All My Tomorrows

by Rochelle Alers

  “Are we still on for Sunday?” he asked.

  “Yes, unless you decide to cancel.”

  A slow smile parted his lips. “Never happen.”

  Her smile matched his. “Good.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Good?”

  Lydia nodded. “I’m really looking forward to going, because I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a fair.”

  She wanted to tell Kennedy that she was looking forward to going out with him, because he ignited a passion she did not know she had. With him she felt sexy—indisputably woman. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace, to wallow languidly under the onslaught of his kisses, and she wanted to experience why she’d been born female.

  She’d come to Camp Six Nations to gain experience running her own kitchen. But if she were to become involved with Kennedy Fletcher, then that would be a bonus.

  “Can I get you something, Ken?” Neil asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

  “I’ll take some gelato.” The first time he’d eaten gelato he couldn’t get enough of the custard-style Italian ice cream.

  Neil turned to Lydia. “Do we have any more?”

  “I know there’s a pistachio, but I’m not certain about the mascarpone with toasted pine nuts or the chocolate hazelnut.”

  She always made extra hazelnut because it was Keisha’s favorite. The dessert had also become a favorite with campers and counselors for their midafternoon snack, along with sliced fruit and whimsically shaped melon pieces.

  “I’ll take the pistachio with those delicious little wafers,” Kennedy said.

  Lydia folded her hands on her hips. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Fletcher?”

  Leaning closer, Kennedy pressed his mouth to her ear. “Are you on the menu, Miss Lord?”

  Her breath quickening and cheeks burning in embarrassment, Lydia glanced over at Neil, wondering whether he’d overheard Kennedy. Her fear was allayed because he was busy finishing off an iced latte, drizzling caramel over a fluff of freshly whipped cream.

  Leaning against a counter she closed her eyes. Kennedy had just verbalized what she’d been feeling, what she’d felt when sitting on his lap. She opened her eyes, exhaling; she was back in control.

  “Excuse me. I’ll go get your gelato.” Walking around him, she made her way toward the kitchen. From the very beginning, she’d known there was something special about Kennedy that had nothing to do with his celebrity status.

  And the harder she tried to ignore the truth, the more it challenged her. She wanted Kennedy Fletcher—in and out of bed!

  * * *

  Lydia returned to the dining hall, placing a bowl on the table in front of Kennedy along with a small plate of paper-thin wafers filled with almond paste.

  He stared up at her. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m serving.” Lydia knew as soon as the rain stopped the dining hall would be filled with campers looking for their afternoon snack.

  Rising to his feet, Kennedy motioned for Neil. “I want you to serve while I talk to your boss, and please bring her whatever she wants to eat or drink.”

  Neil inclined his head to Lydia. “What do you want?”

  She forced a smile she didn’t quite feel, because she did not want to make a scene. Kennedy’s arrival had disrupted her normal routine.

  “Nothing, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” Neil asked.

  “Very sure.”

  Kennedy cupped her elbow. “Please sit down.”

  She sat, folding her hands together on the table. “What do you want?”

  Kennedy scooped up a spoonful of gelato, extending it to Lydia. “Have a taste.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Rising, he rounded the table and sat beside her. “You can use a few extra pounds.”

  Lydia’s delicate jaw dropped, giving Kennedy the advantage he sought, as he eased the spoon into her mouth. He stared at her as she swallowed the gelato. A satisfied smile crinkled the lines fanning out around his large eyes. Slowly, deliberately, and calculatingly he put the spoon to his mouth and licked it, his gaze meeting and fusing with her shocked one.

  Lowering his gaze and his voice, he drawled, “You taste wonderful.”

  Lydia was grateful she was sitting because she didn’t think her shaking knees would’ve supported her quaking body if she’d been standing. The intent in Kennedy’s erotic gesture was not only blatant but also palpable. When she’d asked him what he wanted, he’d been forthcoming when he said he wanted her. He wanted her and she wanted him, and she knew it was only a matter of time before their dilemma would be resolved.

