1-900-Lover

by Rhonda Nelson

  Will quirked a brow. “What?”

  “I was right,” she murmured.

  “Right about what?”

  “Your garden. I thought you’d be able to access it from your bedroom.” She sighed wistfully. “It’s even prettier from in here.”

  “You can say that again,” Will told her, his voice inexplicably low.

  He watched her lips curl into a droll smile and she sidled toward him. “Why do I get the feeling we’re talking about two completely different things?”

  “Because—and I think I’ve told you this before—you’re very perceptive.” He encircled her waist with his arms, smiled down at her, let his gaze purposely caress her lips. “In fact, I think that if you really put your mind to it you could divine what I’m thinking right now.”

  She laughed. “You mean have a psychic moment?”

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  Her gaze turned a smidge calculating and something about her wicked smile made him distinctly uneasy. She shrugged lightly. “I’ll give it my best shot. I should probably touch something of yours if it’s going to work properly.” She leaned forward and licked the hollow of his throat, pulling a hiss from between his suddenly clenched teeth.

  She smiled up at him, the she-devil, and a startled laugh broke up in his throat.

  “Yeah, I think that helped,” she told him. “I had a small vision.” Her gaze drifted over his chest and she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his trunks. “But I should probably do it again just so that I can make sure I know what I’m talking about. I’d uh…hate to be accused of being a fraud.”

  She leaned forward and this time her talented tongue darted out and laved his nipple. Will winced and his dick jerked hard against her belly.

  Another she-devil grin claimed her lips. “Yes, I think I definitely have a handle on it now.”

  He strangled on a laugh. He’d give her something to get a handle on, Will thought. He bent his head, found her mouth and then began to slowly propel her toward the bed. He kissed her hard and deep, slow and easy. God, he could kiss her forever, Will thought dimly. He slid his tongue along hers, pulled at it creating a delicious suction between their mouths, which he longed to mimic in their lower extremities.

  The backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress and, with a groan of delight, she sagged onto the bed. Will eagerly followed her down. He’d enjoyed every minute of the first time they’d made love. It had been hot and frantic, mindless and wanton. Fantastic. But he tended to be a little fastidious when it came to making love. He liked to nurture and tease, coax and coddle a bloom of release from a woman. Liked to take his time.

  Rowan had blossomed for him this afternoon at the pool hall—God had she ever—but he suspected that she was like one of those rare night-blooming flowers and he couldn’t wait to see her in all her glory.

  He pulled away from her mouth, nuzzled her ear, then licked a slow path down the side of her neck. She shuddered beneath him, a wordless gesture of praise and he smiled against her. “You smell nice,” Will murmured. “Like apples and daisies.” Her belly shook as his fingers tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I wonder what you smell like here?” he asked, then bent his head and ran the tip of his tongue around the rim of her belly button. Gratifyingly, another shiver shook her.

  Will nudged her shirt up farther, treated a couple of ribs to the same treatment. She whimpered, arched her back up off the bed, begging for a kiss of another sort. Will edged up her body, drew the garment over her head, cast it aside with a careless flick of his wrist, then let his gaze drift over her womanly frame. Soft mounds, feminine belly, dainty waist. His mouth parched, then watered. Her womanly scent invaded his nostrils, curled around his senses and suddenly, taking his time, plotting his next move like a road trip didn’t seem quite so important.

  He popped her bra open once more, then eagerly fastened his mouth upon her breast. Rowan arched again, pushing the tender globe further into his mouth. He hummed with pleasure, ate her up. Her hands were all over him—his back, his shoulders, in his hair. It was as though he’d tripped a secret button, one that sent her wild, and he found it inexplicably—incredibly—arousing. He sucked harder, trailed his fingers over her belly, then took advantage of the extra room beneath her waistband when another startled inhalation deflated her tummy.

  She stilled, then squirmed when his fingers brushed her curls. She gasped, then her own fingers made a determined trail to his shorts and she palmed him through the fabric, rubbed determinedly against him. “Oh, Will. I can’t— I need— Could you please hurry up?”

