by Dani Collins
His brows came together in pain at her metaphor, but an amused smirk danced around his mouth. “I don’t know, Skye. Seems like a helluva favor to ask a guy when he’s been wanting to make out with you for nearly a decade.”
“You did not,” she scoffed, backing up a step.
He sent her an impactful look that put a funny feeling low in her belly.
“I wanted to make out with you, too,” she admitted nervously, stepping into a cavernous space, still not quite believing he could fully return what she had always felt around him, but wanting to.
He closed his eyes, hands fisting at his sides, reassuring her with the way he seemed to struggle for control. “That is not helping us get on the road, sweetheart. Now go fetch your purse so I can behave like a gentleman.”
He kept his eyes closed and she knew she should do exactly what he said, but getting back here and continuing what they’d started is all she would be thinking about for the two-hour drive and two-hour dinner and…
Letting instinct and desire take over, she moved forward, slid her arms around his waist and lifted to press her lips near his Adam’s apple.
His arms came around her, caging her in an embrace both possessive and protective, but stilling her from provoking him further. “You’re sure?” he said.
“I even stole condoms from the health room. They’re upstairs. That sounds horribly premeditated, but I wouldn’t have told you unless you seemed to want this, too and…you seem to. Which is really amazing to me when….” She licked her lips, encouraged by the way his gaze narrowed on her mouth. “Are you okay with, um—” She swallowed. “Kind of being my first?”
“Put me in, Coach.”
Chapter Five
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Skye was nervous. It was dead obvious. What she didn’t seem to realize was that he was equally nervous. Talk about pressure.
“They’re, um, in here,” she murmured, waving at the nightstand like he’d really come up here to see where she kept them.
“Skye, c’mere,” he said, hearing a creak in his voice reminiscent of a far younger version of himself. Maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t want her feeling threatened when he was so close to leaping on her.
She approached, all doe-eyed and tentative, her fine features accented with light powders of color, her hair sleek and shiny, but still innocent-looking with her feet bare and her bottom lip caught in her teeth.
He took her hands in as light a grip as he could manage when he wanted to be all over her. That kiss outside was still ringing his bell, but he had to scale back his hunger if he was going to make this as good for her as she seemed to need. Part of him stood back and shook his head at how wild this was, but mostly he felt privileged. He wanted her to know how it should be with a guy who was really into her.
His hands tightened involuntarily. He was really into her.
But it wouldn’t work if she was scared.
Rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles, he said, “How long are your parents away?”
“What?” The question threw her expression into a confused frown, just as he’d hoped it would. “What do you mean—oh!” she broke into a grin of understanding, then played along. “Okay, um, they’re gone all weekend. It’s totally fine. They won’t know you were here.”
“Cool.” He inched closer, sharing her conspirator’s smile.
“I think the kids say ‘sick’ these days,” she informed him.
“How about ‘sweet’?” he asked, touching a kiss to the corner of her smile. “That seems about perfect for right now. You smell really good, by the way.” He nosed into her hair, liking the way she shivered as he grazed her earlobe. “Like spring in Marietta.”
“The jock is a poet?”
“I tell it like it is.” His stomach muscles contracted under the exploring skim of her hand. He wanted to guide her touch, but letting her find her own way was nice, too. “Your skin is really soft.” He smoothed his lips across her petal-smooth cheek. “Makes me want to kiss you everywhere.”
In the back of her mind, a cynical part of Skye wondered if she was being seduced by a master, but even if she was, she didn’t much care. He was really good at this, offering butterfly caresses down the side of her face with his lips, swirling exciting flutters through her with his suggestion.
Wriggling into the wall of his body, she found him hard again—still?—and the discovery made her instinctively hum a noise of approval and encouragement. Everything about him was so hard and sculpted to perfection. Stroking over his arms and shoulders and down to his waist, she kept pausing to dig fingers into his ungiving flesh, liking that honed, animal readiness in him. And he smelled good, too, like men’s shampoo and clean laundry and something intrinsically Chase. He made her weak. All her bones softened as they stood there learning each other’s shape and trading light kisses.
When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she tilted her head back and fit her mouth to his. He released a groan of gratitude and relief and crushed her into him, just like outside. He’d been waiting for her to be ready, she realized, and suspected that was the last time she’d be given the lead.
Which suited her perfectly as he wiped her mind clean with a kiss that engulfed her. For long minutes, she could only cling to him while waves of desire intensified in her, each pushed by the way he rocked his mouth on hers, taking yet giving. She could feel his heart slamming behind her hand on his chest and trembled, shaken by the race of her own. The greatness of the feelings expanding in her frightened her a little, but his strength reassured her. His hunger, so undisguised yet controlled, was the real source of his seduction, wilting her into pure, feminine want that allowed him to guide her to the bed while they kissed and kissed and kissed.
The backs of her legs hit the mattress, but his arms hardened around her, keeping her on her feet. Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes as his hands began bunching her dress, climbing it up her thighs, higher. With the hem crumpled in his grip, he kept going, drawing it upward, revealing her panties and belly and bra.
