by Maggie Wells
He kissed her. It started as a simple covering of her mouth with his but soon melted into temptation. They fit together so well. His lips. Hers. Their teeth touched once, but rather than jarring, the collision sent a bolt of lightning zipping through his body. Her tongue was velvet soft but strong and every bit as sly as the woman in his arms. Christ, he wanted to kiss her crazy and keep right on kissing her until he’d tasted every flavor of her. Like one of those desperation-fueled teenage make-out sessions that left a guy aching and antsy, willing to promise the moon and the stars for one glimpse of the heaven between her legs.
He let his lips cling to hers as he tried to find the power to extricate himself. If he didn’t take care of some business, things would get messy. And that wouldn’t be good, because when things got messy, Millie went into fixer mode. Ty didn’t want her to start spinning what happened between them. He liked her right where she was.
Still, the condom situation had to be handled. With a grumble of frustration, he broke the kiss. “Up.”
Millie looked down at him, lingering hunger glowing in her eyes. “Hmm?”
Lord, he wanted to snap a picture. Her riotous hair was even more tousled than usual. Her skin flushed a pearly pink. She looked sleepy, sated, and yet, stirred. And he’d been the one to wreck her. Pride gave him the strength he needed to disengage. If he’d made her go boneless once, he could certainly do it again. And better. Practice led to perfection.
He slid a hand between them to hold the base of the condom, then gave her bottom a playful tap. “Up. I need to get rid of this thing.”
Heaving a put-upon sigh, Millie rose up on her knees. They both groaned when his dick slipped out of her. She swung her leg over and fell back onto the bed with a huff.
Flashing her a reassuring smile, he leaned down to plant a firm kiss on her mouth, then rolled to the edge of the bed. Pausing only long enough to free his feet from his shoes and his ankles from the fabric binding them, he strode toward the adjoining bath. “Be right back.”
Disposing of the condom took about thirty seconds. He chanced another few seconds checking his reflection in the mirror and making sure he had no reason to suck in his stomach. His usual regimen didn’t include six weeks of steak, scotch, and golf, but not too much damage had been done. Other than a farmer’s tan.
Shrugging, he turned away from the vanity. He wanted to get back before Millie’s mind started to whir and click. When he opened the door, he regretted taking those precious minutes to spruce up. He was too late.
Millie glanced up as she tugged the hem of her skirt into place, and his heart flipped over in his chest. She still wore only the bra on top but held a crumpled wad of fabric in one hand. On closer inspection, he concluded they were her panties. Panic morphed into determination.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
She looked him square in the eye, then arched one brow. “Hoping to avoid awkward conversation?”
He took the panties from her hand and tossed them over his shoulder. “Fine. We won’t talk.”
Millie laughed, then gave her head a rueful shake. “Listen, I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I definitely look forward to a rematch, but neither of us are kids. I don’t need you to cuddle me and make pretty promises you can’t keep, Ty. Let’s not make this more than what it is.”
Her tough talk coupled with the challenging set of her jaw both amused and annoyed him. Winding an arm around her waist, he hauled her up against him. “What if I need you to cuddle me? What if I’m the one who wants pretty promises?”
She tipped her head back. The expression in her eyes was flat and serious. “I don’t make promises.” She gave his arm a consoling pat. The caress was a clear signal for him to release her, but he chose to ignore the cue. If she truly wanted him to let her go, she was going to have to use her words. “I’m also not very cuddly.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge?”
She smiled and leaned in enough to press a conciliatory kiss to the base of his throat. “We can plan a sleepover another time. A girl likes to pack her toothbrush and PJs, you know.”
“You don’t need any PJs.” He raked his fingers through her hair, marveling at the extraordinary color and wondering how the hell some women knew exactly what to do to make them unforgettable. “Stay, Millie. I’ll unpack my suitcase and keep you happy.”
“Sounds suspiciously like a pretty promise to me. Besides, I’m scheduled to get ten in before work tomorrow, and I don’t have my gear.”
“Ten?”
