by Jo Leigh
He got comfortable and went to town, only vaguely aware of Molly’s cries getting louder and her nails on his back. But he knew the second she came. Her thighs pressed against his head. A moment later, he was on his knees, sliding on the condom.
Watching him with her unfocused gaze, she said, “Now,” the word carried away by her exhalation. “Please.”
He lifted her legs above his hips and entered her in one long push. The sound she made was half gasp, half cry. He’d had to bite back a whimper because it was the most perfect moment in all creation. She was hot and wet and tight and all his. He stayed there for a moment, struggling to regain his breath, what little control he still had.
Then she moved. Just enough to squeeze him, and all hope was lost. He balanced himself above her so he could see her face. Her eyes. Her lips were parted with her panting, and when he started moving in and out, he could see her teeth and the way her forehead wrinkled. Hear her ragged low moan.
Her hands fisted the comforter and her legs gripped his waist. The humid heat of their breaths mingled in the space left between them. He’d felt her come. Now he wanted to see it. Feel it from the inside.
One palm spread flat on the bed, her knees separated widely enough for balance and motion, he used his free hand to change the angle of his cock as he entered her. One degree at a time. Out, then in. Holding back was going to be a problem soon, but he needed to know, to feel when he was rubbing her in exactly the right way.
There it was. More than an octave higher, her cry was accompanied by a tension that ran from her bared neck to her inner walls.
Now if he could just hold out until after she climaxed once more.
Time blurred as he forced his eyes to stay open. Watching her face, her body, the way his thrusts moved her hair, her breasts, it was like conducting his own private symphony, and he could already feel the beginning of his orgasm forming deep and low.
She began to tremble. No more sounds came out of her open mouth. It was a race to the finish, and he lost.
It was the best defeat he’d ever suffered. Every molecule in his body took part in his release. His eyes shut and his face contorted with intense pleasure. He knew she’d come only when he was able to breathe again.
A spasm squeezed his poor, exhausted cock. Next time, he’d hold on longer.
* * *
MOLLY WANTED TO tell him how amazing he was, but speaking was clearly not in the cards. Thinking was challenging, and moving was out of the question.
God, she could drink a gallon of water.
Her hand was on his chest. She wasn’t sure how it had gotten there. Last she remembered, he was leaning over her, tight as a bowstring as she had another orgasm. The first in her whole life that had not only been while they were doing it, but almost at the same time as him.
She didn’t even fantasize about that kind of thing. Not since Mary Louise Bennett had told her the unvarnished truth about sex when they’d been living at the group home. Molly had been ten, Mary Louise sixteen and experienced.
Molly had also carried condoms with her no matter what since that night. Frankly, she’d been more frightened than anything else, and it had only been due to Riley Finemore’s charm and perseverance that she hadn’t remained a virgin forever.
“I’m going to get up,” Cam said, his voice startling her.
“I’m impressed.”
“Necessity,” he said. “But as long as I have to go, what can I bring you?”
She moved her head to the side and found him staring at her. “Water. Please. Lots.”
“Got it.” He smiled crookedly and sighed in resignation before hoisting himself into a sitting position. “Crap.”
“What?”
“The glass breaking from before the earth moved was the water I’d so thoughtfully set out on the table.”
She laughed. “You’re ridiculously cute.”
“I know,” he said. “I swear it makes it difficult to get up some days.” He scooted down the bed and made his way across her line of sight toward the kitchen. He had to swing wide, so she got to study his body. He had to be a swimmer. To get those shoulders and that waist? Definitely. Nice ass, too. Perky.
It seemed like a good time to close her eyes. Rest for a minute. “Ms. Grainger?”
She jolted awake. Cameron was there, standing, with a water bottle in his hand. Grinning at her. Shockingly, she felt a little chilly. “Hey,” she said, as she awkwardly rose up on her elbows. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. If you’d like to stand up, I could pull down the comforter so you can get warm.”
Being under the covers sounded great. But that would mean she really was going to spend the night. Which also meant she’d have to get up early. Really early if she wanted to catch the train before rush hour and then get back to her place to change. Damn, she’d have to wash her hair, and she had no makeup with her.
But she’d kind of promised him she’d stay.
She took the water and polished off a good half of it. He’d loosened the cap before he’d given it to her. Was he trying to make her decisions more difficult?
“No?” he asked. “Yes?”
“Ugh...” No need for him to be cold while she made up her mind. She stood up, he threw the covers down, and she climbed back in. It was cozier when he got in, too.
He’d cleaned up the floor, gotten himself a plastic bottle for the side table... Ah, and he’d put out another condom. Optimist. Now he lay on his side, head balanced on his palm, watching her drink. “That was totally worth the wait,” he said.
She swallowed. “It was. Thank you.”
“The phrase my pleasure hasn’t ever been more true.”
He certainly had a way with words. “So what’s this business about you saving the world?”
“Ah. First, before we continue, I want to say thanks for being so great with my annoying sisters. I don’t think anyone would have guessed you were nervous at all.”
