The Path

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Did you ever think about moving in with your mom?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I knew it was always an option, I guess, but by then, I looked at each new hotel as more on-the-job training for me.”

  “How did things go today? With your mother, I mean.”

  I expected her to tense up a little, but instead, Abby let out a long breath, her face relaxing into a beautiful smile. “It was . . . amazing. So much better than I could’ve ever thought. I mean, at first I was annoyed when she just showed up, but by the end, we really talked.” She snuggled closer to me as the wind picked up. “My mom is the one who got me the job at the Hawthorne House. She knew about Boston and Zachary all along.”

  I finished the chicken and tossed the bone onto my empty plate. “You were okay with that?”

  “More than. Turns out I like the idea of having a mom who cares enough to interfere in my life.” Abby rested her head against my shoulder. “She liked you.”

  I smirked. “And you’re surprised? What’s not to like? I’m a great catch, Donavan. I own my own company. I’m a hard worker. I’m healthy, with no seriously bad habits. And I’m damned sexy.”

  The corners of her lips tipped up. “Yes, you are.” With a small contented sigh, she looked out over the ocean as she finished her last piece of chicken and licked some crumbs from her fingers.

  Watching her small pink tongue dart out to touch her finger made it suddenly hard to swallow. I captured her hand and brought it to my own mouth. “Let me.” With agonizing slowness, I drew one of her fingers between my lips, sucking on it before I swirled my tongue over the salty skin as all the blood in my body surged southward. I couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman the way I needed this one right now.

  Abby’s breath hitched, but her eyes never left mine. They dilated until there was almost more black than green, and her lips parted. “Ryland . . . “

  I paused, raising one eyebrow, her finger still in my mouth.

  “Let’s go upstairs. To my apartment. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  We tossed both food and trash back into the basket in record time. I carried it and the blanket, while Abby handled the wine bottle and our glasses. We didn’t speak much as we trudged toward the Riptide, through the empty restaurant and up the stairs to Abby’s place. The door was unlocked, and I held it open for her before I followed her inside and dropped the basket on the small kitchen floor.

  Abby set down the wine bottle, draining her glass before she put it on the table, too. When she turned to look up at me, the control I’d been hanging onto with the thinnest of threads snapped.

  I grabbed her by the waist and walked her backwards until she bumped into her bedroom door. When we couldn’t move any further, I bent to ravish her mouth—no slow build up here; I took her, aggressively consuming each breath and each small incoherent noise she made. My tongue swept through her mouth, and hers tangled with it, thrusting forward to stroke before it pulled back to tease.

  “Ryland . . .” Abby moaned my name, and I thought I’d never heard anything so beautiful. My dick swelled under the zipper of my jeans, and I needed more of her, now. I needed my lips to be all over her. I wanted to taste and to touch every part of her intoxicating body.

  Lifting her by the hips, I brought her face level to mine and tore my mouth away from her lips, nibbling down the line of her jaw to the slim white column of her neck. When I reached her delicate collarbone, I moved my hand to grip her upper thigh.

  “Wrap your legs around me.” I didn’t have it in me to add please or to make it a request; need had taken over, and now nothing else existed. It pounded a rhythm that was impossible not to follow.

  Abby tried to lift her legs and groaned in frustration. “I can’t—my skirt is caught.”

  I leaned over, still pinning her body to the door, and jerked the material upwards, freeing her limbs. She twined her legs around me, aligning my aching cock with the center of her own desire. I slid my hands up to her ribs and then over her boobs, relishing the moan that tore from her lips. Tugging down the neckline of her shirt, I fumbled to hook my fingers under the cup of her bra.

  When I managed it, the back of my hand skimmed over her nipple so that it hardened into a stiff point. I pulled down again, exposing more of her, and palmed her breast, holding the soft fullness within my grasp. The tension of her bra pushed her boob upward, presenting the tempting peak.

