by Inara Scott
She started to laugh, but realized he was serious. Her eyes widened. “I think you can trust me.”
“Fair enough.” He dropped his palm to her breast, casually claiming it as his own. “But I reserve the right to revisit our agreement if you don’t keep up your end of the bargain.”
“Simon, are you sure…” She sucked in a breath as he leaned forward and, slowly and deliberately, licked a path across her nipple. Her back arched and she sucked in a gasp. He repeated the gesture, this time tonguing a circle around one peak while simultaneously brushing the other with his fingers. The sensation shot straight from nipples to groin, and she felt a rush of warmth between her legs.
Without thinking, she reached down to pull him closer and he stopped mid-lick. While continuing the aching path of his fingers, he said, “Jenna, I wasn’t kidding. No touching.”
She froze. Something in the dark promise of his voice sent a new wave of heat rushing through her. She’d never been particularly interested in kinky sex games, but something about Simon’s voice left her wondering. Wondering what it might be like for him to do things to her. The sort of things you read about in books but never expected to actually do.
“Lie still.”
She forced her body to relax. For endless minutes he stroked the length of her body, teasing her nipples until her hips were jerking of their own accord. Then he turned her onto her side and continued his slow torture, now massaging her buttocks and back, pausing occasionally to tweak her nipples with a soft pinch. He positioned himself apart from her, but every now and then his cock brushed against her leg or back, and she strained against it. Then, just as she was losing control of her mind and body, he returned her to her back and gently parted her legs. She moaned, unable to help the kitten-like mew from escaping her lips.
“Do you know you made that sound once, when I touched you?” Simon said, leaning forward to kiss her navel, then trace his mouth lower.
Unable to speak, she moved her head in a rough “no.” He continued the path toward her center. “You did. That sound was all I could think about for months.”
With warm, knowing fingers he teased apart her nether lips, and she jerked hard against his hand and whimpered. When his mouth found the edge of her clitoris, she thrashed against the bed, already starting to spiral into oblivion. But he refused to complete her, and every time she jerked and arched, he pulled back, touched her somewhere else, cupped her buttocks or pinched her nipple.
“So greedy,” he said, slipping a finger inside her. “So wet and greedy.”
The feeling of penetration was exactly what she needed, and she strained against him, opening her legs wider and clenching around his fingers. First one, then another. He pushed harder, filled her more deeply. She felt pressure coming from inside and out, the fullness expanding as he changed the angle of his thrusts.
The sensations were so powerful her mind seemed to separate from her body. His fingers were pressing against her, teasing the space between the cheeks of her buttocks, causing her to tighten and thrust and cry out in desperate need. He shocked her again by taking one of her hands and pulling it lower, to touch her own wetness. “Stay there,” he breathed into her ear. “You can touch, but don’t come. I’ll be right back.”
She was beyond shock, beyond self-consciousness. When he came back he was wearing a condom, and he lay down on his back, rolling her on top of him.
“Now it’s your turn,” he told her. “Ride me. Let yourself go.”
She paused for just a minute, then put aside whatever remaining inhibitions she might have had and grabbed for the head of his cock. Holding him steady, she slowly lowered herself, feeling the length of him fill her completely. He was thick and strong, and she was tight. Out of practice. She leaned forward and her breasts fell toward him. He tugged her gently to meet his mouth, then closed his lips around one nipple.
She arched, used the movement to put pressure from his body on her clit. Damn, it felt good. Underneath her, Simon breathed unsteadily, and she felt his hands tighten and clench around her hips. But true to his words, he did not move or guide her. She moved up and down, grinding against him to stimulate her clit and increase the pressure.
When the desire overwhelmed her, she dropped forward, moving fast and hard against him. His fingers tightened, and he groaned into her ear. “Come for me, Jen.”
The sensation started in her groin, but like an exploding fireball it took over the rest of her body. She was a firework of sensation, a shimmer of stars. She exploded with a scream, feeling him jerking beneath her. They came together, the pumping warmth of him only increasing the pleasure as she slumped into his arms, and let him close around her.
…
He eased his way out of the bed, making sure not to disturb her sleep. They hadn’t closed the blinds all the way and a sliver of artificial light from the street outside fell to the floor. He checked his phone, making sure to keep the glow from shining on the bed. Midnight. In the time he’d been with Jenna, thirty new emails had piled up, awaiting responses.
He reminded himself that this was his life. Work. Email. Hotel rooms, room service, and company jets.
Jenna murmured something in her sleep and rolled over. He watched her long hair settle around her face. God, she was beautiful, all curves and smooth skin, wildly passionate, but wary, hesitant to claim her own pleasure. Her life was still a mystery to him. She was still a mystery. And damn if he didn’t want to explore it.
Just be ready to leave. Don’t fall for her, Hastings.
Don’t make the same mistake you made before. You can’t feel that way about her again…
Chapter Three
The jazzy beat of her cell phone jerked Jenna from the cocoon of sleep. Groggily, she reached for the phone and answered without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Mom? What are you doing? Were you sleeping?”
