Second Time Around

by Nancy Herkness

  His powerful thighs and calves glistened with blond hair, and she stooped to glide her hands over the swells and indents above his knees. She looked up to see his chest rising and falling in an accelerated rhythm.

  “Turn around,” she said.

  A sound that was very primitive indeed tore from his throat, but he obeyed, pivoting on one bare heel. He put his hands on his hips and bent his head, making his triceps bulge outward.

  “Ooh, this is amazing,” she said, following the straight line of his spine down to his tight butt and cupping it briefly through the silk before letting her palms flutter over all the hills and valleys of his back.

  Her nipples had hardened already, and the dampness between her legs grew hotter and more liquid. She wound her arms around his waist, pulling herself against the expanse of sculpted muscle and tendon. Pinpoints of sensation streaked from her breasts to her core and she moaned.

  The sound seemed to break his control because he turned like a striking snake in her arms, reaching around to run her zipper down the back of her dress. He pushed the peach-colored fabric down her arms, over her hips, and to the floor. For a moment his gaze drifted over her lacy bra and bikini panties. Then he stripped both flimsy pieces of lingerie off her, hurling them across the cabin.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured. “More so even than I remembered.”

  “You remember?” She stepped into him, closing her eyes as her bare skin came in contact with his, the wanting inside her flaming like a bonfire. She leaned into him to feel her breasts crushed against the living wall of his chest.

  “I fought hard against the damned alcohol.” He wound his arm around her waist and splayed his hand over her buttock. “You felt so right in my arms because we knew each other in other ways first.” He put his lips against hers. “Now we’ll know each other in all ways.”

  His hands were everywhere, stroking, kneading, cupping. She seized his shoulders and held on as he built her longing to a fever pitch, arching into him and begging with incoherent sounds. He walked her backward and lowered her onto the bed before he came down on one knee beside her thigh. She lifted her hips in an invitation, and he slid his hand between her thighs to rub his thumb against her clit. She mewed with pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Inside me,” she said.

  He slipped one finger into the wet heat of her, making her muscles ripple in near orgasm.

  “Another,” she begged, needing to be filled.

  He pulled out and used the moisture on his finger to glide over her clit before easing two fingers inside her, and she felt herself open farther.

  “Yes!”

  As she rocked with him, he worked his fingers in and out, driving her arousal higher and higher. Her eyes were closed, her focus on the fire low in her body, so it shocked her when she felt the warm, wet touch of his lips on one nipple, making her cry out and grab at his head to hold it there. He sucked at her breast, and lightning seemed to ricochet through her until it coiled in her belly.

  His mouth pulling on her and his fingers sliding in and out of her had her teetering on the verge of climax, but she wanted him to come with her the first time they made love.

  “Will, stop!”

  He released her nipple and withdrew his hand from between her legs, his eyes clouded with concern as he bent over her. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, no . . . God, no! I want you inside me when I come.” She fumbled at the waistband of his briefs, but her angle and his erection made it hard to yank them down. Will brushed her hands aside and had the briefs off in an instant. He picked up one of the condoms he’d dropped on the bed earlier and ripped open the foil envelope.

  “Let me,” Kyra said, wanting to touch him. She took the condom but then stroked her fingers down the hard length of his cock without it. She glanced up to see his gaze on her fingers where they encircled him, so she rubbed her thumb against the head where it was wet.

  “Kyra,” he breathed. “Yes, that.”

  She stroked him twice more, feeling the pulse of him under her hand.

  “The condom,” he said in a strangled voice. “Now.”

  She rolled it on and then he tumbled her back on the bed, his hips wedged between her thighs, the tip of him poised just outside her. He positioned himself, then laced his fingers between hers and pinned their hands to the bed on either side of her head.

  He flexed his hips and thrust all the way inside her in one motion, and they both cried out. And then it was all about the feel of him filling her, moving in her, moving against her, murmuring in her ear, as he drove her relentlessly up toward her climax. Everything in her body centered on him, every feeling, every thought, every sensation. He held her hands so all she could do was angle her hips to offer him more.

  And then he released one hand to reach down between them, to touch her on the small sensitive spot that detonated the explosion inside her, sending light and pleasure and relief bursting through her as her muscles clenched around him.

  He stilled, letting her enjoy her release without distraction. As she quieted, he began to move again, slowly at first. But she freed both hands to run them down his back and curl her fingers into his buttocks, urging him on. His motion, the friction of skin on skin, the brush of his chest against her breasts, twisted the longing inside her tight again. As her name seemed to wrench itself from his throat and he began to pulse inside her, another orgasm blossomed, a gentler pleasure but still sending waves of ecstasy crashing through her.

  Then they both sank down into the cushions as though their bones had melted. Will’s heart pounded against her chest and his breath sounded loud by her ear. He shifted to settle his weight mostly on the bed, but one of his arms was still slung over her waist, and one of his legs remained between hers.

