Between the Sheets

by P. J. Mellor

  “We could drive to Corpus, save some money.”

  Releasing the air, she nodded. “But it’s cheap and the flight is less than an hour. It will give us more time at the beach house. Plus, like I said, it’s nonrefundable.”

  He frowned. “Let me reimburse you.”

  “No. It was my idea; I’ll pay.”

  “Then let me at least pay half. I know how much beach houses cost to rent.”

  She sighed. If she allowed him to pay half, she would be giving up control. Then again, if she didn’t allow him to pay, she might max out her credit card.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay for the house and flight, you pay for everything else. Food, entertainment, whatever.” Condoms. She just realized she hoped lots of condoms would be needed.

  “Okay.” His nod was reluctant. “But if you discover you need me to toss in any more money, just say the word.”

  “So you agree? We can go on a sex-only vacation? No strings, no commitment?” She wouldn’t be totally disappointed if he backed out. In fact, it would probably be for the best, she told herself in an effort to stave off the fear of impending rejection.

  “When do we leave?”

  6

  Daryl glanced at Ashley as he maneuvered their rental SUV through the afternoon congestion on Ocean Boulevard and forced thoughts of canceled appointments and potentially disappointed or irate patients from his mind. He was right where he needed to be. But he wondered about Ashley.

  Nervous. That was the only way to describe how she looked, huddled against the passenger door, gnawing on her lower lip.

  He’d wanted a sexual relationship with her for more years than he’d care to admit. But not because of the sex. Because he knew, deep down, if she would give him a chance sexually, he could get past her defenses and make her see how right they were for each other.

  He hoped. That was the grand plan, anyway. And now they wouldn’t even have that, just a sex-only vacation. Could he convince her to take a chance on him in such a short time frame?

  “Does it bother you,” Ashley broke the silence at last, “that I lived with Andre and Collin—your two best friends—and now I’m going to be having sex with you?”

  He glanced over at her. “Not unless you’re planning to do a play-by-play comparison.” It was a blatant lie, but he’d already decided he’d take her any way he could get her. “Why? Does it bother you?”

  She took a sip from her bottle of water and set it back in the cup holder before answering. “Trust me, no.”

  “All together, you invested almost four years with Andre and Collin.” He shrugged. “There’s bound to be at least a little apprehension, if not comparison. It’s human nature.”

  “Daryl Garrett, if you’re going to start analyzing everything I say or do, you can turn this car around and take me right back to the airport!” She swiped at her eyes. “I don’t need any more stress.”

  “Sorry.” He focused on the road in front of him, clenching his jaw. “I don’t want to mix stress into our relationship any more than you do.” Hell, he had so much riding on their time together; he had enough stress of his own.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, placing a warm hand on his knee, practically burning a hole in his jeans. “Do you think we added to the tension by not finishing what we started last night before the pizza came?”

  If the ice-cold shower he’d taken after leaving her was any indication, then yes.

  Instead, he managed a credible laugh. “Naw, we were both tired. Besides, you had a point when you said it will add to the pleasure when we get to the beach house.” He tugged on her ponytail. “I’m counting on it.”

  “Counting on what?”

  “Adding to the pleasure.” Taking a deep breath, he shifted in the bucket seat. “But if you don’t move your hand back down to my knee, I may have to change my plan and pull over so we can start our vacation on the side of the road.”

  “Oh!” Ashley drew her hand back as though it had touched a hot burner. “Sorry. I didn’t realize…I mean, I wasn’t paying attention…just drive, okay?”

  “Ash?” He glanced over a few minutes later to see her worrying her lower lip and felt his cock stir. “I’m only human. If you kept stroking my leg like that, going higher and higher, I’d have no choice but to pull over and let you have your way with me. Not that I’d mind. And, trust me, once we get to the beach house, you can touch me anywhere your heart desires.” He gave an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “As long as I get the same privilege.”

  She clutched her hands together in her lap and looked out the window, making him wish he hadn’t stopped her. He missed the warmth of her hand on his leg. And higher.

  Time enough for that once they reached the beach house.

  Ashley fought the urge to sit on her hands. What was wrong with her? She’d never been the type to fondle dates. Then again, was this really a date? Sex. They were going to a beach house for a week of sex. And to play. Sex play. Sex and sex play with easily the best friend she’d ever had. Would their friendship survive? But if she called it off right now, would she survive?

  Ashley and Daryl had met in the third grade, when he’d rescued her from being beaten up by some fourth-grade boys who loved to pick on little girls. She’d stood up to them, exhibiting false bravado, trading taunts. When the first boy, Richard, her first crush, had punched her, she’d experienced her first heartbreak. It was instantly compounded when another boy had grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back while an unrepentant Richard had continued to punch her in the stomach until she’d been afraid she was going to embarrass herself further by losing her lunch.

  Suddenly, Richard had stopped punching her, and the boy holding her arms relaxed his grasp. Richard turned away from her, only to immediately be knocked to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Above him, a skinny kid with glasses stood, fists raised. Daryl.

