“So it’s true? Tyler and Susan are getting married?”
“Yeah.” Nolan smiled—a wide and genuine smile that grabbed every one of her female hormones and embraced them tightly. Her fingernails bit into the flesh of her thigh to halt her impulse to touch.
“That’s…ah…nice,” she finished.
“My mother thinks she can direct my life,” Nolan said. “I guess you’ve heard my father has moved in with me.”
“Yes.”
“Tyler and I learned a few other things recently. We’re half-brothers.”
“Is that why your mother is always so horrid to Tyler?” Yvonne asked, curious despite herself.
“Yeah. Look, I don’t want to talk about my parents. I want to make things right between us. I care about you, Yvonne.”
Yvonne blinked to break their connection. She reached for her wine and ran her finger around the rim. “I have my sons to worry about. My aunt needs me. I…you hurt me, Nolan. I’m sorry, but I don’t have the energy for a relationship. Not with you.” The truth—she still hurt. Every time she’d heard gossip about that stupid reality show it had felt like dull knives ripping through her flesh. She wasn’t dumb enough to put herself through the same pain again.
Nolan was silent for a long time. “I understand. Can—could we be friends?”
Her heart did a rapid dance, a victory bop against her ribs. Yvonne forced her brain to do the talking. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Because we’re more than friends?”
“No,” she blurted. Oh, Yvonne. Too quick. She risked a glance at him and her heart did another crazy Snoopy dance.
A slow, very sexy smile spread across his lips, stealing her breath, filling her with longing. “What’s that saying about the lady protesting too much?”
Yvonne squared her shoulders and prepared to lie.
“Would you like a foot rub?”
“What?” Aware she was gaping, she snapped her mouth shut.
Nolan lifted her legs and sat on the footstool. Bemused, she let him arrange her feet on his hard thighs. She swallowed, struggling with what to do, how to react. He plucked off her sheepskin slippers and dropped them on the floor.
“I don’t think— Ah!” Her moan of pleasure reverberated through the lounge, accompanied by his soft laugh. Those talented fingers of his pushed and stroked, used pressure on the arch until every muscle in her body relaxed. He started on her other foot, and her head told her she’d be stupid to send him packing at this particular moment. Half an hour of foot rubbing and then she’d kick him to the curb.
“Is the bookstore still closed on Sundays?” he asked.
“No, but I don’t work on Sundays.” And she’d trained three local high school students who covered for her on Saturdays. She’d wanted to spend time with her boys, do normal things like watch Michael’s rugby games and take the boys to the beach. Sometimes she managed to talk Gina into going with them, and they made a real family day of the outing.
“The local agricultural day is next week. Would you and the boys like to come with me? Dad is taking care of the stock entered in the show. I’ll probably check in with him to see if he needs anything, but other than that, I have a free day. When Tyler and I were kids we used to look forward to the show. Tyler and Susan are going. We could have lunch with them. What do you say?”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“The boys would love the rides.”
Their friends were attending, and Michael had already started his pleas. Her heart overruled her head, and she wavered. “Are you willing to go on the dodgems and some of the other rides?” Yvonne loved the rides but found it difficult to supervise both her boys.
His eyes gleamed as he scented success. “Count on it.”
Yvonne frowned, the grimace smoothing out when he started rubbing her foot again. A sound close to a purr rumbled from her throat. Her boys would love a day out with masculine attention. “Tyler and Susan will be there?”
“With Katey,” he said, referring to his young niece. “Probably Josie and Eric as well.”
Josie and Eric were Tyler’s in-laws. They’d recently sold their farm and intended to move north to Auckland. Yvonne liked them both very much.
“All right,” she said finally. “Where should we meet you?”
“I’ll pick you up,” he said. “The show starts at ten, but could you be ready at nine thirty? That’ll give me time to swap the car seats over into my vehicle and check in with Dad at the show. Would Gina like to come with us?”
