He could barely hear her response. “Maybe I am afraid of taking things further with you,” she said. “I know I’m afraid of losing the paper before we can sell it and make my mom comfortable. If I lose to you, I mean if the Gazette loses to the Times, then I’ve failed. So — yes, Alden. I suppose I am afraid of you.”
“I think you’re afraid of more than your paper folding.” He nuzzled her hair. “I want to hear you say ‘Yes, Alden,’ and not be afraid.” He pulled her ever so slightly closer. “I’ll let you win.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” Roz no doubt meant it sarcastically, but he heard the tremor of doubt in her voice. It fanned the spark of hope inside him into a fire.
Why he wanted her so badly, he couldn’t articulate. So much for the writer in him. He only knew that a quality inside her spoke to the same sensibility in him. He craved her sureness and her strength. More to the point, he craved her, every stubborn, voluptuous, forbidden inch of her.
“Believe me,” Alden said. “I need you — to believe in me.”
The wind rose, conducting the whispering orchestra of the trees and the flowers and the night into a stirring crescendo. Alden felt the change in her body. Her breathing quickened. Her response made his blood race.
“Don’t you ever just want to let go of all your rules? Your fears?” He kissed her neck, and she melded against him. “Don’t worry, Roz. I’ll catch you if you slip off your white unicorn.”
She chuckled softly. “Alden . . . this is, like, the bad idea to end all bad ideas.”
“I think it’s brilliant,” he murmured between kisses.
She made a soft sound, not quite a sigh. It signaled acquiescence laced with sensuality, an erotic little exclamation point. He reeled from a rush of emotion and anticipation, blood surging to his groin, as he tongued the skin below her ear.
“How are we ever going to go back to hating each other?” she asked, tilting her head to give him better access.
“We’ll figure out a way, I’m sure,” Alden said, smiling into her neck, then nipping the lobe of her ear. He turned her to face him, wrapped her up in his arms and slanted his mouth across hers. She opened to him slowly, and he savored the sweet unfurling of her desire, the petals of a flower revealing itself, her jasmine scent a drug to his senses. As he kissed her, he bunched up her flying skirt and found the tights beneath. He slipped his thumb in the waistline and broke the kiss to slide them down her legs.
“Oh!” She looked down at him with luminous eyes as he rolled them to her calves. He got down on one knee and tugged off each boot, then slid off the tights so she stood barefoot before him, the skirt still whipping around her legs, her hair flying around her face.
He kissed one knee before he stood. “Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind.”
“Shakespeare? That seems awfully romantic for you, Alden.”
“The rest of it’s pretty cynical, actually,” he joked, unbuttoning his shirt as she watched. He tossed it onto a lounge chair by the pool, then pulled his undershirt over his head. Roz’s eyes grew wide, taking him in. She took a hesitant step forward and lay her hands on his naked chest.
Then she leaned in and kissed it.
Alden sucked in a breath as she licked her way to one of his nipples and teased it with her tongue; slowly, deliciously, she moved to the other. He grasped her hips and pulled her against him, cupped her chin and kissed her mouth. Her hands were on the move, on the fly of his khakis, and then his pants were loose and he helped her, kicking them off with his shoes and socks and underwear.
Roz regarded his nude body with unmistakable pleasure. “Alden, don’t let this go to your head,” she said into his ear as her hands roamed to cup his behind, “but you’re not half bad-looking.”
He couldn’t quite laugh, given how urgent his need had become, how his cock now jutted against her. She was still wearing that dress, that thing, whatever it was, that outfit out of a comic book, swirling around her. He slipped his hands under the fabric and found her thin, silky underpants; he reached between her legs and touched her. Oh, yes, she was wet, and she made a breathy sound as he worked a finger under the fabric and penetrated her with it.
“Alden,” she gasped, clutching at him, burying her face in his neck as he played with her.
