Good thing he had a strong grip at her hips. Daphne thought her knees might buckle. Gib had been kind to her over the years, thoughtful. Made it clear their friendship was important. But that was the most tender thing he’d ever said to her. That any man had ever said to her. She licked her lips. “I…I prefer the diamond comparison to the greasy hot dog.”
“Duly noted.”
A whistle blew, indicating the end of break time. Gib plucked his broom off the ice. “Are you ready?”
She’d been ready for years. She’d been ready since their first kiss. She’d been ready since first goggling at his face. “You have no idea.”
Gib hung up her coat in the closet next to his. “Good game. Glad we stopped those blighters before they scored.”
“Maybe they’ll spread word of our epic victory and scare The Peninsula’s team so much that they’ll forfeit in fear.” Daphne looked down the hall toward his always-spotless kitchen. She’d once—only once—left a spoon in the sink. Milo’s face had twisted into the same pained grimace as the time he passed three kidney stones. “Milo’s not here?”
“Milo’s going to an all-night gay comedy rave in Boytown. Starts at midnight, goes till dawn. Some sort of charity thing. He thinks it’ll be a great place to find his soul mate.”
“He’s skipping right past hookup and boyfriend? He wants to nail down his soul mate?”
“Dream big, right? He might get lucky. If it doesn’t work, the charity will still get the money for him sitting there all night.”
“Good point.” Milo gone for the whole night. They were all alone. The possibility of finally, finally making love with Gib flashed bright in her head. This was it. Except, for some unknowable reason, Gib wasn’t leaping into sex. He was slow rolling it worse than a poker player with a full house. It was up to her.
“Cold one tonight. Shall I make us some cocoa?” He shut the closet, unbuckled his watch and laid it on the console table next to his keys.
“No, thanks.”
Gib turned on a lamp, killed the overhead lights. Shut the blinds on the bay window. “I’ve still got half a pint of mint chocolate chip in the freezer. Want some?”
“Nope.” She toed off her sneakers. Kicked them into the corner.
“Movie?” He crossed the length of the room, stopping in front of her with his brows kicked up in a question.
“Nope.” What was that old saying? Nothing ventured, nothing gained? Daphne took a deep breath and pulled her sweatshirt off. She stood in front of Gib in only a black satin bra with scalloped edges. “For a man who prides himself on being able to read women? You’re kind of falling down on the job.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed once, twice. “That will be the last time you make a comment like that all night,” he promised. With the speed of one of those diamond-shiny vampires, Gib was in front of her. “Are you truly ready to do this?”
“I’m so far past ready I’m already halfway to orgasm.”
“Don’t. Don’t rob me of a moment of giving you bliss.” In the space of another single blink, he lifted her into his arms.
Well, she’d have to be dumber than a clump of moss to turn down such a request. Looked like he was on board with her plan. Gib carried her to the back of the apartment. Pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot. But didn’t carry her inside. God, now what? Second-guessing the whole friends-to-actual-lovers thing? Or something as simple as trying to remember if his condom stockpile was current?
“I’ve thought about this night. Since before New Year’s,” he admitted. “I always wondered what it would be like to take you to bed.” Gib’s voice darkened, deepened.
Daphne could only whisper back, “Same here.”
“Since New Year’s, I started to think about it in more detail. If, for example, I should just grab you the next time you swing by the office. Whisk you up to the penthouse suite at the Cavendish.”
“The view’s great.” And she would’ve gone. In a heartbeat.
“But, if we do this right, you’ll be too distracted to notice the view. Then I thought about lighting the fireplace next time we watch a movie. Seeing your skin painted in the shadow of the dancing flames.”
She stared at the rapid thrum of his pulse in his neck. “Sounds hot.”
“Then we’ll come back to that idea. However, it’s not right for tonight.”
At this point she would take a quickie in the coat closet. Anything to get him to stop talking and start doing. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve learned my lesson. Because you’re special, and deserve a night tailored specifically to you.” He carried her in and stood her on her feet. Kicked the door shut. In the thick darkness, Daphne scrambled to unbutton her jeans. Gib lunged forward and grabbed her hands. “No. Let me.”
