by Karen Anders
He dropped the towel just as he opened the door, and yelped when his head hit the knob as he bent over. Cursing under his breath, he pulled the door shut behind him.
“Serves you right,” came her comment from the hot tub.
“Your friend isn’t likely to come back out here, is she?”
“No. She went to bed. We spent hours and hours incorporating your business and creating a mission statement.”
She glared at him as he poured the margaritas.
That old nursery rhyme came back to him, but he altered it slightly. Jack went in the house to fetch margaritas. Jack fell down and broke his crown. Much more than that would be broken, if he didn’t get his head together.
After the glasses were full, he pulled off his T-shirt and unsnapped and unzipped the same jeans she’d bought him in New York. Truth be told, they were so comfortable, he’d gone out and bought himself two more pairs. When he was naked, he stepped into the tub, the hot water making him sigh as he sat down. Bridget watched him warily. He reached over and grabbed both glasses and handed her one.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Look, Matt, I’m sorry about what happened this morning with my mother. It must have been embarrassing for you.”
She seemed hesitant about getting close to him, and he couldn’t stand it. He slipped his arm around her shoulders in a nonchalant way.
“Ever since I came back, I’ve kicked myself for not staying in touch with you. I felt so detached in New York, like I wasn’t substantial, just this hair and smile and…and…body. Full of air, you know, like a balloon.”
He pulled her across his lap, unable to help himself. “You feel pretty solid to me.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his neck. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He shook his head and laughed once again. “There you go again.”
“What?”
He smiled.
She raised herself up, hanging on to his shoulders. “What is that all about? Are you mocking me now?”
“No, it’s just that…you have this way about you that seduces everyone you come into contact with.”
Bridget frowned. “Do you think I’m doing it on purpose?”
“No, you would have to be aware of doing…what it is…you do.”
“According to you, what I do isn’t really my idea. But something that was planted in my mind.”
Matt looked down into her stormy blue eyes.
She continued. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am today. I have a high-powered agent, a New York loft and, mark my words, I will be a supermodel someday.”
“Back in New York.”
Bridget slid off his lap and moved away. “That’s right. I know that you don’t think much of the city. You find it noisy and overcrowded. But I see New York as an opportunity and I like the bustle and the craziness of living there.”
“You’re right. I hate the city and I don’t understand why anyone would leave the peace and serenity of Cambridge to go there. But, Bridget, modeling is not everything.”
“It is to me. I will get this business off the ground, then I’m going back to New York renewed and refreshed. I’m hoping for a contract from Maggie Winterbourne. I don’t intend to come running home with my tail between my legs.”
She picked up the margarita glass and drained it. Putting the glass down, she turned to look at him. She licked her lips, leaving them damp and shiny, beckoning for him to nibble and taste.
“Everyone likes a winner, Matt,” Bridget said as she moved closer to him. “Admit it. No one likes a loser.”
He closed his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. “No. No one likes a loser, but being able to admit that you can’t win all the time—that’s not the end of the world.”
“Shh,” she said softly, her thumb stroking over his mouth. “I know what you want, even when you want to deny it.”
“What’s that?”
“Me, in any position you can get me in.”
“I’m not…”
“You’re not here to have sex with me, Matt? You don’t want it?”
“I’m not immune to you.”
“You want it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“See, was that so hard to admit?”
“But it’s not…”
“Just sex? Maybe not.” The wind picked up, sending a gust of air across her skin. The early June night was warm.
Her nipples automatically puckered and darkened to a deep raspberry hue, and her luminous eyes widened in pleasure.
Her entire body trembled, and her breathing deepened as he stared at her wet skin, fascinated at the way the dewy moisture gathered in places and slowly trickled downward like a soft, misty rain.
God, he’d never seen anything so sexy, so delectably enticing as the mouthwatering feast she presented. Then again she was the first girl he’d ever trusted with his secrets and his heart. And that was both terrifying and a complete turn-on for him. Undoubtedly, Bridget was a pure reckless addiction for his senses, and like a junkie, he intended to get his fill of her.
Aching to caress all that slick glistening flesh, he flattened his palm around the curve of her throat and followed the slick path down to an enticing amount of cleavage. His hands captured her breasts, encircling them with long, possessive fingers and gliding his thumbs across her rigid nipples before he continued on with his lazy journey. Skimming his palms across her quivering belly and down to her smooth sleek thighs, thighs he couldn’t wait to feel wrapped tight around his waist.
Bridget moaned, “Matt, please put your mouth on me.”
“Where,” he rasped out.
“Anywhere,” she panted. “Anywhere you want.”
He gave in to the need to slide his mouth over her feminine curves, so vibrant and arousing him to the point of dizzying torment. His fingers gradually trailed their way back up her sides, tracing the dip and swell of her hips and waist, stroking the outline of her pale breasts, then finally his hands came to rest on the lip of the tub behind her, surrounding her with the male scent of him, the virile power and heat he emanated, the desire to brand her.
