by Gina Gordon
She’d wanted to try something new today, and they had. But this had been one long day of athletic foreplay that had gone on long enough.
“I know another way you can use up that energy.” He lifted one eyebrow in question, hoping his innuendo was heard loud and clear.
It never took Penn long to catch his drift. Her mind was just as much in the gutter as his.
“I wonder what that could be?” She bit her bottom lip, a move that drove him insane. He wanted that lip between his teeth. Gliding over his cock.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, letting his thumb graze over it. “I can show you, but there’s just one more challenge you have to complete before I do.”
She cocked her head, a grin spreading across her lips.
“Race you to the beach?”
She gasped, and without hesitation, smashed both hands down on the surface of the water. The splash hit him in the eye, and it was the perfect distraction. She was already bolting for the shore.
“Cheater,” he yelled after her.
His chest swelled. And so did his cock.
Penn had been the first woman who had touched a part of him other than what was hidden in his pants. He wanted to shake his fist at the sky every time he thought about it. He couldn’t see where things could go with Penn.
This fling was just that. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to spend the rest of the week wearing out his dick.
Chapter Nine
Penn didn’t think anything could feel as good as Cole’s hands on her body. But she’d been wrong. She’d fallen off that surfboard fifty times, at least, and she’d survived. She’d humiliated herself in front of Cole, and he hadn’t cared one bit.
The elevator dinged on her hotel room floor, and she peeked out, making sure the coast was clear.
When she looked over her shoulder and smiled, he grabbed her hand and tugged them down the hallway to her room. She struggled to keep up with his stride and hold on to his hand. They were both covered in sand from where they’d both fallen to their knees on the shore.
After she’d gotten there first.
She rummaged in her bag for the key and slipped it into the slot. She stepped over the threshold, turning to face him, and waited.
He took one more look both ways down the hall, and then he was on her, kicking the door closed behind them.
Within seconds, he was ushering her toward the bathroom where he turned on the shower faucet, testing the water temperature.
When he turned, his eyes took in every inch of her body. “You’re all dirty.” His words came out on a groan, like he was trying to stifle his need for her.
He stalked toward her and placed his hand on her cheek.
She looked up deep into his eyes. He always had an edge of fear, of hesitation in his eyes when he looked at her. And she was happy for that, because she feared the moment he let down his guard completely, she might never be able to let him go.
“Let me take care of you.”
She nodded. Smiled. He turned her to face the mirror above the sink.
Tenderness. Vulnerability.
Two words not in her vocabulary when it came to Cole Murphy. But right now, he was a completely different person than he’d ever been with her before.
He lifted the sundress off her body, which had been a bitch to squeeze back into when it was soaking wet. It fell with a wet thud to the floor. Then he pulled down the bottoms of the bikini and let them settle around her ankles.
He wanted to take care of her. To please her. She could just sit back and let him do it. She’d never allowed a man to do that before. She was always so concerned with earning things on her own that she never asked for help. Never allowed anyone to give her anything, even if it was something she craved, like intimacy.
Next, he reached up to loosen the string at her back. The bikini top fell away, leaving her breasts partially exposed. His gentle hands moved up her rib cage, his fingers fluttering over her tattoo. He traced up to her shoulders, the sand scratchy under his touch. When he reached her neck, he swept away her hair and loosened the knot at her nape. He didn’t push it off. He let the top slide down her body at its own pace.
He looked up and their eyes met in the mirror. “I want to be gentle with you,” he whispered.
She gasped when he dipped his head and his nose grazed the skin at her shoulder. Then her neck. Then the spot behind her ear. She was too sandy for his lips to make contact, but she craved the feel of them on her.
“But I don’t think I can.”
She turned in his arms, running her hands through the wet strands of his hair. “Just make me feel good. However you want.”
If he kept this up, she’d never be able to go back to the way things were between them. Which scared the hell out of her. Not going back meant risking a career she’d worked hard to build on her own merit. If the people around her, especially her family, suspected her success was based on favors and not hard-earned expertise, not only would she have failed at earning their respect, but it would limit her authority and effectiveness in her day-to-day work.
She would not have her many accomplishments with the Madewood family tainted with rumors of their affair.
She’d spent the last three years locking away her heart, trying her best to keep it from slipping into the equation of their relationship. But if he kept this up, if he continued to give her everything she’d thought he wasn’t capable of, she was going to have a hard time walking away from him.
He guided her to the shower. The hot water had steamed up the glass walls. She rested her hand on his shoulder when she stepped over the sill and under the warm spray. It felt good to rinse away the sand, but so did the warm glow that enveloped her just being near him.
Her head fell back, and she let the spray wash over her. He stepped in beside her, still wearing his board shorts. But she didn’t need them gone to know what beauty hid beneath them—the long, thick pleasure that awaited her. All she had to do was reach out and grab it.
But she didn’t. He seemed to have another agenda. So, she’d let him carry it out.