  “Ryland—yes. Please, yes.” Abby was begging, panting, as I lowered my mouth to the enticing pink tip. Another time, I might have teased and made her wait. But tonight, now, I didn’t have it in me. I fastened my lips there and sucked, hard, my tongue pressing her nipple against the roof of my mouth, until her hips ground into me restlessly.

  Releasing it from my mouth, I kept my hand on one tit, rubbing the nipple between two fingers, while I moved my mouth to the other side. I dropped my free hand to grip her firm ass. With the material of her skirt hiked around her waist, only a thin layer of silk panties was between me and the smooth skin. I stroked her, each time letting my touch stray a tiny bit closer to the part of her body that I wanted most.

  I released her nipple to murmur in her ear. “Do you want me to touch you, Abby? Want my fingers to slide over you, press against your clit, slip them inside you and stroke until you shatter around me? Is that what you want?”

  “Yesssss.” The word was a moan, wrenched from her lips, and I didn’t hesitate. I slid my fingers beneath her underwear, groaning when I felt the wet heat of her pussy. She tilted just a little, in an effort to make me touch her where she needed me. I didn’t make her wait any longer; I found the pulsing button of nerves and pressed hard as she arched into my hand.

  Before she could fall over the edge, I plunged two fingers inside her tight channel, rubbing her clit with my thumb, relentless and with increasing speed until she screamed, her hips undulating of their own accord as her hands clutched at my shoulders.

  I brought her down slowly, stroking, murmuring soft nonsensical words into her ear. Abby slumped against me, her head falling to rest on my chest. “Ryland . . . my God. I’ve never . . . wow. Just wow.”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Right there with you, babe.” My voice was a little strained; watching her come had only made me harder, made me want her all the more.

  “Can we go into the bedroom now?” She stroked one hand down my chest and over my stomach, bringing it to rest on the straining denim between my legs. “I might be able to think of something else you’d enjoy. One or two ideas seem to have . . . sprung to mind.”

  I clenched my jaw. She was killing me. Who knew under that cool exterior, this chick burned so freaking hot? “I think I can manage that.” I scooped Abby into my arms, turned the doorknob and pushed into her bedroom.

  The room was like the woman herself: neat, comfortable, stylish without being flashy. A large bed, covered with a cotton quilt in muted colors, dominated the space. I lay Abby down there and toed off my shoes before joining her.

  She pushed up onto her elbows, smiling down at me. “So this is my bedroom.”

  I grinned back. “I like it. But I have to say, I would’ve pegged you to have one of those fancy shiny bedspreads. This is nice.”

  Abby giggled. “I can’t stand any silky or satiny bedding. It’s too slippery. Everything falls off and it drives me crazy.”

  “Practical. I like that.”

  “Hmmm.” She sat up and crossed her legs. “The practical side of me says we both have too many clothes still on.”

  “Really?” I pretended to think about it. “You know, you might be right. What’re we going to do about that?”

  “I’ll start here.” She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head. But when she moved her hands to the waistband of her skirt, I stayed them with my own.

  “No. Leave that.” I trailed my hand over the smooth skin of her stomach. “I want to be inside you, with your skirt on and ruched up around your waist. Just take off yo
ur bra. And your panties.”

  Abby’s eyes went molten again, and her tongue came out to touch her bottom lip. She didn’t say anything, just reached back to release the hook on her bra. I groaned when her breasts spilled out, free.

  “God, Abby, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” I touched one nipple with the tip of my finger, all the blood rushing to my already-engorged dick when Abby sucked in a breath on a hiss. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? You just . . . consume me. All I can think about is you, touching you, kissing you—talking with you, arguing with you, holding you. Wanting to be inside you. God, Abby, I want that more than anything else in the world.”

  She rose up on her knees, lifting her skirt and reaching beneath to wriggle out of her underwear. Tossing it off the mattress, she turned back to me with a smile that turned me inside out. One small hand pushed me flat on the bed.

  “Mr. Kent, I think I can make that happen.” With one fluid movement, she straddled me, tugging my shirt from the waistband of my jeans. Her hands were warm as she slid them against my stomach and chest, taking my shirt with her. I helped her get it over my head, and then it was gone, too, flying onto the floor to join her clothes.