  He laughed. Moved to the other breast. Dragged a finger over her engorged clit. “Are we punching a time clock?”

  “No,” she growled, rocking suggestively beneath him. “But I’m burning up. You have to do something. I can’t— I can’t take it.”

  Will scooted down between her legs and dragged her shorts and panties over her hips. They joined her shirt and bra on the floor. He glanced at them and an evil little impulse took hold. He pretended to move away from her.

  She propped herself up on her elbows. “Where are you going?” she asked incredulously.

  “To put those in the dirty clothes hamper. I know how you hate laundry on the floor.”

  A stuttered laugh fizzed up her throat and her eyes widened in outrage. “Oh, you just wait.” Her head sagged against the bed. “I am so going to get you.”

  Will chuckled. “Bring it on, badass,” he goaded. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  Her head popped back up and a martial glint suddenly sparked in her gaze. He realized at once that he’d made a mistake. He shouldn’t have goaded her, shouldn’t have teased her. But the power was simply intoxicating. It was the first time in his life he’d ever had this sort of control over a woman and he supposed he’d let it go to his head. It was an appalling abuse of his power, Will decided, and he should be ashamed. He grinned.

  Should be…but he wasn’t.

  “Take those shorts off and we’ll see who’s the badass,” Rowan told him.

  He’d made a tactical error, but pride would not let him back down. Besides, he was perversely looking forward to this little game. He stood, shucked his trunks and kicked them aside. Her eyes dropped to his dick, she blinked slowly as though she’d had a little too much to drink, then she licked her lips.

  “Come here.” She fired the words at him like bullets, short and succinct, and he felt them lodge in his groin.

  Will joined her on the bed. She sat up, rolled him onto his back then very determinedly began to lick him in the same thought-shattering, dick-provoking way he’d licked her. His nipples, his ribs, his belly button. Then—and though he’d been expecting it—looking forward to it, even—she still managed to pull a startled hiss from him when she took him in hand.

  She worked him up and down, slowly, tenderly, grazed the sides of his stiff shaft. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she told him, her voice foggy, sultry, that near-whisper that never failed to set him off. “Thinking about holding you, licking you—” she turned the thought into action, putting the entire length of his throbbing dick into her hot mouth “—having you deep inside of me. Then out of me. Then inside me.” She worked him up and down, chasing her hand with her mouth, pulling him deeper and deeper with each steady suck.

  Will gritted his teeth against the onslaught, locked his thighs to keep from pumping himself in and out of her mouth. He lay there, listened to her greedy mouth, jerked beneath her talented tongue until he thought for sure he’d explode.

  “Enough,” Will finally growled, unable to take anymore. Besides, he had something to prove. That he could give as well as he could take. He nudged Rowan onto her back, slid down her belly, parted her curls, then fastened his mouth onto her core.

  She gasped, jerked beneath his mouth.

  Will lapped at the tiny nub hidden at the crest of her sex, then licked a trail farther down, and pushed his tongue deeply inside her, then flicked it as
fast as he could. She bucked beneath him, cried out, but Will refused to stop. He’d told her he wanted to sip up her release and he wasn’t moving out from between her legs until he’d lapped up every last drop of it. He continued to flutter his tongue inside her, then worked a finger against her clit, and pressed the pad of his thumb ever so gently against the tight rosebud of her bottom.

  It was a risky move, he knew, but one that usually paid off. Rowan momentarily stilled, evidently unsure, but then sensation took over and she went wild. She bucked frantically beneath him. Her head thrashed from side to side, arched off the bed. Every muscle in her body went rigid.

  “Oh, God,” she screamed, her voice a long, guttural wail of release.

  He felt her spasm around his tongue, laved up every bit of the sweet release. Unable to stand another minute outside of her body, Will snagged a condom from his bedside drawer, tore into the packet and quickly rolled it into place. She was still recovering when he moved back between her legs.