“She’s going with a group of her friends,” Yvonne said while her mind struggled with the changes in him since their last private meeting. The Nolan back then wouldn’t have known of the existence of car seats, let alone considered the time needed to swap them from vehicle to vehicle.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asked.
“Okay,” Yvonne said, perplexed by this change in him. In the past, he’d slunk into her house and dragged her off to bed. An hour later, he’d left. No chit chat. No cuddles. No soft words. Nothing but an empty bed and the sense of ill-use.
“What do you want to watch?”
Inspiration struck. “I taped one of my favorite movies last week and haven’t had time to watch it. Romancing the Stone,” she said, watching him closely.
“Do you want a top-up of wine before I start the movie?” The man hadn’t even flinched.
“Sure,” Yvonne said. “I’ll get—”
“No,” he said, staying her with a gentle hand. “You wait there while I get the wine.” He plucked her glass from her hand and strode from the room.
Yvonne studied the curve of his butt, which was faithfully outlined in a pair of well-worn jeans. When he disappeared from sight, she blinked, her heart thumping hard. She wasn’t ogling. No, she wasn’t. It was merely feminine appreciation of a nice, tight backside.
Thoughts of an earlier conversation with Gina popped into her head. They’d discussed body language, and Gina had quoted from the book she was currently reading.
“‘Women like men with broad shoulders and muscled arms, men with long, strong legs because we need them to provide food for us. We look for men with small, tight butts because that means they have good forward propulsion and are able to direct sperm and make lots of babies.’”
Yvonne shuddered. Nolan bore all the necessities, according to Gina’s book, and especially the ability to pass on his sperm with excellent forward thrust. A shiver of heat dispersed through her body, frisking her pleasure points on the way to converge in an achy awareness between her thighs. She shifted her weight. It didn’t ease her tension.
The movie, she thought, glancing around the room for the remote control. Concentrate on something else.
Nolan arrived back with their wine before she managed to struggle from the chair. “Stay,” he said, handing her a glass. “I’ll sort it out.”
In his usual capable way, he had the television on and the movie queued to start. “One more thing,” he said. “Hold on to your glass.”
Before she could form a question, he scooped her off her chair and resettled her on the couch. He plopped beside her, and slung his right arm around her shoulders. She stiffened and knew he must have felt the strain of her muscles, but he merely picked up the remote and hit start. The opening credits began and soon Joan Wilder filled the screen. The actress was crying while writing the final words of her novel.
Every rapid breath Yvonne took filled her nostrils with his scent. Masculine with a hint of herb. Not aftershave, but the more subtle aroma of soap or a body wash.
“Relax,” he whispered against her ear.
Easy for him to say. A romantic chick flick suddenly struck her as a poor choice of movie. Too much incentive to ponder hot and heavy thrusts. Yvonne sucked in a large breath and let it ease out in steady increments. The man wasn’t trying to cop a feel or seduce her in any way. All he was doing was a little cuddling while he watched the movie.
/> Meantime, her thoughts took a corner onto a different street altogether. She thought about more forward thrusting of the naked, kinky kind, and the reaction spread through her body. The ache in her pussy grew, arousal dampening her panties. Thank goodness she knew this movie well and didn’t need to pay attention. She drank more wine and stared at the screen.
Nolan might have rubbed her feet and talked her into an outing for the coming weekend. No way in hell did she intend to add the reality of forward thrusting to her crimes.
Chapter Two
“I miss sex.” Yvonne handed her friend Carol a caramel latte and propped her butt against the counter while she stared moodily out the front window of Carol’s flower shop. For once, not even the sweet scent of earlicheer and the sight of bunches of tulips, standing like soldiers on parade in their containers, cheered her.
Carol’s brown eyes twinkled from beneath a fringe that badly needed a trim. “I suppose we could give up on men and have sex together.”
Yvonne flashed a broad grin at her friend. “Thanks for the offer, sweetie, but I like the working parts of a man. They might look weird face-to-face but I miss touching them.”
