Rachel, Out of Office

by Christina Hovland

  Rachel let her body lean in to his, just a little. “And Dave is now the fun sibling?”

  The sibling in question pulled around the half circle drive in front of the house and onto the road. He headed in the direction of the town.

  “Gavin is the serious one. I guess Dave gets to be the fun one.” Travis’s warm breath brushed against her neck. “And I’m the other one.”

  “Oh, come on, you’ll get a new designation.” she said. “Just because you decided to go to a couple of meetings doesn’t mean you can’t still be fun.”

  He seemed to lose himself in thought.

  Oh. Huh. That idea gave her a stomachache. “Did you go to the meetings because of me?”

  “No.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s been a while coming. I need to step up.”

  “Then what are you doing with me?” Because she genuinely wanted to know. They as a them didn’t make much sense, so this was an answer she was searching to uncover.

  “I’m taking”—he turned her, so they were face-to-face—“what I want.”

  The woman he shouldn’t want.

  That was fine. It wasn’t like she should want him, either. They could just be rebels together.

  The air between them crackled. She lifted on her toes but didn’t have to move far because his mouth met hers in a gentle sweep of lips and tongue.

  The other kisses had been frantic, exploring, and fire.

  This one was simpler, but even without the frenzy of the night before, her blood heated all the same.

  Her phone rang in her pocket, totally ruining the moment. She extracted it, praying that it wasn’t a client who needed her.

  Kaiya.

  “Do you want to get that?” Travis asked, pressing a light kiss against the side of her mouth.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about skin cream right now.”

  “I have no idea what that means.” His eyebrows furrowed, just a little.

  “You probably don’t want to.” She lifted on her toes to kiss him again. Then they were moving, mouths still melding. Somehow, they were moving without having to break the seal of the kissing.

  And they were kissing. So, so much kissing.

  The gentle quality moved to a hectic need that discombobulated her and made the place between her thighs ache for more.

  Travis was an excellent kisser and apparently, he knew what he was doing, because suddenly they were at her bedroom door.

  Specifically, her back was against the door as they both breathed heavily into the shared air. He held her hands over her head and took her mouth like he owned it. Oh boy, did he own it.

  Her whole body was wired, every inch of her, sensitive and pulsing. Wet heat pooled between her legs as Travis’s erection pressed against her stomach.

  He tore his mouth from hers, still holding her hands above her head, which was good, because without his grasp there she probably would’ve dissolved into a puddle on the carpet and later she’d have to clean it up and that would be a whole thing.

  “Can I come inside?” he asked, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “Inside?” Somewhere in the recesses of her brain she understood his question.

  Sex. He wanted to have sex with her. Or do sexy things with her.

  Oh, yes, yes, please, her body practically begged. Let’s do this.

  Her mind, however, was starting to come back online after the brief lust-induced logic hiatus.

  She pulled her arms free from his, crossing them at her belly.

  He could come in. They could make out a little and talk.

  During this talk she could explain all the reasons he didn’t want to have sex with her, starting with stretch marks and ending with poor choices in the bedroom that could wreck her relationship with the only family her boys had left.

  Then he could make an informed decision about his future choice when it came to her.

  “What just happened?” he asked. “Where are you right now, Rach?”

  Still in her space, he was full charm and full frontal and full…everything.

  “I’m right here,” she said, because she was.

  That’s not what he meant, though, and she knew it. She rubbed her eyes, probably smearing her eye makeup to hell and back.

  “No, you’re not. What’s going on in your head?” He moved his hands to her shoulders, sliding them to the base of her neck and tilting her head back so their gazes met again. His thumbs against her jaw rubbed small, light circles there, igniting sparks she was pretty sure they should stomp out.

  What was going on in her head? That maybe in a different time, in a different life, they could’ve fallen into bed together and had amazing sex without any consequences at all. But this was now, and this was her life, and she had responsibilities, and no number of Travis’s kisses was going to change that.

  “Inside is good,” she said.

  That got her a magical Travis smile. “Okay, then.”

  “Okay,” she said, the word coming from her mouth sounding much more uncertain than his version.

  With the hand behind her back, she turned the knob and pushed open the door. She took three steps in. Paused. Looked over her shoulder. Took three deep breaths.

  Travis studied her the whole time, like she was one of the puppies and he thought she might bolt. Finally, he pressed the solid wood of the door closed, holding the handle so it wouldn’t make a sound as it latched, which was silly, since they were the only two people in the house.

  Except maybe the housekeeper or the chef. Evelyn had a chef come in and fix dinner every night. Rachel hadn’t made it to the kitchen recently, so she couldn’t really say if the chef had arrived yet or not.

  Then Travis locked the door.

  He locked it because she had children who might come home early and search for her.

  Children who could not find her in a clinch with their uncle because then she’d have so much explaining to do. And she was definitely going to be making out with their uncle.

