by Alison Kent
Hard barely began to describe what Sydney held in her hand. He was hugely erect, turgid and swollen beyond belief. He was long and impressively thick. None of this was what she remembered.
She wanted him between her legs. But they were in an empty pagoda with a floor of sand, no walls, no furniture, nothing to use for support. And she certainly hadn't thought to bring a condom when she'd set out this morning.
But they were both in desperate need of relief and she was in no state of mind or body to be honorable or disciplined. She wanted to come. She wanted to make him come. And she was ready to act the part of the spoiled littie rich girl if it meant she would get her way.
She started to turn in his arms, only to have Ray hold her in place. "Ray, please. Let's go back to the villa. To bed. I don't care about the rain. We can make love in the shower. And in bed. We should have the place to ourselves."
"I have you to myself right here. The air is warm and the rain makes the perfect music." He nuzzled his nose into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. His hands he held wrapped around her biceps. "We have everything we need."
They didn't have anything, to Sydney's way of thinking. "Do you have a condom?"
"We don't need a condom."
"What are you talking—"
"Shh. Trust me." He let her go for the length of time it took him to shuck off his shirt. Then he pulled her close again, his hands again filled with her breasts. "I want you to do something for me."
"What?" she managed, frustrated beyond words and getting more so by the minute. His hair-dusted skin tickled her back, and she snuggled up against him. Whatever he had in mind would not come close to the fun they could be having in bed.
"Take off your shorts. Your panties, too."
She pulled in a sharp breath. He wanted her naked. In the privacy of the pagoda, in the open air, in the mist from the rain … he wanted her bared to his eyes, his hands, his body.
Sydney closed her eyes, finished loosening the drawstring of the shorts and tagged them over her hips and down her legs, taking off her panties at the same time. The breeze caressed skin covered with a fine wet sheen.
She ran her hands down her face, then over her breasts and to her belly and her thighs. Then she turned to undress Ray.
He held her still, facing away. "Let me do this."
She wanted to ask him, "Do what?" but he was already taking off his shorts and then showing her, with his hands holding her hands, moving her fingers the way he wanted them to move over the length to the head of his cock. He groaned, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down her spine.
Her hands were greedy, measuring his response as she stroked, using his release of clear fluid to ease the friction. Leaning back against his chest, she reached deep between his legs, taking the heavy weight of his testicles in her palms and gently caressing the pouch of tender skin. He was so incredibly soft and warm. So beautifully, utterly male.
This time when he groaned, he pulled her hands away and drew her body flush to his. Naked skin to naked skin. And then he said, "Spread your legs."
She parted her thighs as he nudged them apart with his knee. Then he pressed forward with his body, sliding his erection between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping him there, but gently, with a grip that still allowed him to stroke.
"I need to know if you're protected from pregnancy." He moved his hands back to her belly. The heels of his palms pressed beneath her navel; his fingers delved lower to separate her folds. "I want to do this. But if there's a chance you could get pregnant, I want to make sure I don't come anywhere near you."
She shook her head. It wasn't pregnancy that concerned her. "I'm on the Pill. But—"
"I'm safe, Sydney," he said, cutting off her objection. "I do dangerous work and I'm tested regularly. The only thing you could catch from me is a baby, but I don't think either one of us is ready for that."
No. She wasn't. "What about other…"
"Other women?" he asked. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I haven't been with anyone for three years. Not since the trip with Patrick."
"Ray…I…" She didn't even know what to say. He was such a physical man. How could he not—
"Shh. Don't say anything. No talking about the past, remember?" He whispered the words into her ear. "This is about now. Only now."
He was right. This was about now. This was the reason she was here. This was what she wanted. Never had she felt so safe in the arms of a man.
So she closed her eyes and let Ray have his way.
He moved his hands, sliding them between her legs and over her mound, slicking one finger through her folds while his other hand held her open, exposing her clit to the air and his touch.
And all the while he thrust, using their shared moisture to ease his way between her legs. His hand took up the same rhythm, his fingers filling her, stroking in and out, his thumb circling the hard nub where desire burned.
She couldn't take it anymore. His strong body at her back, the sound of the wind and the rain and the sea all around, his hands working sexual magic from her belly to her womb, while he made the motions of love between her thighs.
She cried out and let go. He pressed his palm hard to her mound. She shuddered, digging her fingers into his hips behind her. And he continued to stroke, to thrust, his penis sliding slickly against her skin.
His motions increased in speed and intensity. His body pumped hard and suddenly he jerked back one hand, gripping his shaft and pressing the head of his penis hard to her leg. The warmth of his release pulsed against her. And all she could do was hold him close.
Draping an arm around Sydney's shoulders, Ray headed out into the downpour. They'd waited for a little while after making love, holding one another close while they'd silently stood and waited for the storm to pass. Their breathing had settled into the same pattern, and neither one of them had felt the need to speak. But the clouds didn't seem to have any intention of dissipating, and Sydney was beginning to shiver. The screened walls of the pagoda were doing what they could to block the blowing rain, which was turning out to be a whole lot of nothing. Ray was just as wet now as he'd been when he'd first run under the shelter.