  The corners of her mouth inched with a knowing smile. “There is a flag on the field, Mr. Fletcher.”

  “What’s the call this time, Ms. Referee?”

  Her smile widened. “Flagrant foul.”

  Kennedy rolled his eyes. “And your penalty?”

  “A four-day suspension.”

  Kennedy stared at Lydia’s profile, a lethal calmness in his eyes. “That’s excessive.”

  “I don’t want the others spreading gossip about the chef and the sports director not being able to keep their affair under wraps.”

  “I didn’t know we were having an affair,” he teased.

  “We’re not,” she protested softly.

  Kennedy took in her solemn expression. “Not—yet,” he said in a quiet tone.

  “Can we talk about something else?” There was a pulse beat of silence before she said, “I’m a little uncomfortable with public displays of affection.”

  He nodded, recalling her protests about going out with athletes. Had she been involved with one who had publicly humiliated her? “I promised that I wouldn’t disrespect you. I’ve kissed you twice, and the only time I’ve ever touched you is when we danced at the Roadhouse. If you didn’t want me to kiss or touch you, then you should’ve said something at that time.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like kissing you,” she said in a hushed tone, “it’s just that I don’t want everyone to know that we’re…” Her words trailed off.

  “We’re not doing anything, Lydia, at least not what I’d like to do with you. But if you want us to act like strangers when we’re around the others, then so be it.”

  Lydia knew Kennedy was annoyed, but at that point she didn’t care. They were over twenty-one, consenting adults, but she’d learned a hard lesson: do not flaunt your liaisons.

  The sound of childish voices filled the dining hall. The rain had stopped and the campers had come for their afternoon snack. Lydia, ignoring Kennedy’s order that Neil serve the campers, excused herself and went to help her assistant.

  Kennedy ate the gelato, wondering how Lydia could run hot and cold so quickly. When hot she made him burn and ache for her, but once cold her tongue lashed out, cutting like the bite of a whip. Whether hot or cold he still hadn’t uncovered why he wanted her.

  * * *

  Lydia felt what it meant to be bone tired. She’d been on her feet for more than twelve hours preparing trays of food for the next two days. In less than an hour it would be Sunday, her day off—a day she looked forward to spending with Kennedy, and the first time she looked forward to spending time away from the camp.

  Just putting one foot in front of the other seemed like a chore as she made her way up the porch and walked into her cabin. She stripped off her clothes, leaving them in the laundry bag in a corner of the bathroom. The counselors-in-training were responsible for doing the campers’ laundry, but the staff had the option of using the machine at the main house. Lydia decided to drop hers off at a service in town, because she had no intention of spending her days off doing laundry.

  Like an automaton, she brushed her teeth, showered, slipped into a nightgown, and crawled into bed. As she reached over to turn out the bedside lamp she checked her cell phone. The symbol for a voice mail message appeared on the display.

  Pressing a button, she listened to the me
ssage. “Hi, kid.” She smiled. Only her brother Quintin called her that. “Vicky and I are going to pick up Tamara next week. We’re getting together at Mama’s over the July Fourth weekend to officially welcome her into the family. Call me back and let us know whether you’ll be able to join us.”

  Lydia pressed the End button and made a mental note to return her brother’s call. Seven-year-old Tamara would become Quintin and Victoria’s first daughter and third adopted child in their eight-year marriage; Lydia would be Aunt Liddie to yet another niece.

  Smiling, she turned off the lamp. She’d just closed her eyes when a rustling noise jolted her into awareness. Blinking in the darkness, she listened intently. There was more rustling, followed by squeaking.

  Lydia sprang from the bed, racing to the door. She flung it open, straight-armed the screen door with such force that it vibrated against the frame. There was no way she was going to share her cabin with an animal—one she couldn’t see, one that could possibly be rabid. Heart beating uncontrollably, unmindful of her bare feet or state of undress, she pounded on Kennedy’s door.

  “Kennedy! Open the door! Plee-eeze!”

