by Tawna Fenske
Meg’s hand slid up his arm, moving slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull back, to remind them both why they shouldn’t do this.
But it was all over the instant her fingertips grazed the back of his neck. Something primal took over, and Kyle backed her up against the wall, not sure if she pulled his face to hers or he boosted her up to meet his kiss. He didn’t care whose idea it was. He didn’t care who started it.
All he cared about was kissing Meg again.
Meg felt the moan deep in Kyle’s throat as he pressed her up against the wall and claimed her mouth with his.
I’m kissing Kyle again, she thought and wondered how she’d ended up here twice in one day after a decade of not allowing herself to even consider it.
There was less hesitation now than there’d been a few hours ago, though she wasn’t sure if that was his doing or hers. This wasn’t her ex’s funeral, and this wasn’t her ex’s brother. Not now, anyway. This was just Kyle—Kyle—kissing her in his space, on his terms, and not because he felt sorry for her, either. He wanted her, if his hands on her ass were any indication.
He cupped both cheeks and boosted her up against the wall, and Meg started to protest. “You’ll hurt your—”
The word back got smothered as their mouths collided, and he was kissing her too hard for the protest to make a difference. She felt her legs twine around his waist by instinct. She was no hundred-pound waif. Years in the kitchen sampling her own creations had seen to that, and her boobs alone probably weighed more than half the girls he’d dated over the years.
But he didn’t seem to be struggling and hadn’t dropped dead from exertion, so Meg let herself relax as Kyle’s fingers found the hem of her T-shirt. She thought about sucking her stomach in, but who was she kidding? He’d seen her in a two-piece at least a dozen times, and he didn’t seem repulsed. Actually, he seemed to revel in her skin, his fingers skimming her curves, taking their time to memorize all her flesh before moving upward to get to the good stuff.
The instant his palm closed over her breast, Meg groaned against his lips. He felt so good, and it had been so long since anyone touched her like this.
Had anyone touched her like this?
She tried to remember what Matt’s hands had been like, then felt disgusted with herself for not remembering, or for trying to remember right now, in this moment, with the heels of Kyle’s big hands grazing her nipples. She shoved Matt from her mind and ground herself against the hardness that pressed against Kyle’s fly, wanting to feel all of him at once.
His fingers slid behind her and found her bra clasp. He seemed to hesitate there, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to tell him no, to demand he show her some respect or take his damn hands off her and treat her like a lady.
Meg broke the kiss and locked her eyes on his in the darkness. “Do it,” she said with a fierceness that surprised her. “Tear the fucking thing off if you have to.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He fumbled a little with the clasp, and she cursed her boobs for requiring bras with a billion little hooks and a veritable fortress of underwire. “Welcome to the world of industrial-strength bras,” she said, trying to be glib about it. “Do you need me to—oh.”
The clasp popped open and she saw the flash of his teeth as he grinned in the darkness. “Got it. I might be a slow learner, but I get there eventually.”
“Thank God,” she said as his hand closed over her bare breast.
He went back to kissing her, one hand sliding over her breasts while the other cupped her ass. Her legs and arms were shaky, and she wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or the effort of keeping herself wrapped around him this way. It was hot in this hallway, but she couldn’t tell if it was them or the space. The sharp tang of copper drifted from his studio, blunted by the scent of leather and something she thought might be wood smoke or maybe just Kyle. Part of her wished she could see him, that she could know the blaze of heat in his eyes as she ground herself against him and pressed her breasts into his palm.
But part of her feared the light. Would they be doing this if they could see each other? Would they turn shy and hesitant? She wasn’t willing to find out.
She dug her nails into the back of his scalp and arched against him, loving the feel of those work-roughened hands on her skin. She did remember Matt’s hands, after all. They’d been smooth and long-fingered, but Kyle’s hands were big all over. A man’s hands with calluses and ridges. How many times over the years had she let her gaze drop to those hands, wondering what they’d feel like as a contrast to Matt’s more refined touch?
Stop thinking about Matt, dammit.
She felt Kyle tense between her legs, and worried for a second that he’d read her mind. She broke the kiss.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“No,” he said, and kissed her again. “What did you say earlier? ‘Some things are okay to stay secret.’”
“Fair enough,” she said, licking her lips. “How about I tell you what I’m thinking?”
“Does it involve my hands on your body?”
She laughed. “Definitely. I think you should take my shirt off.”
“Okay.”
“And your shirt.”
“Right.”
“And your pants. And—I don’t suppose there’s a bed anyplace nearby?”
He nodded, or at least that’s what it looked like in the darkness. “Actually, yes. There’s a cot in the studio,” he said. “It’s not much, but—”
“As long as it’s horizontal, I’m good.” Meg unclasped her fingers from around his neck and lowered herself to the ground. She tugged down the hem of her T-shirt, then folded her arms over her chest to form a makeshift bra in place of the one he’d left unhooked. “Lead the way,” she said. “Slowly, though. In addition to having terrible night vision, I’m also without my underwire now. Thank you for that.”