She raised her arms, letting him lift it off completely, then braved his hot stare on her underwear, pretty things she’d put on in case this moment happened. His nostrils flared and he swallowed as he took his time memorizing the pale pink lace. One hand lifted and he traced the cup of her bra, fingertip tickling the plumped curve of her breast.
“I’m starting to worry I’m going to lose it before I get my clothes off. A man would have to be gay not to find you irresistible, Skye.”
She smiled shakily and reached to undo his shirt buttons. He didn’t help. Didn’t even make it easy as he crowded her against the bed, but kept his hands firm on her skin, stroking lightly up her back as he dipped his head and kissed from her shoulder to her nape.
Tingles rushed down her chest to gather as sharp pinpoints at the tips of her breasts, sensitized buttons that he found with his thumbs after he loosened her bra and slid his hands around to her front under the cups.
“Oh my God,” she murmured, stunned by how good it felt to be cradled in his sure hands, thumbs circling, sending rivulets of heat into her loins. His mouth nudged her bra strap down, then the other and she flicked it away herself, crying out a little when he dropped his head and kissed across the tops of her breasts and finally—“Oh my God!” she cried again, fisting a hand in his hair.
It was really good, really good. She couldn’t think of anything else but the way tension seemed to gather and pull low in her belly as he sucked. When he shifted to the other one, her skin brushed his bare chest where she’d opened his shirt. His mouth was hot, wet, and he took his time as though he didn’t want to stop licking and sucking at her.
Her toes curled and coils of tightness gathered in her center, making her whimper. When she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he straightened, pulling her naked torso against his so he could kiss her again, hard. He caught a hand in her hair and tugged just a little, just enough for her to taste the primal energy of the action and react
from a primitive place, communicating her excitement back to him in jagged noises and little scratches of pleasure and demand.
In a sudden move, he levered her onto the bed, making her gasp and cling, but he really was practiced at this because he was drawing away, skimming her panties to her knees, before she realized it was all part of his move. Before she could have a self-conscious moment, his hands went to his fly and without any hesitation, his own clothes were shed and cast away.
He was really, really hard. No performance issues there. Wow.
He took a condom from the drawer and set it on the pillow, then stretched out alongside her, holding himself on an elbow while his free hand went to her hip and snugged her into his heat, one raspy leg sliding over hers and trapping her half under him.
How did I get here, she wondered? But the thought flitted out of her consciousness just as quickly. He was stroking her from breast to hip, up and down again. Watching as he did, the expression on his face so intent she quivered. If she knew nothing else about him, she knew he had ferocious focus and sensed he was thinking of nothing else but her right now. This. Her heart nearly exploded with something that went beyond sexual excitement. It was something sharp and good and made her eyes sting.
He wanted her, really wanted her, and she wanted him right back.
The backs of his fingers petted softly across her mound, sending a jolt of sensitivity through her.
“Too soon?” he murmured, lifting his gaze to look into hers. “It’s okay. I’m not trying to rush you, but I want to feel you against me. You’re so soft, Skye.” Leaning over her, he stroked her with his big body and kissed her again.
She splayed her hands over his naked back, moving under him to increase the delicious friction of skin against skin. Her center felt molten, so achy with arousal she had to catch back a sob. She licked into his mouth, trying to let him know how ready she was.
His hand returned to her thighs and his sharp knee pushed between hers. As heartening as it was to feel his erection against her hip, it took a lot of courage to let her legs fall open, but when she did. Oh.
He liked it, too. He groaned and pulled back enough to watch his hand shake as he caressed her, parting and soothing, delicate in the way he teased her, yet sure enough to convey he knew how to make this good. “You’re so wet, Skye. You’re killing me.”
When he found her clit, she simultaneously wanted to arch into his touch and stop him from sending her over the edge. She settled on moaning, “Chase, I really want it to happen with you—”
“God, yes.” He bit the condom packet open, rolled it on and covered her, hard thighs pushing hers firmly apart. It was a bold move, but the way he looked at her was incredibly tender. He kissed her as he entered her, both of them moaning at the exquisite, easy rightness of it.
The stretch and fit was—she almost cried it felt so good to have him deep inside her, so hard against flesh weeping with need for this. Him. She wrapped tight legs around him without thinking. It was a natural instinct, all of this feeling so perfect and right and no thoughts in her head except how good it was. So good.
He moved slowly at first, both of them drawing out the play, but it didn’t last. She dug her heels into his buttocks, urging a stronger thrust and he responded like he knew what she needed. Like he needed this as badly as she did. She ached for him deeper and harder in places that had never been touched. Their pace grew animalistic and barely controlled and she loved it, drowning in sensation and passion and—
“Oh God!” she near screamed, ambushed by a climax that ran through her like a runaway train, sending her flying in all directions as release hit in a flash of blinding light and reverberations of pleasure so strong and sharp, they neared pain.
Hard hands bit into her shoulders and his powerful hips crushed into hers, tight, deep, his own release powerful enough she felt the pulses against her rippling walls, the oneness of it exquisite.
Oh God, she loved Chase Goodwin. She would love him forever for this.