It wasn’t the eighteenth century. She didn’t need help shucking her clothes. Besides, getting naked could be awkward. Bending and twisting and jiggling. Daphne wanted to get between the sheets and get to it. “You’re wasting time. Time we could be naked.”
“You’re half right. I’ve wasted too many bloody years ignoring what was right in front of me.” Gib ran his hands down her arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. “And you’ll get naked. But please, let me do it. Let me do everything.”
Funny how his words completely dried up her mouth—and moistened other parts of her so completely. “You don’t have to make this into a big deal, Gib.”
“It already is.” He took her hand and pressed it to his crotch. “Don’t you know what you do to me?”
Daphne didn’t. Not for sure. Not until five seconds ago. But now, with her fingers spread around the considerable proof of his arousal, it was clear. As was yet another reason why Gib was legendary throughout Chicago. Lastly, it was clear they’d crossed the big line. There was no going back to the way things were. Not after squeezing his glorious cock. “I’m getting the picture,” she said.
“I hid from you—and from myself—the way you made me feel. But I always noticed. How beautiful you always are.” Gib combed his fingers through her hair after he removed the elastic. Pulled it over her shoulders to fan across her breasts. The backs of his knuckles grazed her skin. “Your hair’s like sunshine streaming down. Your lips taunt men with their fullness. I’d look into your eyes, and wish I could see them glazed with passion.”
Mouth dry, Daphne said, “Maybe stripping my shirt off wasn’t obvious enough. I want to do this, Gib. I want to be with you. You don’t have to romance me.”
“That’s why I want to. Why I have to. There’s no playbook between you and me. Not anymore. There’s just the woman I adore more than I ever thought possible. The woman I crave. Whose breasts,” from beneath he lifted, squeezed, “make me want to throw you down on the floor and jam myself into you.”
“Sounds good to me.” She yanked his fleece over his head. Flattened her palms against his abs. God, they were as hard as the ribs above. Gib’s abs put underwear models to shame. In a mad scramble, she alternated between abs and pecs. It was just all so good, so muscled, so damn sexy. Daphne didn’t know where she wanted to touch the most. And then she remembered that despite their make-out sessions, she’d never touched his naked ass. That pinged to the top of her priority list. But she barely made it a knuckle south of his waistband before he stepped out of reach.
“You can’t touch me,” he ordered.
“What fun is that?” She heard him open a drawer. Drop his shoes to the floor. Then—joy—the noisy unzip of his pants. Too dark for her to see much but a tall shape. Oh, how she wanted to see his body. To not have to peek out of the corner of her eye, but to fully stare her fill.
“Look, just because I can barely breathe with how bloody bad I want to fuck you doesn’t mean I will.” He’d practically snarled. Then immediately shoved her jeans to her ankles.
Obeying his signal, she lifted each foot to allow him to strip her. “Throwing mixed signals here, Gib.”
“This is our first time. Not
a frenzied bar hookup. This is us. Finally.” Daphne jumped as he knelt, skimming the outside of her thighs. “I want to do it right. I want to take care with you. I want to take care of you. So you’ve got to stop driving me crazy with your hands and let me.”
“Let you…” She trailed off. Despite his plea, she couldn’t resist tangling her fingers in his hair.
“Let me touch you.” Another skim, this time down her calf. “Kiss you.” A kiss to the back of her kneecap that skittered licks of pleasure up her spine. “Lick you.” His tongue swiped a circle around her belly button. This time her knees did buckle a little, against the strong wall of his shoulders. “Show you how I hunger to be inside you. Fill you.” One hand cupped her through her panties. Pushed them to the floor.
She tried to remember to breathe. His dark promises tangled her into a sticky web of lust. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He picked her up. This time it felt different, with him naked and her almost, so many things touching in a new and exciting way. Daphne wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to last, either. The panties dropped off her feet. “Like I said before, I thought about how to make tonight special. Just for you.”
The words she’d always wanted to hear. Joy speared through her. “You mean I didn’t have to strip in your living room? You planned this all along?”