He felt like a caveman, naked, with the wind flowing around them in the privacy of the darkness, surrounded by naught but the Florida jungle and the beach, not a soul in sight. And he was driving Roz to primal want with every deft stroke of his finger, every dip into her wet slit. He could hear it in her breathing, feel it in the way she pressed her body against his.
“I want you,” he growled.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Alden.”
He released her for a moment and grabbed his wallet from his discarded pants, found the condom, ripped open the packet and rolled it on as she watched, her eyes shining, her lush lips parted. He approached her again, caressing her through her garment, squeezing her breasts. He reached beneath and pulled down the panties, tossing them aside. He slid his hands up her smooth legs to her ass, so sweet and round, then reached to her front to thumb her nub as she clutched his shoulders and made small cries of bliss.
“Do you want me?” he hissed against her ear as she moaned. He slipped his fingers inside her again.
“Yes, Alden,” she almost cried, and he whirled her against one of the cushioned lounges so she faced away from him, on her hands and knees. Pushing the skirt aside, he slipped a hand between her legs, trailing a finger through her folds.
“You’re so beautiful like this, Roz,” he said, teasing her bud with his finger. “Are you ready to give yourself to me?”
“Yes.” She rubbed against his hand.
“No questions? No regrets?”
She responded with a low “Mm-mmm,” moving against his fingers.
“Tell me you’re ready. Say yes,” he said. “I never get tired of hearing you saying yes to me.”
“Yes, Alden. Yes.”
He smiled at her newfound enthusiasm. He positioned himself, notching his cock in her slippery sheath. He teased her there for a moment until she pushed back against him, demanding, and he couldn’t wait any longer.
Alden plunged inside her and lost himself in the feel of her tight, slick channel. “God, Roz,” he whispered, holding himself there for a moment, in the enthralling embrace of her body. Finally, he withdrew partway and thrust again, then again, at first with long, even strokes, tantalizing her, trying to last against the rising tide of his desire. He grasped her behind and pumped harder. She cried out, and he got lost in the pure, molten ecstasy of fucking her.
Of making love to her.
≈≈≈
Roz was lost. She was lost in her own questionable judgment. She was lost in Alden, the man she never thought she’d ever talk to, and now he was deep inside her, making her cry out into the night on a gorgeous tropical beach, all her rules, all decorum tossed to the wind. His shaft felt big going in, despite her wet passage; now it felt incredibly right as he thrust harder and faster. She supported herself with her arms as he pounded against her, and just as she neared the edge of ecstasy, he slowly withdrew, gently grasped her and turned her and pushed her back against the cushions.
This time, he grabbed her garment and pulled it over her head, leaving her in only her jewelry and a sheer black bra that suddenly, as he looked at her with an almost animal lust, felt very, very sexy. Without a word, he scooped her breasts out of the cups so they teetered there, her nipples hardening in the cool air, under his possessive gaze. He traced one with his finger, then the other, and she smiled at how mesmerized he seemed, how the control he’d had only moments ago had been burned away by their joining.
Alden positioned himself over her and leaned in and kissed her, his mouth hungry and demanding. She met his tongue eagerly, then spread her legs for him, inviting him in. Now that she’d surrendered, she wanted all of him, every last scorching cell of his body, even if it was
only for tonight.
The defined muscles of his arms and torso were striking in the diffuse moonlight, his face a shadowed dream, and his eyes — she saw worlds in them as he grasped her legs, lifted her by her thighs, and pushed inside her again. She moaned with abandon, reveling in the pure carnality of it, of wrapping her legs around this gorgeous man on this wild night. She bucked her hips up to meet him until, holding her gaze, he came with a stuttering groan. Inside, the bonfire of fireflies that had been swirling in her consciousness exploded, each spark hurtling out into the starry night sky in one pulsing supernova of pleasure. As she convulsed around him, he shuddered and collapsed against her, still inside her, holding her close. She shivered, feeling not just the wind but the shocking power of their coupling.