“That’s because you kept the spotlight just far enough away. Very kind of you.”
He didn’t answer. Just closed his eyes for a second. “Anyway, I’m a chemist, which you know, but I usually work for a large pharmaceutical company in Syracuse.”
“I’ve never been there. It’s not that far, is it?”
“Four and a half to five hours by train. When it’s not winter.”
She had enough trouble with her thirty-minute commute to Midtown. “Wow. That’s pretty far.”
“My team is waiting for funding from the government. Our project is focused on combating antibiotic-resistant bacteria. It’s a huge operation that’s really complex, because of the manner in which bacteria mutate. I mean, they were the earth’s first inhabitants. They’ve learned a thing or two about survival.”
“I’ve read about the problem.”
“It’s a tough nut to crack,” he said, his voice softening as he reached over and brushed his fingers against her collarbone.
She set aside her bottle and folded the pillow so she could snuggle down and rest her head while she looked at Cam. “So that wasn’t an exaggeration. You really are trying to save the world.”
This time he slid his hand under the sheet and brushed the top of her breast. His touch was light, the motion repetitive. It felt nice.
“Not really,” he said. “Trying to make a difference, yeah. But it’s just as likely I’ll work on this project for the rest of my life and we won’t find the magic bullet.”
“It takes a special kind of person to make a commitment like that without knowing the ultimate outcome.”
“I don’t think anyone ever really knows the outcome. I may get so fed up with the internal politics of big pharma, I’ll quit and come back here and make beer until I’m old and gray. It wouldn’t be a bad life.”
�
��I suppose not,” she said. “But I think the world already has a lot of talented brewmasters.”
The petting stopped, although his hand remained on her. “Let me ask you something. Why did it make a difference?”
“Hmm?”
He seemed to approve of the folded-pillow technique and did the same to his own so they were very close, eye to eye, resting on their sides, before he caressed her again. “When you found out I’m only here for a few months. Why did that change your mind?”
She sighed. “In my experience, sex complicates everything. I’m not in a position to let everything get complicated.”
“Everything?”
“I’ve got a great deal riding on the next five years. I have every intention of becoming an important figure in the wine world. Phillip and Simone have been training me since I was sixteen. I’m good at what I do, but with the internet, the field has really opened up. You can’t just be good and get anywhere. You have to be spectacularly good, and it’s not enough to be good at only judging wine. A lot of my work is writing, and that isn’t nearly as natural to me as being a sommelier. But the more I’m published, the more I’ll become known. Since writing is difficult for me, having my attention splintered could really get in the way of my dreams.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But we’re having sex, and I was hoping this wasn’t a one-off.”
“No, I’d like to do it again. Knowing you’re leaving means I won’t let my libido turn my brain to mush.” She carefully kept her eyes even with his. “So we’re good.”
His gaze shifted for the first time since he’d come back with her water, and his hand retreated. She wanted it back. There was no reason for him to be hurt. This wasn’t really new information. “I understand,” he said, but she didn’t think he was telling the truth.
“There was a reason you had ‘one-night stand’ on your trading card. You didn’t want to get involved. I’d assumed you were commitment-phobic, but after seeing you with your family, I think you’re the opposite.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I think you want a wife and a family, but you want them close. It wouldn’t do to fall for someone who lives in Brooklyn when you’re moving to Syracuse.”
His half smile and slow blink showed her she’d been right.
“I figure,” she said, touching his arm, “that we’ve got the best of both worlds. Neither of us can get involved, and yet we’re smoking hot in bed, and outside of bed we’ve found a great quid pro quo solution to some pressing problems. This four-month stand can be four pretty sweet months.”
“Except for the fact that you have the craziest schedule ever.”
“There is that, but just because I’ve had to give up movies and vacations and sleep doesn’t mean I have to be a nun. It’s all a matter of keeping my eye on the prize and utilizing my time well.”
He smiled. The shadow that had darkened his face vanished, and it wasn’t a trick of the light. “I like the way you think.”
Moving closer to him, she was able to run her hand down his back, all the way to the little dimples above his butt. “Well, then you won’t be too disappointed when I tell you I’ve got to go home tonight.”
“The hell I won’t.” He put his palm on her cheek, and she couldn’t hold back from nuzzling him. “I promised you coffee.”
“I know. But in order to get to work on time tomorrow, I’d have to wake up around four-thirty. I can get along without much sleep, but I can’t start the day off like that.”
“No, I remember. Fridays are tough.” He leaned in for a kiss.
It would have been simple, staying. But dangerous.
It might be a four-month stand, but there was no need to take unnecessary risks. It was enough that she liked him enormously. He was a gift, and she’d do whatever she needed to in order to keep the status quo.
On the other hand, it wouldn’t kill her to kiss him for a little bit longer.
12
“SLEEP WELL.” Cam stood at her door, one step from leaving. They’d already kissed goodbye, and yet he couldn’t help but hope she would ask him to stay.
“You, too,” she said. “Thanks for seeing me home.”