  Pink exertion stained her cheeks. Her breathing was heavy, labored, and she flung an arm over her forehead. “That was— I never—” She smiled at him, seemingly impressed. “There are no words.”

  Will grinned. “I’ve got a couple.”

  “Oh?”

  “Open up.” And with that he sank into her. Pulled in a satisfying breath as he filled his lungs once more. He looked down and his gaze found hers. Saw wonder, need, happiness and something else, something just beyond his understanding. Sound receded once more and his chest filled with a light, fluttery feeling he’d never experienced before. Something sharp and sweet and akin to awe.

  And in a moment of blind comprehending panic he realized what it was—he was falling in love with her. The idea momentarily paralyzed him. In love? he thought wildly. He couldn’t be in love? He’d just met her. Barely knew her. How the hell could he be in love?

  Rowan rocked suggestively beneath him, smiled up at him. Dark brown hair fanned over a white pillow, mossy-green eyes, adorable dimple. She was the picture of perfection. Flushed and lush. His.

  He returned her grin, pushed himself more deeply inside her. Ah hell, so what if he’d only known her a few days. Semantics, Will told himself. Screw it. He wanted her. Would always want her.

  “YOU CAN STAY, you know,” Will told her hours later, after bouts of sex, then rest and then more sex. His voice sounded kind of rusty, unaccustomed to making the offer, and she found herself inexplicably touched.

  But something had happened to her tonight, and she knew that if she didn’t leave and get some much-needed perspective, she’d lose her tentative grasp on reality as she knew it and she’d be lost. To what, she wasn’t quite sure yet. But the knowledge was here all the same.

  Curiously, if they’d been at her house, she suspected that she wouldn’t have minded spending the night in his arms. Would love to wake up with him.

  But being here, in this house, felt too much like a dream she’d wanted for entirely too long—one she typically avoided—and by spending the night, she was afraid she’d set herself up for something that she’d never have. Ridiculous? Probably. But self-preservation had kicked in and rationale was no match for fight-or-flight.

  She was spooked.

  She was having feelings for Will Foster that simply defied reason when one considered how long they’d known each other. She’d been utterly overjoyed when he’d pulled that little thumb trick, had come until she thought her back would break beneath the strain of release.

  But then he’d pushed into her, he’d stilled, the most curiously wondering look had come over his face…and something had happened in her chest. A light winging sensation had flitted from lung to lung, then pushed up her throat, forcing a small disbelieving laugh that had rung too much like an epiphany she didn’t dare acknowledge, at least until she was in the relative safety of her own bed.

  Will doodled a figure-eight on her upper arm, the motion at once erotic and lulling. “What do you say?”

  Rowan winced. “I’d better pass. I look out for Ida, and I really wouldn’t feel comfortable being away overnight without letting someone know.”

  That, too, was the truth. Not to mention she’d have to get in a couple of hours work. Rowan swallowed a dejected sigh. Listening to guys tug on their dongs after she’d just had this amazing, back-clawing sex was not what she wanted to do at all, but there it was. Her job. Her extra income. Her dwindling student loan debt and more assurance that she’d never have to sponge off her parents. Sometimes being a rational, practical adult truly sucked.

  Will let go a small breath, seemed to accept her excuse for what it was. “Sure. I understand.”

  “I appreciate the offer, though.” She curled closer to him, pressed a lingering kiss on his chest. “I can tell that’s not an offer you extend frequently and I’m—” Rowan struggled to find the right word “—flattered.”

  “Well, you should be,” he said, seemingly pacified. She lifted her head and watched him scowl adorably. His hair was mussed and the beginning of a nice hickey had formed beneath his collarbone. “I’ve never asked anyone to spend the night here before.”

  Rowan didn’t move. “Never?”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  She waited a beat and when he didn’t elaborate, she decided to press him.

  “Why not?”

  What made her so special? she wanted to know. Wanted him to tell her. He’d pulled the No Fishing sign down off the pond, so he couldn’t very well complain if she cast her line out for a compliment or two.

