by Bonnie Dee
Her body rose and fell with his in slow, easy motion. She dug her fingers into his back and lifted her legs to hook her heels around his thighs. She groaned as the angle changed and his cock hit someplace really special inside her.
“Okay?” he gasped.
“Mm,” she growled. “Don’t hold back.”
He moved faster then, pumping harder, slamming into her. She loved him for being careful with her, but loved this loss of control even more. She responded to his desperate need and to that magical spot he kept hitting. The fizzy sparkles inside her began to coalesce, and suddenly, exploded.
Arching up, she clasped Neal’s body so tight he grunted. With eyes closed, she tossed on waves of blissful sensation. So amazing. Better than the hype. No wonder the world seemed to revolve around wanting and getting sex. But not any partner would do.
She opened her eyes to see Neal’s face close above hers, a face that had become beloved in a very short time. His brows knitted and his eyes closed as he pushed into her, then froze. His head tilted back, neck tendons stretched tight. Such pleasure, and she had given it to him. She loved that.
Sex was like an exchange of gifts, done right if both givers ended up satisfied, but if the matchup was wrong, you could end with a white elephant. This match was exactly right.
Neal’s eyes opened, and he looked at her. Oh, those crazy blue eyes. She’d never get tired of looking into them or having them gaze at her with that loving expression.
“All good?” he asked.
Languid as a cat, she stretched beneath him, curling and uncurling her toes. She smiled. “Very good. And very glad I waited for this. For you.”
Neal smiled back at her. “Me too.” He rocked against her, his cock slowly softening. “I hope it was everything you’d hoped for.”
“It was.” Graci cupped the side of his face, the soft scratch of his beard tickling her palm. She traced a thumb over his lower lip, then guided his face down to hers for a kiss. “Thank you. I couldn’t have hoped for a better first time.”
He withdrew from her, cleaned up, then lay beside her, one arm slung over her body. The weight of his arm felt sheltering, protective. She snuggled against it and glided her hand up and down the Chinese tattoos. Her sexy, cool, new man, who treated her with such kind consideration.
“Hey, if you’re not busy this weekend, I have an out-of-town gig at a resort,” he said. “Maybe you’d like to come. Some of the other guys are bringing wives or girlfriends along, so you’d have someone to hang with while we’re on stage.”
A band groupie. New Graci was doing a lot of things Old Graci had never imagined. “Sure. I’d love to come hear you play.”
She stroked a hand down his side, feeling the ridges of his rib cage. “And I have something I’d like to invite you to, if you’re interested. It’s this wedding for my friend Bree. A week in LA. If you can get the time off and I can score some cheap plane tickets, would you like to come? I could use a plus one.”
He kissed her shoulder. “I’d love to be your plus one.”
Epilogue
Graci checked her seat belt for the tenth time, as if being buckled in securely would help if this tiny plane went down. Her breathing was too fast and her heart rate rapidly accelerated. She sucked in a slow breath and held it, willing herself to calm.
“Everything all right?” The pilot asked through the headphones that hugged her ears.
“Uh-huh. I’m good,” she lied. “Thanks for taking me up. This is…great.”
“You look freaked-out.” He stared at her through reflective sunglasses that hid his eyes. “Don’t panic. I know what I’m doing. But if you start to lose it, there’s a vomit bag right under your seat.”
“Good to know.” She smiled at him through gritted teeth. Insane man. Jim, her dad’s friend, did this for fun, flew in a two-seater Cessna the size of a computer desk for a hobby! Quilting looked increasingly desirable right at this moment as he adjusted controls, the engine roared, and the plane vibrated.
“We’re going to be taking off into a downwind, so it might be a bit rough.”
“What?”
Either she didn’t speak into her mic clearly, or he pretended not to hear her. Jim steered the plane down the runway, circled around, then began to taxi toward takeoff.
I’m not afraid of heights. I’m not afraid of heights, Graci repeated faster and faster as the plane gathered speed.
I’m afraid of falling! She gripped the arms of her seat and pressed her feet against the floor as the Cessna left the ground.
The pilot was right. The ascent was a little like being on rough seas in a small boat. But as they rose through the air and reached treetop level, the air seemed to smooth out. The bumpiness ended.
Graci slightly relaxed her grip on the chair arms and peeked out the side window to watch the ground fall away.
“Whaddya think?” Jim asked. “Doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay,” she repeated and it wasn’t a lie this time. She pressed her head against the window to gaze at the forest they were passing over. “The trees are turning already.”
“Yep. Little bit.” He fell silent, focusing on the horizon and keeping the wings level.
Graci studied the dashboard with all its mysterious monitors and switches, before looking out at the countryside again. The plane dropped suddenly, like when a car goes airborne over the top of a hill, and her stomach lurched along with it. But then the craft steadied again and resumed churning slowly through the air.
I’m flying. I’m actually flying. Graciela Ramirez, who wouldn’t go to the top of the Empire State Building on a senior class trip to New York, was now cruising in a rickety old antique plane—and liking it.
Another checked item on her list. So, maybe this wasn’t hang gliding, and maybe she’d never actually do that, but this was a big leap for her. She’d taken a lot of huge steps in her life in a very short time. Not all of them had worked out, but the most important one had.