  Without warning the door opened and she lost her balance, pitching forward. A wall of solidness and the firm grip on her shoulders halted her fall. She barely had time to catch her breath when she was scooped up in Kennedy’s arms.

  “There’s something in my cabin,” she gasped, trying to slow down her runaway pulse.

  Kennedy shifted her slight weight. He’d thought he’d been dreaming, but once he opened his eyes he realized the person calling him was Lydia.

  A fist of fear squeezed his heart. She was shaking uncontrollably. Pressing his mouth to her mussed hair, he breathed a kiss on her scalp. “What’s in your cabin, baby?”

  Lydia buried her face against Kennedy’s bare chest. “An animal,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Are you certain? Did you see it?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I heard it.”

  Turning on his heels, he carried Lydia to his bed, lowering her to the mattress. “Stay here while I look for your animal.”

  Lydia could not see Kennedy’s face, but she hadn’t missed his facetious tone. “You think I’m hallucinating, don’t you?”

  “No,” he said as he turned on a lamp, flooding the room with soft, warm light. “Something could’ve gotten into your place.”

  It was the second time in so many minutes that Lydia’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Kennedy’s beautifully proportioned nude body awash in ribbons of gold.

  He bent over to pick up the jeans he’d tossed on an armchair. Her mouth went completely dry when she saw the ripple of muscles flexing sensuously under his skin.

  A swath of heat swept over her, and she could not stop the soft moan escaping her parted lips. A ball of fire settled between her thighs, roaring out of control.

  Reason fled, insanity taking its place. She wanted Kennedy Fletcher to take her, make love to her, and erase the memory of every man she’d ever known in and out of bed.

  “Kennedy.”

  He halted in zipping his jeans, turned, and stared at Lydia reclining on his bed. A knowing smile softened his mouth. His fantasy of having her in his bed and her hair spread out over his pillow had manifested itself. He lifted a questioning eyebrow.

  “Yes, Lydia?”

  Rising on an elbow, she reached out for him. “Don’t leave me.”

  Kennedy went completely still, unable to believe what he was hearing. Lydia had come to him, trembling, her heart racing because she believed some form of wildlife had gotten into her cabin. He’d offered to go and look for it, but now she wanted him to stay. And if he stayed it would mean one thing.

  Staring at her under lowered lids, he inhaled deeply. “Do you know what this means, darling?”

  She nodded.

  “If we make love to each other, then things cannot remain the same between us.”

  She nodded again.

  Slowly, deliberately he pushed his jeans down his hips, stepping out of them, his gaze never leaving her face. Her eyelids fluttered when he stood before her naked, aroused. He was ready for Lydia, had been ready from the first time he saw her. Was she ready for him? he mused.

  * * *

  Uneasiness swooped at Lydia’s innards, but this time it wasn’t from fright but from the realization of what she had just initiated. She did not have time to analyze her actions as Kennedy moved closer. She didn’t know whether she was trying to prove that there was nothing wrong with her libido, that she and Justin were only compatible out of bed.

  Everything about the man looming over her was large, massive, and she forced her gaze not to stray to the engorged flesh pulsing between muscled thighs.

  “Turn off the light. Please,” she added as he joined her on the bed.

  Kennedy shook his head slowly. “No, Lydia. Not the first time. I want you to see how much pleasure you’re going to bring me.”

  Her hand went to his chest, slender fingers splaying over his heart. “How can you be so certain that I will be able to satisfy you?”

  A mysterious smile parted his full, firm lips as Kennedy, supporting his weight on his elbows, leaned closer. “Oh, you will, baby, because I’m not going to stop until I satisfy you.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  Dipping his head, he nuzzled her neck. “What?”

  The pulse in her throat fluttered under the onslaught of his mouth, and she found it difficult to speak. “Protect me.”

  Kennedy froze. He’d told Lydia he’d never slept with a woman without using a condom. Why hadn’t she believed him? “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” He successfully tempered the edge that had crept into his voice.

  He reached into the nightstand drawer and grasped a condom. His gaze fusing with Lydia’s, he opened the packet and slipped the latex sheath over his arousal. She nodded, and they shared a smile.