  Will hesitated, seemed to be grappling with some momentous decision. Finally, he expelled a breath, then rolled to face her. “Look, Rowan. I’m just going to lay it all out on the line here, okay?” His lips slid into a helpless smile and there was a nervous quality to that sexy baritone she’d never heard before. “It’s the only way I know how to be. I say what I mean, I mean what I say. I detest games. I hate being manipulated.”

  She nodded. Those were excellent qualities, and quite honestly, they sounded reminiscent of many of her own principles.

  “The reason that I’ve never asked anyone to spend the night here is because I’ve never trusted anyone enough to fall asleep beside them.” His matter-of-fact gaze held hers. “I’ve known you for just a few days, and I felt it with you instantly.” He reached out, slid a finger down the slope of her cheek. “I don’t know what it is about you, but… Well, you just do it for me.” His eyes were warm and sticky, drawing her to him. “I think about you all the time. I’ve been fascinated by you from the first moment I heard your voice.” A rueful laugh bubbled up his throat. “I keep a perpetual hard-on. Hell, we had sex in a friggin’ bathroom today. I’ve never had in-public sex, or phone sex. Those were firsts, I can assure you. There’s a level of intensity, of trust that I can’t explain, that I want to explore. If I’m scaring you, then I’m sorry. That’s not my intention. I just— I just want you to know the way I feel, that this is not some wild-wind fling. I want to spend more time with you, see where this goes. I want to follow where it leads, and honestly—” he shrugged lightly, offered another crooked smile “—I’ve got a good feeling about it. I also want you to stop having phone sex with other guys. I know I don’t have a right, that it sounds presumptuous and bossy.” He blew out a breath. “But there it is. I can’t help it. The very idea makes me want to put my fist through a wall.”

  Wow, Rowan thought, literally blown away. She was touched, thrilled, ecstatic and flattered all at once. Delight mushroomed in her chest. She was also surprised at his honestly. Though really she had no reason to be. Everything about their relationship had been astonishingly frank. Their racy phone conversations speedily leaped to mind. It only made sense that a certain level of comfort had been achieved early on, otherwise they would have never progressed with such alarming rapidity. And they definitely had.

  His smile slipped a fraction. “Come on, Rowan. Don’t leave me hangin’. What do you think?”

  Rowan cleared
her throat, did her best to search for the right words. Finally, she found one that would sum everything he’d said up nicely, and which once again neatly avoided the phone sex issue. She felt her lips form a tentative smile, traced his heartbreakingly handsome face with her gaze. Hope sprouted in her breast. “Ditto.”

  13

  “WELL, DORIS. What do you think so far?”

  They were T-minus three days and counting. Rowan had worked tirelessly on Doris’s garden, so much so that he’d begun to notice dark smudges beneath her eyes. Of course, he was probably partially to blame for that as well, Will thought with a small grin.

  Though she’d still not spent the entire night with him, he’d nevertheless kept her up late over the past week and a half. While he didn’t completely buy the Ida-excuse, Will knew better than to press her. Things were going too damned great and he didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. Couldn’t risk it.

  Instead, he’d adjusted—married friends had explained the merit of adjusting—and though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help but be proud of himself, because, quite frankly, adjustments of any sort seemed contrary to his nature. He made decisions, everyone else fell in line.

  Nevertheless, to be more accommodating—because he was such a sweet person and had no ulterior motive hidden in his selfish little heart—he’d left his own bed and spent several nights with her—every night that she’d asked as a matter of fact.

  To his eternal mortification, he waited with bated breath every evening to see if she’d invite him to stay. He’d learned that there was no rhyme or reason to her decision and reading her mood was pointless. She was always happy to see him, always eager to share her bed…just not always for the night.

  Her mattress wasn’t as comfortable as his, but having her sweet bottom snugged against his groin and her delightful breast in his hand while he slept more than made up for it. If Will had ever been happier, he couldn’t recall it. His gaze slid to the author of his present joy. She was across the lawn, hanging another one of her whirligig pieces, which Doris had picked out, on a newly planted weeping willow tree.