  The bullies had run away, crying. Daryl had walked over and helped Ashley up from where she’d collapsed into a puddle of pain and tears. He had offered her a shredded tissue from his pocket and helped her pick up her books.

  He’d been her knight, her protector, her best friend ever since that day.

  Off and on, she’d been romantically attracted to him. But when they got older, whenever she’d felt those feelings, he’d had a girlfriend. Then she’d have a boyfriend, and the urge to explore her attraction had been relegated to the back burner.

  Now it would be on the front burner. The thought both excited and terrified her.

  She hoped the resulting heat didn’t burn them up.

  “Wow,” Daryl said a few minutes later as he pulled the rental into a shallow circular drive in front of a weathered-siding-covered house on six-foot stilts. “You actually paid for this?”

  “Shut up. The Internet ad had gorgeous pictures. The owner said it was being renovated. That’s why it was such a good deal, I guess.” She smiled. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Daryl. At least reserve your judgment until we see the inside.” Reaching for her door handle, she looked back at him. “You bring the suitcases while I unlock the door.”

  “I’m not holding my breath. Any place that has you take your own bedding, including the mattress, doesn’t strike me as a five-star place to stay.”

  “Don’t be such a party pooper. Oh, that reminds me, the box with the air mattress is in the trunk, too.”

  Scampering up the stairs, she wondered if Daryl would want to have sex immediately. She was sort of hungry. Hey, it was her vacation, too. She had a say in whether they had sex or went out for an early dinner. How could she feel romantic with a growling stomach?

  Daryl frowned as he watched Ashley practically run up the wooden stairs to the wraparound deck. In the distance, seagulls called as waves lapped the beach. A calm washed over him, relaxing him.

  He loved the beach. Almost as much as he loved Ashley. Hefting the suitcases from the trunk, he grabbed the mattress-in-a-box, beeped the locks, and trudged toward the ste
ps. He needed a vacation. A sex vacation was even better. But the fact was, sex or no sex, any time he spent with Ashley would be a good time.

  Pausing at the top of the worn stairs, he looked out over the bay, squinting at the golden reflection of the sun on the water. Between the house and the water stretched an expanse of white sand, begging for him to sink his toes in and stay a while.

  Tension eased from his muscles, leaving him with the almost overpowering urge to lie down and take a nap in the sun.

  He made his way to the open door, which faced the water. “Ash?”

  “In here,” she called from somewhere inside. “Daryl, come take a look at the view from our bedroom window!”

  Smiling at her phrasing—our bedroom—he followed the sound of her voice.

  The door to the bedroom was just to the right of the front entrance. Eager to check out the bedroom—and the bed—he hurried into the room.

  Ashley stood by a skinny set of French doors. More like windows masquerading as doors, their wood frame was so warped he doubted they could sufficiently close. He glanced around. No wonder the wood floors were so dull. Every scrap of varnish had probably been sandblasted off due to improper seals on the windows and doors.

  Reaching out, he grasped the chipped, painted iron headboard and gave an experimental shake. It creaked, the entire frame twisting in an unstable way. “Ash, I’m not sure we’ll be able to sleep on this.”

  “Oh, stop being such a grump.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure it will be fine once we get the mattress blown up and on it.”

  He wasn’t so sure, but since it appeared to be the only place he could sleep with Ashley, he was game. “You want me to blow it up now?”

  Ashley shifted, averting her gaze. “Um, I’m kind of hungry. How about you? I was thinking we might go see if we can find a restaurant or deli before we start unpacking.”

  “I could eat. But, Ashley, look at me.” He gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “It’s okay. I’m not going to attack you.” He grinned. “Not right now, anyway.” Her arms were thinner than he remembered where he rubbed his hands up and down them. “Why don’t we get the bed set up and made, then go find somewhere to eat dinner before we come back and finish unpacking?”

  “You don’t mind?”

  He crushed her to him for a quick hug. “I didn’t say that. But I’ve waited this long to be with you; what’s another couple of hours? Thought maybe we’d check out the crab shack. Then, afterward, we can move on to the reason we’re here.”

  The thought didn’t seem to put her any more at ease than it did him.

  His brain sorted through every article he’d ever read regarding foreplay while he unboxed their mattress.

  Ashley glanced up from the instruction sheet. “It says to screw the little hose into that hole on the side, plug the cord in, and push the green button.”

  He followed her instructions. A low hum filled the room. Within minutes, the mattress sprang to life, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Ashley.

  “What size mattress did you buy?” When he picked it up, it scraped the low ceiling. Struggling, he wrestled it to the bed, where it hung over on each side as well as over the footboard. “Ashley, this doesn’t fit.”

  “Sure it does.” As if to demonstrate, she sat down on one side. And immediately fell to the floor when the mattress flipped over her head. “Ow.”

  Rushing to her side, he helped her up and righted the mattress. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I guess we’ll just have to sleep toward the middle.”

  The thought of sleeping anywhere with Ashley haunted him all the way down the beach to Pirate’s Booty, the crab shack they’d seen advertised on their drive toward the bay.

