“Oh, yeah.” Dylan's chest rubbed her breasts. He stared down at them. “I have a couple of ideas for tonight.”
She grasped his forearms, gauged their strength. “I do too,” she said, caressing the sprinkle of dark hair over his skin. His mouth captured a taut nipple. He not so gently sucked it. Her hips jerked at his boldness, the instant bolt of pleasure. It took sheer willpower to pull her breast away. “Turn around.”
Dylan lifted his head and looked at her. “Okay.” He complied, and treated her to an eyeful of muscled tan ass.
She eased herself back into the whirlpool and sat on the underwater ledge. Her gaze lingered on his perfect buns. Mel Gibson had nothing on him. “Come down here and lean into me.”
He followed orders like a fresh recruit, snuggling his back into her open embrace. She handed him a glass of wine. Cuddling her breasts into his smooth back, she wrapped her legs around his hips. “This feels nice,” she said, nuzzling his shampoo-scented hair.
“Definitely,” he agreed. Draining half a glass of wine, he let his frame fall into full relax mode.
“How was your day?” She massaged his scalp.
Groaning with pleasure, he didn't answer right away. “Did you eat?” he asked, when he finally spoke.
“Late lunch. You?”
“Same.”
“What's going on with the mansion?” Her fingers worked his skull and legs hugged him close.
“We're in the paperwork phase. Labor should start in a few weeks.”
“Can't wait to see the finished product.” She knew his work would be top-notch and gorgeous. As always.
“I want you to see the house before we begin.”
“Really?” Things were definitely starting to feel normal again.
“Yep.” Dylan's long fingers traced her thighs. He caressed her hips, squeezing the sides where her meat was juicier. Not too juicy, mind you. She was proud of her thirty-six inch hips. Lucky for her, she didn't have to work too hard to maintain them. Thank you, Mom, for the good genes. At fifty-something, her mother still looked fabulous. She may not have been the most nurturing mom, but she had a ton of style and grace. Some of which had rubbed off on Shay.
Shay loved fashion. It hadn't always been that way. Back in middle school, she'd been a tomboy—baggy jeans, even baggier tees, and sneakers. Her toes had never seen daylight. High School had changed all that. She'd grown out her hair, had even experimented with makeup. She'd embraced her femininity, her sultry dark looks. A lot of guys had appreciated the change. Not that she'd done it for any of them.
Dylan slipped his hands beneath her butt, distracting her. “I want you to be part of the process,” he said, squeezing her flesh. “See what makes your husband tick.”
Her hands circled his torso. She caressed his flat midsection, played with his small, tan nipples. Trailing her fingers down his taut frame, she snared his semi-stiff erection and squeezed it. “I already know what makes him tick.” She stroked him up and down, up and down until he grew rigid. “See?” she said, increasing the tempo of her pumps. She slowed her rhythm and took her time exploring.
Dylan turned his head sideways to capture a nipple.
She stopped him. With her hand, she kept him right where she wanted him, inflicting more pressure, inflicting more pleasure. Her finger toyed with the sensitive head, spreading a slick drop of fluid that had trickled out. His breaths picked up. She concentrated her energy on that magnificent part of his body. He bucked against her, and just like that, she let him go. “Not yet,” she said.
He held still against her, regulated his breathing. “Close call,” he said, nestling into her. It amazed her how quickly he got it back under control. But he wouldn't for long. Nope. Not if she could help it. “You could do that to me every night,” Dylan rasped out.
“Ha!” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “If I did, you would get bored.”
“Would not.”
Shay let out a laugh. Of course he would say that. She patted his chest and said, “Relax. I promise not to touch.”
“Don't do that.”
“Okay. I won't.”
“So you'll do it again?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
She laughed again. “Soon.”
He reached up and put his arm behind her head. “Well,” he said, and began to whistle. “Since we're killing time...” He blew out a few verses. “Tell me about your day.”
Shay's groan came out louder than she'd intended. “You don't want to know,” she said, playing with his pebbled nipples.
“What don't I want to know?”
Did she really want to talk about work and dampen the mood she'd just created? Yeah. She needed to discuss Donna's problem with Dylan, get a guy's perspective on the situation. Besides, she knew how to get her husband's motor running again. Of that, she was not concerned. “Remember Donna?”
“Your assistant?”
“My pregnant assistant.”
“When did she get married?”
“She didn't.”
“Oh.”
“She's been seeing some guy on and off, mostly off. He got her pregnant.”
“Donna?”
“I know,” Shay said, adjusting her weight. She curled her leg over his thigh. “She's a mess. And she's terrified of telling her parents.”
“She's an adult.”
“Yeah, she is twenty-three.”
“Adult,” he reiterated.
“Only she still lives with them.”
“She does?”
“That's a whole other story.”
“So what's the deal with this guy?”
“Donna informed him that she was pregnant. He informed Donna that that was her problem.”
“What an asshole.”
“Yep. He just used her for a screw.”
“Some dudes are like that.” His fingers splayed over her calf. He drew circles on her skin, leaving tiny goose bumps everywhere. “Whatever their mentality, they should use some fucking protection.”