“Miles. I’m doing a half marathon next month. I’m in training, Coach.”
She bit her lip as she placed her hands on his chest and made a show of trying to push away, but they both knew she didn’t want to go. She wanted to be convinced.
“I saw your shoes in that suitcase you carry around. Stay, and I’ll give you a complimentary membership to the home gym downstairs. I’ll even loan you a T-shirt.” Her smirk telegraphed her intention to shoot him down, so he went in for the kill. “I’ll throw in hot tub time and breakfast at no additional fee.”
The tips of her ears flushed pink. She ducked her head, but the curve of her cheek gave her away. He almost had her. All he had to do was sink the last couple of shots, and victory would be his.
Lowering his head, he pitched his voice low and soft. “Want me to tell you what all’s included in hot tub time?”
She trailed the tip of one nail through his chest hair. “I was more concerned about the breakfast menu.”
Ty threw his head back and laughed, but he didn’t let his amusement get in the way of his ultimate goal. Sliding his hand up her back, he found the clasp of her bra.
Millie gasped, her eyes widening with surprise, then frank admiration as the elastic band opened. “Wow. You’re good.”
“When I was in junior high, my friend Mike stole one of his sister’s bras so we could practice.” He let his own smile spread as he drew the straps down her arms. “I can tell you, you look much prettier in yours than he did.”
She barked a laugh and let the bra fall to their feet. “I’d be willing to wager you haven’t seen a pair as small as mine since his.”
Her cupped one subtle mound. She barely filled the palm of his hand, but size didn’t matter one bit. He’d touched a lot of boobs since those days he and Mike spent mastering the hook and eye, and every time, the soft curve of a woman’s breast was a fresh wonder to him. Millie wouldn’t believe him if he said as much, so he didn’t bother with anything more than the unvarnished truth. “I think you’re beautiful.”
To prove he meant what he said, he folded his body nearly in half and took the tightly furled nipple into his mouth. Millie moaned and clutched at his head, arching her back and pressing into him in silent command, an order he was more than happy to obey. He sucked deep, relishing her soft gasp. Her hips rolled, instinctively seeking him out. Cursing their height difference, he released her with a loud pop, then staggered back a step.
“Take your skirt off. Stay awhile.”
Her eyes locked on his as she withdrew another couple of steps, granting him full view of her as she drew the zipper down over her hip again. A shove and a shimmy later, the skirt lay puddled around her feet.
“On the bed,” he ordered.
Her eyebrows popped up, and she hesitated a beat. He countered with a blank stare, hoping he could convince her he was willing to wait all night for her compliance, but playing it cool was next to impossible when his dick was hard and practically dancing with joy at the prospect of another go with her. Her gaze dropped to his crotch, and her mouth curled into a knowing smile.
“Impressive recovery time, Coach.”
Ty didn’t dare admit he was impressed with himself. Clutching this scrap of pride, he shrugged. “I’m highly motivated.”
Millie backed up until her thighs hit the edge of the mat
tress. Without breaking eye contact, she sat down, hooked a heel on the rail, then pushed back until she lay stretched out atop his comforter in all her cream and pink glory, her hands resting on the pillows above her head. “Like this?” she asked in a throaty whisper.
“Just like that.” Unwilling to be sidetracked again, he held up one finger in a stern motion for her to stay put. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He booked out the door and down the hall, her laughter chasing him as he hurtled down the stairs bare-assed naked. He nearly tore the door to the garage off its hinges in his haste. His foot barely skimmed the cool concrete step. His left shinbone sang out in protest when he hit the concrete floor at full stride. The right joined the chorus when he drew to an abrupt halt.
The overhead door was wide open, and Mrs. Westlake’s Yorkshire terrier was taking a leak in his flower bed. More specifically, on the Wolcott Warrior garden gnome Mari had won in some booster club auction. And he was naked. Stark naked. For a few endless seconds, he and his neighbor across the street, Mrs. Westlake, stared at one another, frozen in shock.