  Abby bent over me, raining small kisses over my chest, pausing to circle my nipples with her tongue.

  “Baby, that feels amazing.” I smoothed one hand down her back, stroking her hair. “Your mouth on me is fucking incredible.”

  “Think so? Well, Mr. Kent, let’s see how you feel about this.”

  She unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zipper, humming in what I sincerely hoped was appreciation when my erection sprang free from the boxers under my jeans. I lifted my hips so that she could get the pants off me.

  And then there she was, her head between my legs, looking up at me with speculation. I watched in utter fascination as she held my cock at the base and with slowness I thought might truly be the death of me, lowered her mouth to take me inside.

  I was in heaven. There wasn’t any other explanation. The tight heat of her lips, firm around my dick, threatened to unhinge me. She took me in, bit by bit, until she couldn’t move anymore, and then she lazily pulled back, scraping her teeth lightly over the hyper-sensitive skin. Her tongue circled the head, and just before she released me, she sucked once, hard. She repeated it all, this time with more intensity, moving faster and groaning so that the vibration of her voice hummed over my throbbing cock.

  I was close, so close to losing control. When she slid her mouth over me again, I touched the back of her head.

  “Abby—babe—I’m going to—I want to be inside you. When I come. You’re killing me right now.”

  She lifted her eyes to look at me. “Is that a good thing?”

  I managed a strangled laugh. “Oh, it’s peaches, baby, but I’ve been fantasizing about coming inside you for so long, I don’t want to wait anymore. Let me get something out of my jeans.”

  She crawled back up my body. “Do you mean a condom? I have some in my drawer here.”

  I laid down again, surprised. “You do? I thought didn’t—you hadn’t been with anyone. Since you’ve been in the Cove, I mean.”

  “I haven’t. I bought them today, right after I texted you.” She sounded so self-assured, so completely Abigail Donavan, that I couldn’t help shaking my head.

  “Abby, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  She frowned. “Why? Because I bought condoms?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Because it just doesn’t seem like what I’d expect from you. At work you come off as so in charge, so controlled. Like sex, like this, would be the last thing on your mind. And yet, tonight, with me . . . you’re a wild woman. In the best way possible. And the fact that you went out today and bought condoms turns me on even more, because it means you were thinking about tonight, too. Just like I was.”

  Abby leaned over to open a drawer and came back to sit next to me. “I’m not that experienced, not with sex. But I do a lot of reading.” She tore open the package with her teeth and took me in her hands again. Licking her lips, she rolled the rubber over me, each touch of her fingers setting me on fire.

  I rolled her over beneath me, taking in the image of her laying on the white sheets, her black hair spread like silk, her eyes eager and her body reaching for mine. Kissing down her neck, I circled my tongue around one turgid nipple before settling myself between her legs. I held my cock, rubbing it up and down her swollen folds until she was writhing again, gasping. Begging.

  I found her entrance and pushed in slowly, giving us both time to acclimate. Abby’s fingers gripped my ass, urging me forward, and when she tilted her hips, I was lost. I thrust forward, seating myself within her so deep that at first I feared I’d hurt her when she cried out.

  But she was only wanting more, and that I could do. I pulled out and then stroked back inside her, each movement deliberate and harder. I was barely holding myself back when I felt her begin to pulse around my dick. It was the end of me; with a deep growl, I pounded myself into her, plunging both of us into oblivion as pleasure poured into our bodies.

  I fell panting onto the mattress, pulling her to lay on top of me so that I didn’t crush her slim body. My heart was pounding, and I was sure she could hear it. Her fingers skimmed up to cover that part of my chest, and she lifted her head just enough to press a kiss there.

  “Abby . . .” I smoothed my hand down her back, over her hair, letting it come to rest on the firm rise of her backside. “Oh, baby. You just . . . you blow my mind.”

  I felt the curve of her smile against me. “Right back at you, Mr. Kent.”

