by Diane Roth
The look on his face was something to behold, a mix of extreme pleasure and driving need. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the handle bars and began to move his hips, sending pleasure singing through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down for a kiss that sent her to a new precipice, and she felt herself hanging there, right on the cusp of fulfillment.
He broke the kiss, perhaps sensing she was close. "Cara, open your eyes and look at me, " he said, using his powerful legs to drive into her body again and again.
She did, and she exploded into a million shards of pleasure. It wracked her body over and over with sensation so intense she cried out and clung to his hips like a lifeline. It lasted for an eternity, so strong and overwhelming she couldn't imagine anything better.
He followed her immediately, driving into her with movements that rocked the bike, forcing her to reach up and grab the handle bars as well to maintain balance, and his breath left his chest in a sighing exhalation of goodness when he came. She knew exactly how he felt.
His pace slowed then stopped, and he watched her carefully, caressing her with such tenderness, she felt tears gathering in her eyes and a knot sting in her throat as the pleasure ebbed some.
"Oh, darlin' ... I think we'd both been needing that for a while," he said, and still he touched her gently with the backs of his fingers down the length of her sternum, like a feather on the underside of her breast.
She closed her eyes and simply concentrated on breathing, feeling like she'd run a marathon ... and won. "Oh, my ... yes," she said listlessly.
He leaned over to kiss her tenderly, then found her gaze and held it, maybe even noting the welling of tears. "Are you okay?"
She smiled softly at him. "I'm very well, indeed."
"You can't be comfortable laying across that gas tank," he suggested. "Wrap your legs around my waist and hold on," he said.
She quickly reached for his neck, laughing, but found it highly unlikely they were going to make it far in their current condition. "Greg, you're going to slip," she said as he got off the bike and started toward the door with her clinging to him like a vine.
"You sure about that?" he asked, flexing his hips and assuring her he had the situation under control.
She found his gaze, her lips curling into a surprised smile. "Maybe not," she said.
He opened the door and carried her into the house. "My jeans, however, might not make it. They're about to hit the floor," he said, chuckling at the thought.
She laughed, too, and reached for a sagging belt loop, catching it with one hand before the jeans fell around his thighs, her other arm looped around his neck securely. He walked all the way through the house and into his bedroom, then sat down on the edge of the bed and began to remove his boots, all with Cara still firmly impaled.
"You know, I wouldn't have believed this was possible if I hadn't experienced it first-hand. More especially from a forty-year-old man," she said proudly.
He finally managed to wrangle himself free of the boots, then stood again and let his jeans hit the floor with a jangle of pocket change. He stepped free of them and sat back down on the edge of the bed, then kissed her soundly. It was the kind of kiss she wanted to last all night, with deep and lavish parts, soft gentle nibbles along her lip line, and pauses where their lips barely touched while his hands shaped and caressed her breasts.
Though he'd never fully lost his erection, she felt him swell inside her, growing stronger, thicker, and she felt her own excitement building with it.
"Oh, damn, Cara ... I may never get enough of you, babe," he said, passion deepening his voice once again.
This was a surprise to her, this insatiable appetite he had. It wasn't something she'd experienced in a lover. She did think, however, as he began a completely new siege of her body, that it was something she could grow to love.
They made love again, less hurried now, taking time to learn the feel of one another and what brought a sigh to him, a catch in her breath. And Cara found him a most considerate and responsive lover, who took cues from those catchy breaths, managing to bring her to multiple releases in one night, something she wasn't certain had ever happened for her.
Finally spent, they lay on their sides facing one another, legs entangled. "Happy birthday," she whispered.
He smiled the smile of a fully satisfied man. "Happy birthday to you, too, Sunshine. That was one helluva birthday present. You'll have a hard time topping that next year."
She kissed him and pressed her face in closer to his chest and hoped on her best birthday wish that things would be like they were now this time next year.
***
Somewhere distant a phone rang, and Greg was vaguely aware that it was his. He couldn't account for the muffled sound of it, nor could he quite bring himself to care enough to let go of the naked woman in his arms in order to answer it. Finally, it stopped ringing, and he pressed his nose a little closer to the skin that smelled like heaven, and he relaxed again, fully intending to go back to sleep.
The phone began to ring again. Persistent soul. Damn it.
Cara stirred beside him. "Greg ... is that your phone?"
"I think so. But I don't know where it is," he mumbled.
"Maybe you'd better find it." She rose up to one elbow and looked around the room. "Is it in the pocket of your jeans?"
"Probably."
She scrambled out of his arms, which made him groan at the loss, then found his phone and handed it to him. Left up to him, he'd have simply forgotten the phone and dragged her back to bed. But she seemed to expect him to answer the fool thing.
"Hello?" he answered, none too politely.
"Uncle Greg?" Maddie's worried little voice asked on the other end.
Instant wakefulness, better than caffeine, it was. "Yeah."
