Melting Into You

by Laura Trentham

With that singular goal in mind, he gripped her hips and guided her to a straddle over his leg. She rocked against him and moaned into his mouth. One of his hands clenched her ass while the other wandered her back, pressing her full, soft breasts to his chest.

  He grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled upward, helping her fight the fabric over her head until it was gone. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back and looked down. Her simple, unadorned bra had not been chosen with seduction in mind, yet the shadows and peaks of her nipples through the thin white cotton dried his mouth.

  Her breasts were large for her petite frame. He cupped them, and they filled his hands naturally. When he thumbed her nipples, she gasped and arched her back, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

  “Lilliana.” Her name rolled off his tongue like poetry. “What are we doing?”

  “It’s been a while, but I think you’ve rounded second base and might be headed for a grand slam.” She’d raised her head, mesmerizing him with her eyes, and caressed down his tattoos, her hand landing between his legs. His hips bucked.

  Her other hand joined the first to work on getting his pants open. Each brush of her fingers across his erection and her every mewl of frustration grew the staticky white noise in his head. The button and zipper of his pants surrendered. He rose to his knees, and she pushed his pants down his thighs leaving him in boxer briefs. She rubbed down the length of him.

  “My God, I thought I’d exaggerated,” she whispered.

  “Exaggerated what?” He hooked a hand around her nape and forced her to look at him.

  “You’re big everywhere.” Her eyes were huge and glassy, her lips parted.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes. He was officially a goner.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, taking his curse as a call to action. She lay back, half on the pink tile and half in the guest bedroom across the hardwood floors, pulling him on top of her. He caught himself on his elbows, his legs tangled in his pants.

  Shifting, he kicked off his boots, socks, and pants and dropped back over her. She wrapped both hands around his neck and kissed him. Sensual yet frantic, their lips, tongues, and teeth explored. She kissed his chin, nipped at his jaw, and ran her tongue over his erratically beating pulse point.

  He cracked his eyes open and scooched and rolled them to the rug with her pressing kisses along his jaw. The bed seemed an impossible distance in the air. They ended up with her on top of him.

  Straddling his hips, she sat up, a wave of doubt crossing her face. Unlike him, she never shuttered her emotions from the world, and her sudden shift from seduction to vulnerability started an ache in his chest. He stared into her dark eyes and brushed her hair back from her face, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. “You’re gorgeous.”

  The doubt disappeared and she leaned over him, the hardened tips of her breasts pressing into his chest even through her bra. The kiss was less frantic and with an unexpected tenderness that destroyed him.

  He didn’t know how long they kissed, but when she pulled away, he was breathing hard and his body was alight. She made her way down his chest, her lips and hands paying special attention to his tattoo. Her soft breasts left a burning trail down his middle while her hair tickled his sides, sending shudders through his body. The effect was mind-numbing.

  She knelt between his legs, grabbed the edge of his underwear and tugged. He raised his hips automatically, and the underwear landed across the room. She wrapped her hand around him, skin on skin finally. Pain-pleasure shot into his system. His eyes wanted to close, to focus on the sensations battling in his body, but they couldn’t. Because he couldn’t stop staring at her.

  She was built like a screen siren from long ago. His gaze traced the transition from full breasts to small waist to rounded hips over and over. He would have never guessed what she was hiding under her baggy shirts. Part of him wanted to flip her over and explore every dizzying, hypnotic curve, but the part of him she was rubbing trumped the more altruistic thought.

  “I’m afraid you’ll hurt me,” she said without looking up, but with vulnerability and worry etched into her voice.

  What could he say? He didn’t even know exactly how or why they’d ended up almost naked on the floor. He had spent years distancing himself from everyone to keep from being hurt again. Yet, Lilliana had shattered his defenses in one afternoon with her sweet smiles and soft kisses.

  “You’re really big.” She stroked a hand down his erection.