She whimpered at the momentary loss of contact, but he didn’t make her suffer long. By slow, agonizing degrees, he closed the scant distance separating their bodies until the hard, masculine contours of his broad chest crushed against her sensitive breasts. Their bare bellies touched, skin searing skin, as he pinned her hips and thighs to the seat of the tub, leaving her no escape.
Their eyes met in the shadowed darkness, and there was no mistaking the hard, solid length of his erection jutting against her mound. He rolled his hips, letting her feel the full effect of that massive ridge, and she reacted with a low, purring sound that sent shivers through him.
“You like that?” he teased.
She widened her legs and arched toward him, silently seeking more. “Oh, yes,” she whispered anxiously, and he could see the frustration in her eyes at his slow, mindless seduction.
The dark need inside him was something he always tempered whenever he was with a woman. The deep craving to do things that filled his fantasies, like the thrill of being open and exposed in the night, sent his desire soaring to never before achieved heights. He didn’t have to hide with her. As she looked boldly into his eyes, he saw that dark answering hunger in hers. Lowering his head he brushed his mouth across hers. When he slid his tongue against her silky lower lip, she opened her mouth and eagerly let him inside. He deepened the kiss, voracious and hungry, and she answered, sliding her body sensually against his in a rhythm that matched the thrust of his tongue.
One of his hands grasped her gyrating hip while the other slipped over her taut bottom, past her thigh, and he hooked his fingers behind her knee. He lifted her leg up to his waist, wedged his thigh tight between hers, and pressed his groin to her sex, urging her to feel him, all of him.
Every single hard, pulsing inch.
/> The aching pressure of his cock rubbing against her intimate flesh, along with the friction of the water combined to start her on the exquisite journey to her first climax. He wanted it more than anything. Moving against her caused sensations as exquisite as they were intense, rippling along his cock—undulating waves of passion, beckoning him to push into her as hard as he could. But he refused his body’s call, waiting for her. She curled her fingers into his hair as she continued to move sinuously on his muscular thigh until her entire body began to shake. Tearing her mouth from his, she finally took her pleasure with a soft, keening cry of release.
“Yes,” he murmured, watching her face, the intense pleasure that he’d given her. “So good.”
“I want you inside, Matt, please.”
“No, not just yet. Soon.”
He slipped his thighs under her, lifting her hips out of the water and setting her on the lip of the tub.
He slid his hands along her sleek thighs and around to her sweet butt. Gently he brought her forward until her legs were wrapped around his chest. Gliding his hands higher, he arched her back, making her groan in anticipation. He pressed his face against the softness of each breast, nuzzling and kissing the plump skin. He dipped his hand into the water and dribbled heated drops onto the tips of her breasts. Bridget writhed against him. Then he grabbed his half-empty margarita glass and poured some of the drink onto those delectable tips. Bridget gasped at the cold alcohol, the nubs tightening into hard knots. He closed his mouth over one tip and sucked the alcohol off. Bridget threw her head back and he moved to the other sweet tip, running his tongue over the taut bead, lapping and swirling until he finally drew that nipple into his mouth and suckled her.
She reached down, taking him into her hand, and her touch charged through his body. Pushing on his chest, she swung him away from her against the lip of the tub until he was sitting fully on the decking surrounding the hot tub. Before he could say a word, she had her hot mouth nipping at his collarbone, trailing down his chest. She found his rigid nipple and bit gently at the sensitive disk, and that stab of erotic sensation spiraled all the way down to his groin.
She kissed her way down his torso to his belly, and kept nibbling her way lower with soft, delicious bites and the scrape of her teeth along his sensitive skin. She took him in her hands, her grasp slick and slippery as she measured the length of his cock in long, heated strokes that had him gritting his teeth in a painful kind of pleasure. Her thumbs grazed the lubricated head of his penis with every pass, drawing a fierce climax closer to the surface.
“Bridget,” he said, his voice a deep, husky growl.
She ignored the warning in his tone. She obviously wasn’t done tormenting him. Lowering her head, she curled her tongue over the broad head of his sex, then licked and nibbled her way up and down his shaft. Slowly, leisurely, lapped and savored the taste of him with small, appreciative sighs and moans that made him writhe against the tub, just as she had. When he was certain he was on the verge of going insane, she finally parted her lips and enveloped him in the wet heat of her mouth.
His nostrils flared, and lust reared within him as she took him deep, working his thick, solid member with her lips and tongue and the tight fingers wrapped around the base. She brought him to the brink of an orgasm, then eased back to let the wave of sexual tension ebb before starting in on him again.
His entire body shuddered with a fierce, roaring urgency, stunning in its intensity. He couldn’t ever remember being the lucky recipient of such intense, all-consuming need. She took her time, delighting in the act and his responsiveness. She skillfully drew out his moment of fulfillment, as if his pleasure was directly linked to her own.
Her tongue swirled one last enthusiastic time, then she sucked, at first gently, then harder, stronger, devouring him all the way to the back of her throat in long, rhythmic strokes of her mouth. He exhaled a hiss of breath, and his arms flexed in an instinctive reaction to reach down and thread his fingers through her hair. When he touched her head, her blond hair was so soft that he groaned.