“I hoped. Thought I could bribe you into joining me in here with the ice cream. Nice to know you were just as eager, though.”
“Right. The last thing you need is an ego boost in the bedroom.”
“Don’t. No one else exists in here but you and me. There is no past. Only now, us, together.” He gently laid her diagonally across the bed.
Softness enveloped her—and not just his six-hundred-thread-count sheets and pillow-top mattress. Spreading her fingers, Daphne felt…petals? Spread her legs, flexed her toes…the entire bed was covered with a thick blanket of rose petals. “You did this for me?”
“Only for you.”
She laughed in delight. Then sucked in a breath when he drew a petal down her abdomen. Stopped breathing entirely when he flicked open her bra with his teeth. Circled her nipple with the edge of a single petal.
Daphne squirmed, reached for his back.
“Uh-uh.” Clicking his tongue, Gib circled her wrists with one hand and pinned them above her at the edge of the bed. “Don’t make me tie you up. That’s something best saved for another night, too.”
An entirely different, darker thrill ran through her. She’d fantasized. Had a hushed, 2:00 a.m., giggly conversation with Ivy in a hotel room about the different things they’d be willing to try. With the right guy. Hadn’t thought she’d ever find a guy she could trust so completely. To put herself completely at his mercy. And yet, Daphne knew now that she had. That she’d follow Gib down whatever pleasure path he took her. She trusted him. She trusted that he’d never hurt her.
He pressed harder, smashing the softness against her. Swiping it back and forth, around and about. Its scent, and the scent of the rest, surrounded her. Enveloped her. Subsumed her. Gib picked up a fresh petal. Started anew on the other breast. Except this time, while he stroked, his mouth closed around the other nipple.
Daphne shifted, restless, hungering, seeking. Gib moved on top of her. His weight pressed one side of her into velvety, flowery softness. The other side of her body leaped to attention at the rasp of hair on his athletic legs, against her legs. The line of dark hair down his belly had always drawn her attention. Now she discovered feeling it rubbing against her? Even better than seeing it. And pressed at her core was the biggest, thickest, hardest—she had no words. Literally. Daphne tried.
She wanted to tell him how good it all felt. How good he made her feel. How each brush of the petal catapulted her into quivers. Each long pull of his mouth on her nipple catapulted her closer to the brink. But all she could do was gasp. Or moan, with a few sighs. The pleasure stripped her words, her thoughts away. Took her to a place where there was only sensation, only Gib.
Finally he let go of her wrists. Sat back on his muscled haunches that she stroked with her own thighs. “Be good,” he warned.
Oh, well, if he was going to keep ordering her around, she’d damn sure find her voice again. “You’d better be great,” she sassed back.
“No worries.” Gib took handfuls of the petals, let them fall one by one onto her legs. Like some exquisite Chinese petal torture. Dropped a huge pile, light as a cloud, ever so slowly, at her hot center. Soon every inch of her body was overstimulated. Daphne thrashed her hips.
“More,” she demanded. Begged. Sighed.
“More petals?” Back to a single one, the world’s softest, smallest fan. He scraped its edge along the juncture of her legs. How could something so soft create so many sensations? So much, and yet not enough.
“No. More you.”
“So…this?” Delicacy abandoned, he wrapped his arms around her thighs. Lifted her ass up and buried his face between her legs. The moment his breath steamed against her overheated flesh, she jerked. That brought her to his lips just as he chuckled. Those vibrations buzzed against her with his first long lick.
“God, yes,” she moaned. Her fingers dug into the petals as she tried with all her might not to grab him. Not to do anything that might make him stop. It all felt so wonderful. Gib tasted, explored her as thoroughly as the first time they’d kissed. Took the time to discover what she liked, where, how much. What tensed her muscles. What made her breath hitch. What made her arms sweep restlessly across the bed now redolent with the scent of summer and love.
With one last kiss high on her thigh, he pulled back. Daphne heard the rip of a wrapper. The snap of rubber. And then the welcome weight of his hard body settled against her once more.
“Are you ready?”
She could barely stand the intensity of her feelings—both physical and emotional. So as always, Daphne resorted to snarkiness. “Are you going to shut up and get to it?”