  With the primal satisfaction of her words came an embarrassed heat. This was not about vulnerability or forming a lasting connection.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d attempted to fill a vacuum of loneliness with sex, but he’d thought he’d left that part of himself behind in Philly. Presented with Lilliana, he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure even though he could sense the guilt building up behind a dam, ready to flood him later. If a no-strings, one-time fuck was all she was offering, then he would savor the experience. Something to remember during the dark of night. Maybe something to reenact in his dreams if he were lucky.

  “I won’t hurt you.” His voice turned gruff.

  Sitting up, he unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts. After she pulled off the shorts and her panties, he lifted her into a cradle hold and deposited her on the blue and green comforter, crossways on the bed, positioning himself between her thighs.

  He considered turning her over on her stomach so he could run his hands over her ass. He’d nearly had a stroke when he’d arrived to see her on her hands and knees in the bushes, her ass high, her shorts so short he’d seen a flash of her pink panties.

  The sun cast diffused light into the room from the partially opened drapes. Even more than her ass, he needed to feel her naked breasts pressed against his chest, needed to tongue her nipples, needed watch the shadows play across her naked curves. He snaked a hand to her back to release her bra clasp, but she grabbed his arm.

  “No,” she whispered softly in contrast to the nails digging into his forearm. He wanted to insist, to coax her out of her bra, but her unguarded expression reminded him of his mixed feelings over his tattoo.

  Instead of pressing the issue, he cupped her hips and rubbed himself against her. The easy slide nearly had him pushing inside of her, but he wanted to draw this out, make sure she climaxed. Make sure he didn’t hurt her.

  He ran his hands through the dip in her waist and over her cotton-covered breasts, squeezing and toying with her nipples. Her back arched and her spine twisted, emphasizing her voluptuousness. He typically attracted tall women with nearly no bust and narrow hips, all angles and edges—catwalk women.

  But, it was women like Lilliana he dreamed about—petite and curvy and sexy as hell. He dropped to kiss her breast where cotton met skin. Moving lower, he skimmed his teeth over her covered nipple.

  She circled his hips with her legs, her feet on his butt trying to force him closer. He shifted away, wanting to savor the experience, maybe the one time he’d have her. She had other ideas, grabbing his erection and rubbing the end between her legs.

  Slick and ready for him, she raised her hips and fit him at her opening. Her cry was one of frustration. There was so much more he wanted to do with her, so many things he’d dreamed about doing, but a primal need took over. He fisted the base of his erection and slid inside of her a few inches. Their moans intertwined in the quiet room.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, but he wasn’t sure if she was in the throes of pleasure or pain. She was tight, and for the first time with a woman, he worried his size might be a very real problem. He pulled back but couldn’t bring himself to leave her hold entirely.

  “Am I hurting you?” Please say no, please say no.

  “Don’t leave me, Alec. Please.” Her legs tightened around his hips.

  His heart accelerated even as his brain recognized she only meant physically. “I promised not to hurt you.”

  She ran fingertips
down his face and let them trek over his tattoo. “You aren’t hurting me. You feel amazing. So much better than before.”

  Before? Before what? Confronted with her red, kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks, he ignored the brief spike of confusion. Their gazes held. Her dark eyes held mysteries and secrets, even as every other emotion flitted across her face as easily read as a child’s primer. What did she see in his eyes? And, did she even care?

  The need to be completely buried inside of her extinguished any caution. Her squirms and moans drove him forward. He wanted to pound into her, chase his own pleasure, but he fought his instincts, keeping his rhythm slow and deep.

  Her breathless cries mixed with his grunts. Her pulsing orgasm sent white-hot sensation through him, her body growing wetter while clamping him even tighter. He managed a few hard, driving thrusts before coming in a blinding wave, his hips grinding and bucking, pushing her farther onto the bed with the force. His legs tingling and weak, he fell over her, his face buried in her hair.

  Her scented hair niggled his memories, casting him back to college parties. Alarms buzzed, and a sense of reality intruded, overriding the sexual satisfaction. Still inside of her, he uncurled his toes and pushed up.

  She stretched her arms above her head. Her eyes were closed, her legs still spread around his hips, her hair fanning around her smiling face. The picture of a woman satisfied. He swallowed hard. No matter the fallout, this moment in time would haunt him forever.