His stomach muscles clenched and he pressed his hips forward unable to keep the climax at bay. He wasn’t going to last much longer. “I’m gonna come, Bridget, if you don’t stop.”
She didn’t stop, and he couldn’t. The last thin thread of his control shattered. His hips surged upward as she drew him to completion with her hands and mouth, sending him soaring on the wings of an awesome, shuddering orgasm that left him weak and wasted.
They both sank down into the water, sated and unable to move. After a few moments, Bridget picked up his margarita and downed the rest.
She snuggled up against him.
“You’re awesome, Bridget,” he whispered, wanting to invite her to his house, drag her down into bed with him and sleep the whole night in each other’s arms, but Matt couldn’t get the words past his lips. He was too scared to think what that meant. She’d already done so much to shatter any barriers that the thought of having her scent to perfume the air kept his mouth closed.
She didn’t protect herself as much as he did. And it still shocked him that her mother had been so intrusive.
But what could he expect? Bridget had been trying to please her mother for a long time and old habits died hard. Even as an adult, she couldn’t seem to please herself. Bridget wasn’t aware of why she strived so hard to be what her mother wanted her to be. She didn’t understand that maybe it wasn’t her dream at all.
Everyone made wrong or misguided decisions, along with mistakes they regretted. He had his own burdens to live with, as well—things he wished he could have done differently, like staying in touch with her even though it had been difficult with her mother’s intervention.
But he’d learned that he couldn’t allow those pitfalls to rule his life, that he had to deal with them and move on. But it appeared that Bridget was still living in the past, for fear of failing the people she cared for the most.
“We should get out of here. You’re shivering.”
“I don’t want to go yet. I want to stay with you.”
“You’re cold. Come on.”
“Party pooper,” she groused, but stood up with him when he tugged. He grabbed a towel and draped it around her, tucking it in tightly, securing his own towel around his waist. He walked her to the back door and reached for the handle.
It wouldn’t turn.
“What’s wrong?” Bridget asked when he tried the knob again.
“It won’t open,” he replied.
“That can’t be,” she reached down and tried the knob and realization widened her eyes. She broke into laughter. “You must have accidentally locked it when you hit it with your head.”
“This isn’t funny, Bridget.”
“Yes, it is. Here we are without a stitch of clothing on and my aunt and Naomi are sleeping. What am I going to do?”
She turned to look at him. “I’ll have to sleep with you.”
“With me?”
“Is that okay?”
“Sure,” he said, but inside his mind was churning.
Only a few moments ago he’d been freaked out by the thought of her sleeping in his bed, in his room, but as he looked down into her face with the beaming smile, he knew he’d never deny her anything.
What was happening to him? Deep inside he understood what was happening and he was beginning to realize he was helpless to fight the strong, undeniable feelings she evoked—no matter how much those emotions scared the hell out of him.
“I SEE THAT YOU STILL HAVE your telescope, but you’ve changed rooms,” Bridget said, surveying his space.
“Once my parents left for Arizona, I converted my room into a spare bedroom and moved all my things into the master suite.”“You’ve renovated in here, too. Didn’t your parents have built-in bookshelves?”
“Yeah, they did. I didn’t like them. Made this room feel too much like an office. I wanted comfort.”
“And privacy. I remember that used to be very important
to you.”
She walked over to his dresser.
“I need something to wear, Matt.”
“Here, let me help you,” he offered.
He pulled out a thermal shirt that had shrunk and handed it to her along with the matching pants that now were way too short on him.
“Are you kidding? I don’t want to look like I’m wearing hand-me-downs.”
“You’ll be sleeping.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be stylish.” She shouldered him out of the way and grabbed a white cotton tank top and a pair of white boxer briefs. She shivered as she dropped the towel, making Matt shift at the sight of her glorious beauty. Even wet and ravished, she looked wonderful.
Bridget pulled the shirt over her head and slipped on the briefs. She looked really good in his clothes, like an expensive ad for men’s underwear, making his skin tingle and his mouth water.
She reached up and cupped his face. “Thanks,” she said simply. “Do you have a comb I could use?”
“In the bathroom.”
She disappeared for a moment and when she emerged from the bathroom, every hair was in place, the ends still damp from the hot tub. Walking over to the window, she put her eye to his telescope.
“Wow, look at the stars that are out tonight.” He smiled softly, refraining from telling her they were the same stars that were out every night.
“Ooooh, there’s the Big Dipper. Looks like it’s pouring out dazzling stars.”
He stood there and watched her. Unable to help himself, he reached out and smoothed his hand over her hair. She continued to look at the stars, oblivious to him.
He could remember her standing at his telescope at sixteen, just before her mother limited her trips to her aunt Ida’s house. He had wanted so much to kiss her then. Listening to how she was going to be busy for the coming year going to that pageant and this pageant. Matt wished at that moment she hadn’t been so blindingly beautiful and he hadn’t been so intimidated by her. He would have taken her in his arms and kissed her, told her how he felt about her. But then her mother had called and the moment passed.