She pictured Neal’s face smiling at her as they lay face-to-face in her bed, holding hands and sharing secrets. She liked him more every day, maybe loved him even though it was too soon to love again. But love couldn’t be marked on a checklist. It wasn’t quantifiable or accountable like numbers. It came at you, fluid and surprising and twisting and turning in unexpected ways.
The Cessna hit another air pocket. Graci let go of the arms of her seat and embraced the drop, letting her stomach lurch giddily and her fears fly away.
THE END
A Note from Bonnie: I hope you enjoyed this first installment of the Promise series. Please consider leaving a review. Help an author out and spread the word.
Read on for an excerpt from THE TEMPORARY PROMISE, the second volume in this series about five friends and the men in their lives. If you want to stay informed about my new releases, please sign up for my newsletter by clicking on the link. You can learn more about my backlist at http://bonniedee.com and you can find me on FB and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee.
The Temporary Promise
Waitress and struggling actress Tara Rambeaugh has grown used to the idea that her career might not progress beyond an occasional commercial or role in local theater—until her best friend’s brother, Luis lights a fire under her by encouraging her to make a big move. Soon Tara is taking more than career risks as she plunges headlong into a steamy relationship with the guy she crushed on as a teenager. But war veteran Luis has issues of his own, and Tara doesn’t know if either of them is ready to handle anything serious—even as her heart is falling deeper in love.
Chapter One
“Come to Mattress Town for the best deal around, and may all your dreams come true.” Tara froze with a huge cheesy smile plastered across her face until the director called “Cut.” The grin instantly disappeared, and she rubbed her cheeks, which actually ached from smiling so much. Twelve takes for a half-minute commercial? The guy seemed to think he was filming a blockbuster movie instead of a local ad, and Tara had a date
to get to.
“Can you give me one more take, dear?” McClean asked. “And this time press your hand on the mattress to demonstrate how firm it is.”
Which she’d already done a few takes ago, but Tara only smiled her big cheesy smile. “Sure thing.” She took her place again and waited.
This might not be Shakespeare in the Park, but at least it was a paying gig. She had to stay focused on the positives. Since she’d returned to Cinci, she’d always managed to keep a little something happening other than her waitress job. Some roles in regional theater and a few commercials for local businesses was a helluva lot better than she’d done in New York, where she’d been one wannabe actress in a pool of hundreds.
One African-American actress. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that didn’t limit her options. Casting directors were looking for certain types, and too often, she wasn’t it. After clawing and scrambling and taking any role she could get in off off-Broadway theaters, while working long hours in a deli, Tara had finally abandoned the Big Apple. Nearly broke after three years of trying, she’d flown back to Cincinnati. It felt a little like failure, but a lot like coming home. To tell the truth, she’d been happy to be back in her city on the river.
“Okay, Tara. Action,” McClean called, and Tara moved through the store, smiling and loving the hell out of those mattresses. The camera held on her beaming face once more.
The director said he had enough coverage and this take was a wrap. The crew was released like kids from school, and Tara hurried out to her car, rapidly typing a text to Dre.
On my way. Still free to meet up? Let me know.
Her car door hinges screeched as she opened it. She could really use a new vehicle, but it was last on her list of things to spend money on. Right now she was saving for a ticket to attend her friend Bree’s wedding only a few months from now in LA. An opportunity to see that wild child walking down the aisle was worth continuing to drive a clunker for a while longer.
No problem. I’m late too. Looking 4ward to see u. Dre’s response arrived before Tara started the car. She smiled, picturing his thick fingers typing the message, big football hands which could catch a pass or touch a woman with equal dexterity. Good to have friends with benefits like Dre Rodgers, especially on a long day like this one had been. No strings, no attachment, just some good fun and a stress reliever with her Bengals buddy.
Tara had just started the car and put it in gear when two more texts arrived in quick succession. One was from her friend Corinne: Sitch with Dawes reaching crisis point. Need to talk. Call me later.
Tara sighed. Corinne’s borderline obsessive crush on her married coworker was getting really old. Graci’s more joyful message brightened her day. How about a double date? Crash is really into you. Could be fun. Let me know.
Ah, Graciela, newly in love and wanting everyone else to share in it. She and Neal were adorable together, on the surface so different, but underneath, soul mates. Tara liked Crash, the drummer in Neal’s band, well enough. They’d hooked up a couple of times. But she wasn’t sure she liked him enough to make a formal date of it. Still, this seemed important to Graci.
Why not? Set something up, she typed back.
She put the Volvo in gear and drove out of the nearly empty Mattress Town parking lot. It was well after hours, which was why they’d been able to shoot the commercial there. Her stomach grumbled about missing dinner, and Tara shushed it. Probably she and Dre would eat together before they did other things.
But Graci’s parents’ house was so nearby, it was hard not to turn toward it. Mrs. Ramirez wouldn’t let Tara stop and visit without loading her up with food. Unlike Tara’s takeout mom, Mrs. R lived to cook. And Luis might be there, which was always fun. Graci’s brothers had been like Tara’s own. From middle school through high school, she’d spent more time at Graci’s house than her own. Or if not Graci’s, then with one of the other Fabulous Five—Corinne, Adya, or Bree.