“Well if it’s just touching you want, I’m sure there are any number of Clare men who’d volunteer their man bits for you to grope.”
“Ha!” Yvonne sipped her coffee and frowned out the window when she saw four women enter the bookstore. She crossed her fingers. If any more people entered the café, she’d need to end her break early. This time of the morning, after the breakfast trade, there was normally a lull. “I miss sex with Nolan.”
“We put a hex on his male parts. We made gingerbread men and poked skewers in his likeness, remember? His tools don’t work any longer.”
Yvonne sighed. “I know. He came into the store yesterday and asked me for a date in front of everyone. I basically told him where to go, but he arrived at the house last night after I’d put the boys to bed.” She heaved out another hard breath. “He rubbed my feet and watched a movie with me. Romancing the Stone.”
Carol’s eyes widened. “Without complaining?”
Yvonne nodded. “And he asked me and the boys to go to the agricultural show on Sunday.”
“Wow, sounds serious if he’s taking you out in public instead of sneaking around.”
“I don’t think I can do this dance again. He broke things off with me to do the show and pretty much ignored me. His mother doesn’t like me, and I don’t understand what’s going on with him now. He’s changed the rules.”
Carol set down her coffee, picked up a piece of greenery and deftly poked it into her spring arrangement. She stood back and circled the piece before giving a decisive nod. “What do you want? You didn’t like the sneaking around before.”
“I want…” Yvonne paused and wrinkled her nose while she considered the possibilities. “I want a friends with benefits arrangement. I want lots of kinky, hot sex without complications, but I refuse to turn into a dirty little secret again.”
“So preempt him. Before whatever he has in mind goes any further, spell out your rules. Tell him what you want instead of waiting for him to dick you around like he did last time.”
The door opened and an elderly gentleman stepped inside. He frowned down at his hay covered boots and halted on the mat. His checked shirt and mud-splattered jeans, along with the boots signaled his farmer occupation.
“Don’t mention dicks,” Yvonne muttered in a low voice. “I’m frustrated enough already.”
Carol barked out a single laugh before greeting her customer. “How can I help you, Mr. Rogers?”
“It’s my anniversary next week.” He produced a photo from his pocket and held it out. “Can you make my Martha a posy like the one in the photo?”
Carol took the photo and studied it. “Daisies. I can do that for you easily enough.”
While Carol discussed the order with her customer, Yvonne sipped her coffee and thought about sex and Nolan.
Friends with benefits.
That would be perfect. If she knew the rules going in, her heart would remain stanch instead of getting trampled beneath Nolan’s gumboots. Yeah. She’d tell him what she wanted when she wanted, and if he didn’t play by her rules he could find another tame woman to prime his man parts.
“I want sex,” Yvonne said the second Nolan entered her house. She shut the door with a firm click and turned to him, crowding into his personal space.
Bemused at the change in her attitude—her willingness—he took half a step back, and his spine connected with the wall. She kept coming until her breasts pressed against his chest and her hands curled around his biceps. His dick twitched with interest, and when her lips covered his, all his blood shot south, crowding into his cock in a pained rush.
Her kiss was skilled, familiar, her lips firm over his. Her tongue traced his bottom lip and danced across the seam in a bold demand for entrance. He, of course, didn’t have an ounce of argument in him—not with his cock directing proceedings. His hands skimmed down her back and settled on her lush arse. He pulled her tight to his hardness, his mind racing with fervent prayers of thanks.
God, it had been so long. This woman, she did it for him, and the months since they’d last been together told him he couldn’t—wouldn’t—settle for a replacement.
She was it.
He loved the taste of her, the look of her and her quick mind kept him entertained. Oh yeah. She was perfect for him, and he didn’t give a flying fuck what his mother thought. He was an adult, and this time he intended to go after his treasure.
Yvonne.
Yvonne’s boys.
A family.
His family.
She pulled out of the kiss, her harsh breathing telling of her arousal. “Let’s go to bed.”