Chapter Six
‡
The best part was the way he lingered and fondled as they came back to themselves, stroking and kissing and looking into her eyes. She ought to feel shy, she supposed, but she didn’t. She was too grateful. Too enthralled by him.
“That was really amazing, Skye.”
For her it definitely had been, but she took his words with a grain of salt, pleased by his compliment, but aware she could fall for him way too easily. This really was a do-over on losing her virginity and she would never, ever forget this. She was so glad it was him.
“I have to go,” he murmured with what sounded like reluctance, but sent a shaft of chill into her heart. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
She realized he meant he had to pull away and go into the bathroom.
Should she get under the covers? Were they going to cuddle longer or, even better, do it again?
Her house alarm chimed, warning her that her front door was opening.
She sat up in panic, instantly remembering and silently cursing. No! Little feet scampered across her bottom floor and high-pitched voices called, “Auntie Skye, are you here?”
No, no, no.
Shooting to her feet, she hissed, “Stay here,” to Chase and pulled the bathroom door shut on his startled expression in the mirror. Then she leapt into her walk-in closet to yank on sweats and a T-shirt, emerging as her five and six-year-old nieces trampled up the stairs and into her room.
“You are here. Mommy said you wouldn’t be.”
“I know, I told her I was going out.” That’s how they did things and it usually worked, but that darned Chase Goodwin with his distracting sexiness had sent her off playbook. “My plans changed and I forgot you guys were coming. Did she see Nana’s canning jars? I left them on the counter. Let’s go downstairs and get them.” She herded the girls from the room, glancing at herself in the mirror on the way, expecting a disaster, but her makeup was only a little smudged. She snatched up a headband and smoothed her hair into place as they descended to her kitchen.
“Hi, Holly,” she said, avoiding her sister-in-law’s sharp gaze in favor of grinning at her youngest niece, two-year-old Chrissie. The toddler was obviously grouchy from being woken in the car. She didn’t lift her head off her mother’s shoulder or smile, but she held out a hand to Auntie. Skye kissed the tot’s pudgy knuckles, not trying to take her, aware she would need time to wake up before she’d leave Mom.
“I totally forgot you were coming,” Skye said, turning to the boxes she’d left stacked for pick up. “I’ll carry these out for you.”
“In a hurry for us to leave?” Holly asked with false brightness. “I brought the girls in because it looked like you had company.” She made a point of scanning the empty deck through the windows. “Or does that truck outside belong to the pool boy?”
The weight of her middle niece came up against her thigh. “Is the pool ready, Auntie Skye? Can we go swimming?”
Skye gave Holly her best die look. “Not yet, sweetie,” she said, stroking a hand over her niece’s hair. “Next weekend, if the weather’s good, you might be able to. If it’s not, and your mom says it’s okay, you guys could still come for a sleepover.”
“Can we, Mom? Pleeeeze?”
Skye smiled inwardly. She loved her nieces to bits and didn’t mean to use them in her chess match with Holly, but it was always satisfying to take the higher ground and do the woman a favor in retaliation for Holly’s pillish behavior.
Holly’s mouth tightened.
Skye picked up the boxes and turned toward the front room, but hadn’t taken two steps before Chase trotted down the stairs, fully dressed and calm as you please.
“I’ll take those for you, Skye. I couldn’t see anything wrong with that modem, but if it’s cutting out on you, I’d tell the cable guy to replace it and see if that helps. Hey.” He greeted Holly with a chuck of his chin as he took the jars from Skye. “Chase Goodwin. Were you at Marietta?”
<
br /> “No, Livingston. Holly Wolcott.” Her eyes, bright with startled recognition, swung over to Skye’s to grow narrow with a special kind of outrage. “I hear your little brother and his team are going to give our boys a run for their money this year.”
“Be nice if we finally got a trophy with a date from this century,” Chase drawled.
“Holly is married to Stan,” Skye provided, not really appreciating Chase’s attempt to cover things up. There was no winning with Holly. Not ever. Not for her.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, then to Skye, “You should finish getting ready or we’ll miss our reservation. Do I need keys to get these into the car, or…?” He hovered with enough male authority to propel Holly out the door before him, chin in the air.
“I can’t wait to tell Stan I met you,” Holly made a point of saying after she buckled all the girls into her hatchback.
“Say hello to him for me. I haven’t seen him since graduation,” Chase replied good-naturedly, coming back to the stoop, not touching Skye as they waved at the girls.
“She seems nice,” he said with false sincerity when the car topped the driveway.
“Pah!” Skye choked. “She’s going to break land speed records getting back to the ranch with this one. Smarmy cow! I mean, I don’t care what she thinks of me, but to talk like that in front of the kids?” Furious, feeling the darkness of her messy life creeping back into her post-orgasmic buzz, she entered the house and headed for the stairs. “What time is our reservation?” she asked.
“I just said that to get rid of her. We don’t have to go at all, if you don’t want to.”
Turning on the second stair, she impulsively held out her arms to him. “You are my hero.”
He came forward and caught her with a little, “Oof.” They shared a kiss and she felt him stir to life below his belt.