The sweet sound of her six-year-old daughter Julia’s voice cleared away the fog of sleep. She rolled over to glance at the clock, astonished to find it was already eight in the morning. “Hold on, sweetheart, let me get up,” she whispered, rolling out of bed with a nervous glance at Simon’s closed eyes.
“What? Why are you whispering?” Julia’s voice, as energetic and boisterous as the rest of her, leaped from the phone. “Where are you? Are you in a meeting? Isn’t it in the morning there? Dad said we should call now before you went to work.”
One of his eyes opened, then the other. She headed for the bathroom, feeling Simon’s gaze follow her, realizing a second after she rose that she was stark naked and sore in places she didn’t realize she had muscles.
“No, honey, this is fine.” She closed the bathroom door behind her and lost herself in her daughter’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to talk to you. I miss you. When are you coming home again?”
“I’m not sure. I have to check with my boss. I’m almost done, though. I’ll be home soon.”
“That would be awesome. I have a lot I need to tell you. We had the best weekend ever.” Julia launched into a long story about their weekend camping trip.
Jenna let the waterfall of her daughter’s voice rush over her as she studied herself in the bathroom mirror. There were a series of small circular bruises on her hips where Simon had gripped her, and another little bruise on her neck.
She had a hickey.
Hell must truly have frozen over.
Julia rattled on like only a six-year-old can about a climbing wall, the swimming pool, and spending the weekend camping with their new babysitter. “We slept in a tent. In the woods. And Matt saw an elk, and Kelsey showed us how to make a fire on her little stove.”
Jenna stopped her silent examination to focus for a second on her daughter’s words. “Wait, who’s Kelsey again?”
“You know, our babysitter,” Julia said, aggrieved. “I told you that.”
“Oh, right.” Jenna paused to consider exactly what the babysitter was doing on an overnigh
t camping trip with her ex-husband and kids. “Did, um, Kelsey stay in the tent with you?”
“No, she had her own tent.”
“I see.” Jenna decided not to think much more about that, and let her daughter finish talking. Then the phone was passed to Luke and Matt, each of whom had their own version of the camping trip to share. Ten minutes later, she heard Ross bellowing in the background for the kids to get off the phone. She said goodbye and ended the call, feeling a mix of melancholy and the tiniest hint of jealousy.
Was Ross dating the babysitter?
Her ex-husband was one of the kindest, best people in the world, and she wanted nothing but the best for him. She knew he’d never understood exactly why she’d ended their marriage, and she’d always felt guilty about the hurt she’d caused him. But she’d also known for a long time that he wasn’t any more in love with her than she was with him. She had only hoped that someday he’d find someone new and make her leaving worthwhile.
Was it possible he had?
She left the bathroom a few minutes later and threw on a T-shirt. Simon was making coffee in the tiny kitchen. He wore his boxers and nothing else, and her heart skipped at the sight of him. He turned away from her to face the sink, and she couldn’t help but stare at his butt.
God, he was perfect.
“Was that your daughter?”
She nodded, momentarily struck dumb by the realization that now she’d have to come clean about what waited back home for her.
“And my son,” she said. “And my other son.”
…
He turned away to compose himself. He should have known Jenna wouldn’t have gone this long in life without forming attachments or starting a family. She wasn’t like him.
“You’ve got three kids? And a husband?” He couldn’t believe she would have slept with him if she were married. But then, he didn’t know her anymore. That was clear. He moved to pour the pot full of water into the coffee machine, keeping his voice deliberately calm.
She shook her head. “No. No husband. Divorced three years ago.”
The knot in his gut dissolved abruptly, though he hated himself for caring. Not married. At least he hadn’t misjudged her that much.
He shot a quick glance over his shoulder. She was standing by the kitchen table, her face soft in the morning light. He didn’t like the way his stomach tightened at the sight of her, so he turned away again. “How old are your kids?”
“Twelve, eight, and six.”
He did some quick math. “You got pregnant when you were twenty?”
“I got pregnant the first time when I was eighteen.”
He winced. The pieces of the puzzle fell together. The reason she hadn’t left Brooklyn, or gone to another college. She’d been pregnant. “During high school?”
She nodded, dropping her gaze to the floor. He hated the shame that rounded her shoulders. Pregnant in high school. He couldn’t imagine how difficult that must have been. “You must have been terrified.”
Her gaze flew to meet his, surprise and relief evident in her wide-eyed stare. “I was.”
“I did a lot of stupid things when I was in high school,” he said. “I was just lucky that none of them had permanent consequences.”
“We got married right after graduation. And then I lost the baby.”
His gut tightened again when she dropped her eyes. “But you stayed together?”
“We loved each other. And we’d been through so much. It was hard to imagine ourselves with anyone else.”
“So why the divorce?”
She hugged her arms around herself. “It was complicated.”
“Tell me.” He turned around and leaned against the counter. He forced himself to remain slightly aloof, though his arms itched to hold her.