The door closed. He walked away, wishing...for what? The whole reason she’d come back to her place was to get as much sleep as she could, and having someone new in her bed wasn’t exactly conducive to crashing fast and hard. Especially when one of them would absolutely have an erection.
He banged on the door of the elevator. It hurt.
Cam closed his eyes as he slowly descended to the ground floor. There was no reason for him to be upset, so WTF? She hadn’t changed her mind about spending the night because she didn’t like him anymore. Their last kiss had proved that. Hell, the whole ride home they’d sat so close together, neutrons couldn’t have squeezed between them. They’d already made plans about talking tomorrow...later today. She’d been great with his family and the sex had been...
Of course it had felt like the best sex he’d ever had. He’d been wanting it since that first night and it had been postponed. Twice.
A blast of hot, humid air swept over him as he walked to the street, already getting a sweat on. By the time he got home and showered, it would be late. Molly wasn’t the only one who had a busy day tomorrow.
The annual Albany Charity Beer Fest was coming up in a couple of weeks, and he was entering six of their new seasonal beers. Then there was the Hop Fest and Hudson River Fest. The Four Sisters needed some blue ribbons. It had been too long between victories, and although the summer had been good to the bar so far, they needed to be busy year-round. Which meant he had to work on the fall and winter seasonal brews so that the recipes would be in place when he left. Once the Syracuse team was up and running, he’d be back to having regular vacations, not eight to ten months at his disposal.
What The Four Sisters needed was another brewmaster, but Gordon was a stubborn bastard. He liked everything to stay the way it always had. Which was a damn shame, because he needed to move forward with his life.
There were plenty of women who’d give their eyeteeth to hook up with Gordon Crawford, but no one could replace his Jewel. Twenty-eight years was a long time to hold on to the past. Not that Gordon had been a monk all this time, but he’d never contemplated a serious relationship.
As far as Cam was concerned, his sisters would be doing everyone a favor if they focused on setting their dad up with a keeper, not him. His old man had found the perfect chemistry once. It was possible he could find it again. Maybe.
The whole family was more stubborn than smart.
He sighed as he headed down the steps of the subway station to catch his ride home. At least he knew he’d be seeing Molly a week from Saturday.
* * *
MOLLY STARED AT her calendar, forcing herself to really look at what the past four days had been like. It had been bad enough that she’d slept through her alarm Friday morning, which had thrown off her rhythm the whole day, but that she’d spent the afternoon daydreaming like a twelve-year-old girl was ridiculous. She’d lost her footing in two important meetings, she’d nearly broken her neck at the gym because her thoughts had been on Cam instead of what she was doing, and most appallingly, she’d missed properly identifying the origin of a Shiraz during the blind tasting at the largest wine shop in Manhattan.
To say she’d been humiliated was an understatement, but she’d been humiliated before and lived through it. The real problem was still not being able to put Cameron in the box.
Admittedly, the past two days had been better. While she hadn’t succeeded in forgetting about Cam completely, she’d regained her focus at work, even during long hours spent writing columns and grading papers.
Yesterday, though, things had once again deteriorated. She doubted anyone she’d spoken with had noticed a thing
, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in serious trouble.
She and Cam were supposed to have talked on the phone Sunday night. She’d penciled him in for an hour at ten. But two minutes after the hour, her buzzer had rung. He’d promised he’d stay only for the allotted time, and it could have worked, considering how quickly they’d gotten naked. But she hadn’t set an alarm.
One hour had become two. They’d both gotten carried away. She’d been so ready, and he’d been so hard, she hadn’t been able to resist taking him in her mouth. She’d always liked doing that, and he’d been ecstatic. Remembering the sounds she’d wrested from him made her shiver even now.
But he’d stopped her before he finished, flipped her onto her back and returned the favor. Damn but he wasn’t just a great brewmaster—he was an expert with his tongue and fingers, as well.
She’d come so hard, she nearly clipped him in the jaw. Cam had surprised her yet again by helping her to her hands and knees. He was tall enough that he lay over her back as he plunged inside her, hands on her waist to help her keep still. Then the devil had started whispering in her ear.
Soft, hot, naughty things. A list of all the ways he wanted to ravish her. His voice alone made her clench her muscles so hard, she’d felt it in the morning, and then when his right hand had moved down to her clit, she’d shattered. Memories of his touch, his voice, the scent of sex and the sound of their gasps were on a repeating loop in her head.
Somehow, he’d gathered himself together enough to dress and head home.
She’d been useless and had gotten no more work done.
Naturally, she’d been tired Monday morning, and she hadn’t been able to get back in her groove. Not with the massive sex hangover. She hadn’t even known that was a thing. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a cure.
Something had to be done, and she’d come to the conclusion that the problem was the novelty of being together. The lag between sexual encounters had been too wide. The obvious answer was to have sex more often. Become accustomed to each other. Their arrangement needed to work for months to come and she was determined to fit Cam into her schedule, even if it meant giving up almost everything else that wasn’t work or sleep.
