Hometown Girl

by Robin Kaye

  “No, I’m not sorry—not about this.” She couldn’t resist. She had to kiss away the grimace and when she did, little fireworks went off leaving her wanting more, pulling him closer, writhing beneath him. The more she moved, the larger the fireworks.

  “Baby, as much as I’d love to continue, it’s not safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “Condoms are only good for one round.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.”

  “Just give me a second and stay put.” He kissed her and slid away gently, leaving her feeling oddly bereft and empty. “I’ll be right back.”

  A moment later, he returned with a warm washcloth, and to her eternal mortification, proceeded to clean her. Down there.

  She grabbed the cloth. “I can take care of that.”

  He didn’t relinquish his hold. “I’m sure you can, but I want to take care of you.” He had a way of looking at her that made it impossible for her to look away. Even while he embarrassed the hell out of her and the last place she wanted to look was into his silver-gray eyes. “Baby, I didn’t know. I know you said— Damn, I didn’t know what you were talking about until it was too late. I’m sorry. If I had known—” God, he gave her a look that she remembered he wore as a kid. A look that made her wonder if someone had told him Santa was serving a life sentence for the murder of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny.

  “If you had known, you wouldn’t have touched me.”

  “The hell I wouldn’t. I would have taken more time . . . I would have made it more—”

  “Perfect? You can’t improve on perfection, Simon. So please don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “Perfection, huh?” His cocky smile replaced the trepidation and guilt she’d seen earlier.

  She had to hand it to the man; he had every reason to feel cocky. She might not have had much experience, but she knew great when she felt it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just ruined her for all other men. Not that she’d share the information with him.

  He slid into bed beside her, pulled her into his arms so her head rested on his incredible chest, and slid his legs through hers, pulling the sheet up over them. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes.” She placed a kiss over his heart and waited. His breathing evened out and his heartbeat slowed. “Simon?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Are you falling asleep?”

  “No?”

  “Is that a question or a statement?” She hoped to hell it was a statement, because she couldn’t remember a time she’d been quite so wide awake.

  “A statement?”

  He sounded half asleep already, and she definitely wasn’t. She kissed his neck and slid her hand down his chest. He caught it just before she made contact with her target. “What’s wrong?” She sucked his earlobe into her mouth and nipped. “Run out of condoms?”

  “No.”

  Elyse slid her leg farther up and encountered a very erect appendage.

  He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Fitz, we can’t.”

  Brushing his hand away, she took hold, kissing her way down. “How come?” She pulled the sheet over her head as her tongue made a trail south.

  Simon groaned and threw off the sheet. “Because, you’re going to be sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not sore. In fact, I’m anything but sore. I’m horny. I have years of no sex to make up for. And now that you’ve given me a taste, I want more. I want you to teach me everything I need to know. But if you’re not up for it—”

  In one swift move he flipped her over onto her back. His hands pinned her on either side of her head, and his big, hard body slid between her open legs—his face catching the moonlight coming through his bedroom window, making it look as if it had been carved in stone. “I never said I wasn’t up for it. I’m up for anything you want. I just don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”

  “Simon, I’ve done a few things I’ve regretted, but being with you, making love with you, will never be one of them. I want to learn to make love in every way possible, and I want to start right now.”

  “You want me to be your teacher?”

  She wiggled beneath him, his erection rubbing against the apex of her thighs. “Oh, yeah. It sounds kind of kinky when you put it that way, but it definitely works for me.”

  He kissed her long and hard before nipping her earlobe. “Why do I get the feeling you’re an over-achiever?”

  “Probably because you know me. I’ve always been an honor student.”

  * * *

  “I’ve created a monster.” Simon closed the bathroom door, leaned against it, and couldn’t erase the satisfied smile he was sure he wore. He’d run a Jacuzzi bath with the jets on high, left Fitz in all her naked glory to soak out the morning-after soreness, and barely escaped with his virtue in tact.

  She’d asked him to join her, and there was nothing he’d wanted more. She tempted him like no other woman on earth—but if he’d slid into that tub, he would be incapable of resisting her. She said she felt fine, but he’d seen her flinch when she rose that morning and noticed the stiffness in her walk. Knowing he was the cause of her pain, no matter how inadvertently, bothered him—a lot.

  His phone rang pulling him out of his reverie. “Melissa, what are you doing calling me so early?”

  “And hello to you too. I was just wondering what you’re doing today. I thought maybe I’d come out and let you take me to Coney Island.”

  Simon walked through the living room, tripped over Fitz’s purse, and the contents spilled out of the over-stuffed bag. He scooped up the equivalent of an army mess kit, ignoring the tampon that rolled under his couch. He was tempted to sneak a peak at her driver’s license. He looked over his shoulder at the door to his bedroom but couldn’t. Living with a mother and sister, he knew a woman’s purse was sacred; someplace you had to be invited to go. And Fitz may have invited him into her body, but for some unknown reason, being invited to explore a woman’s purse was way more intimate. Strange but true. Shit. He cursed his mental block. He knew her so well; he knew what she was going to say before she said it. Last night after they made love, he recognized the embarrassment that had covered her face, he watched her all night as she slept wearing a half smile he knew as well as his own. It was maddening.