The thought clicked, and he lunged for the button to lower the door. Then he crouched behind his car, taking what cover he could get as the damn thing lowered at a snail’s pace. Squeezing his eyes shut, he did his level best to pretend what had happened hadn’t happened, and by the time the door touched the sealed concrete floor, he might have convinced himself if he hadn’t heard Mrs. Westlake call out a mocking “Go Tigers!” through the paneled steel.
Ty narrowed his eyes at the door as he rose. He’d seen the orange-and-blue logo of Wolcott’s in-state rivals on his neighbor’s car, but he hadn’t realized the Westlakes were rabid fans. Nor had he suspected their overgrown guinea pig of trashing his landscaping. Now he knew better.
Glancing down at his nearly deflated dick, he hoped the nosy neighbor had gotten a good eyeful of him at his best. He wanted her to remember this moment well, because as of two minutes ago, there was no team Ty was more devoted to defeating than Mrs. Westlake’s beloved freaking Tigers.
He moved to the driver’s door and reached in to press the button to release the latch on the trunk. Between his luggage and the new set of Ping golf clubs he’d treated himself to as a divorce present, the compartment was cram-packed. But the last thing Ty wanted to do was haul his bags into the house like he was the bellman at a nudist resort. Unzipping his suitcase, he groped inside until he felt his shaving kit and yanked the bag free.
Tucking the small bag under his arm, he slammed the trunk lid, tossed one more scowl in the direction of the garage door, and stomped back into the house. He was still grumbling under his breath when he walked into the great room to find Millie perched on the edge of the red suede sofa. Every bit as naked as he was.
“Wha—”
“I heard the garage door and a dog barking.” She gave him a slow once-over, and Ty had to resist the urge to cover his junk with his toiletry bag. “Tell me you hit the button before you made your mad dash.”
He paused for a second, trying to gather what dignity a naked man with a semisoftie could before answering. “Let’s say the show was more impressive when Mrs. Westlake caught the opening act.”
Her eyes crinkled, and she covered her mouth with her hand, but the preventative measures came too late. Laughter flowed out around the edges of her fingers like hot lava, deep and rich and terrifyingly beautiful. He moved toward her, drawn by the siren song of those husky chuckles. The shaving kit hit the floor near her feet with a dull thud.
Her wrist looked so delicate and fine. Half-scared he’d crush her with his big, clumsy hands, he gently drew her hand away, allowing the full-bodied joy of her laugh to wash over him unimpeded. The mortification he’d been feeling drifted away as he drew her hand to his mouth. Hungry for the taste of her skin, he pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to the center of her palm. Triumph and remorse wrestled in his chest when her laughter faded into a breathy sigh. Her bright eyes fixed on him. He felt her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips.
“Ty—”
His life was a mess. He was freshly divorced, publicly humiliated, and facing a make-or-break season in terms of his career. Shit, he’d barely undressed enough to make love to the woman he’d been lusting over for longer than he’d care to admit, but he managed to give his neighbor a flash of full-frontal. If that didn’t prove some kind of talent for getting things ass-backward, he didn’t know what would. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty. He wasn’t ready for the night to end.
“Lie back.”
“What?”
“You look like some kind of surrealistic porn star on that couch.”
She blinked like an owl. “Is that a compliment?”
“God yes.” He took her hand, pressed her palm to his chest, then slowly slid it southward. The sight of her waiting for him had managed to erase the lingering effects of getting caught flagranting his delictos in front of Mrs. Westlake. He inhaled deeply through his nose as he wrapped her hand around his reviving erection. “You look so pretty when you get all flushed and flustered.”
She gave his cock a firm squeeze, then stroked him teasingly. “Who’s flustered?”
“Lie back.”
Millie let her hand fall away. A feline smile curved her mouth as she spared the oversized sofa a glance. “Here? You want me to lie back here?” She was teasing, but the underlying challenge was serious. She ran her hand over the subtle nap of the fabric. “You want to defile this pretty red couch?”
