What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

by Kristine Cayne

  “Am I a good workout?” She attempted to act flippant and unimpressed at his good-humored show, but her heart slammed so violently as she took in the splendor.

  He tugged her into his chest. The length of their bodies molded together as he wriggled back and forth. He playfully washed her body with his. “You’re the best workout I’ve ever had and we just barely made it through warm up.”

  She could hardly hear his mock whispers over the blood surging through her veins. Subtle aches pulsed, desire building with the slippery friction of their skin.

  She twisted, searching for his mouth, drinking in his luscious kisses.

  He reached between her thighs and she went still, slumping and resting her cheek on his torso. A veil of steam clouded the air around them. She held onto his flexing bicep, her lip dragging on his shoulder as he stroked her open.

  Gently, he slipped his thick fingers deep and held. Her tender soreness turned to pleasure as he started a slow in and out slide. Trembling, she cupped her hand at his nape holding securely. John massaged her tender flesh with his thumb, pushing deeper with an infinite, wicked rhythm, the skilled combination unlike any bliss she’d ever known.

  Excitement climbed higher in each of their soft moans, filtering sounds of joyful lust through the mist. Clenching around his fingers, she shuddered against his shoulder, peaking in jolts of delicious ecstasy.

  Withdrawing his fingers, he secured her tightly in his embrace. He turned off the water, urgency riddling his tone informing, “We’re moving to your room.”

  In between at least a dozen heat-filled, full-mouth, luscious kisses she could only best describe as the most erotic thing she’d experienced in her life, they managed to quietly relocate to her bedroom without waking anyone.

  They sat naked, Indian style on her bed, sharing a bottle of wine. Kissing took on an entirely different role, feeling more like an actual sex act instead of foreplay. They talked and laughed and made love again.

  Curling up beside him, happy and sedated in his arms, Shayla drifted off to sleep.

  He woke her when the early morning sun filtered into the room.

  “Shay,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss near her temple, he stroked her arm, his fingers playing across her skin. “I should go. JC wakes up at the crack of dawn every day.”

  Her brows pulled tight in protest and she snuggled closer, nuzzling deeper into the crook of his arm.

  He rolled over on top of her, nibbling on her neck until she giggled. He climbed out of bed and got dressed. “Go back to sleep for a while. I’ll make breakfast for everyone in a couple hours.”

  “You cook?” she asked with a sleepy smile.

  “A little.” He cracked open the door, peeking into the hallway. John wiggled his eyebrows and came back to her side. He tugged on the sheet, exposing the tight bud of her nipple, bending and drawing it into the warmth of his mouth. “Don’t get too excited. Everyone will know how much you really like me.”

  Shayla pushed the sheet to her waist, exposing her other breast. “Hey, don’t forget this one.”

  She giggled in a hush, raking her fingers through his hair as he nibbled on the pale skin.

  He pulled back, releasing the delicate skin, pursing his lips to blow on the bud. Heat built in his gaze as her skin tightened, darkening the delicate pink to rosy red.

  “I gotta go, Shay, otherwise everyone is gonna know we spent the night together.”

  John kissed her on the lips and slipped out her bedroom door.

  Shayla pulled the silky bedding under her chin and stared at the ceiling. She felt as if she’d been branded, marked as his. No matter how she tried to cover the stains of sheer bliss and guilt, everyone would see it.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite all the worry and guilt she should have felt for having sex with John, Shayla couldn’t help but enjoy the happy and calmness inside. Her phone blinked green, but it was Carrie Ann reminding her to have fun while in Greece. Mat hadn’t called, and somewhere deep down, Shayla knew he wouldn’t. After a lengthy conversation with herself, she decided to make the absolute most of the weekend.

  Shayla attempted to conceal the I’ve just had the most incredible night of my life look covering her head to toe. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face, or conceal the dark circles from under eyes and chapped skin surrounding her mouth. Sounds of low music and happy voices drifted through the halls of the traditionally quiet house. With each step down the hallway, a new ache or sore muscle reminded her of various positions John arranged her in the night before. Heat rose to her cheeks as she eased her way toward the kitchen, listening for John’s voice. Her nerves settled when she found only Tracy and JC.