  Lydia sat up, curved her arms around Kennedy’s neck, and pulled his head down as she opened her mouth to his. With their breaths mingling, she tasted his essence. The kiss deepened along with their breathing.

  Kennedy forced himself to go slow as he caught the hem of Lydia’s nightgown and eased it up over her head. He wanted her so badly that he feared spilling his passions before he could penetrate her. And his feelings for her ran too deep to take her quickly like a rutting bull in heat.

  Sitting back on his heels, he surveyed her graceful, willowy body. Small, firm breasts were perched above a narrow rib cage that flowed into slender but rounded hips. Her skin was flawless, its smoothness and color calling to mind whipped chocolate mousse.

  Cradling her face in his hands, he leaned closer, his tongue tracing the outline of her mouth. “You’ve been very stingy with your samples, Miss Lord. Right now I’m starving, which means I want everything on the menu. Are you ready to dine with me?”

  Lydia’s cheeks warmed. She stared up at Kennedy through her lashes. A quiver of wanting surged through her veins, heating her body and her blood. Pressing her forehead to his solid shoulder, she trailed kisses over his collarbone to the base of his throat.

  She laughed softly. “Do we begin with an appetizer or go directly to dessert?”

  “Appetizer,” Kennedy said as he eased her down to the mattress. Anchoring his hands on Lydia’s thighs, he spread them apart as he slid down the length of the bed. Smiling up at her perplexed expression, he crooned softly, “Aren’t you going to tell me bon appetit, madam chef?”

  The laughter bubbling up from the back of Lydia’s throat halted, choked off by the loud gasp of shock mingling with a rush of pleasure that paralyzed her mind and body.

  She’d had two lovers and neither had put his face between her legs. His tongue throbbed a passionate message that left her writhing and gasping for escape. She bit her lip to stifle the outcry of pleasure as waves of ecstasy rolled over her with the power of the moon’s pull on the tide.

  Lydia gasp
ed, then sobbed for release as the sweetest bliss she had ever known swept her up in a tidal wave, refusing to let her go. She soared higher and higher until mindless desire hurtled her faster and faster to a sphere of no return.

  Throwing back her head, she screamed, her body shaking and shuddering from the explosive spasms of a long-denied orgasm. The second followed, overlapping a third as her breath came in long, surrendering moans.

  Her attempt to press her knees together was thwarted once Kennedy moved up and slowly eased his tumescence into her newly awakened flesh inch by inch until he was fully sheathed.

  Burying his face between Lydia’s neck and shoulder, he groaned in erotic torture. She was so tight he feared moving, but his desire for Lydia overrode everything else in his life at that moment.

  He did move, establishing a rhythm that became a raw act of possession. As he roused her passion again, his own grew stronger until he lost himself in the scented arms of a woman who unknowingly made him forsake his vow never to open his heart again to offer more than his passion.

  He quickened his motions, but when he felt the familiar tightening indicating he was going to spill his passion, he slowed because he wasn’t ready to experience the exciting free fall that accompanied sexual gratification.

  Not yet, and not when he hadn’t had his fill. He had come to the banquet table a man who’d been long denied food and drink. He hadn’t known he’d been waiting for someone like Lydia until the moment he saw her struggling under the weight of her luggage.

  It had been her looks, then her sassiness that drew him to her. But once he tasted her mouth he was like an addict—hooked on a drug from which there was no escape or cure.

  Lifting her legs, he wound them around his waist, allowing for deeper penetration. Kennedy raised his head, meeting her gaze, his near-black eyes widening as the pulse in her throat fluttered wildly. She closed her eyes against the carnality altering his features, and surrendered to a feeling of weightlessness, the tears pricking the backs of her eyelids and overflowing shamelessly down her cheeks.

  When Kennedy felt Lydia’s pulsing flesh squeezing his, he knew he couldn’t prolong his own gratification any longer or his heart would explode. He grasped the hair spread out on his pillow and bellowed as passion hot and unrestrained erupted like molten lava.