  “Simon, are you there?”

  He shook his head. “Yes. I was just thinking. I’m sorry. I can’t today. I have plans.” It was a lie; he just wished he had plans. He’d been hoping to spend more time with Fitz and hadn’t had the opportunity to broach the subject. He’d been too busy running her bath, while trying to keep from jumping her—again. “Can I have a rain check?”

  “Hot date?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is she?”

  “No one you know. As a matter of fact, I have to go. She should be out any minute and I need to scare up something to eat.”

  “Ooh, you had a sleepover?”

  Simon rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker to brew before opening the refrigerator and finding it empty save for beer, wine, a piece of moldy cheese, and some Thai food of questionable age. “I’m a little old for a sleepover, sis. But yeah, she spent the night.”

  “At your place? Wow, this must be serious. I’ve never known you to invite anyone over, no less to spend the night.”

  Simon held his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he filled his trashcan with most of the contents of his refrigerator. He hoped she drank her coffee black because the milk felt more like a solid than a liquid. “She’s special.”

  “So, when do I get to meet this special, yet nameless, woman?”

  Not anytime soon if he had anything to say about it. He washed his hands and tossed the towel over his bare shoulder. “Give it some time, Mel. We haven’t been seeing each other long.”

  “What’s your definition of not long?”

  “Mel—”

  “Less than a month?”

  “Melissa,
cut the crap.”

  “Less than a week?”

  “I’m not answering you.”

  “Don’t tell me you just met her.”

  “I’ve known her for years.”

  “Then who is she?”

  “Who she is is none of your business.” Not that he could even say. Fitz had to be some kind of nickname. Damn. He tossed a disintegrating tomato into the trash with more force than necessary. He’d been reduced to taking out his frustration on food products.

  “Fine. I’ll just have to figure it out on my own and break the news to all the girls who have been fawning over you for years.” She let out a sigh so dramatic it would make the brightest Broadway starlet envious.

  Simon slammed the door to the refrigerator, hoping the not-so-fresh scent was coming from the garbage. He put a box of baking soda on his mental shopping list and wondered why he didn’t let Melissa’s call go to voice mail. He loved his sister, but she could give lessons when it came to familial torture. “I have to go, Mel. I’ll call you soon. Give my regards to the ’rents.”

  “Oh, no. You need to do that yourself. I’m staying away from the front lines of the Sprague Family War Games. Hey, maybe you could mention you have a girlfriend. That should calm them down a little. They want grandchildren almost as badly as they want to see you wearing a three-piece-suit for the rest of your life.”

  “Not a word, Mel. Promise.”

  “Sure, but it’ll cost you.”

  He shook his head. “It always does.” He heard the click of heels on the hardwood floor and quickly tied the garbage bag. “I’ll talk to you about this later. I have to go. Love you.” He ended the call before she could get another threat in. Damn his sister, he loved her—he really did—but wondered if she’d ever stop being the quintessential annoying little sister.

  He tossed the offending garbage bag onto the fire escape and left the window open to air the place out. When he turned, he found Fitz wearing her tight jeans, high-heeled sandals, and one of his white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up and the tails tied at the waist. His mouth went dry. “Do you look like this every morning?”

  She shook her head and blushed. He’d never known anyone her age who still blushed when complimented. “No, I’m usually wearing all my own clothes and makeup—I didn’t bring any with me. I changed purses . . . and I hadn’t planned. . . . So no.”

  He stepped forward and pulled her right into his arms. “Fitz, baby. I took one look at you standing there and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more, sketch you or drag you back to bed. If you look like this every morning I’m either the luckiest man alive or I’m totally screwed, depending on whether or not I’m around to see you.”

  Shocked didn’t begin to describe the familiar look he kissed off her face. He could swear he’d seen it before—in a bathroom. How crazy was that? He ended the kiss before he got carried away and held her close. “Damn, Fitz. What you do to me.” He wished he’d thrown on a pair of jeans instead of workout shorts, which did nothing to hide his reaction to her. She smelled of vanilla and maybe lavender. The scent was familiar. It brought back thoughts of home, which was weird because he never remembered having anyone at his family home who looked anything like the woman in his arms. Still, it stuck in his mind—he was getting closer—putting the pieces together. He nuzzled her neck to take a taste before he stepped back. “I was going to fix breakfast, but then I remembered I hadn’t gone shopping.” He shrugged. “No food.”

  Her lips quirked and her adorable nose twitched while she eyed the garbage bag he’d tossed on the fire escape.

  “Okay, no food that didn’t look like a science experiment. Spend the day with me. We can go out to breakfast, whatever you want, and then I can show you around Red Hook.”

  Simon had probably asked girls out hundreds of times over the years, and he couldn’t remember ever waiting nervously for their answer. He watched as Fitz made her decision. He couldn’t take it. “If you have plans, break them. Spend the day with me.”

  She looked up but still didn’t say anything.

  The suspense was killing him. “Please.”

  Fitz dragged her hands through her hair and turned away—looking at everything but him. She took a few steps back.

