by JM Stewart
He brushed his mouth over hers, then took her hand and pivoted, leading her back to where he’d parked his bike in the lot.
She had to hand it to him. He drove carefully, going the speed limit and concentrating on the road. She wasn’t sure she’d have been quite so calm. At least he was until they reached her place. The door barely closed behind them before he pressed her back against the foyer wall. His mouth came down hard on hers, his kiss restless and urgent. His hands went everywhere. Stroking up her sides and skimming her breasts, then sliding back down to cup her ass and pull her hard against him. If at all possible, his erection was thicker and harder than it had been at the park.
When he finally pulled away, he was breathing as hard as she was. He caught her gaze for a split second, then took her hand and led her to the bedroom at the back of the house. Once there, he climbed onto the bed and pulled her down with him.
Draped over his chest now, hands caught between them, Lauren peered at him. He let out a deep groan, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, holding her to him for a moment. Then he lifted his head, kissing her softly.
“Same rules as last time.” He narrowed his eyes, though one corner of his mouth hitched, contradicting the fierceness of the look. “That means no touching, you.”
She might have laughed, but his words caught her, and she shook her head, brow furrowing with her frustration. “That means you don’t get anything out of this. I’m not okay with that.”
The memory filled her mind of the last time they were together, and a full-body shudder moved through her. Her breath left her mouth on a shaky exhalation, her core throbbing.
She leaned down, murmuring against his lips, “God, that was incredible. Getting to see your pleasure.”
Hunger filled his eyes. He lifted his head, skimming his lips along the skin exposed by the neckline of her top. “That’s an idea, you know, as an alternative.”
She didn’t have to ask to understand what he meant. The image—a longtime fantasy—filled her mind, and a heated shiver moved through her. Fire licked along every last nerve ending, and perspiration broke out along her skin, the room suddenly sweltering. A quiet moan escaped. God, if she wasn’t wet already at the thought.
“Yes.” She nipped at his bottom lip.
Laughter rumbled out of him. “What, no protest?”
She shook her head. “You have no idea.”
“For me, too.” He nipped at her bottom lip, then lifted her and rolled her over, holding himself up on his elbows. “The rules will have to change a bit. I’d imagine it won’t be very comfortable for you in those jeans, and there’s no way for me to stroke myself without you getting an eyeful.”
She squirmed beneath him and waggled her brows at him. “I’m okay with that.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “You’re killing me here, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. I’m nervous. I’ve never…” She shook her head, letting the words trail off into the silence. Heat rose up her neck, flooding her face. Here she was, admitting she was a naive virgin. Surely that had to be the biggest turnoff ever.
He lifted his head, brushing a tender kiss across her mouth. “Me either.”
“You and Wendy never?”
“No. Wasn’t her thing.” He shrugged and kissed her again, this one softer, slower, eventually melting into a luscious tangle of lips and tongues. Her hands slid up his back, as if to somehow gather him closer, fire rushing over her skin.
Time seemed to pass in eons. There was only him, simply the luscious scent of him and the heady flavor of his mouth and the delicious weight of him pressing her into the mattress. If there was a heaven, it was here in his arms. God, he was a good kisser.
When he had her a panting, mewling heap of need, he finally lifted his head. The fingers of one hand sifted through the hair at her shoulder. His eyes filled with a tenderness that made her shiver in spite of herself.
“Jeans off, but keep your underwear on. I’ll do the same.” He narrowed his eyes in playful sternness. “And no touching.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “I promise.”
“Good. You’ll find out why we can’t touch.” He kissed her again, soft and lingering, then moved off her and rolled onto his back beside her. One corner of his mouth lifted. “You first.”
She playfully rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. She was starting to think she wasn’t the only one nervous about getting undressed. Keeping her gaze on his, she let the hunger in his eyes give her the courage to peel her jeans off. She’d never undressed in front of a man before, let alone him. By the time she tossed her jeans to the floor, she was shaking. With nerves. With an overwhelming sense of vulnerability.
“Your turn.” She offered a smile, but it must have wobbled, because he leaned over her.
“Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.” He pressed a tender kiss to her lips, then rolled onto his back.
She searched his face. “I could say the same thing, you know.”
He stared for a moment, then frowned, deep grooves forming between his brows. “Is it that obvious that I’m stalling?”
She shrugged. “Only because I understand. May I ask why getting undressed in front of me makes you so nervous? Forgive the way this sounds, but I would have thought you’d be used to this part by now.”
He drew a deep breath and blew it out, turning to stare at the ceiling. “I have a lot of scars. From the IED blast.”
She took his chin in her hand and tilted his head until she could see his eyes. “They won’t bother me.”
“I appreciate that, but I haven’t taken my shirt off in front of anyone but doctors and nurses since I came home.” He finally looked over at her, vulnerability and uncertainty written in the lines of his face. “Going slow isn’t just for you.”
She wasn’t the only one with insecurities, and seeing his made her heart ache for him. God help her. Her heart definitely wasn’t coming away from this month unscathed.
“It’s okay.” She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, then hooked a finger into one of his belt loops and tugged. “Now stop stalling and take these off.”