His big hands found her hips and grasped them with the strength of a desperate man. They brushed over her skin, over her arms and stomach, her back and shoulders. He bent and wiped away the sand on the backs of her thighs and between her legs. Her breath hitched with every swipe of his hand. But with the first touch to her folds, she tightened, her stomach clenching with desire. Her legs clamped together, preventing his hand from moving on.
She watched him through the droplets of water that had accumulated on her eyelashes. A tiny smile curved his lips. But he didn’t give in to her. He pulled his hand out and continued on, ensuring her skin was free of every grain of sand.
He squeezed shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, then lathered her hair, letting the white foam cover her head. He used his fingertips to massage her scalp from her hairline to the nape of her neck. She let out a tiny moan when he pushed his soapy thumbs against either side of her spine.
“Mmm. Maybe instead of a chef you should have been a hair stylist.”
His voice rumbled in her ear. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever contemplate a career change.”
When he was satisfied every strand had been scrubbed, he rinsed it clean, cradling her head under the steady spray.
Next, he reached for the bar of soap but stopped abruptly, changing course to retrieve her bottle of body wash. He examined it.
“You can use the loofah.” She pointed to where the pink poof hung on the faucet.
“I was wondering what that thing was for.”
She chuckled.
He squirted way too much gel onto the loofah, then took the same care with her body as he had with her hair. Swiping it in all the right places, every crevice, every sweet spot that kept her heart racing and her breath quick.
“I’ve never had anyone bathe me before,” she whispered. “I’m going to be the cleanest girl on the island.”
&nbs
p; He gently turned her body under the water, rinsing away the soap, then pressed a soft kiss to her abdomen. It rippled under his light touch. She reached out and tugged him to her, but he slid away from her grip and straightened until his body was hovering just a shadow away from touching hers.
He whispered, “I like you dirty.” And then he kissed her.
His words zinged right to her pelvis, tightening the walls of her sex. Four simple words that meant more to her than any piece of bling or pound of chocolate. He was getting good at verbalizing his thoughts.
She snaked her hands up his chest and clasped them behind his neck. One of his hands traveled down to her thigh and lifted her leg. The contact with the rough fabric of his shorts scraped against her clit, and she moaned, arching backward, pulling him closer and harder into her as they kissed.
Their lips moved in a heated rhythm. It had only been minutes since their last kiss, but she was struck with the same intensity, the same overwhelming heat, as if it were their very first time kissing.
His hand on her thigh moved to the center of her body and pressed against her core.
She let her head fall back, panting against his face, exposing her throat. He closed his mouth over the sensitive skin, sucking and licking while she whimpered her appreciation.
“Mmm, the body wash made your skin smell like coconut,” he whispered against her neck. “I should probably taste test other areas.”
She moaned again and brought her head up. Anticipation swelled within her.
“Just to make sure you’re clean…everywhere.”
Gripping the waist of his shorts, she pulled him closer and devoured his lips with an even hungrier kiss. With a need on an entirely different level than they’d experienced so far.
Pulling away, she gathered her thoughts and senses. “Then what are you waiting for?” she murmured.
He moved her hands aside and let his shorts fall to the tile below. His cock pointed toward her, hard and oh so beautiful.
He grabbed her around the hips and pushed her against the shower wall. She perched her bottom on the narrow tiled seat.
At this level she had a perfect view of his cock. It throbbed, pulsed. He needed release. But before she had a chance to touch him, he pushed her reaching hand away and cupped her breasts. He squeezed and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
“Oh!” she cried, the pleasure-pain streaking through her whole body.
His hands moved lower, his calloused fingers seeking the place she most needed him. Ached for him. His thumb grazed over her clit and her body jerked.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his thumbs to the top of her mound, parting her folds to expose the tiny bundle of nerves. His head dipped, and he licked her, a long swipe of his tongue flat against her eager flesh. Then he licked again. And again. And again. Each time, her body burned, throbbed, pulsed with sensation.
Fuck, he was so damn good at this. He’d managed to get her hovering at the peak of release within a minute. And for as much as she wanted to languish in the pleasure he was giving her, she wanted to come more.
She looked down and their eyes met. The sexiest sight in the world—Cole’s hot mouth latched on to her, licking her folds without even coming up for air. But then she noticed his arm. It jerked back and forth under her legs.
“Are you jerking off?” she asked, excitement zinging through her like an electric shock.
He halted, glancing up at her.
Why did he stop? It was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.
“Don’t stop. Any of it.” Her back arched, but she righted herself, lowering her eyes just as he returned to stroking, slowly.
She’d always considered herself sexually experienced. Always the aggressor. Always taking her pleasure into her own hands. But being with Cole was opening up a brand new world of sexual possibility. Who would have thought she’d almost orgasm just from watching him jerk off?
When their eyes met, he grunted, his lips and teeth circled, relentless against her clit. “You like watching?” he asked, between licks.
Her entire body contracted, tensing to brace herself against his onslaught of pleasure.
“Watching me stroke my cock turns you on?”
