by P. J. Mellor
“You mean have sex with me,” she corrected, hating how prim her voice sounded.
“No.” He grinned down at her. “That would be fucking you. Hell, yes, I want to do that!” He flipped the switch, firing up the jets along the sides of the tub, and placed her bottom in front of one.
She gasped at the sensation of warm water fluttering her swollen labia. In all, it wasn’t unpleasant.
He leaned to nip her still engorged nipples, then licked each distended tip.
He moved in closer and fondled her breasts while the jet still worked its magic, then trailed kisses across her face before settling on her eager mouth with a soul-deep kiss.
It went on forever, but not long enough. He broke the kiss and leaned back, his hands never pausing. “You’re so damn responsive,” he growled, nibbling at her lower lip.
“Only with you,” she assured him, then gasped when his fingers entered her.
“You swear?”
For some reason, he seemed to need reassurance. His fingers were doing such magical things, it took a second to form a coherent sentence. She nodded. “Yes, absolutely positive. Alex, I’ve done things with you, felt things with you, that I’ve never done or felt with another man. Ever.”
He made a gurgling half growl deep in his throat and pulled her to him. As soon as they were aligned, he plunged into her.
She would have liked to continue their conversation, but hormones took over, and within seconds she was as wild for him as he was for her.
Before it was over, he took her in the tub, the shower, against the wall of the bathroom, against the glass door of the bedroom and again on the balcony, culminating on the upholstered chair he’d used during their mutual lap dance that morning.
Sated, they slumped together on the chair, breathing ragged, skin sweat-slicked.
“We need another bath,” she finally panted.
Alex groaned. “I don’t know if I could live through another bath with you right now.”
“How about a shower?”
He groaned again, burying his face against her breasts. Evidently he wasn’t as far gone as he’d have her believe, since she felt his tongue lick the tip of her breast.
Her hand felt limp and barely attached to her arm when she tried to swat him away from her breast. “Maybe we should shower separately.”
“No way in hell are you getting in that sexy shower stall alone, darlin’,” he said. “Just give me a minute to gather my strength.”
After a moment, he stood, holding her high in his arms, and strode to the shower. Within moments of feeling his soapy hands all over her, the arousal she’d thought was spent revived.
“I planned to keep my hands,” he glanced down at his erection, “as well as other body parts, to myself.”
She closed her soapy hand around his hardness and he groaned.
“What is it about you?” he asked, drawing her close to his arousal. “All I have to do is look at you to get turned on.” He nuzzled her neck. “All I want to do is get naked and fuck you.”
She pushed him toward the seat in the corner. As soon as he sat, she climbed onto his lap and sighed at the feel of his turgid sex impaling her. “Be my guest,” she said, lifting her breast to his mouth.
The feel of his sex surging into her in time with the deep draws of his mouth on her breast brought her to an earth-shattering orgasm in record time.
Just as the last ripple of pleasure subsided, he stood and placed her to stand with one foot up on the seat while he entered her from behind.
Okay, she thought, I got mine, this one’s for him. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his soapy hands caressing her breasts and aching nub.
Aching nub? Yep, it was definitely aching with renewed arousal. Amazing.
She whimpered when he pulled out at the last second and turned her to face him. Before she could mention that she wasn’t finished yet, he lifted her and plunged back into her, shoving her back against the cool tile of the shower.
“I love to watch your face while I’m fucking you,” he explained with a grunt and increased the tempo of his thrusts. “You’re so gorgeous when you come.”
Well, that did it. Without warning, those words triggered a deep response within her and the mother of all tidal waves of pleasure washed over her.
She screamed—actually screamed—and clutched his shoulders to keep from swooning. Her nails bit into his gorgeous shoulders, but she couldn’t make them release their grip.
Over the roar of her climax, she thought she heard him yell something that couldn’t be right. It sounded as though he’d shouted, “I love you!” But that would be impossible.
Wouldn’t it?
Derek slid down to sit on the floor of the shower, pulling Mac on top of him. Water rushed over their heads, blurring his vision. He hoped they wouldn’t drown, because he had zero strength right now to turn off the water.
Had he really told Mac he loved her? How stupid was that? Especially in the heat of the climax he’d just experienced. Would she believe it wasn’t said in the heat of passion?
Feeling above him, he finally located the controls. The water slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Silence filled the shower stall.
Placing Mac away from him, he stood, then helped her to her feet and grabbed one of the thick towels from the heated rack to wrap around her. Time for damage control—and he needed to hide her delectable body as much as possible.
Drying off, he glanced down at his purple pecker and froze, towel in hand. The sight that shook him was not the fact that he’d about worn the poor little guy out. It was the fact that it was naked.
As in, no condom.
How could he have been so careless? He watched Mac bend over and dry her legs, his pecker stirring again. No wonder it looked abused. He’d been in a sexual frenzy since he’d met her. With all the blood pooling between his legs, it was no wonder he’d forgotten a raincoat.
He wracked his brain, trying to remember when they’d last used a rubber. Damn! Last night—no, this morning. Nope. Last night. So they’d been unprotected all day long. He mentally counted up the times they’d made love and groaned.
