by Jo Leigh
She tossed her towel and her little bag on a plastic chair, conscious of her own body now. She was in shape. She worked at it. And right now, all those salads seemed like less of a punishment. She’d almost put on her one-piece suit. She’d known he was going to be at the pool, he’d said so at dinner, and she’d chosen the bikini, not a butt-floss postage-stamp number, but it didn’t hide much.
As she walked to the edge of the pool, there was no way he wasn’t scoping her out, top to bottom, and she didn’t mean her feet. She’d known he would. The truth of Luke Carnes was written in her skin, lodged forever in the places that were tender. What had become clear was that she was just as much a part of Luke. Even as he devoured her with his gaze, there was fear in his darkened eyes. Hope, too, but mostly fear.
She dove into the deep cool water. She stayed under, gliding to the other side of the pool. Waiting.
There it was. The wave of his entry swept over her, the gentle buffeting welcome. When she turned, one hand gripping the pool’s edge, it was to see him rise, wet hair plastered like a brown helmet. He bent back and dunked his head again, and when he stood he wore a grin so wide it made her glad to be alive.
He made his way over to her side. “This,” he said, “is also awesome.”
She chuckled. “Yes, it is.”
“Headache gone?”
Of course, he’d known. “I hadn’t eaten much before dinner.”
“I should have gotten you water.”
“The soda was fine.”
It was quiet, just crickets and the lap of water. Well, quiet for the city. There was always a distant sound of cars, but that was L.A.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
So interesting. The old Luke would have assumed it was okay between them given the fact she was at the pool. It was far more considerate and far less cocky of him to ask her. To put her comfort first.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ve spent enough time being angry. I’m glad you’re here. Glad we talked. I think we can be friends now.”
“Friends?” he said, and his forehead creased in a frown that disappeared in a flash. “That sounds great.”
“It does,” she agreed, then she pushed off the wall and let the water take her.
SHE’D FORGIVEN HIM. That was major, that was spectacular. Friendship was the best he could have hoped for. Not what he’d wanted, but that was fine. He’d adjust. He’d adjusted to hard things before, so this wasn’t going to be so bad. He’d been an idiot to think for a minute he could have more of her.
Friendship. Excellent.
Of course it was excellent, it was Sara. With her hair down, her body sleek and perfect in that stunning bikini, not hating his guts. He was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. He’d kissed her. He’d tasted her. So what if he didn’t get to do it again. They would be friends.
He pushed off the wall and caught up to her, swimming in tandem, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Until he took in a mouthful of water and had to stop or choke. Smooth.
She turned toward him, swam faster. Beauty to the rescue.
He captured her arm in the air, quickly stepped in and scooped her up by her naked waist. She blinked at him, coughed, wiped her eyes with her free hand.
Pulling her closer, he smoothed back her wet hair, wanting to see the whole of her face, needing to read her eyes, but the lights weren’t enough for that. The only things he knew for sure were that her gasps matched his own and that they had nothing to do with swimming. That his hard cock pressed against her hip was an unmistakable confession. In about one second his fate would be sealed. Sara was about to kick him in the nuts—or kiss him.
12
SHE KISSED HIM. Hard. Fast. Then she shoved him away and got out of the pool. Sara grabbed her towel and her bag from the plastic chair, then gave him a look. He was a smart guy and he’d seen the look before. Not for a long while, granted, but there were some things a person would never forget. She headed for the gate, trusting he would follow. Even though they weren’t in uniform and it was late and dark, the things she wanted to do were definitely not for public consumption.
Friends with benefits. Temporary. End date set in stone. A win/win situation.
Suddenly Luke was behind her, rushing her through the pool’s gate as if they were being chased. He came close, very close, almost stepping on her heels during the sprint to the back entrance of the motel and all the way to her room.
Her shaking fingers slid the key card into the slot, then they were inside and he had her against the door, pressing against her with the cold wet of his trunks and the hard length beneath. Her cry was swallowed by his kiss. She let go of everything except the man in the room and the need to be naked.
As his tongue explored, he stripped off her top. It plopped by the door. A freezing hand on her breast made her hiss.
His erection pulsed against the dip beside her hip bone. It felt deliciously hot right there where he pressed. “Bed,” he said, his voice as swollen as his cock.
“Wet,” she whispered, then ran her tongue over his lower lip.
His fingers, not as cold as before, traveled down her side to the crease between her torso and thigh, then underneath her bikini bottoms and inside her. “Yes. Very.”
“Not what I meant,” she said, as giddy from his slow, two-finger exploration as she was from the dance of their noses touching, how their lips brushed in a simmering tease. “Dripping here,” she whispered. “Puddles. We need towels.”
“No, no, no.” He stretched the words, curling her toes, and still she pushed his chest, forcing his fingers out, his body away. She glanced at herself in the mirrored closet, almost naked, her nipples as hard as her want. Oh, shit, she thought. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said, her gaze back on him, on his very dark green eyes, on how his nostrils flared, and why that should be so sexy. “I’m not sleeping on wet sheets.”
“One of us will have to.”
Rolling her eyes at him didn’t ruin the mood at all. “You are such a guy. I have to at least dry my hair.”