“Fu-uck, Cole.” She nodded vigorously, letting out a whimper when he fluttered his tongue against her clit. “It’s so damn hot.”
In a weird way, they were the perfect sexual match. Drawing Cole out of his shyness, helping him find his way in the bedroom, had taught Penn that she enjoyed giving in, submitting, just as much as she’d enjoyed taking control.
All Cole had needed was a little coaxing to come out of his shell. And damn if he wasn’t a quick learner.
She pushed back against the tile, spread her legs wider, and fisted her hands over the ledge. Watching him pleasure himself. “So close…”
He moaned and mumbled against her sex, “Come for me, Penn. Come in my mouth.”
She was mesmerized by the hand that jerked his cock and the two fingers thrusting in and out of her, the tongue circling between her folds. By the beat of the slick water that hit her breasts and stomach. By the almost stifling fog and heat that scorched her skin.
She detonated, her body tightening, quivering, convulsing to the rhythm of his fingers and tongue.
She heard him grunt his release. His mouth tightening against her mound but still licking.
The pounding water against the tile was the only sound heard above their erratic breathing.
Cole was the first to surface, standing and pulling her up against him. His hands smoothed away the wet strands of her hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks. He smiled down at her and pressed his lips to hers in such a gentle gesture that it brought tears to her eyes.
Then he returned to washing off her body. When they were both clean and had dried off, he carried her out, settled her on the bed, then wrapped her up in the sheet.
“Have a little rest first, but then I have plans for us.”
She nodded.
He left the room, the lower half of his body wrapped in a white towel. Whoever decided that hotel towels should be universally white was brilliant…and obviously a woman, because the sight of Cole’s tanned skin against the fluffy white was sexy as hell.
She’d thought they were friends a few days ago. But now, after he’d given her so many orgasms she’d lost count, she had no idea what they were. And that was the whole problem.
She’d never be able to justify to others, even to herself, why she’d dismissed her principles for a good lay. Besides, even if she did want to see where things could go between them, there was no way in hell Cole would be on board. He was too focused, too intent on atoning for a childhood that was still a complete mystery, to ever take this seriously.
Chapter Ten
Cole’s thumb shook as it hovered over the green telephone icon on his cell phone. It had been there for almost five minutes as he’d contemplated calling the one female in this world who could give him the push he needed. Hell, the one person in the world.
He hadn’t really realized what he’d done in the shower until it was over. He’d jerked himself off.
In front of her.
He knew it was normal, that there was nothing wrong with dirty talk and all those things he’d always hesitated over. But being the son of a prostitute meant baggage. Things he didn’t want to deal with, that he’d rather just close the door on. And if he didn’t tell Penn about his past, he wouldn’t have to deal with it.
But for the first time in his adult life, he didn’t want to feel unworthy of a woman like Penn. Didn’t want to be unworthy.
He was freer with her, and he couldn’t help chasing that feeling.
He’d thought he’d gone into this week with his eyes wide open. Foolish. No matter how prepared he was to maintain his distance, maintain some kind of barrier so that they could exist professionally when they returned home, it had been futile.
With a shake of his head and a deep breath, h
e hit send.
Veronica’s familiar voice answered on the second ring. “If it isn’t Mr. Hawaii.”
He laughed. “Don’t be jealous that I’m in a tropical paradise, and you can’t get your pregnant belly onto a plane.”
Veronica Whitfield was one of his oldest friends, and soon-to-be sister-in-law.
“You’re so right,” she moaned in defeat. “I’m frickin’ huge. Having four chefs in the family isn’t helping matters.”
Only one more month until the first Madewood baby would arrive, and Veronica had taken the “eating for two” mandate literally. The woman was always starving these days, grazing on anything within reach. It was endearing and definitely a welcome characteristic, since her husband and his brothers loved to please people with their food.
He laughed. “How are you feeling?”
It took her a minute to answer. “I’m feeling all right. A little crampy, but my doctor tells me it’s normal Braxton Hicks contractions. Personally, I think it’s because I eat too much.”
He chuckled with her. “Is Finn taking good care of you? I hope you’re not working too hard.”
The questions were just flying out of his month. Mostly out of nervousness. Although, being away from home for the last few days, he was sure he’d missed a lot.
“No, no…hey”—she perked up—“how’s Hawaii? Is it beautiful? One day I’ll make it there.”
He started to answer, but she interrupted him. “Wait. What’s going on, Cole?” He heard a clang, probably a spoon hitting the side of a bowl. “You never call just to shoot the shit. It’s always with a purpose.”
She was right. She knew him too well. Which was one of the reasons she had been on the top of his list of people to call. He could have called Finn. But this time, he needed a woman’s opinion.
He was feeling things he’d never thought he’d feel. And he was confused as hell. Even thinking about making things with Penn more than a fling was a disaster waiting to happen. And what happened when they went public? Too much attention meant too many people wanting to know more about him. He couldn’t risk his past being exposed. He couldn’t risk her finding out his first experience with sex had been hearing his mother with her tricks.