Still in shock at her easy acquiescence, he trailed her like a friendly puppy, letting her tug him down the dark passage to her bedroom. Luckily for both of them, her boys were heavy sleepers. As much as Nolan enjoyed the boys’ company and their endless supply of questions, this night was for him and their mother.
In her bedroom, she flicked on one of the bedside lamps. A warm glow highlighted the double bed with its silver cover and the contrasting purple pillows. She tossed the fancy cushions on the floor and started shimmying out of her clothes.
Nolan stared, mesmerized by the unveiling of her body. The full breasts, the creamy milk-and-coffee skin that told of her Maori blood. So stunning. So pretty. A trim waist that didn’t show much evidence of the two babies she’d carried, the flare of her hips. Womanly hips that where perfect for him to grip while in the throes of passion. Her jeans hit the floor to reveal long legs. Her feet were big and she often complained about finding shoes to fit. He smiled at the bright red toenails. Sexy.
“Are you going to spend all night staring?” Her voice was a husky purr of objection. “I can always get out my vibrator.”
She was kinky fun in bed and game to try anything. They’d laughed a lot in this bed, and they’d had some risqué, seriously hot encounters.
Nolan started on his clothes, his eyes narrowed as he watched her feminine grace. She raised her arms in a lazy stretch, then freed her hair from its tight knot at the back of her neck. The brown locks fell halfway down her back.
Yvonne climbed onto the bed and parted her legs to reveal trimmed curls and pretty pink flesh. She’d shaved, and he stared at her folds and the glistening juices that already coated her skin. Her finger slid down to circle her clit. “Sex,” she said. “You remember how to do it?”
Nolan unzipped his jeans and yanked them down his legs. A swift curse rang out when he realized he still wore his leather boots. He did an ungainly, one-legged dance while he rectified the situation.
“You want to taste me, Nolan?”
“Yes,” he snapped, wondering when the hell he’d lost control of this encounter.
Naked—finally—he moved between her legs and boosted her higher with his hands beneath her arse. He settled in to
feast, her sweet yet musky flavor bursting across his taste buds.
“Yes,” she said. “Suck my clit.” Her hands grabbed for his head, fastened on his ears and using them like handles, she tried to direct proceedings.
Grinning against her flesh, he used his tongue to circle the swollen bud, not giving her exactly what she wanted.
“Nolan.” She yanked his ears. Hard.
“Ow, woman.”
“Give me,” she demanded.
He swept his tongue over the straining bundle of nerves. Once. Twice.
Her hips canted upward, into the pressure of his mouth. She groaned, long and loud, her hips jerking with the force of her release. Nolan backed off on the direct stimulation, giving her just enough to draw out the orgasm.
Her lashes flickered, and she opened her eyes. Without warning, she twisted her body away. Her eyes gleamed when she met his gaze. “On the bed. Flat on your back.”
Nolan stared, part of him shocked. Who is this woman?
A sharp crack across the side of his buttock made him start, and this time he blinked.
“I believe I said I needed you flat on your back.”
Slowly, Nolan crawled up the bed and turned over. Immediately, he sought her gaze while wondering what the hell was going on. She’d hit him. His arse still tingled from the contact.
She studied his body, and he watched her do it. She smiled and leaned over to trace his lips with her fingertips. He sucked one fingertip inside his mouth, his lips working the single digit in a very sexual way.
A quick gasp escaped her, and she let him continue for a few seconds longer before pulling away. She explored his chest with her hands, and he sucked in his breath, his balls so hard he thought they might burst. But he forced himself not to move and let her continue to take the lead.
Her tongue flicked over a nipple. Back and forth she licked, worrying the flat disc until he shuddered. She ignored the other and moved down his body. Yes. She was going to touch him, put an end to the months of sexual drought. Instead, she blew a stream of warm air along the length of his dick, the final burst hitting the crown. Another tremor swept him as cool fingertips tugged his sac.
Part-Time Lovers (Friendship Chronicles Book 4) Page 2