  As the fizz in her blood quieted, she became aware of the boat rocking gently, the breeze fluttering the curtains of the porthole, and the freshness of salt air. And Will. The heat of his body, the scent of his shampoo and of sex, the heavy feel of his arm on her, the scuff of his lightly furred thigh against the sensitive inner skin of her legs.

  She blew out a long sigh. She’d finally gotten what she’d dreamed of all those years ago, and that was a treacherous thing. Because she wanted more.

  “Waiting ten years paid off,” he said.

  She choked on a laugh. “Is that how you’re spinning it? That it was better to wait?”

  “Couldn’t sell you on that excuse, eh?”

  “No, but you could sell me on almost anything else right now.”

  “Then I’ve succeeded.” He rose up on his elbow and looked down at her, his expression a strange mix of satisfaction and longing. “Probably better than I would have done in college, to be honest.”

  “Youth and enthusiasm can overcome a lack of finesse,” she said. “But I can’t picture you ever being awkward, even back then.”

  He snorted. “Catching Babette in bed with another guy was awkward. Especially since you were there to witness it.”

  “You never came to our suite again after that. Not that I blamed you, but I missed our conversations,” Kyra said. And her fantasy of Will suddenly pulling her into his arms to say, I’ve just used Babette as a way to get to you. You’re the one I really want, before he kissed her.

  “My ego was too wrecked to revisit the scene of my humiliation. Didn’t you notice that I casually ran into you on campus more often than usual after the fiasco?”

  Surprise jolted through her. “You mean that was intentional? I thought you’d switched classes or something.” That was the rationale she’d used to keep her fantasies in check because she had noticed how often they seemed to encounter each other after the incident.

  “I was going to ask you out, but I needed to lick my wounded pride a little longer. And then you were gone.”

  Her thoughts tripped over one another at the revelation that he had considered dating her. But that was college, where most students tended to overlook differences in social and financi
al backgrounds. Being smart was more important than being rich for those four—or in her case, two—years of ivory-tower seclusion. That was one reason she’d loved Brunell so much; it was a democracy of the mind, completely different from the real world.

  But she and Will lived in a different reality now. He was a billionaire with a pedigree. She was exactly the opposite. She needed to remember that before she started building castles in the air. Regret settled on her like a lead weight.

  She nestled closer to him to shrug off the burden. She could float among the clouds for just a little longer.

  Will tightened his arm around Kyra’s waist as she wiggled against his side. He felt . . . good. Like he hadn’t just spent three hours at the dreadful Spring Fling with the muscles in his neck and shoulders tied in knots. Or nearly missed an encounter with Petra. He splayed his fingers over Kyra’s rib cage to savor more of the warm, silky texture of her skin. She twitched with a muffled giggle. Ticklish. That made him smile.

  Making love to Kyra had been so easy. Also exciting, satisfying, and uncomplicated. They took pleasure in the same things, in the same ways. No drama, no undercurrents. Just a beautiful, intelligent woman who responded to him with straightforward enthusiasm. No wonder he felt like he was twenty again.

  He turned his head to inhale her fragrance. It was a clean, almost lemony scent, warmed seductively by their exertions. Hunger for her flared again, but he tamped it down, wanting to savor the relaxed pleasure of her body pressed to his. If he moved, he might be forced back into the present instead of living in this moment out of time.

  Even the party hadn’t been as bad as he anticipated. Kyra had stayed at his side, throwing little slanted glances of secret, shared amusement at him. Sometimes it had been when a party guest approached, wearing a particularly clashing outfit. Sometimes it had been over an especially clueless remark. She hadn’t been mean, just entertained. She had shifted his perspective, so he could view the situation with some of her detachment and humor.

  Except when it involved his parents or Petra.

  He shoved the thought of them all into a dark corner of his mind, refusing to allow them to ruin his mood of mellow semi-arousal. It was a surprisingly nice state to drift in. Wanting her but feeling no urgency to act on his desire.

  He considered untying the Royal Wave from her mooring and sailing to a private cove where they would drop anchor. Then he could remain in this suspension of reality and make love to Kyra for the rest of the day and night.

  He huffed out a breath, making Kyra giggle again. Pipe dreams. So many people expected so many things of him.

  There was no escape.

  Chapter 7

  Kyra came awake with a sense of panic because her bed seemed to be rocking violently beneath her. As she registered the weight of Will’s arm over her waist and the feel of his bare skin against hers, her awareness came surging back. The bed was rocking. She could hear the rumbling sound of a powerful engine and guessed they’d been hit by the wake of a large boat.

  Will slept through it without a twitch, but he was accustomed to being on the water. She tried to gauge the time by the slant of light through the porthole. She guessed they’d dozed off for nearly an hour.

  Which meant she needed to wake Will. But she closed her eyes again, imprinting on her memory how the muscles and tendons of his arm felt against the softness of her waist, how the tickle of his slow, steady breathing whispered over her skin, how the heat of his big body on her one side contrasted with the brush of the cooling breeze on the other.

  She ran her fingertips up a ridge in his arm and shook his shoulder gently. “Will, we fell asleep.”

  He stirred, muttering something she couldn’t understand, and pulled her into him. She felt his cock harden and push against her hip.