“I can't believe Donna didn't insist. She's really hung-up on this loser.”
“Must be.”
“Why do men do that? Walk away so easily.”
“People can rationalize anything. In his mind, it's probably Donna's fault.”
“Well it's not,” she said, in an edgy tone.
“I know that,” Dylan said.
“It's too convenient to blame the woman.”
“Unfortunately, some women allow themselves to get pregnant.”
“So they can trap the guy?”
“Sometimes.”
“You think subconsciously, maybe that's what Donna tried to do?”
“No. I think she was just being naive.”
Yeah. Donna was a gentle soul, quiet and kind and almost childlike in her innocence. “Real naive,” she said, nodding in agreement. Her lips pressed together and she pouted. “But that doesn't help her right now.”
“She has options.”
“Not really.”
“What are you talking about?” He turned his head to look at her. “There are plenty of choices.”
“She's against abortion. Adoption freaks her out. The only thing left is to be a single mom.”
“She wouldn't be the first.”
“I can't picture Donna in that role.”
“Maybe she'll surprise everyone.”
“And maybe she'll wreck her life and some poor kid's.”
“Let's hope not.”
Yeah. Let's hope not. She pondered Donna's quandary. For altogether different reasons, a baby had brought disquiet to both their lives. She'd figured out a way to restore order in her house. How could she help Donna? Shay could give her a shoulder to cry on. She could support her, encourage her. Not much else she could do. Donna's fate rested in her own hands. Only she could decide her destiny.
Shay felt thankful and fortunate she didn't have to make such a choice. Dylan rested all comfy and cozy against her. God, she was ha
ppy. She stroked the side of his face. “I'm lucky I have a guy like you.”
He didn't respond right away. She felt his shoulder muscles bulk and tense. “Pregnant or not, I would never abandon you.”
What a glorious night. Fabulous weather. Incredible wine. Relaxing Jacuzzi. Why spoil a good thing? Because Dylan left the door wide open. And it was time. She squeezed her eyes shut, measured her words carefully. “You say you would never abandon me, but in a way you did.” She held her breath and felt the tears burn her eyeballs.
Dylan let the statement seep in. He turned his body sideways and pierced her with perplexed eyes. “When did I abandon you?”
“You have to ask?” The question irritated her.
“Yeah,” he said, too blase for her liking.
“Okay. I'll play dumb, too. How about the last few months?”
He stood abruptly, startling her. “Abandoned? You told me to stay the hell away from you. That's what I did.”
Dylan's beautiful naked body was right there, eye-level with her face. She took in his confrontational stance. Her husband had a point. She'd very clearly told him to stay the hell away. He shouldn't have taken it so literally. She stood up naked in front of him, crowding his space. “Call it whatever, but I still felt abandoned.”
“I'm sorry.” He gulped the rest of his wine. “But you abandoned me too. Whatever point you were trying to make, it registered loud and clear.”
She watched his twisted face. Poor guy had never looked more vulnerable. “Know what?” She brushed a lock of his wet hair. “I got so caught up in everything ... I forgot the point.” Hoping to lighten things, she let out a chuckle.
“The point is that we had an agreement. You broke it.”
“You're right. I did.”
“Why? Why did you freak out like that?”
She sat on the ledge of the spa and dangled her legs in the water. “I think about it now. It was pretty stupid.” Real stupid, she mumbled under her breath. “It happened right after my birthday. I felt like, oh crap—the big 3-0 is next.” She kicked water across the spa, spraying his arm. “You have to understand, there's this unspoken rule that women are supposed to have everything by a certain age. Perfect marriage. Successful career. Great kid. I had two out of three.” Her head dropped. “Pretty lame, huh?”
He took her hand and braided their fingers together. “You didn't express it like that originally.”
“Would it have made any difference?”
“At least I would have understood. Instead I thought I married a loca.” Dylan laughed.
For a while there, loca described exactly how she had felt. “I'm sorry I put you through that. It wasn't very pleasant for me either.”
His arms dropped to his sides. “I know I don't articulate my feelings too well. And I know that drives you nuts.” He looked at her. “It's who I am. It's what you married.”
Her gaze went south. She really did love him. Big heart, big ... “That's the thing. We're married. We're a team. You can't shut down like you do. Yell at me. Fight with me. Just say something.” She hooked her hand on his waist. “It wouldn't hurt to open up.”
Dylan looked away. He didn't have a ready response. “So. Tell me more about this unspoken rule. You know, so I can better prepare.”
She knocked him in the ribs. “It's all bull. And I don't buy into it anymore,” she said. “What's the point in rushing to have it all? Having it all means having it when everybody's ready. Otherwise you really don't have it all, because someone's unhappy.”
He shook his head and rubbed his chin. “I think I actually understood that.”
“Wish I would have sooner. Would've saved a lot of aggravation.”
“Maybe, but look what you learned.”
“I'm laughing now. Wasn't laughing last week.”
“No. But that was last week. And I gotta tell ya. I'm really liking this week.” His hand captured her breast.
She splayed her fingers over his abdomen. “Me too,” she said, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I think we're gonna be okay. And one day we'll make great parents.”
