by Heidi Betts
“I didn’t want to drip on your brother’s hardwood floor. I can run upstairs and put on something else, if it bothers you.”
He wasn’t sure why he threw the offer out there and in that particular wording. It’s what he’d intended from the start, but for some reason, he suddenly found himself wanting to know what her reaction would be to his remaining in this state of undress.
Would she ask him to go throw some clothes on, or be just as comfortable with him walking around half-nude as she was walking around that way herself? Because that slinky little nightgown she’d been wearing lately sure didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“It doesn’t bother me,” she said breezily, walking to the couch and plopping down on one of the overstuffed cushions. She propped her feet on the coffee table and the seashell pink of her painted toenails winked in the flickering light of the fire.
“I’ve seen you and Nick both in a lot less.” She grinned, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Remember that time out at the lake when the two of you went skinny-dipping? You teased and badgered until I agreed to strip down and jump in with you, then you sneaked out and stole my clothes.”
He chuckled at the memory, dropping the towel on the stone hearth to dry before taking a seat beside her on the sofa. He did remember that day, though he hadn’t thought of it in years. “You cried so hard, we were afraid you’d drown.”
“Which had no impact whatsoever on you two hooligans.”
“No, but your screaming and threatening to walk home naked to tell your parents what we’d done certainly did.”
“Yeah. So what did you do in response? You threw my clothes on the bank, then went running home without me.”
“We had to get there before you did to make sure you wouldn’t rat on us.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t. I still don’t think Mom and Dad know about that incident.”
“That’s probably for the best. They’d think Nick and I were complete pervs.”
She slanted a wicked glance in his direction. “What do you mean were?”
It took a second for the gibe to sink in, another for him to realize she was falling back on their old, teasing banter. Something she hadn’t done in seven long years.
Before he could question why or tamp down his instinctive response, he narrowed his eyes, lowered his tone and said, “Low blow. Now you’ll have to be punished.”
Her brows lifted as understanding dawned, and she gave a shriek loud enough to rattle the pictures on the wall before trying to dart away. He grabbed her, snaking an arm around her waist before she got two inches off the couch, pulling her back against him. With his free hand, he dug into the tender flesh of her side and started to tickle.
“No! Aaack, stop! Connor, stop!”
She continued to scream and thrash, laughing uncontrollably. It was like old times. He used to tickle her like this when they were kids, and sometimes he and Nick would gang up on her.
Of course, she always got her revenge. By going to her folks and getting them grounded, but more often by putting garter snakes in their beds or itching powder in their shorts. She was nothing if not cruel and ingenious in her acts of vengeance.
Somehow, with all her wiggling, she got twisted around so they were facing each other. Her breasts were pressed flat between them and he could feel her pebbled nipples digging into his bare chest through the thin fabric of her robe and nightie.
Though her knees nearly emasculated him more than once, the sensation of her smooth, silky legs gliding between his own sent signals to both his brain and nether regions, reminding him that he was definitely a man. And she was definitely a woman.
A woman he craved like a bear craved honey.
He stopped tickling, and her movements abruptly halted. She was panting for breath, the aftershocks of her laughter still rippling through her body.
Her face hovered above his, the damp tendrils of her hair hanging around them in dark spirals. Her eyes, which normally shone like bright, glittering sapphires, were now a deep, fathomless ocean blue. He read passion there, and longing…feelings he was more than willing to reciprocate.
He thought about kissing her, was lifting his head to do just that, when she leaned down and beat him to the punch. And what a punch it was. Right to the solar plexus. Her lips were warm and as soft as rose petals. Her fragrance invaded his senses, filling every pore.
He brought his hands up to frame her face and deepened the kiss, tasting her, absorbing her texture. Their tongues stroked, twined.
His fingers trailed through her hair, massaging her scalp, while she explored the expanse of his chest. She outlined the ridges of each pectoral muscle, his taut abdomen, brushing with her fingertips, clawing with her nails. He sucked in a ragged breath when she traced a path from his navel to the elastic waist of his boxers, stirring through the crisp hair there, sending shocks of electricity to every cell of his being.
She was smiling down at him, her lips puffy, her eyes half-lidded with desire.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, even as he felt the manicured tips of her fingernails worm their way between his fever-hot skin and the only piece of clothing that kept him from being indecent.
Beneath that material, though, he throbbed, straining for her touch. He wanted to beg her to keep going, to answer her question with a desperate No, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop!
But he couldn’t take advantage of her, not again. If this was going to happen, if they were going to be together again, then he needed to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That there was nothing standing between them, nothing impairing her decision-making process.
Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and keeping his hand on the nape of her neck, he asked, “How much did you have to drink tonight?”
She blinked, her eyes widening slightly as she realized his question wasn’t an intimate or suggestive one.
“Why? Do you think I’m drunk?” She spoke slowly and deliberately, but she didn’t seem to be offended.