  The thick curtains were closed in the bedroom, with only a sliver of sunlight peeking through the middle where they came together.

  Darker was better when it came to stretch marks. Maybe they could just keep the lights off, and she could keep her shirt on. That was the best idea.

  Sex post-children was such a complicated maze.

  She toed off her shoes, her toes sinking into the warm carpet, and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, Travis was right there. His brown eyes soft, his perfectly symmetrical face held a totally gentle smile. Yes, this man was captivating, and sex in pressed slacks.

  He moved his hands to her shoulders. “You’re tense.”

  Well, wasn’t that just the understatement of the century?

  “I don’t think we can do this the way you want,” she said, her words as soft as the look in his eyes.

  She meant the feelings and the bedroom activities and the kisses…those amazing kisses.

  “We’re already doing this the way I want,” he replied, stilling only a moment before he started working a knot where her shoulders met her arm. That knot that always seemed to be there, but that she forgot about most days. “How do you want to do this?”

  He moved away, just a little. Just enough for her to feel the emptiness he’d filled before by being so close.

  “We don’t have to do this, Rach.” His eyes were pure heat. His words sincere.

  “I know.” She swallowed. She wanted to do it. But there were reasons, a lot of reasons she’d carefully laid out in her mind, as to why they needed to press the brakes on whatever this was between them.

  “Can we talk?” she asked.

  “We can always talk.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hands still working their wonderful, delicious magic.

  “Let�
��s start with my kids.” She crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “Rach.” With an abundance of care, he unwound her arms, wrapping his own around her waist, holding her up so she didn’t have to do it all alone. “I love your boys,” he whispered. “But I don’t want to talk about them right now.”

  She gripped the soft cotton of his button-up shirt. Apparently, he owned two. This one was blue. “If we do this, we’ll wreck everything for them.”

  “What we’re doing right now has absolutely nothing to do with them.” He tilted her chin up, running his hands over the curve of her hips. “Just us. It’s just us here.”

  He was so wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

  “Everything I do has to do with them. I have to take them into consideration. Always. What happened in the hallway?” She swallowed the thick cotton in her throat. “I can’t lose control like that. They could have seen.”

  What if Brady or Kellan had come home early? How would she have explained what she was doing?

  “You’re serious?” Travis asked, looking like she’d struck him with a smack of her palm.

  For the first time that afternoon, his expression went distant. He dropped his hands from her.

  Maybe they could just go back to bickering. That was so much easier than this.

  “I’ve never been more serious.” She crossed her arms around herself again because…she had to.

  “Rach…” He shoved his thumbs into the waistband of his slacks. “I…”

  “Trav…” She needed him to understand.

  He glanced up quickly, so many emotions flickering over his face.

  “Fuck…” he said.

  “Fuck what?” she asked, totally unsure of what was happening with him.

  “You have never, not ever”—he lifted a palm to her jaw, stroking the pad of his thumb over the apple of her cheek—“called me”—he leaned in closer—“Trav.”

  The fire in his eyes seemed to melt everything in her body.

  “Really?” That couldn’t be true.

  “I would’ve noticed.” He turned from her, paced to the wall in the dim room, and took a visibly deep breath.

  Was that true? It must be. He’d always been Travis.

  “Do you even know how long I’ve wanted you?” he asked.

  “Travis.” She took a step closer to him, her body seemingly on a mission of its own to get closer to this man even as she resolved internally to stop the forward momentum between them so they could get back to where they were earlier. The comfortable in-between with no guarantees and just…friendship.

  Abruptly, he turned back to her. “Don’t do that.”

  She stopped, suddenly unsure how to get back to that comfortable spot she wanted, even as her body craved the opposite. “Don’t?”

  He moved to her and shook his head.

  “You give me Trav, then take it away. That’s who I am to you.” He grazed his lips against hers in a nearly there kiss that literally made her toes curl. “I’m comfortable. I’m a place you can relax. And you’re a place I can be serious. Don’t take that away.”

  This man drove her batty. This man made her wet. Made her want. Made her need.

  Her body hadn’t craved a man like this for years.

  The question was, what was she going to do about it?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Moms are like superheroes. We hide in plain sight until someone figures out that yes we do do it all!” — Janet, Florida, USA

  Rachel

  “Trav.” She pressed the length of her body to his, gripping the button-down cotton shirt.

  To be honest, the kissing, and the chemistry, and the desire had already complicated everything. Even if she hadn’t wanted that to happen. She’d jumped off the diving board, and now was the time to swim.

  She couldn’t get her mouth to form the words, because she wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted today.

  “What do you say we take a conversation break and use our bodies to communicate?” he suggested. “Because, Rach, your body has so much to say. Let today be what it’s going to be.”

  Right. Yes. She could do that. That sounded nice.

  She nodded.

  He took that as his cue to unbutton his shirt and pull it off in a swift motion that left his abs bare.