They needed to get back to the villa and dried off. Not to mention that it was lunchtime and Ray could eat the rump out of a rhino. Sex did that to him. Even modified sex. Add the fact that the sex was with Sydney and, well, he was starved.
He couldn't remember another completion that had been so damn satisfying and so damn scary at the same time. He wasn't sure where things between them would go from here other than to the nearest proper bed at the earliest opportunity. He wasn't going to leave here without having her all the way. And after that? Hell, he couldn't think straight until after that, so he might as well enjoy the here and now.
The rain picked up in intensity and Sydney wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands laced on his far side, her face buried close to his shoulder. God, but she was gorgeous. Yes, in her physical appearance, all long-limbed and slender, but lushly curved the way a woman should be. But it was the beauty of her inner self that had caught him off guard.
It was the way she took care of and gave so much of herself to those around her. She was making sure Chloe had the time she needed to go back to school. And Sydney never complained about Macy's monthly game nights or the meetings he'd heard the partners held at Lauren's loft. Meetings that, from what he understood, were more monkey than business.
Hell, Sydney even refused to let the housekeeper do the job she was paid to do. No, she had to be right there in the kitchen helping out while still playing hostess. He wasn't sure he'd ever known a woman more generous.
But nothing had prepared him for the way she'd come apart in his hands. He'd never doubted her passionate nature. He'd experienced her response when he'd taken her virginity. Thing was, back then he hadn't known what he'd held in his hands. All these years later and he knew. He knew.
Sydney Ford was a rare woman, co
mplicated and complex. Which made him feel even more privileged to have been her first lover, never mind why. Whether he'd only been in the right place at the right time, or he'd been the only right one for Sydney, he'd still been lucky that she'd left that graduation party with him.
Of course he couldn't help being curious. Understanding the workings of Sydney's eighteen-year-old mind would help him better understand who she'd become. And knowing that would help him figure out the easiest way to let her go.
Because he had to let her go.
His arm tightened reflexively around her shoulders. He was having too much fun, growing too close to her, wanting more than he could possibly have. He'd realized the danger yesterday during the time they'd spent playing in the lagoon. Their fun had been natural, comfortable, incredibly sexy and a springboard to deeper, more dangerous waters.
He had to keep his focus on his work. There were no guarantees he'd walk away from his next assignment, so that ruled out making a serious commitment. He couldn't do that to a woman.
He couldn't do that to Sydney.
And only God knew where he'd find the strength to do it to himself.
* * *
7
« ^ »
Eight years earlier…
Sydney could not believe she was so clueless. So ignorant. So totally stupid and so totally lame. She'd actually thought things would be different, that graduation and the looming reality of college would've changed her classmates' mental focus. But no. Collectively they couldn't have produced one forward-thinking brain.
Half the kids in her graduating class acted as if they belonged in grade school. The rest were caught in a high-school time warp with little hope for the future. Forget maturity. Forget the idea of growing up. Forget a single one of them realizing she wasn't at all what they assumed her to be.
So what if her mother agreed and, minutes before Izzy had stopped to pick Sydney up, had even told her so to her face? What in hell did her mother know, anyway? Except how to make everyone's lives miserable, while all the time, the world revolved around her. She was flamboyant and beautiful and exciting, all the things that were out of Sydney's reach, no matter how hard she'd tried to measure up.
And now, on top of all that, Sydney was stuck here at this stupid party, with a bunch of spoiled brats.
And it was nobody's fault but her own.
Standing with her back against an eight-foot-high cedar fence, holding a plastic cup of beer she didn't even want, much less like, she remained halfway hidden in the shadow of a huge spreading oak. The night was warm and muggy. Her jeans were sticky and hot. The plastic band of her watch was causing a circle of sweat around her wrist.
Why had she ever let Izzy talk her into coming? Because you had to get out of the house, that's why. And she wasn't going to go home again until she'd proved every single one of her mother's accusations wrong. Considering the way things had gone in her life lately, that could take a year or two.
This party was definitely not how Sydney would choose to celebrate her graduation. Or anyone's graduation. She could be home taking a nap, for all the fun she was having. But being at home would mean another confrontation with her mother and having to hear again what a loser she was.
Of course, being a loser probably had a lot to do with why she'd rather be anywhere but here. Except for Izzy, everyone Sydney had seen here so far shared her mother's opinion. Her yearbook photo caption could've read "Coldest Fish." Instead, it didn't say anything.
She barely even knew the guys throwing the party. She thought this was Boom Daily's house, but she hadn't seen him, so she couldn't be sure. Even Izzy was uncertain. They'd just followed the crowd from the mall parking lot like the mindless lemmings they obviously were.
Stereo speakers had been moved onto the backyard patio, where tables were set up with chips and cookies and sandwiches. Coolers of canned soft drinks sat beneath. And then there was the keg of beer at the side of the house, supplied by a group of older kids who'd been out of school long enough to be legal. And obviously feeling obligated to initiate Sydney's class into the finer things in life.