“Really? It looks so sexy dripping.”
“The sooner you get the towel, the sooner we can skip the ridiculous sexual innuendos and have the actual sex.”
“Right.” He stepped back, shook his head, spraying her face with droplets. “I’m all over it.”
Flipping on the bathroom light, she watched him, her gaze roaming, especially after he tossed her one of her bath towels, then stripped off his trunks and kicked them in the tub.
His ass. She had to take a moment. Really, it was just too much. Firm, high and pale, she moaned at the little dimples not only above but actually on the sides of his cheeks. Holy crap, he was breathtaking.
“You’re not drying your hair,” he said as he turned around.
Sara blinked. Something was different. She knew his penis. Really knew his penis. She could have drawn it freehand and they could have used it to identify his body. It had the shape she had learned intimately, but it seemed bigger. Not porn bigger, just bigger. Of course, this was only the sight portion. Taste and touch would tell the truth.
“Hair. Dripping,” he said. He glanced at her big makeup case sitting on the counter by the sink. “Uh, condoms?”
“What, you don’t have any on you?”
He looked down at his very naked body. “Not enough pockets.”
She smiled and nodded, wet cold drops landing in inconvenient places. “Second level, far right,” she said. The box of condoms was small and unopened. More a just-in-case kind of precaution than a must-have.
Luke found it, his shout one of triumph as he walked toward her. Each step caused things to move. Side to side, up and down. Mesmerizing.
He tossed the condoms onto the bed, took the towel out of her hand and moved behind her. She stood still as he dried her. Each time the towel went forward, she got a little poke in the butt or a brush of his chest on her back. God.
ITWOULDN’TBEGOOD to come from drying her hair. Not when there were s
o many things yet to do, even if it did feel amazing to brush her bare backside with the underside of his cock.
Another swipe that made him hiss, and screw it, her hair was dry enough. After running the towel down her body in what was less than a half-hearted effort, he abandoned the damn thing so he could pull her into his arms. The feel of her against him, a whole lot of skin on skin, firm little nipples on his chest, was electric. Cold spots warmed, warm places heated. As appealing as it was to stand together, they’d done that last week, in a night that would live forever in his memories, but this time there was a bed only a few steps away. The bed opened up vistas, whole remembered worlds.
He walked backward, awkward with her so tight against him, until his legs hit the mattress. It was simply a matter of tilting, then gravity did the rest.
His left arm got trapped, not that he cared, but her right arm was under his body, and that wouldn’t do. So he rolled them over until she was more or less beneath him.
Thank God she’d left one of the bedside lights on when she’d gone to the pool. Watching her, seeing the proof of her, was necessary. Sara. It was Sara, and he could taste her, rub against her. It wasn’t enough.
“Want you so much,” he said, his hands reading her textures, her curves, the mole she’d had forever, the bump from the horseback-riding thing. He’d mapped her body in his mind too many times to count during those long days hiding in caves, scared to make a sound, to breathe in case the enemy was on the next ridge. He’d watched until his eyes watered with fatigue, slept in snatches only to wake with a start ten minutes later. And he’d pictured this woman.
Sometimes from when they’d first met, more often as she’d been in college. In the absurd single bed of her dorm, lights on, lights off, it didn’t matter, because each had its own wonders.
He pulled away from a kiss, not wanting to pause, but wanting to see. Her eyebrows, the length of her lashes, the almond shape of her eyes. Good that her pupils were so large and so dark, because he’d need days, not hours, to make sure the colors hadn’t changed. “I used to think your eyes were brown,” he said, running his fingertips slowly down her temple. “They are brown.”
“They are a hundred browns,” he said. “Some there aren’t even words for.”
She smiled, letting out a breath that brushed the side of his mouth.
He used his pinkie to touch the slight indent just above her lips. “You know what this is called?”
She shook her head.
“Technically, it’s the philtrum. I call it very, very lickable.” He turned to the perfect angle, and did exactly that with the tip of his tongue. Even though the cleft wasn’t deep, it tasted like Sara. So did the little dip on the end of her nose. He toured her face with infinite patience, wanting to memorize so many things at once. The feel of her right eyebrow as he slowly traced it with his lips, so long remembered, now reawakened as if he’d never done this before. Jesus, it was…
She laughed. “Luke, it tickles.”
“Bad tickle or good tickle?”
“A bit of both,” she said, after a moment.
“I’ll stop,” he promised, but he didn’t say when. He couldn’t, although he did move on more quickly than he’d intended to the enticing shell of her ear.
That made her shiver, as he’d known it would. So sensitive, especially when he nipped the lobe, then sucked that bit between his teeth. There it was, the long low moan that made his balls tighten even as his body wondered what the hell he was waiting for.
Everything changed when her hand curled around him. Thankfully, she didn’t move it, because he was beyond ready. He’d imagined her hand there so often that having the real thing still seemed impossible. He lifted himself just enough so he could look down, see for himself that it was Sara’s hand. “Damn,” he whispered, before he met her curious gaze. Of course she didn’t understand. How could she?
Then her hand moved and his brain just stopped.