He let out a quiet laugh and gave her a two-fingered salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
He lay back. Gaze locked on hers, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. One corner of his mouth quirked upward, a playful gleam in his eyes as he slid them off and sent them sailing over the side of the bed. Then he mounded the pillows and scooted back to lean against the headboard. “Now we’re even.”
As it turned out, Trent wore old-fashioned boxers. Today’s were plain white. The tent in the front made her mouth water. The thin cotton did little to hide his erection. Instead, the thin fabric seemed to outline the shape as it lay against his belly. Despite that long-ago conversation, she had no idea what average size was for a man, but Trent didn’t seem small by any stretch of the imagination. The tip touched the waistband of his shorts. She knew from experience he was thick enough that her fingers wouldn’t touch when she wrapped her hand around him.
Meeting his gaze, though, had her nervousness ramping up all over again. Now came the moment of truth. “How do you want me to lie?”
“Whatever’s comfortable for you.” Seeming to understand, he arched a brow. “Would like me to start?”
A hot flush rose up her neck and into her cheeks. She had to be red as a tomato by now. It was one thing to watch him do it, but another entirely to know he watched her. She’d never done this in front of anyone. Ever. “How is this even a turn-on for you? I’m so damn nervous I don’t know what do with myself.”
He slipped his hand into his boxers, cupped his erection, and stroked slowly. Base to tip judging by the movement of his hand. Her clit throbbed, her core aching. Holy mother of God that was hot.
“I actually like your inexperience. With you, there’s no pretense. Your reactions are real.” His hand moved again beneath his shorts, another slow stroke, then seemed to pause at the top. His
jaw tightened, a quiet hissing leaving his mouth. “I’m right here with you. All the way.”
She nodded and adjusted her position so that all she had to do was turn her head and she could see his eyes. He was right, of course. The way those blue eyes focused on hers eased the last of her nerves. The heat and hunger that filled them. The way his jaw tightened with every movement of his hand. Like he hung on by the barest, thinnest thread. It made her more than a little wet to know she affected him that way. No man had ever looked at her the way he was right now, and it flat-out awed her.
Her hand found its way into her panties, sliding into her slippery cleft. A single stroke over her clit sent pleasure shuddering through her. A soft moan escaped as every sensitive nerve ending came alive.
His nostrils flared, his chest heaving. “Are you wet?”
The little girl inside her who’d been taught sex before marriage was a sin said she ought to blush at his blatant question, but Lauren couldn’t find the will to save her life. Of all the fantasies for him to fulfill, this one was huge. She loved the thought of his body against her, but she had no point of reference for sex to even understand what it felt like. Mutual masturbation, however, was easier to imagine. Stroking herself knowing he watched, getting to watch him do the same—the fantasy never failed to liquefy her insides. Actually playing it out, though?
“Very. It’s hot and slippery and swollen.” Every stroke of her fingers sent pleasure rippling through her, each wave stronger than the last. She was super sensitive, her body’s reaction to him amped up by a thousand. “God, I want you.”
“Let it go, doll. I’m honestly not sure how long I can hold off.” He groaned and swore under his breath, his head banging back against the headboard. The tendons in his neck strained, his features taut with a mixture of arousal and torment. “This is torture, you know. Not getting to touch you. You got to touch last week. Saturday it’s my turn.”
His bold declaration only seemed to amp up the energy between them. They weren’t even touching, yet they seemed to fuel each other. Every stroke of his hand, every time his breathing hitched and bliss traveled across his features, the ache deep inside increased to unbearable proportions. The faster she caressed herself, the faster his hand moved beneath his shorts.
Until the sounds of their need filled the silence. His harsh, erratic breathing. The quiet moans she couldn’t contain. Her fingers flying over her slick flesh. The subtle creak of the springs as the bed rocked beneath them.
Pleasure built on top of pleasure, sending her rushing toward orgasm. Until she was gasping and panting, her hips bucking into the press of her fingers as her body sought relief for the desperate ache he’d created.
Her orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere. Muscles tightened and loosened as the bubble inside of her burst, flooding her every cell and leaving her gasping and breathless and feeling as if she were coming apart at the seams.
Trent let out a long groan that sounded torn from his chest, and she had the presence of mind to turn her head in time to watch his eyes slam shut. He’d thrown his head back against the headboard, and his mouth hung open in bliss. His hand had stopped moving, fingers cupped around the head of his penis, neatly capturing his seed, his belly quivering as he came. Just watching him had another orgasm washing through her, softer this time but no less euphoric.
Trent sank back against the headboard, chest heaving. “Jesus Christ.”
As the throbbing faded to tiny aftershocks, Lauren could only lie there and try to remember to breathe. That he wasn’t curling around her like last time made her chest tighten. Logically she understood it was because he needed to clean up, but it didn’t make her feel any less open and exposed, like her protective outer shell had been ripped off to reveal a soft underbelly.
Last time they’d clung to each other. Now they were too separate. The lack of his body against her made Trent suddenly feel entirely too far away.
Seeming to understand something was off, he tilted her face to his and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I need to clean up. I’ll be right back, okay?”