  Wedding talk and a buzz of ceremonial excitement filled the kitchen. The girls moved in unison, making coffee and cutting up fresh fruit, humming and singing, “Going to the chapel and we’re gonna get married.” Shayla felt like a third wheel for a millisecond, but Tracy and JC quickly added her into the conversation. Their close family dynamics made her feel like a favorite long distance cousin, the relative they hadn’t seen for years, but instantly reconnected with like it was yesterday. Besides her uncle, Shayla had only experienced this kind of immediate connection with one other person, Carrie Ann.

  Tracy moseyed into the living room, gazing out at the picturesque view. White houses molded into the black cliffs on the adjacent side of the bay, ignited with a hue of tangerine color from the morning sun. Shayla stood at the counter, plunging a tea bag into a boiling cup of water until steam rose with a minty aroma.

  JC made a cup of coffee for her sister, and they joined Tracy, stepping out onto the back patio.

  The girls’ enthusiasm grew with anticipation of the day’s wedding.

  JC’s eyes lit up, glowing the same emerald green as her brothers. “I haven’t had my hair and make-up done by someone since I went to my prom.”

  “I’ve never had my make-up done by anyone. I’m kind of excited,” Tracy admitted.

  Warming her cool fingers on the mug, Shayla took a careful sip of hot tea. “Thank goodness for Marco and Rick. I hate doing my own hair.”

  The sound of the front door opening and closing captured their attention. All three turned to see who was up. John walked through the front door wearing a big smile, dark jeans and a white linen shirt, unbuttoned to the center of his chest.

  Tracy and JC exchanged casual good mornings, but Shayla could only stare, her heart pumping in painful beats. Their eyes connected and his grin broadened, raising chill bumps over every inch of her skin. He strolled to the open sliding glass doors, and even though sunglasses hid his gaze from her sight, Shayla felt his fixed stare burning through her like the strike of a match.

  Car keys dangled from his fingers. “Morning. It’s a beautiful day for a wedding.”

  He’d turned to Shayla when he said beautiful.

  Tracy asked in surprise, “Where have you been so early this morning?”

  “The market.” His sisters’ attention already returned to the gorgeous view hovering beyond the infinity pool. He locked eyes with Shayla. “I needed to pick up a few necessities.”

  Shayla buried her feverish grin in the rim of her cup and John disappeared into the house, sounds of his footsteps fading down the flagstone hall. Thrilled for their mom to have found love again, Tracy and JC rambled on about the day’s events about to unfold.

  Though Shayla was overjoyed her uncle had finally found the women of his dreams, the only one thing she could think of was how many minutes she should wait before following John inside. Two is plenty. She excused herself without notice.

  Making a conscious effort not to run, she paced through the house and down the hall. John’s door was open, so she tiptoed inside, shutting it behind her. Ambling out the bathroom door, John smiled. He walked straight to her, wrapping an arm behind the small of her back.

  Shayla arched, molding her body to his.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you
?” John raked his strong fingers through her messy morning hair. Cradling and caressing the back of her head, he gazed amorously into her face with a slow, intense burn of hunger.

  “Yes, I do.” Shayla went slack in his arms as if she’d been drugged, savoring the molded linkage of their bodies combined as one. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she relished in the heat of his neck.

  “You are so handsome,” Shayla whispered in a quiet breath. Her fingers trembled, studying the indention of his small scar with the pad of her thumb.

  He bent, covering her mouth with a slow delicious kiss, sweet enough to make her toes curl. Lifting his head, he pressed soft kisses on her nose and eyelids before staring at her with a grin tucked in the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been trying to decide what color your eyes are. At first I thought they were blue.”

  Taking further inspection, he cradled her jaw and twisted her face toward the sunshine casting through his window. “But they also have these long threads of green and dark brown outlined in a honey color. Just beautiful.”

  She raised her lips and John responded with a quick peck on her lips. Shayla frowned wanting more. She heeded a sensual promise, “You are gonna be in so much trouble later.”