  He went up on the balls of his feet, fully prepared to stop her should he need to. Not that he knew how he would; he just knew it was important that she stay. With him.

  She turned. “Don’t you have to work?”

  He closed the distance between them. “No, the Crow’s Nest is closed Sundays and Mondays, and there’s nothing in my studio that can’t wait. Not that I’d get any work done today, anyway. I’d just spend the day thinking about you. It’d be much more satisfying to be with you while I’m doing it.”

  Fitz nodded, and a relaxed smile crossed her face.

  He couldn’t fathom why she’d been nervous—after all, he’d practically begged her to spend the day with him. Like most men, what he didn’t know about women could fill the New York Public Library. But not knowing what Fitz was thinking and feeling bothered the hell out of him. Something else that she’d changed.

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “Baby, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life.”

  When he kissed her again, he knew something major had happened. He’d spent most of the night watching her sleep and wondering what the hell was going on with him. He’d chalked it up to taking her virginity, but that wasn’t it. He felt possessive in ways he never had before—hell, he’d even felt that way about her when she was at the Crow’s Nest last night—which made absolutely no sense. He’d wanted to break the neck of every guy who so much as looked at her. He wanted Fitz for his own. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

  As if that realization wasn’t mind-boggling enough, it wasn’t what kept him awake and hard all night. Whatever it was he was feeling went way beyond just possessiveness; he’d wanted to know everything about her—and not just her name. He wanted to know how she drank her coffee, what her family was like, and if she squeezed the toothpaste from the middle or the bottom. He wanted to know what she wore under every piece of clothing and be the only one with that information. He wanted to know what she read, what kind of music she loved and hated, and what her favorite color was. God, he was completely and utterly fucked.

  * * *

  Elyse wondered if she’d stepped into some kind of alternate reality. Simon wanted her to spend the day with him. When she realized he wasn’t asking her because he felt guilty or obligated, she was tempted to pinch herself to prove she wasn’t dreaming. As he closed the distance between them and his mouth crashed down on hers, hard, possessive, and achingly familiar, she realized reality was way better than any of the childhood dreams she’d had starring Simon Sprague. Her adolescent brain could never have imagined what his body felt like against hers, or the feelings and needs all that pent up energy, emotion, and his big, hard body invoked in hers.

  He kissed her in a way no one ever had—not even last night. He dragged the air from her lungs in some kind of emotional CPR. She knew how it felt to be wanted—physically, at least, but this . . . She melted, body and soul. “God, Simon, I need you.”

  Before she knew what happened, he had her halfway to the bedroom. He’d ripped the shirt right off her back, yanked her bra down, and his mouth wreaked havoc, drawing on her breast, nipping, licking and sucking as if his life depended upon it. She tugged off his shorts as he popped the button on her jeans and shoved them down and then grabbed a condom.

  She cursed the fact that she’d worn skinny jeans—not an easy thing to get out of in a rush. She jumped around, dragging out one leg before she tumbled onto the bed and was covered with a shaking Simon.

  Elyse wrapped her legs and arms around him and stared into his eyes reeling with the connection.

  Simon entered her in one quick thrust, tossing her straight into an instant orgasm so strong, she cried out.

  His eyes stared into hers and
the emotion she saw there thrilled and scared her—there was need, desire, heat, fear, possessiveness, and, if she wasn’t imagining it, something much deeper, much scarier. No. She closed her eyes. Imagining him in love would only end up breaking her heart. She’d thought she’d been in love with him for most of her life. But her feelings for Simon now, her hopes and dreams, weren’t in the same galaxy as her feelings a mere twenty-four hours ago. She’d just imagined the love she swore she’d seen in him.

  “Fitz, look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and felt tears trail down the sides of her face. She wanted to shut off her brain and just feel, wanting to lose herself in the incredible sex, to banish everything but her body, his body, and the delicious lightning strikes of sensation burning through her, urging her on.

  She crested a hill, reaching for a peak so high, she wondered if it was possible to scale. The closer she got, the more she craved, and the more she demanded. She met his every thrust, dug her heels in, arched her back, and bit his shoulder.

  Simon lifted her, changing the angle, and like a match to a fuse, she exploded, shooting higher and brighter than she ever thought possible. She heard his cry of release, felt his body jerk and held on through the storm raging through them.

  Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounding so hard that she was afraid she’d bruise a rib.

  Simon’s hold on her was so tight, she wasn’t sure where she began and he ended as they clung to each other. She wondered if he was as afraid to let go of this moment as she was.

  He rolled over, pulling her along with him as if she weighed nothing. “Fitz, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “I made you cry.”

  She shook her head and blinked back tears that threatened. “No you didn’t. I don’t know what it was. I guess it was just a physical release. You overwhelmed me.” God, she hoped he bought it, because there was no way she’d ever tell him that she loved him.

  She couldn’t tell him, but she could show him. She reached up, took his face in her hands and kissed him, pouring all the love she’d ever felt for him into the kiss like helium into a big, beautiful imaginary balloon. She pictured holding it close and admiring it, and then releasing it. She let it fly away just like Simon would when he learned the truth. After all, some things were doomed from the start.