“Alex?” Mac’s hand was cool against his heated shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“We didn’t use a condom.” He held his breath, waiting for her to freak. Didn’t happen. Instead, she shrugged and walked to the dresser, obviously unmindful of what a provocative sight she made.
He stalked to her, grabbing her arm, preventing her from pulling on a pair of the ugliest white cotton panties he’d ever seen. They looked like something his grandmother would wear.
“I said, we didn’t use anything! All day!”
“I heard you.” She tossed the granny panties back in the drawer, grabbed an equally ugly pink terry-cloth robe from the pile of clothes on the dresser and wrapped it around her. “What do you want me to say, Alex? Do you want me to yell and scream at you? Well, guess what? Not gonna happen.” She walked to the window and looked out at the Gulf a while, then turned back to him.
“I know it was irresponsible of us. I know we should have used protection. But I also know I’m disease free. How about you?” He nodded numbly, wondering where she was going with this. Was it because he told her he loved her? Did she think it was okay to make a baby now so he’d be forced to marry her?
Temporarily sidetracked by the vivid mental image of Mac, all soft and round and glowing, with his baby growing safely inside her, he had to blink and swallow around the sudden lump in his throat.
“Alex?” She walked closer to take his hands in hers. “Are you sure you’re okay? Look, we’re both disease-free, consenting adults. We slipped up, but things like that happen sometimes, in the heat of the moment.” She grinned up at him. “And, you have to admit, we’ve had quite a few heated moments.”
“What about the baby?” he asked in a quiet voice. Hell, he’d marry her whether there was a baby or not, he realized with a start. Bu
t a possible pregnancy might be a head start on convincing her to give up her life of sin and make a different kind of life. With him.
Her shoulders drooped within the slouchy robe. He made a mental note to burn that robe as soon as they were married.
“Is that what you’re afraid of?” she asked, tears sparkling her pretty eyes. “You’re afraid you got me pregnant?”
“I wouldn’t say afraid, just concerned.”
“Don’t worry,” she said on what sounded suspiciously like a sob, but he couldn’t tell because she’d turned back to the window. “I’m not pregnant. So…” she spread her arms, “problem solved.”
“Are you sterile?” God wouldn’t be so cruel. He hoped.
“Ster—no! Well, not that I know of, anyway.” She sighed. “Look, it’s not exactly romantic, but the fact is, I just finished my period. There. We’re safe from unwanted pregnancies.” She turned, hands on hips. At least, he thought they were on her hips, but it was sort of hard to tell with that ugly robe. “But just to be on the safe side, we should probably make sure we use condoms for the rest of the week,” she said.
“We could get married.” Where had that come from? Sure, he’d thought about proposing, but he’d planned to do it right. After he’d revealed his true identity. Candles and roses, the whole nine yards. Not standing in a rental bedroom, wrapped in a towel.
“Married?” She gave a sad little laugh. “You’re joking, right? We barely know each other!”
“We know we’re compatible,” he countered.
“Sexually. Sure. But that doesn’t mean we should get married. What if we married and found out we had nothing, other than great sex, in common? I don’t ever plan to divorce.”
“Neither do I.” It would be financial suicide.
“And neither of us even have a job right now!”
“I have a job.” He reached for his briefs. Maybe if he wore something besides a towel, he’d have more success in convincing her it was a good idea. “A damn good one,” he felt compelled to add.
“Then why are you so concerned about money?”
What was she talking about? “Huh? You’ve lost me, lady. What the hell are you talking about? What makes you think I’m concerned about money?”
“When you first came over the other morning. You asked how much it would cost to take me to dinner.”
“Well, of course, I did! I’d never been in this type of situation before. I had no idea.”
“You’re telling me you don’t date?”
She looked shocked. Did she think he was in the habit of picking up hookers? “Of course I don’t ‘date’! This was all Jack’s idea.” At her widened eyes, he backpedaled. “Not that it hasn’t been the best three days of my life. Once we got to know each other, I couldn’t imagine ‘dating’ anyone else. You’re a great ‘date.’”
She looked confused. “Damn straight, I am. But I have to tell you, I don’t usually behave like I have with you when I date.”
What a relief! “I’m glad to hear that.” He flashed what he thought was a reassuring smile. “I’d like to think what we have is special.”
She nodded “It is.”
He grabbed the ties of the ugly robe and reeled her in. “I meant it when I told you I loved you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re sure it wasn’t the heat of the moment?”
“Nope.” He wrapped her in his arms and rubbed his nose against hers. “I love you.”
She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “I think I love you, too.”
“Then you’ll marry me?”
“No.” She stepped out of his embrace and crossed her arms.
“But why—”
“Because we don’t know each other well enough! If you’re serious, you’ll understand why it’s important that we wait until we’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He knew he sounded surly, but it was the way he felt.
“No, you’re not.” She held up her hand when he began to protest. “You’re not and you know it. Heck, you may not even really love me. It may be just a hormonal flush, the reaction to incredible sex.”