Roz wrapped her arms around him. Alden brushed her hair back and kissed her. There was something almost heartbreakingly sincere in that kiss, she thought, as if he were telling her something important, something he couldn’t say out loud. Maybe she was just projecting, indulging for a few moments in a fantasy that would never come true. But that was the seductive appeal of this wordless conversation, of his lips and hers, entwined in an ancient language spoken only by their bodies in the ineffable moment.
It seemed as if they kissed forever, but finally, they paused and breathed and got up to go inside and escape the chilly night air. Alden tugged her right into the bedroom, where she tossed her bra and her doubts aside. She slipped under the gauzy bed curtains and between the crisp linens next to him, cuddling against him, reveling in his strength, in the scent of him, in the tender way he held her against the mountain of soft pillows. The rushing sound of the wind and water outside were a tonic for her fears, her tendency to overanalyze, to worry about tomorrow. Now, there was only Alden and tonight.
With his hot body against hers — her thirst slaked even though they never did have that drink — tonight was glorious.
Roz fell asleep so hard, so soundly, that when she awoke, it took her a full minute to realize where she was. She stretched against the decadent bedding of the Casa Blanca Resort, rolled over and found herself alone as morning light filtered into the room. She could hear birds chirping and watery sounds, relaxing and not terribly conducive to facing reality.
“Hmmm.” She glanced at the clock — 9:45 a.m., making it an indulgent sleep for her. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, through the mosquito netting, remembering every touch, every thrilling peak of her lovemaking with Alden.
Lovemaking? As a wordsmith, she wasn’t sure that was the right term. Were they headed down a road toward love? Was that even possible? Maybe their encounter was more like the kind of sex people had when they worked together so much, chemistry took over. Not that she’d ever experienced anything like this. Or maybe it was the kind of sex people had when they thought they were going to die.
Now, that wasn’t a pleasant thought. And besides, she had feelings she couldn’t dismiss as base hormonal reactions. Yes, Alden was attractive — who was she kidding, incredibly attractive — but she found herself admiring much more about him. His humor. His cleverness. His wild persistence. His scars and his morality, which he held so closely, masked by cynicism and wit. And his surprising tenderness, so sweet after his delicious possession of her.
But now, where the hell was he? Out getting the story?
I’ll let you win, he’d said.
Ha. Not that she’d ever want anyone to let her win at anything.
It was Saturday. Her staff had the weekend off, as a rule. If there was a story that absolutely had to get online, she generally handled it, but it was almost always a down day. Without other pressures, she could focus on the Boyd Bellamy story. She ran over the to-do list in her mind, then slipped out of bed, donned the fluffy white robe she found in the closet, and went to look for her overnight bag.
She was halted in the living room by the sound of a splash and wandered to the French doors.
Alden was swimming laps in the pool. Naked.
Holy shit. He was even more gorgeous in daytime. Sunlight glinted off his tan, wet skin, and his thick, dark hair somehow seemed even more luxuriant when he stopped and stood, chest-deep in the water, and ran his hands through it, drips flying. Was he doing this just to torment her? To remind her of how far she’d — they’d gone?
She touched her lips and smiled. She didn’t need to be reminded, but she didn’t mind looking.
Maybe he sensed her standing there, because he looked up toward the French doors. Could he see her?
He smiled. She kicked herself for the girly thrill he gave her. Especially when he climbed out of the pool, wrapped a towel around his waist and walked toward her.
Roz opened the door for him. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.” He grinned. “Nice robe.”
“Isn’t it? I found it in the closet.”
“Want me to take it off?”
She quelled a fluttering sigh. “I think maybe we should focus on figuring out a few things this morning.”
“Having regrets?”
“I mean about the story.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “I can switch to business mode.”
“Not in that towel, you can’t.” Damned distracting, that towel.
“If you insist,” he said, pulling off the towel and dropping it to the floor.
“Th — that’s not what I meant!” she stammered.