He tipped her jaw and gave her a meaningful look. “One day we will.”
Her eyes locked onto his. She wondered when he would be ready. How much success did he need in order to feel secure enough to start a family? Did he have a goal? A number? She could wait. How long? Shay cupped her palm over the hand that cradled her breast. “When do you think that day might be?”
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* * *
Chapter 6
Don't say. Just do.
Dylan couldn't concentrate on the question. Not when this moment reminded him of his sweetest memory of Shay. He laughed to himself. Talk about a hot night. They'd had unlimited, uninhibited access to Shay's parents’ compound.
If he were ninety with Alzheimer's, he'd never forget that memory. His eyes raked over her. Long wet locks plastered her skin, faintly hiding the swell of her round breasts. Her eyes were half-lidded and lips were parted, like they were waiting, expecting, anticipating.
His erection grew with each detail. He'd thought he'd seen all her moves. Nope. She'd saved her best for the hot tub. God, it'd been the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. A woman who could fondle herself so candidly—that's the kind of girl he had to marry.
Now here she was, looking a lot like Hot Tub Night. Okay. He could answer her question and talk about babies. Or ... They could practice making babies. Babies. Why the damn stall? He wanted a family. What held him back?
Dylan wanted things to be different from the memories he had as a kid. Yeah, he wasn't any worse for it, but he'd lived through the hardship. How many times had they settled for fried eggs with their rice and beans instead of chicken or steak?
Granted, he couldn't compare their life now to his life growing up. He and Shay were much better off. However, their net worth was mostly attributed to her. Maybe that's what bugged him so much. He hadn't married Shay for her money. But that's what her father thought. And that's one of the reasons why he worked his ass off, to prove the man wrong.
His business did well. He poured his soul into making it work because really, that's all he had. He didn't want to answer to someone else. Hell no. He needed to build something for his children so they would never have to struggle, at least not for money. Life would hand them enough challenges.
Dylan stared at his wife. He gently cupped her chin. How could he make her understand? The baby delay had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him. What if his business failed? Where would that leave them? How would he face her father, who thought of him as nothing but a low-life blue collar carpenter-biker? It didn't matter that Dylan had a college degree. It didn't matter that he ran his own company. It didn't matter that he loved the man's daughter more than anything in the world. He'd never be good enough for Dominick Giordano. Maybe he shouldn't have cared. But he did.
Ah, well, who needed negative thoughts? He had better things to focus on, like a naked wife, salacious memories. With Shay so attentive this week ... maybe she'd be willing to put on a repeat performance. Dylan was probably taking advantage, but hey. Why not seize the opportunity?
“Remember Hot Tub Night?” He smiled that wicked grin, the kind he flashed when his filthy mind got the best of him. “You look a lot like that right now.”
Her eyes didn't waver. They'd been watching him the whole time. “How do I look?” she asked, cocking a brow.
“Like you want to come.” He grinned when her face flushed. She always turned red when he talked dirty. Not from embarrassment. More like excitement.
“I do not.” She didn't sound very convincing.
“You don't?” He spurred her on.
“Don't what?”
So shameless and he loved it. “You don't want to come?”
“I didn't say that.” Her seductive smile knocked the wind right out of his lungs.
His eyes followed her tongue as it slicked over her plump lip. He splayed bo
th hands against the ledge of the spa, trapping her between them. “So you do want to come?”
“Never said I didn't.”
The red in her cheeks grew hotter. He knew all too well what that meant. His baby was provoked. Aroused. “No?”
“I said I didn't look like I want to come.”
“Oh, but you do.”
She slapped his ribs. “You got some imagination.”
“Yep,” he said, rubbing the spot. “Want to know what I'm imagining?”
“What are you imagining?”
“You.” Molten eyes ran down her length. “Touching yourself.”
“Hmm.”
“Mmm,” he countered.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. “Is that what Dylan wants?”
He hooked her long, silky limbs. “That's what I want.”
She spread herself wider, giving him exactly what he needed: an up-close and personal view. “I'll give you what you want if you give me what I want.”
Dylan stared at her glistening center. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Focusing on the scenery, he etched every fine detail into his over-worked brain. “What do you want?”
She ran that tongue across her lips again, this time deliberately slow, intentionally erotic. “I want an answer to my question,” she said in breathy whisper.
“Touch it.” He looked dead into her eyes. “Then I'll give you an answer.”
With her legs clasped in his arms, she stared back with equal intensity. “If that didn't sound so hot, I'd swear it was blackmail.”
His fingers trailed between her thighs. “Like this,” he said, demonstrating what he meant.
Her body jerked forward. She instantly lubricated for him, but then, she always did. Her eyelids closed and her head fell back, exposing her graceful neck, the throbbing pulse beating wildly against her olive skin. “Why should I?” Her words were barely audible.
He buried a finger deep inside her delicious moist heat. “Because it drives me fucking crazy.”
Her eyes opened. They shimmered like rare black diamonds. “Why?”
It took everything to quiet his roaring hunger, quell his burning need to plunge into her right here, right now. “Because you look so hot when you do it.”
Still Hot For You Page 5