She sank down into the chair next to the little dining table. “High school felt different after you left. I started hanging out with the cheerleaders and they all hung out with the football team. It seemed like everyone expected me to date a football player, so I did. We started going out junior year. He was my first, and I was infatuated with him. But over time, it became obvious we were better friends than we were lovers. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, I doubt we would have stayed together after graduation.”
He felt an unwelcomed rush of jealousy for the man who had been Jenna’s first, and then spent ten years as her husband. “Do you get along now?”
She smiled sadly. “We do. He’s a very good man. I hurt him a lot when I said I wanted a divorce. It was terrifying and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve questioned whether or not I did the right thing, but I felt like I couldn’t live my whole life not knowing what else there could be.”
“That took a lot of courage,” he said.
She gave a forced laugh, though the hint of sadness was unmistakable. “Courage and crazy are two sides of the same coin. We have three amazing kids that I knew would be devastated. But I felt like I owed Ross and myself the chance to start over.”
“I’d like to hate your husband, but he sounds like a decent guy. Would I know him?” He poured them both coffee and came to sit next to her at the table. Mother of three, hopeless romantic, married at eighteen? Yes, he could see his Jenna in that story. He could also see heartbreak in her decision, and marveled at the strength and courage her choice had required.
“His name is Ross Bencher. I don’t think you’d have met him, unless you had some classes together.”
The name wasn’t familiar, which was unsurprising if the guy had been a football player. Simon hadn’t been into sports. Hadn’t been into any group activities, really. He remembered explaining to Jenna once that he moved so much he didn’t bother to make friends anymore. It took too much effort and caused too much pain.
“But you’re friends with me,” she’d said.
“Yeah, and I have a bad feeling I know how that’s going to work out.”
They’d laughed, but he’d known, even then, that he wasn’t really kidding.
“Why did you lie to me?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
“I didn’t really lie… You asked if I had a husband and I said no.”
“And if your daughter hadn’t called this morning? Would you have told me about them?”
“I don’t know,” she said, tucking her hair back behind her ear. His gaze lingered on the delicate curve of her neck as he imagined his lips tracing the line of it. “It was fun to forget for a night.”
He leaned back in his chair, thinking about their night together. Her hesitation, nerves, and wariness. Suddenly, he understood, and was glad. That other man might have been her first, but he had made her scream. “I guess I understand that. Besides, we didn’t really have a lot of time to catch up last night.” He grinned. “You should be ashamed of yourself coming on to me that way.”
She smiled slowly, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Yeah, I’m an animal.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “You’re more of one than you think. And I can’t believe you didn’t know it.”
He should have left it there. One night was all he should have had with her. But what came next was impossible to stop. “I’m here for a couple more weeks. What about you?”
“Not sure. We’re doing some final testing today, and then I’ll have an idea. Could just be a week.”
“We can do a lot in a week.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “We can, can’t we?”
Their eyes met and he realized she did understand, perhaps even agreed. The thought was both heartbreaking and liberating.
She doesn’t expect or want more from you. And that’s a good thing, man. A good thing.
“Want to take a shower?” he asked, ready to change the subject.
She wrinkled her forehead in surprise. “Well, sure. But I can wait until you’re done.”
He laughed. “You’ve got a lot to learn, little Jenna. I meant together.”
Color suffused her face. “Oh! You mean…you and I…”
He sto
od and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve got seventeen years of fantasies to satisfy, and only a few days to do it.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just get in the shower,” he said. Relief drowned out the stab of regret he felt when she seemed so willing to accept the limitation he had placed on them. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”
Chapter Four
Throughout the rest of the day, Jenna dropped her cell phone three times, walked into two walls, and tripped on the edge of a carpet going into and out of a conference room. To say she was distracted was putting it mildly. When she wasn’t replaying every moment of their extended shower together, she was thinking about his mouth on hers, and when she wasn’t thinking about that she was imagining herself straddling him and his soft whispers of encouragement. Then he started to text her, and the messages left her face burning and her body tingling.
Can’t stop thinking about you.
Going out for dinner tonight. Don’t bother with the underwear.
Ever tried Ben Wa balls? We are in China, after all.
Simultaneously horrified and delighted, she hid in a bathroom stall to text him back.
I can’t believe you wrote that! What if someone saw?
Then they’ll be picturing you naked. Like me.
The afternoon meetings dragged by in an agony of slowness. Finally, she took a taxi back to her hotel. There, she picked through her closet, throwing clothes on the bed, one after another, in growing desperation.
Black knee-length skirt? Boring as hell. Reject.
Navy suit with gold buttons? What possessed her to bring that? Reject.
Beige pants? If she wanted to win the boring award, choose. Otherwise: reject.
She had almost decided to hide in the closet rather than face Simon in yet another dreadful outfit when she pulled out the last article from the closet. It was a silky tunic in soft turquoise and emerald green that she normally wore over a pair of pants. But maybe she could pull it off as a minidress?