“Thanks,” he said, grinning at her. “I thought it was pretty incredible, too.”
“Well, before your ego takes over, let’s change the subject.”
“I’m hungry.” It was true. Suddenly ravenous, he realized they hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
She thought for a moment. “Me, too.” She glanced around the bedroom. “Just let me straighten up and get dressed and we’ll see what’s in the fridge.”
“Ah-ah,” he said, walking up behind her and slipping his hands through the lapels of the ugly robe to cup her breasts. “Takes too long. I’m starving. There’s a burger place down the beach. Throw on some clothes and let’s go.”
“But the room—”
“I’ll help you straighten up when we get back.”
She sighed. “Okay. Just give me a minute.”
He sat down in the chair, suddenly in no big hurry to leave the intimacy of their—and, yes, it was their—bedroom. At her raised brow, he grinned. “Just settling in to watch the show.”
“I thought you were hungry.”
“I am. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view while I wait.”
And what a view it was, he thought as he watched her shuck the ugly robe and slip a baggy sundress over her head. Normally he disliked baggy apparel, especially on women with bodacious bodies. But he kind of liked baggy stuff on Mac. Maybe because it might help keep other men from noticing her. That, he amended, and the fact that she apparently favored not wearing underwear with baggy dresses. A definite advantage, where he was concerned.
Thinking of sinking deeply within Mac’s welcoming heat caused him to think of the condom situation. With a start, he realized he preferred not using a condom. He wanted nothing to be between Mac and him when he was inside of her. If she became pregnant, so be it. Then she’d have to marry him. He watched her slip into a pair of nearly there sandals, admiring the sexiness of her toes.
Yep, barefoot and pregnant suited him just fine.
9
McCall glanced sideways at the man beside her and wondered for about the millionth time when the bottom would fall out of her happiness.
It would happen. It always did. And, this time, her happiness was totally off the charts. Therefore, the big let-down could happen at any moment.
They’d pigged out on hamburgers, fries and shakes so thick you had to wait a while to drink them. Alex had refused to let her order a mixed drink. He said he wanted her to remember what they did when they got home. Home. What a lovely concept.
While she would have loved nothing better than to spend the rest of her life with Alex, she struggled to be realistic. Besides the fact that they barely knew each other—except in the biblical sense—she had that pesky problem of possible incarceration. She couldn’t very well say, “I love you, too, Alex, and yes, I’d love to marry you…in ten to twenty years.”
Alex put his arm around her and drew her close to his side. She wrapped her arm around his waist and savored the contentment of walking close to him. With his arm around her, she felt protected, valued, cherished. Loved.
She didn’t kid herself. More than likely this was for Alex a beautiful illusion, an interlude out of time. Once the week was over, they might see each other a few times. But it would be awkward. He’d call less and less. The dates would dwindle. Eventually, he’d move on with his life, with or without any excuses of how his life had taken him in a different direction, how they’d grown apart or a thousand other trite excuses men had for dumping you.
And she’d be left to pick up the pieces of her heart and try to get through the rest of her miserable existence. Some people weren’t cut out for marriage. Maybe she was just one of the unlucky ones.
She glanced up at Alex and wished it weren’t so.
Derek looked out over the waves and planned his strategy. In hindsight, springing his proposal on Ma
c had been a bad idea. Proposals should be carefully planned, romantic, not just “Hey, how about we get married, huh?” spoken immediately after sweaty sex. He gave himself a mental kick. He was smarter than that.
Whatever he did, it had to be soon. They only had tonight and tomorrow night if he wanted her to leave Pleasure Beach a reformed and engaged woman.
“So,” he said, “when do you want to have the wedding?” Damn. Smooth, real smooth.
She must have thought he was a lunatic because she stopped and pulled her hand out of his.
“Alex, I have…um, issues. I can’t even think about marrying anyone until I get them straightened out.”
“Issues,” he repeated dully.
She nodded and swallowed.
“I thought the issue was love,” he said.
Moonlight glistened off the tears in her eyes. “I do love you, Alex. More than you know. It’s just that, well, I seem to have gotten myself into a little trouble and, well, until it’s straightened out, my life is not my own.”
“This trouble, does it require legal assistance?”
She sniffed. “Yes,” she said in a watery voice.
“Do you have a lawyer?” His legal team would make mincemeat out of whatever charges she faced.
“Yes. Tucker, remember?”
Ah, yes, Tucker, the unscrupulous sleazoid who insisted on defending the fund-raiser from hell.
“Tucker is a fine lawyer, I’m sure, but I’ve heard he hasn’t been too particular lately about who he represents. I could put in a call to my lawyer for you.”
“Thanks, Alex, but I got myself into this, I’ll have to get myself out.” She raised on tiptoe to brush her lips against his cheek. “It shouldn’t take long. I’m not guilty, so—”
“You’re not?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Of course I’m not guilty!” Her breath caught. “Is that what you think of me? If so, why on earth did you ever propose?”
“Because I love you!” He caught her to him and held her close to his heart.
“Well, if you love me, let me go! Trust me to handle my own problems in my own way.”