“I just want to be sure,” he replied with measured care. So far, she hadn’t slapped his face and stormed off, and if he was lucky, he wouldn’t say anything to make her do either.
“I had three light beers over a four-hour period. I’m not drunk, Connor. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she recognized them as the truth. She might not be kissing him, caressing him for all the right reasons, but she still wanted him.
Heck, she’d wanted him for years. Even during that terrible time when she’d convinced herself she hated him, she’d never really managed to quash her desire for him. These past few days, trapped together in the same house, trying to keep their distance but only managing to strike sparks off one another, had only served to amplify that yearning.
What would it hurt to be with him one more—one last—time? It was obvious they were both charged and ready…willing and more than able. They were both adults, both unattached.
Sadly, she hadn’t dated anyone significant in the last three or four years. In the past twelve to eighteen months, she hadn’t dated anyone.
She was due, a little voice in her head whispered. But more than that, sleeping with Connor would get this low-level hum of longing out of her system and prove, once and for all, that she was over him.
Sleeping with him would not only scratch the itch that had developed by spending so much time together this past week, but also give her the closure she’d been needing ever since the first time they’d made love seven years ago.
Closure, yes. That’s exactly what she needed. One night with Connor to extinguish the fire beating in her blood and exorcise any hard feelings still lingering between them. Then she would be able to fly back to L.A. without any of the ugly demons that had plagued her in the past.
She met his gaze, letting the backs of her fingers roam deeper beneath the waistband of his cute little polka-dot boxer shorts until she felt him twitch.
&nbs
p; “I know exactly what I’m doing,” she told him again, slowly and succinctly so he would have no doubt that she meant what she said. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” was his strained but heartfelt response. “I’ll never doubt your intentions again.”
An amused smile stole across her lips. “See that you don’t.”
His eyes sparkled with devilish purpose, and then he was lifting himself up on his elbows, covering her mouth with his. He kissed her breathless, kissed her until she was purring with pleasure and leaning into him, wanting to melt, merge, become one with him.
He smelled fresh and clean, like the rain that had drenched them both. And he felt…he felt like heaven. Hard and firm, his muscles bunching beneath her touch. His chest was a work of art, chiseled, well defined, a masterpiece. His legs rubbed against her own, the crisp hairs tickling, sending ripples of sensual awareness along her spine.
But it was his face that intrigued her, his face that could turn her on from across the room. The strong line of his jaw, sometimes stubbled with a sexy five o’clock shadow. The smooth, powerful brow that furrowed when he was annoyed or deep in thought. The straight, narrow nose with a tiny bump high on the bridge from the time he and Nick had gotten into a fight with some members of the opposing team after an away-from-home football game. And those gentle, brandy brown eyes that made her knees go weak with a single smoldering glance.
Connor’s hands dragged through her hair, moving down her back and sides and around to the front of her waist. He untied the sash of her robe, causing the silky material to fall open, and then pushed it over her shoulders and down her arms.
As reluctant as she was to remove her fingers from the cozy nest of his boxers, she wanted to feel him, skin to skin. With a little shake, she let the airy material flutter to the floor.
She was in her nightgown and panties now, her arms, legs and back bare. Instead of being chilled, waves of heat washed over her, and she doubted they were from the fireplace.
Their breaths mingled and heaved as Connor’s lips moved to her cheek, her jaw. His hands stroked the backs of her legs, his callused fingers sending shivers and shock waves straight to her core. He traced the lines behind her knees before straying higher, higher. He cupped her bottom, groaning when he discovered she was wearing a thong.
“You’re so damn hot,” he breathed against the taut column of her throat. “You make me crazy. You make me want to lick every inch of your luscious body. Suck your toes and fingers, your nipples and your lips. I want to carry you to my bed and never let you leave.”
His hands on her buttocks and tongue on her collarbone had her senses reeling, but she struggled to absorb everything he was saying. The words warmed her all the way through and sent her level of arousal ratcheting up several notches.
“Since the bed upstairs is my brother’s and it’s quite a walk to your place,” she asked in a ragged voice, “will the sofa do?”
“Oh, yeah, the sofa will do just fine.”
His rough palms moved from her bottom to her hips, his fingers slipping under the thin straps holding her panties in place. With excruciating slowness, he tugged the scrap of fabric down, revealing her private places and leaving her open to the warm air circulating through the room. She lifted her legs, one and then the other, to help him remove the garment altogether.
At the same time, his mouth found and fastened upon one of her breasts, wetting her nipple through the material of her nightgown and causing the already pebbled tip to tighten even further. She arched her back, granting him better access, urging him on.
He played her body like a finely tuned instrument, knowing just where to touch and stroke, just how much pressure to use. Her head was spinning, blood pounding in her ears and pooling low in her belly, between her legs.
But something was missing. Connor was turned on, but not desperately, sweating and writhing beneath her. She wanted that. She wanted to touch and caress him, drive him to the brink of insanity and make him beg for more.
“Connor.”
He continued to suckle and her inner muscles clenched.