"It's me ... Maddie."
"Hey, Mad," he said, exchanging a guilty look with Cara. "What's up, sweetheart?"
"I'm worried about Mom. I've called her like four times this morning and can't get her."
"Really?" he asked, buying time. "Maybe her phone is dead," he said, wincing at the lie.
Cara grimaced, too, and he could almost see the mommy guilt grabbing her by the throat.
"I don't know. I can't get her on the home phone either. I'm getting worried," Maddie said, and he could plainly hear that in her voice.
"Hey, listen, sweetheart ... I'm sure she's fine. She probably went for a run or something and left her phone at home."
"That doesn't sound like Mom at all, Uncle Greg," Maddie said, and he knew she was right, but damn. He was scrambling here and feeling like a complete douche for lying to his niece. And then there was Cara, who was practically curling up into a ball on the bed because she was feeling so guilty. Not a great start to the day.
"Okay, Maddie. Don't worry. She was fine when I saw her last. You know we had our class reunion last night, right?"
"Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about that. So she was with you then?"
"Well, yeah. We went together."
"And you took her home?"
This was getting harder and harder. "Yeah. Sure did." He hadn't felt this red-handed guilty in years.
"Okay," came the small, still worried voice from all the way in New York.
"Hey, sweetheart ... chill. I'll see if I can't rouse her. No worries, Maddie."
"Thanks, Uncle Greg. And tell her to call me right away. She is so grounded," she said, no small amount of irritation in her tone.
"Will do, Maddie."
He hung up and laid his phone on the bedside table, but didn't exactly know what to do with the very naked, very quiet woman lying face down in the pillows beside him. He brushed the hair back from her shoulder and pressed a lingering kiss there, but she didn't stir. "Guess you heard all that," he said, his lips still pressed against her shoulder.
She nodded, but kept her face buried.
"Come on, darlin'. It's not the end of the world. You'll call her in a minute and be all
kinds of sorry and set her mind at ease. No big deal," he said. But he knew it was. And he knew it was only the beginning of the difficulties he and Cara would face because of this paradigm shift in their relationship.
"I feel so guilty," she finally said.
He rubbed her back up and down, comforting her. "I know. I feel like the world's worst uncle, lying to her like that."
Cara rolled over and faced him and pushed the hair back from her face. "Sorry you had to do that. I left my cell in my bag. I think it's in the saddle bag of the bike."
"I'll get it," he said, and rolled off the bed. His jeans were still on the floor where he'd left them last night, and he slipped them on.
She sat up, hair in glorious disarray around her shoulders, a sheet hugged up to her breasts, and looked like something he'd like to wake to every single morning of his life. "Would you grab my clothes and boots, too, please?" she asked.
"Sure. Be right back."
He absolutely hated the awkwardness that was creeping into the morning. And what he hated the most was that it wasn't really between them. It was others pressing the discomfort on them. He could have easily made love to Cara again this morning and spent the rest of the day in her company quite happily, but because of Maddie's phone call and her worry and his lies to her, necessary though they might have been, he had a distraught momma on his hands. And that led to guilt, which led to distance and awkwardness. He could already see where this was going today.
He delivered her phone and clothing to her. "I'm going to make some coffee while you call Maddie," he said, and got a sad little thank you smile in return.
He did make coffee, and drank a whole cup while waiting on her, finally figuring out that she had had plenty of time to talk to Maddie and make herself presentable. She was likely delaying the inevitable discomfort of facing him now. He swore, a single foul word that matched his mood, and she chose that unfortunate moment to walk into the kitchen.
She paused, clearly having heard him. Their eyes met across the way, hers troubled, and he had little doubt she saw much the same in his. He didn't know what to do or how to offer an explanation for it. It was just too damned complicated. He opted for the banal.
"Coffee?"
She shook her head slightly. "No, thanks." Which he read as, "Can you just take me home now so we can put an end to this awkwardness, please?"
He stood there, his back against the counter, arms folded across his bare chest and felt like a total loser. He'd slept with his brother's widow. That alone was legion. He'd probably ruined what he was coming to realize was one of the most important relationships in his life. And he'd lied to his niece. What kind of man allowed his libido to rule his life to that extent?
Cara looked as miserable as he felt, standing in his kitchen in her wrinkled sundress and cowboy boots, nervous hands looking for something to do, and it about broke his heart.
"Cara ... are you okay?" he asked softly.
"No." Her voice was so small and wobbly, and there were tears gathering in her eyes. God, it ruined him. Totally ruined him. He walked over and pulled her into his arms, thankful he didn't meet resistance. It might not have surprised him. But he didn't. She melted into his arms and hugged him tightly, pressing her face against the wall of his chest and tucking beneath his chin.
"I feel so guilty, Greg," she said. "Maddie had been so worried."
"I know." He soothed her, massaging the tight muscles of her neck. "It's all right. I'm sure she's fine now that she's heard from you."