He grinned again and pulled her to him with one arm, laying a crushed-velvet kiss on her lips that made her want to melt into a puddle. He slipped his other hand inside her robe and cupped one breast, brushing her nipple with his thumb.
“Mmmm,” Roz murmured through the kiss, half-aroused, half-frustrated. She pushed him gently away and tried to catch her breath. “We have to work. And you — you have to put your pants on.”
“You sure?” he teased, noting the fact that she had trouble tearing her eyes away from his generous member, which was perking to life as she watched.
“Yes? Yes!” she said, forcing herself to look up at his face. “Damn it, Alden.” But it wasn’t an accusation as much as it was an expression of frustration. “I’m going to take a shower. Alone,” she said as he opened his mouth. “And then maybe we can get something done. Or — go back to our offices.”
“I’ve booked the villa for tonight, too,” he said, casually securing the towel back around his waist. “We could work here.”
“OK.” Why did she feel so shy? “I’ll be right back.”
Roz found her bag — with the clothes she’d discarded last night neatly folded on top of it — took it to the bedroom and got ready for the day.
She emerged wearing jeans and a white blouse over a white tank top with her favorite freshwater pearl earrings and matching necklace. Her shoes were practical — black slip-ons with a low heel, and sky-blue socks for color — and now she felt more like her old self, ready to take care of business.
Alden had transformed, too, into an azure-blue button-up shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and weathered black jeans. He was seated on a couch facing the coffee table, which also sported a tempting platter of bagels, along with plates and silverware.
Roz frowned. “Where’d you get those clothes?”
“I woke up a lot earlier than you, so I drove home and packed a bag. Got my laptop, too.”
“Oh. I forgot your car was here.” She wondered what else he’d been up to. “Any news?” she probed as she sat down and popped open her laptop, cranking it up.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not far ahead of you. At least I brought you breakfast. Cream cheese is in the foam container.”
Roz sat next to him, picked out a cinnamon raisin bagel and slathered cream cheese on it as he watched with amusement.
“So,” Alden said, “our friend Mysty Wellington has made a wedding announcement in Star Style magazine. It’s on their website.”
“What? She’s marrying her girlfriend?” Roz asked around a bite of bagel.
>
“It appears so.”
“Does she say where?”
“Interestingly, Florida.”
“Hmm,” Roz said. “Wonder if she’s just trying to make everybody forget her date with her ex.”
“That’s my guess. My story about the balloon ride was picked up all over the place. And if she’s getting married in Florida — especially if she’s getting married here — she might let everyone conclude that’s why she was in the area. That she might have had a reason to take a balloon ride with Boyd — break the news or some such.”
“This is all so bizarre. I just don’t know where she fits into all this.”
“Me either,” Alden said, getting up. “Want some OJ? I have some in the fridge. The fresh-squeezed stuff.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Roz said, offering him a genuine smile. This was so comfortable. Weird, but comfortable.
He returned with two glasses of liquid ambrosia, and they talked over the possibilities. Roz called the Barefoot Brides wedding planning business; Ari told her they were too crazed with today’s wedding to talk to her but wouldn’t confirm Mysty’s wedding even if they were planning it, citing privacy issues. Alden went another route, searching Collier County wedding licenses online.
“Bingo.” He sounded triumphant. “It doesn’t say where they’re getting married, but the fact that they got the license in this county suggests that, at the very least, they plan to get married in the area. And why not at Casa Blanca? I need to get an item online about that.” He shot a look at her. “You don’t mind?”
“Please,” Roz said, waving him off. “Unless I confirm it’s on Mimosa Key or get more context, I’m not interested. I like facts with my gossip.”
“OK,” he said. “I know this is strange, us working on the same story, but I was serious about not stepping on your toes.”
“Do what you have to do, Alden,” Roz said, reminding herself that, if they had a real conflict, the Gazette had to come first.
He granted her a half-smile that gave him an irresistible dimple and made his gray eyes sparkle, and then he set about typing up his item while she called Jimbo.
Desire on Deadline Page 13