SARA KNEW HE WOULD COME if she didn’t do something drastic. One more pump, and she released him. Lifted her hand to his jaw and waited for his disappointed moan. “You’ll live,” she whispered. “Besides, I want you inside me. And I want it to last.”
Luke moaned again. It started off broken and petulant, then, amusingly, his voice rose into a happier range.
“Or, we could just continue with my hand,” she said.
“No. No, your plan is much better. Terrific plan. I just need a minute. Maybe two. With you not moving at all.”
“I’m not doing a thing,” she said, trying hard not to laugh.
“You’re breathing. Against me. With your chest.”
She did laugh then, couldn’t help it. “If you can suggest an alternative…”
He caught her in a kiss. “Oh, go ahead, breathe, touch me, lie there looking gorgeous. It’s too late.” He bucked against her, his hard cock painting a needy trail across her thigh. “I want you too much for any kind of self-control.”
Sara kissed him back, amazed that they were teasing each other already. She’d anticipated the heat. That had been sizzling since he’d arrived, but she’d thought the days of playful back and forth were gone forever. “It’s all right,” she said, wrapping her leg over his hip. “We have time.”
His brow furrowed at that and his hand on her arm tightened. “We have now,” he said, and then he kissed her again, diving into her, stealing her breath, stealing all thoughts but one.
“Please,” she whispered, as she pushed herself against him.
He reached across the bed for the box he’d tossed there earlier. He used his teeth to rip it open, then did the same for the silver packet. He came back to her in a fever, his gaze all over her face, his thighs trembling as he settled himself between her legs.
At the touch of his fingers on his cock, he hissed, his head went back and he held very still for a long moment. Moving more slowly, he rolled the rubber down.
He arched over her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her shoulders. “Sara,” he said, staring into her eyes.
She reached between them, using touch alone to find his erection, to bring him to her sex. “Please,” she said, again.
He thrust inside her.
It was everything she could do to keep her eyes open as the sensation swept her away. Nothing had ever felt like this. He fitted her perfectly, he was made for her, and she’d missed him so much.
“God,” he said, his voice cracking into a moan as he filled her completely.
Time stretched as they moved together, as they fell back into a rhythm they’d rehearsed for years. Nothing was forgotten, no kiss, no touch, not even the way he nuzzled the curve of her neck as he said her name over and over again.
When she came, he swallowed her cries, and when she could think again, she realized he’d come, too.
Everything about the moment was incredibly right. She could feel Luke all around her, the old familiar blending with the exciting new man she was learning. The sound of his quick sated breathing, the way he covered her with his body, careful not to crush her, all of it was like a balm for the wounded spirit of the girl he’d left behind. She clung to him for safety and comfort, reveling in the moment because she was no longer that lovestruck young thing. Luke wasn’t meant for love. As soon as he left her room, it would all be over. It had to be. Sara had already paid dearly for the hopeless romanticism of her youth. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
13
JOB FAIRS WERE DIFFERENT, especially the fairs that were tailored to the junior-college crowd. No speeches, just answering questions. Luke felt like a poodle at a dog show as he smiled and kept on smiling even as he was asked the same questions over and over again. Mostly by impossibly young women with shining eyes. What did he fly? Was it like the jet in Top Gun? It didn’t seem to matter that Top Gun was years old, it was the standard for civilians, hell for fighter pilots. Jeez.
He wished his head didn’t hurt from lack of sleep, that his back didn’t ache from being overly e
nthusiastic last night. He wasn’t complaining though. The last four nights he’d spent with Sara had been gifts. Mostly in her room, once in his. She was at the end of the hall. Easier to sneak out at three in the morning. Tonight he was going to have to cool it. They’d been stealing time, snatching a couple of late hours a night, and it was starting to affect them both. It would be horrible to go to sleep without making love to Sara, but he’d survive.
He shut his eyes, wondering how many aspirin he would have to take before he overdosed.
“You look like crap on a cracker.”
Luke opened his eyes to Rick Hanover’s self-satisfied grin. “Screw you, too.”
“What’s your problem? Not getting enough sleep?”
Luke tried not to react. Tritter and Hanover had asked him to go for drinks last night. He’d gone because that was the plan. Nothing suspicious, no obvious changes in behavior. Pearson and Van Linn had joined them at the bar, and even though it hadn’t been the most comfortable few hours of Luke’s life, it had been a smart move. “I only had a couple of drinks and left at midnight. Don’t know about you, but I had plenty of sleep.” Hanover grinned.
“Go away. You’re making my headache worse.”
“I will when there’s something to do that’s more distracting than pissing you off.”
Luke snorted. “Flyers. Go pass out flyers. There’s tons of them.”
“I said more distracting.”
“We’re surrounded by gorgeous co-eds. What’s wrong with you?”
“Already taken care of, my man. Got myself all signed up for a conjugal.” Hanover rubbed his hands together.
“No wonder you’re so insufferable. Go brag to someone else, would you?”
“Can’t. At least not here. You and me are the only two who’re getting any. I don’t want the others to get jealous.”
Luke froze where he stood, adrenaline spiking through his body. “What?”
Hanover gave him a puzzled shrug. “You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