“My pleasure,” he said, and slipped a hand around her waist.
They were both speaking in whispers, and Meg wondered why that was. Were they afraid of disturbing old ghosts, or afraid of scaring each other away?
Kyle steered her down the hall and paused at the entrance to the studio. She saw him start to reach for the light switch, then hesitate. He must be thinking the same thing she was about the lights, wondering if they’d chicken out without the cover of darkness.
She took a step forward, then felt her foot catch on something. “Ooof,” she said. Kyle’s hands shot out to catch her around the waist, and she felt a flush heating her cheeks. “Sorry. I tripped on something.”
“My fault. There are a lot of somethings to trip over in here.” He flipped the lights on, and Meg stood blinking in the brilliant white wash of it.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi, there.”
He smiled back, almost shyly. “Hello.”
“Fancy seeing you here.” Meg tucked a curl behind one ear and scuffed her clog across the floor.
“You’re beautiful.”
She laughed and returned her arm to its folded position, trying to look casual and cool instead of like a girl trying desperately to support her own boobs. “Thank you.” She glanced around the studio, wondering if he’d been kidding about the cot or if she was kidding herself about this being a good idea. “Where’s that bed?”
“Right this way.” He put his hand in the small of her back again and steered her toward the far corner of the studio, while Meg did her best not to trip over her own feet. “I brought it in a couple years ago when I was working crazy hours on a sculpture and I found myself sleeping on the floor just to catch a quick nap.”
“You mean it’s not where you bring all your floozy art groupies for threesomes?”
“No, I use my penthouse in Paris for that.”
She giggled as he ushered her around a tall, tri-panel wood screen she guessed was there to offer some sort of privacy during his catnaps. There were a lot of windows in this place, though she supposed he could just put
the blinds down. The cot was small, tinier than a twin bed, and the Batman sheets erased any suspicion that this was Kyle’s regular seduction spot.
Meg walked to the edge of the cot and turned to face him. She hesitated, then uncrossed her arms. A flash of self-consciousness moved through her, and she wondered for the briefest moment what he’d say if she told him she’d changed her mind.
But she hadn’t. Not even close.
He stood frozen before her, seemingly waiting for her to make the next move. So she did.
She caught the hem of her T-shirt in both hands and tugged it over her head, wishing she’d perfected one of those supermodel disrobing maneuvers she’d seen on TV.
But the look on Kyle’s face told him he wasn’t concerned with her moves.
“Holy Christ,” he said as Meg dropped her T-shirt on the floor. Her bra was tangled up in one of the arms, so she stood there topless and exposed in the bright wash of light from the studio.
His reaction made her bold, so she straightened her back and opened her arms to the side to give him the full view. A cruel puberty had left her occasionally self-conscious about her breasts, but this wasn’t one of those times. In moments like this, she knew they were her nicest asset.
Meg licked her lips. “In case you were wondering, they’re real.”
“I know,” he said, taking a step forward and sliding a hand up the curve of her waist. “Believe me, I know.”
She wanted to ask if Matt had told him or if he’d figured it out for himself in the closet, but bringing up Matt right now didn’t seem wise.
“I get a lot of speculation,” she said as he bent to kiss the side of her neck. She gave a small hiss of pleasure and closed her eyes. “You know, ‘big boobs, small body,’ it doesn’t add up in people’s minds, and—”
“They’re definitely real,” he said as his hands moved over them, steady and sure. “So are you. So is this.”
She was too dizzy to know exactly what he meant, so she slid her arms around his waist and gave herself over to the pleasure of his mouth moving up her throat and behind her ear. She gasped as he kissed her shoulder, taking his time, getting to know her body.
She wanted to know his body, too.
Her fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged up. She wasn’t quite tall enough to execute the move seamlessly, and ended up stuck just below his chin. He stopped kissing her shoulder long enough to help her tug it over his head, and they both laughed when his arms got tangled up in the sleeves.
“You’d think we’d never done this before,” Meg murmured.
“We haven’t.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, kissing his shoulder. “With each other.”
Kyle dropped his shirt on the ground and smiled, bare-chested and beautiful before her. She started to reach out and touch him, but he grabbed her by the waist and turned them both around so they faced each other in the opposite direction. Then he sat down on the cot, putting himself eye-level with her breasts.
Or mouth-level.
“Oh,” Meg gasped as his mouth found her nipple and began to work magic. She twined her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes again, giving over to the sensation. Dropping her head back, she felt him taste and suck and stroke until her knees began to quiver.
“Please say you have a condom,” she whispered.
“I have a condom.”
“Thank God.” She sank down onto the cot beside him and planted a kiss on his right shoulder.
He pulled her down onto the cot with him, lying back with her whole body pressed against his. It was a tight fit with two of them, barely enough room for them to lie on their sides facing each other. Somehow, Meg managed to get his pants down over his hips, and he grabbed them from her before she could toss them aside. “Wallet,” he murmured as he kissed her breasts.