  Of course, at the pool (and on the lake) she’d noted his fairly spectacular abdominal muscles, but now she got to touch them and play and…

  She reached for his jaw with her palms, lifted on her toes, and pressed her mouth to his. Kissed, sucked, and pushed her fingers into his black hair. She owned the kiss. Owned the moment. Owned the hope of what came next.

  He let her.

  Let it be.

  Until he didn’t.

  As he took over the kiss, her mind released its hold on logic and let the pure feeling of the day pull her under.

  Picking her up like she weighed nothing, he strode to the bed, their mouths barely separating through the movement. With gentleness like she couldn’t have dreamed, he laid her head on the pillows and straddled her knees—still clothed from the waist down.

  Which was a real bummer.

  “Too many clothes,” she said softly.

  His pupils seemed to liquify, and he reached over to the nightstand, flicking on the lamp.

  The lamp had warm white bulbs that cast a nice—dare she say, romantic—glow about the room.

  But.

  She hadn’t had sex with the lights on since the boys were born, so even though she was A-OK with getting the nice warm glow over his abs, hers were…well…

  “Shit,” she said—not in a whisper.

  “What?” He stilled the kisses he pressed to her neck, his heated breath against the tender skin just under her earlobe.

  Sonofabitch, she was wearing a spandex shaper that was not of the sexy variety. Not like the ones she’d seen at one of the shops downtown with the corset and the lace.

  No, she was wearing the full coverage granny panty variety that were decidedly not sexy—unless covered by a kick-ass dress.

  “I’m—” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “This is so embarrassing.”

  Unfortunately, but also fortunately, he dismounted, lying on the mattress beside her, propping his head in his hand.

  She should probably just give him a blow job or something for his trouble.

  “Say again?” he asked, eyebrows totally furrowed.

  “Say what?” She slid her gaze to him.

  He didn’t look very happy, at all. “The blow thing.”

  Fuck a duck, had she said that out loud? Like out loud?

  Her cheeks immediately heated.

  “Oh my God.” She pulled her hands down over her eyes.

  “Rach.” He settled against her, his front to her side. His abs right freaking there, ready to touch. His…holy crap, he had a total hard-on happening, tenting his slacks and…

  “I’m wearing a shaper thing. It’s not sexy. I’m totally unprepared. I don’t even have condoms in here and…I should just do the blow job thing. Then we can both go back to work.”

  Now, that? That he didn’t seem to like. What with the way his eyes turned stormy, and he abruptly sat up.

  “What do you think we’re doing here?” he asked, louder than she’d expected. “I think we’re in two entirely different mindsets. Because it felt like I wanted your body and you wanted my body, and we were going with that.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, the truth tipping right out of her lips. “I don’t know what I’m doing. The lights are on and you’re”—she gestured to the tent pitched at his fly—“and I’m”—she gestured to herself.

  “This is because you have a shaper? What the hell even is a shaper?” His forehead creased with clear confusion.

  “It’s underwear that keeps me all…” Sh
e considered the best word for the situation. “Contained.”

  He stared at her one, two, three, and then four beats, the creases growing deeper.

  “I need to ask you a question. I need you to be honest with me.” He moved his palm to her neck, turning her head so their eyes met. “Can you be honest with me?”

  “I just told you I’m wearing super unsexy underwear right now, so I’m being more honest than I’d like to be.” She sat up, her hair falling over her shoulder in a total wreck that was an echo of what the afternoon had become.

  “Do you want to do this? With me?” he asked.

  Yes, of course she did. She wanted to do this. Her body wanted it and even her mind was on board.

  “I mean sex where we both…pop our toaster tarts,” he said seriously.

  Well, yes, that would be ideal.

  “We don’t have to plan the rest of it. Don’t give it too much weight. If you want, later, we can spend time together. When you’re ready, I’ll help you when you need help. Right now, though? It doesn’t have to be all of that.” He pointed to his bare chest. “It can be just this.”

  She gulped, because she’d never known Travis to be sincere like that.

  What did she want?

  Did she want the whole package?

  Yes.

  No question.

  No questions with him.

  She’d never even considered it until literally yesterday.

  Still, she nodded. Not because she told her head to move. It seemed to do it all on its own. “I want that. This. I think I want to try for the whole thing.” Maybe this really, really was what she wanted. “I think…”

  “You’re doin’ a lot of that.”

  “Maybe I’m just off-limits. That’s why we’re here.” She gestured to the bed.

  The storm in his eyes raged harder. “Did you ever think that maybe we’re here because I just needed the right reason?”

  “What’s that?” And did she want to know?

  “You, Rach.” The storm had passed, and his brown eyes settled on her and she knew whatever battle she’d wanted to wage, thought she had to wage, she’d lost. And she’d won. And nothing made sense. “The right reason is you.”

  He extracted his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out three condoms—apparently, he had high hopes—and tossed the wallet to the nightstand.