  I breathed out a laugh. “Watch it, woman. I’m done in now, but give me a few minutes, and Mr. Kent will take you again.”

  She giggled. “Did it really drive you crazy when I’d call you that, and not your first name? I mean, before.”

  I rubbed her back. “It did, mostly because I felt like it was your way of keeping me at arms’ length. And that was okay, until that day when it stormed, and I knew. I knew I wanted you, but you still shut me out. Then I thought you were only calling me that to protect yourself from me.”

  Abby sighed, her soft breath raising goose bumps on me. “From now on, when I call you Mr. Kent, it’ll just be my signal that I’m thinking of . . .” Her hand danced down to touch me lower, just below my navel. “All business. Of a very special sort.”

  “That’s a deal, Abby.” My eyes began to drift close.

  She snuggled closer. “I like that you call me Abby.” Her voice slurred with drowsiness. “Zachary always called me Abigail. He said Abby sounded too informal and silly. That irritated the hell out of me.”

  I turned a little, pulling her closer and tucking her head beneath my chin. “Zachary was a dick. I’m glad he never called you that. You’re my Abby, for always.”

  That thought spread over me, warm and comforting, as we both slid into sleep.

  “MY GOD, WOMAN, YOU’RE GOING to kill me.”

  My head emerged from beneath the sheet, a sleepy smile spread over my mouth. “I hope not. You’re not any good to me dead.”

  Ryland laughed, threading his fingers into my hair to sweep it away from my eyes. “Good morning, by the way. That’s about the nicest way I’ve woken up in . . . ever.”

  I stretched, languorous as a cat in the sunshine. “It only seemed right, after you returned the favor, oh, five times last night.”

  “True. You did keep me up most of the night. My boss is going to pissed when I fall asleep on the job.”

  It was very early, and the sun was only a soft glow on the ocean. It was a weekday, which meant we both had to be on the job site in an hour or two. But for now, we were in my bed, entwined in each other.

  “My alarm’s going to go off in a few minutes.” I nuzzled Ryland’s neck. “Do you have to go back to Cooper’s to get ready for work?”

  His eyes stayed closed, but he smiled. “Someone might have thought ahead and left a change of clothes in the fro
nt seat of his truck. So if someone else will let me use her shower, I can leave from here.” He opened one eye. “That is, if you don’t mind that Jude might see me coming down from your apartment.”

  I shook my head. “That cat’s out of the bag. She figured it out yesterday, before my mom got here. Let me tell you, keeping a secret in this town’s a piece of work.”

  “True enough.” Whatever he might have said next was lost as music erupted from my phone. I scrambled to turn it off.

  “Sorry. I have to keep it turned up loud or I’ll sleep right through it. I’m not usually a morning person.”

  Ryland waggled his eyebrows at me. “Could’ve fooled me.” He pushed to sit up, stuffing the pillow behind his back. “What was that song, anyway?”

  Trepidation seized me. “Ummm . . . I don’t know. Just a random song the phone picked, I guess.”

  “Bullshit. You have to program your phone to play music for the alarm.” His eyes narrowed. “Abby, let me see your phone.”

  Crap. “No.”

  “Abby Donavan, give me your phone. It’s better I find out now than later.”

  I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and buried it under a pillow. “No.”

  “Abby.” Ryland spoke with patient exasperation. “Give it here.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Or I’ll have to get it my way.”

  His fingers darted to my ribs, tickling, and then around to my stomach. I shrieked and gasped, trying to roll away, desperate to keep the phone out of his hands.

  But it was a battle I lost. He wrested it from my grip and scooted away from me, sitting up against the headboard as he hit buttons and began to scroll. “Oh, my God. Oh, Abby. It’s worse than I thought.”

  I burrowed my head into a pillow.

  “Abby . . . the Carpenters? Helen Reddy? Barry Manilow?” He groaned. “Abby, say it isn’t so. Tell me this isn’t true.” He clutched at his heart. “Tell me you’re not a fan of . . . easy listening music?”