“Connor.”
“Hmm?”
He hummed in reply and the vibrations rippled straight to her core.
“Stop,” she said, and was amazed at the speed in which he halted the motions of his tongue and hands. With this man, it appeared, no meant no.
He fell back on the couch, staring up at her. His hands still cradled her hips, his chest heaving with the pace of his breathing. She admired his control, considering how aroused she knew he was.
Leaning down, she gave him a long, lingering kiss. When she raised up again, his eyes flashed with bewilderment.
“I didn’t mean stop-stop,” she clarified rather than leave him in a state of confusion.
He moved his hands from beneath the hem of her nightie, lightly tracing the underside of her forearms before linking the fingers of both hands. “What did you mean, then?”
She spread her legs, straddling his thighs to find a better balance as she hovered above him. Bringing their twined hands up, she used her lower body to perform a slow gyration atop his straining erection. Connor inhaled sharply, his lips rolling back to reveal gritted teeth.
“I meant…my turn.”
Ten
As if her erotic declaration alone wasn’t enough to set off miniature explosions throughout his bloodstream, Beth outdid herself by sitting up, crossing her arms in front of her and whipping her thin little wisp of a nightgown up and over her head in one quick movement. She tossed the garment aside, smiling down at him in all her naked glory.
She was magnificent. Smooth, pale flesh…glorious round breasts with small, plum-colored nipples, drawn tight with her arousal…narrow, sculpted waist leading down to the flare of feminine hips…
More beautiful than a pinup girl, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. And for tonight, at least, she was his.
He reached for her, but she stopped him.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Catching his wrists, she pressed his arms above his head, flat to the cushions of the couch. “My turn, my rules. No touching from you—for now.”
A short, sharp laugh burst past his lips. “I’m not sure I can abide by that rule. It might kill me.”
“If it does,” she murmured, sliding her hands back down his arms, into the sensitive dip of his armpits, to his chest, “I’ll perform mouth-to-mouth and resuscitate you.”
The very thought made his diaphragm constrict. “Only to have your wicked way with me again, no doubt.”
She shrugged one slim shoulder. “A girl has to have her fun.”
Thankfully, Beth was more than willing to include him in her idea of fun. Her nails raked down his chest, skimming his nipples, leaving twin paths of ecstasy in their wake. And then her hands jumped to her own body, running along the tops of her thighs, over her waist, to the globes of her breasts. She palmed their weight and held them up for his perusal.
Like he needed to be reminded of her mouthwatering assets. He’d already tasted one of those pert nipples—albeit through the material of her nightgown—and felt it bud against his tongue.
“Do you like what you see?”
Rather than answer her question, he rotated his hips, letting her feel his straining length between her legs, tenting the front of his boxers. “What do you think?”
She leaned forward, draping the upper half of her body along the upper half of his. He could feel her heat and wetness even through his shorts, and though he wouldn’t have thought it possible a second earlier, he grew harder.
“I think…”
She placed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. His senses were so heightened that he could hear the sandpaper scrape of her tongue against the underside of his whiskered jaw, like the raspy lick of a kitten.
“…you do.”
Her mouth continued downward, leaving behind a path of moisture that all but sizzled on his overheated skin.
“I also think…”
/> She was at his pectorals now, flicking one tiny nipple before moving on to his rib cage.
“I like what I see.”
The tip of her tongue swirled into his navel and the air seized in his lungs.
“I’m…glad,” he managed in ragged pants.
“Connor?”
He couldn’t breathe, which made it somewhat difficult to answer. But what made it absolutely impossible was the sight of her teeth biting into and lifting the waistband of his boxer shorts. When he didn’t answer, she released the elastic band with a snap. He barely felt the sting.
“I want you inside me.”
Yes. Please. Finally.
Rules be damned. Jackknifing into a sitting position, he cupped her bare bottom and pulled her more fully onto his lap.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he told her.
For once, she didn’t argue. With a sensually contented grin, she threw herself onto him, plastering her breasts between them and looping her arms together in a near stranglehold.
Holding tight, he pushed to his feet. “Now wrap your legs around my waist.”
“Yes, master.”
One corner of his mouth quirked at her cheeky reply. “Behave or you’ll have to be punished.”
“Ooh, please don’t hurt me,” she cooed. “I promise I’ll be good.”
“But not too good.”
“No, not too good,” she agreed as he started walking.
She was stuck to him like a burr…just the way he liked it.
“Where are we going?”
“Kitchen. I left my pants in the sink.”
“I thought we were getting undressed. Why do you need your pants?”
They reached the kitchen and he propped her on the edge of the counter, freeing his hands to dig through his wet jeans. He got his wallet out of the rear pocket and found what he needed.
“Condom,” he said, holding up the silver foil packet like it was an Olympic medal.
A look of startled realization flashed in her eyes. He guessed she hadn’t given the need for protection much thought. But then, things had moved rather quickly once they’d decided being together this way was inevitable.