  “What kind of trouble? Cause if it’s the kind of trouble that involves you…well, you might as well throw my ass in jail.” He wiggled his brows, nibbling on her neck, causing Shayla to squeal in delight. “But right now, if I don’t get into the kitchen in a few minutes my sisters are gonna come looking for me. They already put in orders for my famous banana pancakes.”

  Shayla dropped her arms from his neck and started for the door.

  John caught her around the waist from behind, pulling her in close. His hand traversed the front of her body, fondling and gripping, as his other hand swept the hair from her neck. She tilted her head, exposing her neck. His soft nibbles turned hungry. He tilted his hips, rubbing his erection against the small of her back. He grasped her tighter, murmuring next to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “You make me so hard.”

  She clutched his forearm, transfixed by the feeling of his muscles moving beneath her fingers. Pushing her hips backward, she twisted her neck, aggressively hunting for his mouth. She felt him smile against the slope of her neck.

  Memories of the night before sparked like the flash of fireflies on a hot Kentucky summer night. She only wanted his lips on hers. Shayla slung her arms over his firm shoulders, kissing his mouth with bruising force. Her breath came in hard pants as his mouth moved over hers, the sweet taste almost too good to bear. The slippery friction was so intense her lower stomach muscles clenched and coiled with need.

  Knock. Knock. Knock. “Hey, are you gonna make breakfast? Or do you want me to make pancakes?” Tracy issued in more of a warning than a question.

  Without making a sound, John backed away from the door, inhaling deep to catch his breath. “Be out in a minute.”

  “We just woke up Mom and Tom, so everybody’s ready.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right there.” He stroked down her spine, soothing her trembling body as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. Waiting for Tracy to move away from the door, he whispered, “You okay?”

  Unsure of her answer, she remained silent, quivering in his arms as he set her feet on the floor. Shayla had several boyfriends over the years, but nothing had ever felt this good. John’s kisses required full surrender of the moment, leaving her unable to put a coherent sentence together. John peered down, cupping her face in his hands, getting a read on her until she forced herself to look at him.

  “I’m okay,” she snickered softly, dazed by her own reaction. “Good lord, you’re a good kisser.”

  She wobbled and he caught her by the elbows. “Do you always kiss like…”

  Her words trailed off into a muttering tongue-tied mess as she paced back and forth, wafting her hands through the air exaggeratedly. “I’m surprised you don’t have women following behind you like a trail of breadcrumbs. You probably have women lined up around the block for dates. Two blocks. You’re just so…yummy.”

  “I don’t have anyone lined up back home.” He laughed at her with endearing amusement then said softly, “And you haven’t even tasted me…yet.”

  Her mouth fell open. She was stunned by the heated, somewhat crude, promise and even further surprised by her body’s throbbing, wet reaction. Shayla started to say something, but every last one of her brain cells had just been fried. Her brows furrowed together in a tight knit, and her lip twitched. Flustered, she started for the door, stopping to poke him in the chest with a low grumble. “Oh, you are gonna be in so much trouble later.”

  “You don’t know what trouble is.” John’s arms tightened around her from behind. He growled playfully at the ticklish spot behind her ear. “When this wedding is over, I’m going to take you back to the hotel. Hell, you’ll be lucky if you make it to the car.”

  Relinquishing his hold, John cleared his throat and opened the door. John patted her on the bottom, gradually guiding her out of his room. “The coast is clear. Go get ready for breakfast.”

  “Okay.”

  Pointing his finger at her mid section, he teased in a hushed mocking tone as she hurried toward her room. “But don’t you dare sneak off into your room and take care of yourself. You’d better wait for me.”

  A rush of heat crawled over her from head to toe. She beamed back at him with a smile so big her cheeks hurt as she slipped into her room.

  Not even bothering to see if her phone blinked green, she flopped straight back onto her bed. Her feet wagged back and forth, keeping the pace of windshield wipers in a torrential downpour of emotions. She tried to compartmentalize her euphoric high into nice little categories of feelings, but it was impossible. Blissfully happy, calm and content, and turned on would be an understatement.