Sydney stared into her cup. How could anyone think this beer tasted like anything other than horse piss? Oh, wait. Maybe the same twenty-something bunch who thought crashing a high-school graduation bash the epitome of fun. Right. Like that would be on her "to do" list in three or four years. God, she was in a bad mood.
Slipping her arm behind the trunk of the tree, she upended her cup. The beer foamed in a puddle on the grass, soaking into the roots and the bed of purple and yellow pansies circling the trunk. Even as rotten as it was, she doubted it would do any good as a fertilizer. Maybe insecticide. Or weed killer.
"It's only free if you drink it, you know. If you dump it out, it costs you a buck."
At the sound of the deep male voice, Sydney turned her head sharply. And then she thought she was going to ooze into the ground, along with the beer. She certainly wasn't going to be able to say anything; her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe.
It was Ray Coffey, Patrick Coffey's older brother, the top-billed star of so many of her fantasies and daydreams, the object of the most ridiculous crush she'd ever had on a boy. The only crush she'd ever had on a boy. Except Ray Coffey barely resembled the boy she'd last seen at his graduation a year ago.
Funny how it had been only a year. He looked so much older than that. He seemed taller, though she was sure that he wasn't. Or did guys keep growing till they were twenty years old? His shoulders were definitely broader. So was his chest. As if he'd been lifting a lot of weights the past year. He probably had been, playing college football and all.
She wondered if he was still going out with Mandy Green.
"What?" he asked, his mouth breaking into the cutest dimpled grin, his eyes twinkling. "You don't like beer?"
Oh, God. She was staring at him as though he'd been speaking a foreign language. "I'm sorry, uh, yeah. I do like beer. Sometimes." Great. Now she sounded like a moron. "What I mean is, I like certain brands of beer more than others." And now she sounded like a total bitch.
"And keggo isn't one of them?"
"Keggo?" she repeated.
"Yeah. Keg o' beer."
She was still working to gather her thoughts when he grimaced and said, "That was pretty bad, wasn't it."
"Not as bad as the beer," she said, and laughed. "I'm sorry. That probably makes me sound like a snob. And I don't mean to be. I mean, I'm not, really."
"It's okay. I'm not much for keggo beer myself," he said, and handed her the cold Corona long-neck he'd had stuck in the pocket of his jeans. "Better?"
"This will definitely do," she said, and twisting off the top, took a long appreciative swallow. Appreciative that he apparently wasn't going to hold her snobbery against her and appreciative of the better-tasting beer.
That was what she got for having had only the better brands to filch from the family fridge.
"Now that's my kind of woman." Ray laughed. "One who can go for a good beer, instead of wanting one of those silly frou-frou drinks."
God, she loved the way he laughed. The sound of it. The look on his face. The way her belly got all warm and tight and tingly. "I should warn you, then. I'm a big fan of those silly frou-frou drinks."
He tipped his long-neck bottle toward her. "Well, never let it be said that I let a strawberry daiquiri come between me and a good time."
Was he having a good time? With her? Sydney felt about thirteen years old. And she was afraid that if she wasn't careful, Ray would discover that she had this huge crush on him.
But it was hard to play it cool when he was here and he was talking to her, not to any of the guys he knew and not to any of the girls whom she'd heard in the past say they'd drop their pants if he asked.
"I'm Ray Coffey, by the way. Patrick's brother." He took a drink of his beer.
"Oh, hi. I'm Sydney Ford."
"Yeah. I knew that."
Oh, God. He knew who she wa
s! "I knew who you were, too."
"Well, that's cool. That we know each other and all." He shrugged. "I always have to remind myself that not everyone I went to school with knows who I am.
"I think most people you went to school with know. You were rather high-profile." Sydney cocked her head to one side, hoping it made her look cute rather than stupid. She was not much good at flirting. "Let's see. There was football and the class-president thing and the school paper. And weren't you crowned five or six different kinds of king?"
Ray smacked his palm to his forehead. "That's right. I'm royalty. Well, retired royalty, anyway."
"Does that mean I should curtsy?" she asked, doing her best not to fall at his feet.
"If you do, then I'll have to bow." He stared at her over his bottle of beer as he drank.
"Bow?" Sydney frowned, but only as long as it took her to snap to what he was saying. And then she chuckled. She couldn't help it. He had no idea what sort of crap he'd just stepped into. Especially tonight.
"The Ice Queen thing, right?" She rolled her eyes, shook her head. "I'm really not, you know. It's just one of those bad rumors that won't go away."
Ray took a step closer, reached out a hand and lightly tugged on a strand of her hair where it skimmed her shoulder. "So how'd the rumor get started?"
She shrugged, sipped from the bottle of beer. He'd touched her hair and she wasn't sure she could answer his question without her voice cracking.
And she so wished she'd worn a tank top or spaghetti straps so she could've felt his touch on her skin. Instead, she was wearing this stupid Depeche Mode concert T-shirt she'd grabbed when Izzy had honked, figuring they were only going to the mall.
"I'm really not sure."
"Hmm." Ray looked at her. "The way I figure, it could be any number of things."
He was nice to try to be so diplomatic, but she really did know the truth, even if she'd bed to him about it. "What number of things?"