  Ashley grinned at him over the table as their pirate-costumed waiter walked away. “I didn’t think about it being a themed restaurant.”

  Arms folded on the table, he smiled back. “Me neither. I hope they don’t try to be too authentic. I’d hate to get parrot poop in my food—you know, from the pirate guy having one on his shoulder while he cooked our food?” At the look of alarm on her face, he hurried on, “It’s a joke, Ash. Relax. Besides, stuff like that would get their permits yanked.”

  Nodding, she looked around the small, darkened dining area. Probably on the lookout for parrots. He should have kept his big mouth shut and not tried to be funny.

  Say something. “Are you going to the mental health conference next month?” Great. Real smooth. Nothing kills the mood faster than shoptalk.

  Although, he suspected, the mood he strove for was in its death throes.

  “No. Life coaches aren’t considered mental health professionals.”

  Ouch.

  A comment was not necessary as their pirate brought their drinks and appetizers to the table.

  Over the sampler platter, he wondered if anyone would notice if he stripped Ashley and ate his appetizers from her bare skin.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” Ashley warned. “You’ll ruin my appetite. I’m nervous enough.”

  “True, and we both know how cranky you get when you’re hungry.”

  A hush puppy hit him squarely between the eyes.

  A moist breeze off the ocean caressed their faces as they walked, hand in hand, back to the beach house. With each step, Daryl felt Ashley get a little more tense.

  “I had an idea back there, when we were eating.” He stepped aside, indicating she should go up first.

  “Oh?” She looked back over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. “What?”

  Stepping onto the porch, he drew her into his arms. “Have you ever tried role-playing?” He hadn’t, but if it would make Ashley more at ease, he was willing to try.

  She shook her head, the action causing some of her hair to cascade over her cheek.

  With gentle reverence, he tucked it behind her ear, then brushed a kiss across her lips.

  Relief disproportionate to the situation rushed through him when she noticeably relaxed, leaning her lush body into him.

  Swaying with her in his arms, he prayed he would come up with the right words.

  “Want to play pirate?” Grinning, he held his breath.

  Cocking her head, she smiled up at him. “You mean like a sexy pirate?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his erection against her with each sway of his hips.

  Her shrug brushed her breasts against his chest, further inflaming his senses.

  “What did you have in mind?” Backing toward the door, she pulled him along.

  Other than getting her naked and horizontal? Not a damn thing.

  7

  “Stop.” His hand covered hers when she reached for the light switch. “Pirates didn’t have electricity.”

  “Maybe modern ones do,” she suggested.

  In answer, he shook his head and walked her backward toward the bedroom.

  Spying a yardstick by the bedroom door, he grabbed it, holding her at bay with it. “I didn’t make you walk the plank, my comely wench, so now you will be my slave, to do as I command.”

  “Are you serious, Daryl?”

  “Argh! The name’s not Daryl. It’s…No Beard.”

  “No Beard the pirate?” She giggled. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Don’t laugh, wench!” Shrugging, he struggled to hide his grin. “Hey, it’s the best I can come up with.”

  “Pretty lame, if you ask me.”

  “No one asked you! Now obey my command. Strip!”

  Dropping a slight curtsy, she said, “Yes, my lord.”

  “Ash? Pirates weren’t royalty. Sir is fine.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eyes locked with his, she untied the bows at her shoulders. Her sundress would have fallen like the one she’d worn at her apartment, but it stuck on the swells of her breasts.

  Did he help by tugging it down? Role-playing was a lot harder than he’d assumed.

  A slight breeze drifted through their open window, cooling his face as it wr
apped him in her seductive scent along with the sultry smell of the ocean.

  It made him impossibly harder.

  The yardstick dropped to the plank floor.

  His palms itched with the need to feel her bare skin.

  He took a step closer, looking down at the dress clinging to her curves.

  With each breath she took, the top of the dress slipped a little farther down the slope of her breasts.

  Unable to stand the suspense, he gripped the soft cotton on each side of her ribs and gave a little tug.

  The bodice fell to her waist.

  His breath seized in his lungs. Unable to swallow, he felt as though he may drown in his physical reaction to her.

  His hand shook as he traced the edge of one breast with his fingertip.

  Her little gasp echoed in the quiet room.

  His cock stirred at the sight of her nipples drawing into tight buds.

  Sliding his arm around the smooth skin of her bare back, he pulled her close, thoughts of pirates and role-playing leaving his mind. His only thought was of getting intimate with Ashley.

  Her hands bunched up the fabric of his polo shirt, shoving it up into his armpits. On tiptoe, she tugged and pulled in her effort to remove it.

  He jerked it over his head, tossing it toward the corner. His breath caught at the feel of her nipples on his bare skin. Electricity raced across his skin to his extremities.

  Willing his hand to stop shaking, he traced the edge of her breast with his free hand while he trailed kisses up the side of her neck.

  Beneath his lips, her pulse fluttered.

  “Ash, it’s me. I’d never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” She gave a faint nod. “Relax, darlin’, it’s going to be all right. Better than all right,” he quickly corrected, “phenomenal.”