  She opened her eyes into his, and her sexy smile fell into the continuing awkward silence. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. It had been years since he’d dealt with the aftermath of a one-night stand. Back then, he would have sauntered out with a casual wave and a promise to call. A promise he never kept.

  He missed her the instant he pulled out. Turning away, worried she’d sense his vulnerability, he gathered up his clothes and pulled them on as quickly as he could. She followed his lead, and he couldn’t help but watch her cover herself bit by bit out of the corner of his eye.

  He gathered his clipboard and tool bag off the bathroom floor, not sure what to do next. Continue his inspection? Offer to take her to dinner? Walk out the front door?

  “That was … unexpected.” Humor laced her words.

  He let out a gusty laugh-sigh born from awkwardness. “You could say that.”

  She’d propped a shoulder in the doorway of the bathroom, and he forced himself to meet her eyes. She waved a hand toward the spaghetti-like tangle of wires. “Are you going to finish?”

  The aftereffects of mind-blowing sex rippled through him, and his concentration was shot to hell. “I’m done.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll give me a pass?”

  Her question didn’t sound rhetorical. A numbness replaced the warm satisfaction, and a sense of being used incinerated his confusion. “Don’t think you can manipulate me with sex.”

  She straightened in the doorway, the tease gone from her eyes. “Alec, I was joking.”

  He pushed past her, heading to the staircase. Fuck, he was an idiot. She had been using him like the others. When would he ever learn?

  She caught his arm in the foyer before he could open the door. “Alec, please. What happened had nothing to do with the inspection.”

  “Doesn’t seem that way.” He rubbed his forehead and stared at the jumble of shoes under the bench. “Yesterday you couldn’t stand the sight of me, and today, as I’m uncovering a major wiring issue, you can’t keep your hands off? Let’s call this what it was—a distraction technique. Well, congratulations, it worked. But I’ll be back and that shit up there better be fixed. No more favors.”

  Her fingernails bit into his arm, her eyes even bigger than normal on her pale face. She looked as shocked and shattered as he felt. He twisted free, walked out the door, and didn’t look back.

  Chapter 3

  Lilliana sidled down the row in Walmart, holding the surge protector close to her chest. Feminine hygiene products lined one side of the aisle, but her goal was the contraceptive needs at the end. She’d spent the past two days hiding out in her house in a state of humiliated confusion.

  After hands-down the hottest sex of her life, Alec Grayson had accused her of whoring herself for his signature on the inspection papers. He’d turned from lover to hater in two seconds, not even giving her a chance to explain. Although, what could she say that wouldn’t make things worse? To top it off, she wasn’t sure who was the jerk in this scenario.

  Then, as she was eating a breakfast of cold leftover pizza, the realization hit her like a case of food poisoning, and she’d gagged. They hadn’t used a condom, and she wasn’t on the Pill. She could be pregnant.

  She’d grabbed her keys and headed straight to the store to buy an emergency contraceptive pill. Becoming a single mom was not on her to-do list after fixing porch rot. She tucked hair that had escaped her messy ponytail behind an ear, wishing she’d stopped for five minutes to change out of her rumpled, cut-off sweatpants and gray T-shirt. Some makeup wouldn’t have hurt either. A handful of acquaintances had already stopped her to say hello in a “Honey, are you sure you’re feeling okay, because you look like shit?” kind of tone.

  Three feet away, she glanced up and down the thankfully deserted aisle. She shuffled in front of the display, scanning the items. Condoms. Too late for that. K-Y Jelly. Hadn’t been needed. Massage oil. Wouldn’t ever be necessary based on their parting. Pregnancy Test. Pizza threatened to make a reappearance on the grungy linoleum. She picked up the test with trembling fingers.

  “Hello there, Lilliana.”

  Lilliana startled like a wild animal, lunging to the side and grabbing the nearest box as cover. Miss Constance stood behind her, a shopping basket in one hand, her cane in the other.