“Now’s not the time to go shopping.”
“Smartass,” he said, delivering a light nip to the underside of her breast. “Here, take this.”
He slid the condom into her hands and reached for the button on her jeans. Meg tore the wrapper open while he made quick work of getting her out of the rest of her clothes.
With the condom out of its packet, she reached for him with her free hand. The instant her fingers closed around him, she sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God.”
She stopped herself there, afraid of what might come out of her mouth next. None of her thoughts were appropriate.
I haven’t slept with anyone since him.
You’re bigger than he was.
I hope this doesn’t change things.
She pushed the thoughts from her head and focused on feeling instead. She slid the condom on, rewarded by his gasp of pleasure.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she murmured against his shoulder.
“Don’t think,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him. “This isn’t about using our brains.”
She couldn’t help giggling then as she straddled him with her knees pressed against his hips. “What body parts should I focus on then?”
“Let me show you.”
He reached between their bodies and positioned himself at her opening. She didn’t need any further invitation. Meg slid down over him, gasping as he moved hard and slippery into her. A soft cry slipped from her throat, and she hoped like hell he didn’t have any close neighbors.
Kyle smiled and moved his hands to her hips. She began to rock, slowly at first, letting their bodies adjust to each other. His hands moved to her breasts and stroked them, spurring Meg to quicken her pace.
“That’s it,” he whispered, moving with her. “Just like that.”
She twined her fingers with his, palms brushing nipples, fingertips sinking into flesh. He drew his hips up and slid deeper, and Meg cried out again.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as she rode him faster now. She could feel the tension building inside her, which seemed much too soon. Usually it took forever, or at least longer than this. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, and she could tell by the tense cords in his throat he was close, too.
“Do it,” she whispered.
“You first.”
The wave hit her, then another and another until she felt something burst open inside her. A white, hot heat flashed through her, and Kyle’s gaze locked with hers.
“Yes!”
His eyes widened, and she felt him pulse inside her. She couldn’t tell where his spasms started and hers ended, but she knew the odds of it happening like this were slim. That some strange, otherworldly force was at play here, making them explode together like magnets lit on fire.
When it was over, she closed her eyes and sank down onto his chest. He stroked her back until their breathing slowed, then rolled her to her side. She curled against him as his hand stroked her waist, smoothing her skin like he was trying to memorize the curve of her hip.
“Holy wow,” Meg said.
“My thoughts exactly.”
She took a few gulps of air, then moved back so she could look up at him. “That was unbelievable.”
“I’m surprised we didn’t break the bed.”
She laughed and snuggled closer to his chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeat under her ear. Her own pulse began to slow, and she stroked her fingers over the fine hairs on his forearm. Kyle was so still, so quiet, that for a moment Meg thought he’d fallen asleep.
“What are you thinking?” he murmured.
She lifted her head from his chest and smiled. “That I’m really happy right now.”
“Me, too. Deliriously happy. Stupidly happy. Insanely happy.” He smiled, but Meg noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She slid her hand to his chest, resting her palm over his heart. “Is everything okay?”
He seemed to hesitate, then nodded. “I feel amazing. Like—top five moments of my entire life right now.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
He grinned and reached d
own to squeeze her backside, and Meg gave a squeak of mock indignation. “I’m sensing a butt, too,” he said, cupping her cheek in his palm. “And it’s the best butt I’ve ever had my hands on.”
She giggled and squirmed against him, rolling to rest her chin on his chest. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess I am.”
She waited, not wanting to push him. His heart was steady beneath her palm, a deep, comforting thud she could feel all the way up her arm. “Want me to confess a few things to make it easier?”
Kyle smiled and pulled her closer. “You don’t have to, but I’m always eager to hear your secrets.”
“Okay,” Meg said, thinking about it. “Since we’re naked, maybe they should be sex secrets.”
“I like the sound of this.”
She smiled. “Confession number one: I’ve never had a one-night stand.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I guess you could say I’m sort of a serial monogamist.”
“How do you mean?
“I dated the same guy for two years in high school, then another guy for almost three years in college. There was one more relationship that lasted about a year, and then I met your brother.”
She let those last words hang there in the air between them for a moment, and she watched his face for a reaction. His gaze held hers, sure and steady, and he didn’t seem uncomfortable. Still, Meg wondered if it was taboo to bring up Matt right now, while they lay tangled naked together in sweat-damp sheets.
Kyle reached up and brushed a damp curl off her face. “What about since then?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, and the curl slipped back over her eye. “I haven’t dated anyone since—since—”
“The split,” Kyle supplied, saving her the trouble of saying the wedding or your brother or something equally awkward.
“Right,” she said, smoothing her hand over his chest.
“Wow. I guess I’m surprised. Does that mean you’ve been with only four men in your whole life?”