Ty thought back to all the times Mari had thrown a damn conniption over him sipping a beer while on the stupid sofa and let his smile spread. “Oh yeah.”
Without another word, Millie pressed into her hands and scooted back until she was perfectly centered. Smiling her smug smile, she lifted her hands over her head as she’d done on his bed, her red-raspberry nipples hard and reaching for the sky. She reclined, arranging her legs to accord the scene a tantalizing hint of modesty. “Like this?”
“Perfect.”
And she was. Distracted by the mere sight of her laid out for his taking, he sat down on the edge of the sofa near her hip.
Surrealistic porn star.
He wanted to kick himself for ever thinking the words, much less saying them out loud. The curve of her belly was a work of art. Soft. Utterly feminine. Welcoming.
Everything about the two of them being together rang true for him. Natural. Sure, the hair color wasn’t something a person saw out in the wild, but it suited her. She didn’t have the body of a twenty-year-old, but her curves and angles had been engineered by God and hard work. He loved the long, lean muscles of her legs. Those runner’s legs. Wanted to feel them wrapped tight around his hips.
“Did you want me to pose for you?” she asked.
The question shook him from his musings. Chuckling at himself more than her bold prompting, he gave his head a rueful shake and reached down to reclaim the leather toiletry kit. “I thought I’d come home, clean up, maybe cook some dinner for you,” he said as he unzipped the case. “But the minute I hit town, I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”
“You cook?”
“I like to eat, so yeah, I cook,” he countered.
She let out a low, sultry moan as she rubbed the top of her shin with the sole of her other foot. “Stop, or I’ll be tempted to keep you on a permanent basis.”
Ty paused, his gaze zooming in on her face as he freed the box of condoms from the bag. “Would keeping me be a bad thing?”
“You know I’m a go-with-the-flow girl,” she said in a husky tease.
This time, he had no hope of holding back his snort of disbelief. “Bull. You’re the ultimate control freak.”
She raised those perfectly shaped eyebrows and eyed him with unconcealed impatience. “Yes, well, I was giving you a shot. Don’t make me put you on your back again.”
Tearing into the box, he fixed her with his sternest stare. “As much as I enjoyed letting you…” He yanked a string of rubbers from the box. “It’s my turn.”
Chapter 10
She wished she had the strength to pretend she didn’t want him. Not wanting him would be safer. Easier. After a lifetime spent cleaning up other people’s messes, the last thing she wanted was complications in her own private life. And this man was the most magnificent complication that ever existed.
Millie let her eyelids drift shut as Ty wrapped one of those deliciously enormous hands around her ankle. She looked to see if his fingertips overlapped, but she already knew they would. She’d been memorizing bits and pieces of Ty Ransom since the day they’d met. His big hands topped her list of things she liked about him.
Like a squirrel gathering nuts, she oh-so-casually picked up a hint here and a factoid there, then stashed them away in her private hidey-hole. The man was a study in contrasts. Strong but unfailingly gentle. Large but born with a grace nonathletes could never emulate. She could stare at him all day. Would think about him night after night. And tonight…this night would live on in fantasy for years to come.
The second he’d walked into the bar to claim her, she’d started taking a greedy inventory of their time together. She’d gathered every tidbit she could. The deep furrow between his brows. His freakishly long legs. Every bit of his Stretch Armstrong body. Then she noticed the tan lines. He had the faint lines of a golfer’s tan on his arms and legs. She was a fairly uniform pasty pale from top to bottom, but Ty was a veritable Pantone study in browns. The knowledge that he’d earned those tan lines while freeing himself to be with her made every shade of him even more irresistible. He ran his hand up her leg, his fingers loosening to fit the curve of her calf, his palm hot along her shinbone. Thank God she’d shaved her legs.
“Millie, look at me.”
He spoke so softly she had no choice but to obey. With superhuman effort, she opened her eyes and waited for his handsome face to swim into focus. Almost immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The way he looked at her. So intent. So absorbed. His unabashed desire for her was almost too much to bear. Not when she had so little to offer him.