She nodded and watched as he left the room before turning to stare up at the ceiling. She was stupidly close to tears she couldn’t begin to understand. All she knew was that vulnerability had a firm hold on her chest and wouldn’t let go.
Trent returned a couple minutes later. He flicked the light off, then pulled down the covers and climbed onto the bed. He waited until she scooted beneath the covers herself; then he turned her onto her side. It wasn’t until he curled against her back and tucked his hand beneath her body, holding her tightly against him, that the tension finally eased.
How in the world was she going to handle things when the month ended and they went back to being just friends? When he wouldn’t hold her like this ever again?
He pressed his face into the back of her neck. “You’re too quiet, doll. I can feel your tension. Talk to me.”
“I…” She shook her head, unable to explain the tangle in her chest, then finally decided on simple. “Will you stay?”
“I’ll stay. Though for the record, I would’ve only left if you’d asked me to.”
She rolled onto her back so that she could look into his face, unable to hide her surprise. “Last time you said you couldn’t handle us sleeping together.”
He lifted a hand, stroking his fingers down her cheek, the touch tender and sweet. She closed her eyes, unable to help leaning her face into his palm. Conflicting emotions clutched at her chest. Warmth and affection, fear and a sense of bliss and safety. Oh, for sure she was losing her heart when this month ended because she was already falling in love with him.
“I know. I sent you home last week, and I hated it. It felt so wrong. I told you, I’m not that guy. I don’t have to be at the shop until eight, so I’ll have plenty of time to go home and shower. Just wake me when you get up.” When she nodded, he kissed her gently, then closed his eyes. “Then it’s settled. Sleep, doll. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Ten
Trent punched the doorbell, then leaned his hands on the frame, drumming his fingers on the wood. He hadn’t slept worth a damn last night. Or the last two nights before that. He was tired and keyed up and the ghosts of his past wouldn’t let him be. Carving hadn’t helped. So he’d given up any pretense of productivity and had come to talk to Will and Skylar. What he sorely needed this morning was a dose of Will’s sanity.
Despite being wealthy enough to buy an expansive home, Will and Sky owned a modest place overlooking Lake Washington. Three bedrooms, with a yard big enough for the dog they were always saying they’d get someday and a jungle gym for the kids they’d adopt. It was small and quaint and only a few miles from their parents’ place.
The dead bolt turned with a quiet clunk, and Trent straightened off the frame in time for the door to swing open. It was a little past nine a.m., but like Trent, Will and Skylar had already been up for hours. Will was dressed, shaved, and ready for the day. As usual.
Will took one look at him and grinned. “Somebody’s in the doghouse.”
Trent furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Okay, you got me. What the hell about me even remotely tells you that?”
Will’s grin only widened. “Because you look like something’s eating at you. You haven’t gotten that look since you’ve been home. You’ve been numb. And I’m just betting your problem is a woman. Mandy says you’re seeing somebody.”
Great. So everybody freaking knew.
“Who’s in the doghouse?” Skylar came around the corner, looking between him and Will. At the sight of him, a grin spread across her face. Every bit as put together as Will, she sauntered to the door and punched Trent in the shoulder. “Don’t give up there, tiger. She’ll come around.”
Trent glared at both of them, because he was pretty sure his face was red as a damn tomato. Will was about the only person he felt comfortable discussing his relationships with. Skylar, not so much. Oh, he knew Skylar would hear about it all
anyway. He just didn’t want to have to be the one to tell her. “This isn’t exactly newsworthy stuff here.”
Skylar, never one to miss an opportunity to taunt him, waggled her brows. “Is it Lauren?”
Trent folded his arms. “You guys ’bout done? I came over to talk about the party, not my sex life. I have an idea where to hold it. I wanted to run it by you before I set it into motion.”
Still grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Will nodded toward the interior of the house. “Come on in. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“Thanks.” Trent followed as Will wound his way through the foyer, past the living room, and into the kitchen, then dropped onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
Will crossed the space and pulled two mugs from a cabinet. He darted a glance over his shoulder as he reached for the coffeepot. “What’s up?”
Trent folded his hands on the counter. “You want something low-key, just family and friends, right? What about Mom and Dad’s? Big barbeque in the backyard. You know Mom would be thrilled.”
Skylar came to stand beside him, resting her hands on the counter, and peered across the kitchen at Will. “I don’t know about you, but I like the idea. It’s intimate and personal, nothing flashy.”
Skylar and her sisters came from honest roots, raised by a single father who’d lost his wife when the girls were small. That was partly what had the inspired the idea of the barbeque. Her father had died three years ago of a heart attack, and she’d confessed once to still missing him. He thought it might be nice if she felt surrounded by family.
Two steaming cups of coffee in hand, Will gave one to Skylar and set the other in front of Trent. “Yup. I like it.” He rolled his eyes. “Mom will be over the moon. Don’t bother hiring someone to cater.”
Trent laughed and sipped at his coffee. “Because she won’t let me. She’ll insist on cooking. Yeah, I know. I’ll see if I can wrangle Lauren into helping.”
Skylar moved around the counter, pecked Will on the lips, and winked at Trent as she turned to leave the room. “I’ll just leave you boys to chat.”