The five of them would make a good chick flick, she thought—the careers, romances, and sexual conquests of five childhood friends now separated by time and distance. Of course, in the movie, the drama would be ramped up. Maybe a life-threatening illness or secret baby, and all of their careers would be more glamorous. Rather than an occasionally employed actress, Tara would be a successful Broadway star, perhaps struggling with drugs and alcohol. Graci must be written as anything other than an accountant. Corinne’s career as a coordinator for corporate events had a certain panache, while Bree worked as a costumer on movie sets, which was awesome. As for Adya… Well, no one was really sure what the Mysterious One was up to.
Of course, the movie of their lives would have at its heart the enduring friendship of five women, their strength in adversity and support of each other when romantic relationships crumbled. A certain audience still missing Sex and the City would eat it up.
The car’s engine started making that clattering sound it had been doing lately, only much louder. Tara searched for a place to pull over, but now she was on the highway. She took an off-ramp onto the city streets just in the nick of time as her car died. She drifted to the side of the road and parked.
“Just fucking wonderful.” She slapped her hands against the steering wheel, then snatched up her phone and searched for a contact. Graci’s older brother, Hugo, owned a garage where Luis also worked as a mechanic. One of them would help her.
A receptionist answered the phone at the garage. Tara explained who she was, asked to speak to one of the Ramirezes, and waited while she was put through.
“Hi, Tara. What’s up?” It was Hugo’s voice, always slightly impatient and irritated when he spoke with her, as if Tara was still his kid sister’s sidekick who’d once filled his body-spray bottle with Windex.
“A little car trouble. The engine just died all of a sudden. Can you help me?”
“Is the car out of gas?”
Tara bit back her annoyance at the assumption she was an idiot. “No. It’s not out of gas, and I don’t think the gauge is broken. It just conked out. I had to pull off the road.”
“Did you call a tow?”
“I can’t afford a tow. That’s why I called you. Could you send Luis to help me? I wouldn’t ask, but I’m really broke and pretty desperate.”
A long-suffering sigh blew into her ear. “Luis is in the middle of a repair.”
God, she wished she’d asked for Luis specifically. That was who she’d really wanted to talk to, the brother she actually liked, the one who wouldn’t give her crap, who’d be there for her without a moment’s hesitation.
Hugo sighed again. “I’ll send him. Where are you exactly?”
Tara gave directions. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry to ask for help.”
“It’s all right. You’re family. But if Luis can’t fix it, you may have to have a tow anyway.”
“Got it. And I’ll pay you back somehow. I’m just a little strapped right now.”
Tara waited in the car, and within fifteen minutes, Luis’s car pulled up and parked in front of hers. She got out of the car, grinning at the familiar stocky figure with the powerful shoulders stalking toward her. She trotted over to give him a big hug. “Thanks so much for coming.”
“No problem. Wanna pop the hood for me?”
“That sounds dirty,” she teased.
“Only to you. You always did have a one-track mind.” He flashed white teeth, but the smile didn’t really reach his eyes.
Tara released the hood latch. Luis bent over the engine, tightening this and checking that while she stood by, watching his expert hands move. Grease stained his fingertips, and the gray T-shirt stretched over his chest. Luis was short yet muscular. He’d done some wrestling in high school before he lost interest in it, but he still looked capable of pinning a larger man to a mat if he chose to.
“How has it been being back from Afghanistan?” Tara asked. “Do you like working with Hugo?”
“Like? That’s a strong word. I appreciate him giving me a job, but
you know we’re like oil and water. Always have been.”
“Yep.” She remembered the fights, sometimes physical, that used to rage in the background between the brothers, which she and Graci had ignored, being much too busy discussing the soap opera of middle school.
Luis unscrewed a cap and checked the oil, holding up the dipstick and examining the black sludge on the tip. “When was the last time you had your oil changed?”
“Um. A while ago.”
“Well, it needs it. Want to try to start the engine?”
“Sure.” Tara got in and turned the key. Nothing. “So does this mean the battery’s dead?” she said to show him she had some clue about how a car worked.
“Yeah. I’ll give it a charge and see if it holds long enough for you to follow me back to the garage. Either you need a new battery or the alternator’s dead.”
He went to turn his car around to face hers. Tara watched him walk away, the squared set of his shoulders and erect gait very military now. She wondered what it had been like for him overseas and if it would be too intrusive to ask him about it. Obviously, something had happened. He wasn’t the same easily smiling guy he used to be. But she didn’t know if a specific event or just armed combat in general had changed him.
Luis attached jumper cables from his running engine to her cold dead one. Seemed there should be a sex analogy in there worth cracking a joke about, but Tara couldn’t find it.
“How’s the acting going?” Luis asked as he worked.
“Fantastic. I just spent the last almost eight hours in Mattress Town, creaming my jeans over how firm and hard their mattresses are.”
“Cool. What happened with that soup commercial? You said the company might go national and use you in more of their advertising?”