  John’s gorgeous good looks were just what lay on the surface. “He’s so much more,” she whispered aloud. “He’s adventurous, and the manliest man I’ve laid my hands on.”

  He sported an ego matching many men she knew climbing to the top in the film industry, only he carried it in such an endearing manner. As she stared at the white ceiling, curiosities saturated her thoughts, wondering what he’d be like in his own element.

  A vision of him sweaty and dirty after a hard days work popped into her mind. Her lids closed with a slight eye roll as she drummed her fingers on her stomach. She could practically taste the salt on his skin and glimpse the sun-baked, hard-worked muscles.

  “Oh, my God and he’s so much fun.” Her eyes popped open and she jumped to her feet, giggling to herself. She picked up her phone, wondering if she should call Carrie Ann. Staring down at the black device, she shook her head and placed it back on the nightstand. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s making breakfast. Get your ass in the kitchen.”

  Breakfast was in full swing. Shayla opted to keep a safe distance from John and eased onto a barstool at the counter. The man oozed enough sex appeal to cause a traffic jam in a snug fitting white T-shirt and lightweight grey sweat pants. Simply glancing at his long tan feet triggered imploring thoughts. Every time he turned to smile at her, he caught her inspecting his narrow waist and perfectly formed ass.

  His muscles flexed and relaxed with each flip of a pancake, causing her to squirm in her seat. John winked at her several times before asking for her to assist him.

  Shayla remained glued to the solid wrought iron chair, terrified to get too close to him. But with one tiny pleading glimpse of his brilliant green eyes, she found herself at his side.

  His warm smile and spicy male scent traveled along every nerve ending, turning her giddy. Shayla consciously struggled to keep her hands off him. He didn’t make it easy and took far too much pleasure in torturing her. He purposely touched her with light, sensual brushes of his hands. He nonchalantly snuggled close to her ear with heated instructions, even going as far as nipple grazing her three times. Her insides felt like an out of control wildfire, burning so hot, her
face felt sunburned.

  John playfully savored her anguish, secretly torturing her throughout the entire morning meal in front of their families. Everyone vanished when he offered to clean up, leaving just the two of them in the kitchen. Standing at the sink, getting ready to wash the last dish, he dipped his finger in the sauté pan of warm homemade blueberry topping, offering it to her. Shayla wrapped her tongue around his finger, drawing it deep into her mouth and massaging it with her tongue. His humor faded. John’s jaw fell slack and his lips parted with the slightest hint of a moan.

  She released his finger, nodding at the last bit of sweet syrup, indicating one more lick. She bit back a sultry grin, watching color rise in his tan cheeks. “Shame to waste it.”

  He gathered the remaining syrup on his finger and watched intently as she took it into her mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he murmured in a guttural strained voice.

  The doorbell rang, breaking his daze.

  “Oh, fuck is right,” Shayla warned coyly. She wasn’t sure, but swore she heard his breath hitch.

  In that moment, everything changed. His eyes filled with seriousness, pulling the gravity in around them. The morning had been so full of mischievousness, playing off their secrecy, but nothing was funny now. Her feet felt like concrete, polarized by his keen stare. John tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, lazily massaging the strands between his fingers.

  Neither moved, gazing into the other’s face.

  His brows creased and he tilted his head slightly. Time crept by with utter slowness. Her heart beat wildly, pulsing frantically in her forearms and neck. Her nose stung and her vision blurred through a slick of tears. Tentatively, he reached for her hand, bringing the heel of her palm to his chest.

  John pulled her into his arms, but stepped back when the commotion from the living room spilled into the kitchen, breaking the significance of the moment.

  “What is this? Rocky’s making breakfast and doing the dishes?” came a rough bark of laughter echoing through the kitchen. Benny Levi strolled towards John with a glint of sarcasm in his eyes. His lip curled in a smile as he grasped John’s shoulder in a firm welcome. Benny was average height with dirty-blonde hair, a square jaw and cocky smile that drove fans straight to the box office. Almost every woman Shayla knew found him irresistible, including his wife.