Gib answered by slanting his mouth across hers. Plunged deep within her in a single, slow stroke. Daphne clamped her hands on his ass—as tight and perfect as she’d imagined—locking him against her.
“Hang on,” he warned. Gib must’ve sensed how close she was. Must’ve been just as crazed and desperate. Because he rode her. He made her his own. Thrust fast and hard, a steady rhythm that almost immediately arched her back and clenched her toes. “Only you,” he whispered. Then picked up the pace, arms holding her in an iron grip.
Daphne felt like a live wire jittered up her spine. From her breasts out to her arms, down her legs. Gathering electricity, growing in amplification, sparking through her with jolt after jolt of pure pleasure. Pure Gib. And then it all coalesced, melted into a pool of spreading bliss. As she cried out, a guttural moan tore out of Gib. One final thrust that shimmered an extra ripple of sensation across the top of her pool, and then he stilled.
They both just breathed—or tried to—for a few moments. With Gib collapsed on top of her, Daphne could barely fill half a lung. Didn’t matter. Gasping underneath Gib was sooo much better than breathing freely anywhere else. Although when he propped himself up on his elbows, she did grab at the opportunity to reoxygenate her brain.
Once it was back at full capacity, Daphne realized it had been a while, and Gib still hadn’t said anything. Not a word. Just hovered above her. Breathing. Staring. Judging? Scoring? No. They were past that. Past her insecurities and his string of ex-lovers longer than the Great Wall of China. Right? God, would she really have to break the silence? Wasn’t there a page in the guy’s rule book stating they had to speak first after sex?
Leading off with the fact it was the best sex of her life? Sounded too pat, too rote. Sex that made the room spin and the room disappear until Gib consumed her? Tell him that it was better than she’d ever dreamed—and she’d had her fair share of dreams about Gib. While it was all true, he’d probably heard it dozens of other times from every other woman lucky enough to be on the receiving end of
his talent. And Daphne certainly couldn’t share what threatened to spill right out of her heart. How she’d always loved him as a friend. Tried to ignore being head over heels in lust with him as a man. How having him inside her tipped her over into undeniable, heart-thumping, soul-sharing, forever and ever love.
If she asked what he was thinking, she’d be a cliché. The kind of girl that guys run from. But Daphne really, truly wanted to know. Before the whole relationship and sex thing, she would’ve known what to do. Whack his arm, tell him to stop breathing so hard like a panting perv, and go get her the ice cream he’d mentioned. Friends before lovers. Friends first and foremost.
“That wasn’t weird at all,” she whispered.
“Bite your tongue. It was sixteen shades of wonderful.”
Whew. “Little weird now, though.”
Gib reached over the edge of the bed, grabbed the comforter and covered them as he rolled them over. He nestled Daphne’s head onto his shoulder. Kept his legs intertwined with hers. “I disagree. Do you remember our first kiss?”
“New Year’s Eve? Of course.” When she was eighty and gumming her applesauce she’d still remember that kiss.
“I ran around like a crazy person for two days because it was the best kiss ever. Familiar and exciting and different all at once. As if the woman I’d kissed had been hand-tailored for me.”
“In the space of a few hours I’ve gone from being a greasy hot dog to a diamond to one of your Savile Row suits. I think I’m backsliding.”
“Hush.” He laid a heavy finger across her lips. “I’m trying to say something important. Daphne, you felt right to me from our first kiss. Being with you like this is the happiest I’ve ever been. It isn’t weird at all. It’s perfect. Best friend combined with best sex—oh, and a win at broomball? Equals the best night ever.”
Daphne didn’t want to jinx anything by agreeing out loud. Perfection was a pretty high bar to set…and keep. But the fact he’d say all that to her unprompted filled her heart to bursting. He’d summed it up, well, perfectly. Their friendship was like a seven-scoop sundae, and sex was just the layer of hot fudge that pulled it all together into something magical. Daphne snuggled closer. “I take it back. Not weird. Should I go with amazing instead?”
Friends To Lovers (Aisle Bound Book 3) Page 25
