.
“So you felt sorry for me? The sex was your contribution to the Poor Caleb Fund?”
Her mouth worked, but nothing came out.
Ashley said, “That’s one big, angry guy.”
Which pretty much summed things up.
“Of course not! I’m not nice enough to run around having pity sex with guys. Iwanted to have sex with you.”
“But that’s it?” His voice was quiet, tight, tense.
Shoot, shoot, he was hurt. She had hurt his feelings. This was why she couldn’t make a relationship work. She was selfish and too blunt.
Violet tapped Ashley on the shoulder. “It’s time for us to go. We’ll meet you there, okay, Trish?”
Trish waved her hand in agreement.
Ashley looked disappointed to miss the show, but she followed Violet with one more peek back at Caleb’s chest.
A Lake Erie–sized wave of jealousy flooded over Trish.
“I saw that, Ashley Andrews! Watch it or I’ll tell Lucas.” God, she sounded like she was twelve. And she knew darn well Ashley was head over heels for Lucas, which made her own reaction seem even stupider.
“What?” Ashley blinked innocent green eyes. “I was checking the clock.”
“We’ll see you at the shower,” Violet said, and dragged Ashley out the door.
When it clicked in place, Trish turned to face Caleb.
But he was gone.
She found him in the bedroom, pulling on his T-shirt. “Caleb…I have to go to this bridal shower, but we need to talk first.”
“About what?” He sat on the bed to pull on his socks.
“Us.” She stood there feeling like a humongous jerk, somehow devastated by the idea that he was going to just leave and she’d never see him again.
Bad Boys of Summer Page 13