  “Miss Constance, fancy seeing you here.” The inane greeting tripped out of her mouth as she took two shuffling steps away from the condoms.

  The woman’s bright black eyes examined her head to foot, lingering on the items pressed against her chest. “Yes, fancy that.”

  Lilliana looked down. Covering the pregnancy test was a package of Depends. Better everyone thought her incontinent than pregnant. “How’re things at the library?”

  “Busy. Darcy has done a fabulous job on the ancestry research area. You should come down sometime. We’ve dug up all kinds of interesting things about your forefathers.” Miss Constance’s gaze fell to Lilliana’s arms once more. The inspection had Lilliana tightening her arms and bobbling the items. Miss Constance laid a soft, wrinkled hand on her arm. “Is something wrong, dearie?”

  Lilliana swallowed down the impulse to drop everything, hug the old lady, and spill her troubles in the middle of aisle seven. “I-I’m fine. Really.”

  One side of her mouth pulled back, but she only patted Lilliana’s arm before walking away. “We got a batch of bestsellers in. You come on down to the library tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing, Miss Constance. See you soon.” Lilliana waited until the tapping of the cane faded, put the Depends and pregnancy test back, and scanned the shelves again. Nothing. It was time to put her big-girl panties on and ask the pharmacist.

  A handful of people mingled around the counter waiting for prescriptions to be filled. Putting her shoulders back and her chin up, she strode to the consultation window. Brandy Wiltshire, a second cousin, and sometimes childhood playmate, walked over with a toothpaste commercial–worthy smile.

  “Hi there, Lilliana. Have you got the flu? You don’t look too good.” Brandy squirted hand-sanitizer and rubbed her hands together.

  “I’m not sick and I don’t have a prescription to drop off.” The strong scent of sanitizer added a nauseating seasoning to the tomato sauce and pepperoni already stewing in her stomach. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was paying them any attention. Did pharmacists take a vow like priests not to discuss confessions?

  Brandy seemed to sense her mood, dropping the overly bright smile, folding her arms over the consultation counter
, and leaning closer.

  “I’m in need of a certain something,” Lilliana whispered.

  Brandy glanced to either side of them. “I can’t give you drugs without a prescription. It’s against the law.”

  Lilliana jerked her head back. “I’m not— Geez, I’m not that big of a black sheep. No, I was a little careless, and I’m looking for the pill, the one you can take after a … slip-up.” She widened her eyes and stared at Brandy, trying to employ ESP.

  Confusion flashed over Brandy’s face before it cleared, her gaze skating down Lilliana’s rumpled clothes. Brandy put on an apologetic grimace. “You mean Plan B. We’re out. There’s always a run on it Monday mornings. You have to get here early. We’ll get our resupply in a couple of days. How long has it been?”

  “Like three years. So long I didn’t even think about asking him to use something.” Lilliana propped her elbows on the counter and ran a hand over her hair. The pull on her scalp barely registered.

  “Oh, my. That was quite the dry spell. But, I meant how long since you had”—Brandy’s voice dropped to a whisper—“unprotected sex.”

  Would the humiliations never end? Lilliana covered her mouth and closed her eyes, her words muffled. “A couple of days.”

  Brandy tutted. “Yeah, you’re already on the late side of taking it, but if you only hooked up once, the odds are you aren’t pregnant anyway. I wouldn’t worry too much.” Brandy’s overly toothy smile was back, but Lilliana sensed the pity in her eyes. “We have plenty of pregnancy kits available.”

  Lilliana kept a fake smile in place until she turned down a deserted aisle. Tears blurred her vision. Brandy was probably right. The girls who got pregnant after a one-night stand were usually part of a Lifetime special or a romance novel. But life did occasionally imitate art. Hopefully the compulsion to curl into a ball and sob on the grungy floor next to the economy bottles of vitamin C was due to lack of sleep and not raging hormones.

  A hand caught her arm. She needed a brave face until she could get to her SUV. Tensing, she forced a smile and cocked her head over her shoulder, hoping her tears weren’t too obvious. Alec Grayson.