  “Are you awake?” she asked, shaking him again.

  “I was trying not to be.”

  “I think it’s late,” she said, even as he skimmed his hand up to cup her breast. And suddenly a liquid wave of desire rolled through her to settle low in her belly. But she caught his wrist and pulled it away. “I like the way your mind works, but we don’t have time.”

  He let her move his hand before he looked straight up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”

  “I’d be flattered except I know you just dread going back to your family.”

  “You’d be wrong. There are many more important reasons I want to stay.” He turned his head back toward her so she could see the seriousness in his eyes. “All of them are about you.”

  Happiness shimmered through her like a mirage of clear, cool water on hot asphalt. “Okay, I’m flattered.”

  “No flattery, just truth. You’re something special. I knew that at Brunell.”

  After those words, Kyra couldn’t lie still. She levered herself up on one elbow, wanting to get a better view of his face to judge his sincerity. “You sure didn’t let on that you felt that way.” She winced at her slip into the country phrasing but she was shocked all over again.

  “What do you mean? I came by the suite every chance I could.”

  “To see Babette.”

  “I always hoped Babette would be busy for at least half an hour.” He gave her a bone-melting smile.

  So their conversations hadn’t just been holding patterns for him, as she’d always thought. Why hadn’t he ever given any sign that he wanted more from her? But she knew. He couldn’t have taken her to his frat parties and been comfortable that she would fit in with his friends. She didn’t have the right clothes or the right attitude about drinking or the right social graces. Those were things she’d taught herself later, when she came to New York and her survival depended on it. He probably didn’t even realize that was why he hadn’t asked her out.

  “Lucky for me, Babette was a popular girl,” Kyra said, her comment holding an edge she couldn’t keep in.

  “Lucky for me, too, in the long run.” Will contracted the magnificent set of muscles in his torso to sit up on the bed. “Duty calls.”

  “Does that mean we’re staying for dinner after all?”

  He shook his head. “Just a quick stop to say good-bye. Maybe a little longer if they behave themselves.”

  “At least you’re not quoting dying gladiators now,” Kyra pointed out.

  “Proving that you have done wonders for my mental state,” he said. Standing, he began to gather up their scattered clothing, while she admired the play of muscles moving under his skin. She felt her center go liquid again as she remembered what all the power had felt like over and inside her.

  He dropped the clothes on the bed beside her and began to sort them into his and hers. “If you’d like to freshen up, the head is through that door.” He nodded toward the front of the boat.

  She didn’t want to wash the feel of him from her body, but she should. “My purse. It’s still outside.”

  He pulled on his trousers and ran lightly up the steps, the arches of his bare feet as strong and elegant as the rest of him. “Here you go,” he said, returning with her clutch and her sandals dangling from his fingers.

  She stood and stretched up onto her toes to brush a kiss on his cheek. “My knight in khaki armor.” The fact that her breast brushed his chest did nothing to reduce her yearning for him.

  The head was roomier than she expected and fitted out with scented soap, fluffy white towels, and a well-lit mirror that made her gasp at the disarray of her hair and makeup. She used a washcloth to clean up and then did her best to redo her face with the minimum of cosmetics in her purse. She hadn’t been prepared for an afternoon of uninhibited sex.

  The “uninhibited” part had surprised her the most. She thought she’d be nervous or worried about what Will thought of her, but the chemistry had burned so fast and intensely that any concerns had been consumed by the fire.

  Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t second-guess everything tomorrow and the next day.

  She heard water running and realized that Will must be us
ing the galley sink to clean up. She dragged her little purse brush through the tangles of her hair and vacated the bathroom to find Will leaning over the sink as he splashed water over his face.

  “All yours,” she said, feeling very naked compared to Will, who was now dressed from the waist down. She scooped her panties off the bed and tugged them on.

  He straightened and finger combed his damp hair away from his face. “Maybe I could use a mirror,” he said, with a wry smile.

  “Trust me, you look perfect.” She fastened her bra.

  He crossed the space between them in two steps. “You looked more perfect without these.” He hooked a finger in the lace of her panties and snapped the waistband in a playful gesture before giving her bottom a quick squeeze. “Mmm, love those curves.”

  “We have to go,” Kyra said, smacking his arm.

  She hated the way his mouth flattened into a straight line of unhappiness. He released her, grabbed his shirt, and shut himself into the bathroom. No, the head.

  Kyra dressed, checking that she still wore all the pieces of Emily’s jewelry. She searched the sleeping quarters to find a small mirror so she could do a more thorough job on her hair. When Will came out of the head, he was fully clothed and rerolling his shirtsleeves.

  “You know Ceres started here,” he said, coaxing a precise fold into the shirt fabric. “I was working as a waiter at the yacht club.”

  “I thought you chauffeured people to their boats.”

  He looked up at her. “I did that in the morning when the boat traffic was busiest. I waited tables at night.”

  “Nothing wrong with your work ethic,” Kyra said. She knew he was stalling because he didn’t want to face his family, but she wanted to hear the story. She plunked down on the bed.