She sniffed once and nodded. "They're so protective at times. We've really pulled together in the past couple of years. We've had to."
Greg knew she was right. He'd watched them do exactly that since Jason died. "I know, darlin'."
Even as guilt ripped him, he acknowledged how right she felt in his arms. It felt stolen, the pleasure he took from holding her and comforting her, but it also felt more right than anything he'd experienced in a long time. Entirely too complicated to sort out this morning.
"I am still confused, Greg. I feel so guilty for spending the night with you, and yet, you're the one I want to comfort me. It's your arms I want around me," she said, pressing her cheek to his bare chest.
It made his heart tender and full ... and very happy to hear her say that.
He raised her chin and kissed her sweetly. It was nothing like the demanding kisses they'd shared in the past week. It was clinging and soft and wanted for nothing, hinted at hope. At least, that's how it made him feel.
Chapter Six
The drive home was quiet, but less awkward than she might have expected. At one point he'd reached across the seat and held her hand, a sweet and comforting measure that went straight to her heart. And wasn't that the most wonderful thing about Greg? That powerful ability he possessed to make her feel safe and comforted, even when things looked so bleak and hopeless. He'd certainly done that in the last year for Cara and her children. It didn't matter the circumstances. Whatever it was, Greg would fix it or at least make her feel like she was going to live through it. It had been a potent draw in the past year. Coupled now with this unyielding sexual attraction, his allure quotient had gone through the roof. And what in the world was she supposed to do with that?
"You remember that I'm going to California this evening?" he asked as they neared her house.
Something about that rang a bell, but it seemed much more germane today than it had when he'd told her a week or two ago. "Yes," she said. "When are you coming home?"
"Wednesday evening," he said, pulling in to the driveway. He put the truck in Park, but didn't turn off the engine, signaling, she supposed, that he wasn't coming in. And that was for the best. They both needed some time to think.
"You'll call me when you get home?" she asked.
He picked up her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. "I will. Might even call you before then. Is that okay?"
Lord, it felt so much like they were starting a real, honest to goodness relationship. She nodded and opened the door to get out, then paused. "Thank you for a lovely birthday," she said with a shy smile.
He smiled too, a sexy, very hungry grin that did something almost painful to her insides. "Thank you, darlin'. We'll always remember our fortieth, won't we?"
"I expect so. Bye, Greg." She closed the door and went inside.
But that tantalizing smile stayed with her for the rest of the day. And every time she thought of him, of what they'd shared the night before ... making love on a Harley, well, it about set her ablaze with a new case of want.
Late in the afternoon, he sent her a picture of the bike with a caption that said, "It's not the same without the gas tank ornamentation. Missing you already." It told her he was thinking about it, too. And that made it even hotter.
He called on Monday evening. She was working on studio stuff for fall promotion, knee deep in files and class rosters, and was inordinately pleased to see his name on her phone. She probably would have enjoyed the break, whomever might have called at that moment, but she doubted the thrill would have been the same. He made absolutely no bones about missing her, told her that he couldn't wait to get home.
She might have expected it to have put her off. She might have thought it would scare her, make her feel hemmed in. Too much, too fast. What she hadn't expected was to feel exactly the same way he did. She missed him terribly and could hardly wait for him to come home.
They texted one another several times on Tuesday. Just good morning greetings and how is your day going updates. But it made her feel special and cared for. To know he had her on his mind was pleasing somehow. She'd been without this kind of attention for so many years.
Ren arrived on Tuesday. Francesca hadn't been exaggerating in the least about her son's beauty. Cara was thankful Maddie wasn't home to fall madly in love with her older cousin. Ren's dark eyes, stunning, dimpled smile, and his shredded body made him almost painful to look at, but she was hardly able not to. Cara could only imagine the trouble t
his man could stir up. He had charm in abundance, like his father, and a taste for fast cars, as evidenced by the red Ferrari he drove.
She actually grew to feel sorry for him as they cooked a meal together, though she knew from past phone conversations with Francesca that his exile was likely well-earned. She'd seldom seen anyone so condemned about his sentencing.
"Ren, it's not as bad as you're thinking. Texas is a wonderful place to live," she assured him, watching in awe as he chopped up fresh herbs like a professional.
He paused in his chopping. "Well, you can be sure of this, Cara. I'm not 'living' here ... just camping, thanks. No beach, no mountains to ski, and what passes for a tree out here is a joke. The resources are not at all what I'm used to. What the hell do you guys do for fun around here?" he asked.
"There are hundreds of lakes in this part of Texas, so boating is fun. The fishing is good. Austin has a great music scene ... whatever kind of music you like. The weather is nice, too, though I don't guess we can really compete with California in that regard," she admitted. He didn't look all that impressed with the thought of fishing for entertainment, and having come from a Hollywood point of reference, she couldn't say she really blamed him.
