Delicious Do-Over

by Debbi Rawlins

  He lifted his head. “How would I know that?” He ran his palm up her belly over her rib cage, stopping just below her breasts. “I’m not getting that impression. Maybe I should explore further.” He’d slid his hand beneath the hem of her top before her addled brain could register his intention.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Really?” he said with a laugh.

  “Shut up.”

  She acknowledged the sudden throb of longing in her chest, resentful of the barriers between them.

  She shuddered when his fingers slipped inside a silk cup and grazed the sensitive puckered flesh of her right breast.

  He dipped his head, briefly kissed her lips. “Do you want me to make love to you here?” he asked in a low sexy murmur that seemed to dance along her nerve endings. He caressed her nipple, plucking lightly at it until she’d arched her back.

  She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think straight. Not when he pushed her tank top up high enough to expose her bra. He fingered the front clasp but left it fastened, then managed to shove the material aside, baring her left breast. The cool damp air mingled with his warm breath, laving her tingling skin.

  The anticipation was too much.

  “Yes.”

  He looked up at her, and while he could surely see her face under the moonlight, she had trouble reading his. She thought he might be smiling, and then he kissed her again, doing all the right things with his teeth and tongue and hot, talented mouth.

  Then he stopped and covered her breast with the silk cup. “I am going to make love to you, Lindsey, but you should be relaxed and totally into it. It’s not right otherwise. I want you to enjoy every second.”

  She’d never heard those kinds of words from a man. His tone was warm and reassuring and she was touched that he understood that it wasn’t easy for her to loosen up. But the truth was she felt safe with Rick. She could hear it in his voice, had seen it in his eyes that he wanted her.

  Before she could even mourn the loss of his hand at her breast, he gently tucked his hand inside her shorts. Shocked, she jerked, but instinctively welcomed his intimate touch as he stroked between her thighs.

  “Mmm, you’re wet.” He pressed slow kisses on her neck and collarbone, distracting her while he slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties.

  She tensed again, but focused on the pleasure he was giving her, hastily she kissed him back. It turned into nothing more than a hasty mating of lips, a whimper stolen by the stiff ocean breeze. The second his finger found her clit, the world stopped. Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut, and clutched his arm. It felt like tempered sculpted steel beneath her palm.

  “Lie back, Lindsey,” he whispered in a husky, yet soothing voice. “Let me take care of you.”

  With a little smile on her lips, she slumped back in a limp heap. This is what she’d wanted from the moment she thought she might see him again. Only Rick could take care of her better than she could herself. No other man had ever made her come like Rick.

  He knew just where to touch her, just how much pressure to use, how to circle his thumb just so. How to bite softly at her lips while his long lean finger penetrated her.

  Barely able to breathe, it took her a second to adjust to the sensual invasion. Her muscles clenched his finger, her entire body tensing tighter than a violin string as she surged upward against his hand. And then his thumb moved again, and her shoulders relaxed against the towel and the hard-packed sand as more pleasure shimmered through her body.

  She fisted the towel at her sides, opened her eyes to the blur of twinkling stars. She moistened her dry lips, then stilled when he took over the job, sweeping his tongue across her mouth, then pushing inside.

  He plunged his finger in deeper, and his thumb swirled the slick wetness around the sensitive nub, the friction growing almost unbearable. Unable to breathe, she tore her mouth away from his. She didn’t know how much more she could take…

  The first wave hit with alarming force. She whimpered, struggled against succumbing too quickly. But it was too late. She was hot, then cold, then feverish. She was already drowning when the next wave overwhelmed her, pulled her under as her entire body convulsed.

  “Lindsey.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, and his arms were suddenly around her, holding her tightly against his chest as the tremors continued to shake her.

  She buried her face in his shoulder, pressing her lips together, shocked at the tears that had sprung to her eyes. A breath shuddered deep in her chest as the last convulsion claimed her. Drained, she sagged against him, only then feeling the frantic pounding of his heartbeat.

  He drew back, touched her face. “What’s this?”

  Her fingers flew to her damp cheeks. “I don’t know,” she said, the quiver in her voice making her sound like a liar. “I really don’t because that was—” she sighed “—wonderful.”

  “Good.” He hugged her more tightly, shifting so that she was snug against him.

  She slid a hand down his flat belly, over the ridges of muscle to the waistband of his shorts. He was fully aroused beneath the fly. She’d barely touched him when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

  Gently, he moved her hand away. “Later,” he said, and kissed her hair.

  She didn’t understand. Clearly he was turned on. Although she was still a bit dazed, and so tired she felt as if she’d just run a marathon. Moving to rest her head more comfortably on his shoulder took far more effort than it should have.

  “Check out the moon,” he said softly. “You can see the contours of the craters.”

  She looked up, but a passing cloud was in the way. She waited, closing her eyes, listening to the mild lapping of the water, soaking in the stillness of the balmy night, feeling safe and content with Rick’s arm curled around her.

  The cloud…it had to have passed by now. Yet opening her eyes seemed like too great a chore.

  RICK LISTENED UNTIL he heard her breathing change and he knew she’d fallen asleep. Taking care not to disturb her, with his free hand he reached for the extra towel and bunched it behind his head. The moon was in clear view again, and he focused on analyzing each shadow rather than dwell on his erection, or how much he wanted to push up her top and bare her breasts. Steal a taste of those ripe pink nipples.

  It didn’t help that he had perfect recall of how her nude body had looked in the moonlight the night they’d met. The week of wild parties and too much booze had wound down. Most of the students were booked on flights home the next day, and someone had come up with the idea to have one big bash, post open invitations at all the hotels, get as many people as possible together for a giant farewell to Waikiki.

  Feeling like crap two days earlier, he’d already cooled it on the alcohol consumption by then, and being clear-headed and older than the guys he sometimes hung with, he knew hotel management would cut the party short. He went anyway, arriving early to grab a choice getaway spot in case the cops showed up.

  Hundreds of students had converged on the pool area that evening, lots of women, a parade of hot bodies. He had a vague recollection of Lindsey’s two friends, both pretty, wearing skimpy bikinis like countless others. Lindsey had worn one, too, but she’d been the only hot woman who’d hidden under a knee-length cover-up.

  That alone had caught his attention, and then he’d watched her quietly trail her gregarious friends. He knew right off that she was shy and not into the party scene. She smiled and did all the polite things when guys tried hitting on her, but she never initiated conversation, shook her head a lot, blushed even more and never drifted far from her friends.

  He’d been working on a strategy to approach her himself when he noticed a herd of hotel security in their distinctive blue shirts headed toward the pool. In minutes everyone would scatter, and he knew he’d lose her if he didn’t act fast. Her tall, dark-headed friend had just walked off with some dude toward the beach and the other one looked to be on the verge of a hook-up.

  Rick had swooped in and warned Lindse
y they were all about to be busted. He’d taken her hand, ready to run with her, when he’d made the mistake of looking into her big blue startled eyes. Like a dumbstruck stupid kid, he’d frozen. Just stood there like a damn chump. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring. Lindsey was the one who’d squeezed his hand, smiled shyly and suggested they get out of there.

  That image of her face had stayed with him for months, years. It was crazy. He’d never been the sentimental type. But when he’d awoken the next morning, alone in the small cove, left with only the impression of her feet in the sand as she’d left him while he slept, he’d gone nuts. He hadn’t known her last name, or where she was staying or what school she’d gone to.

  Her sweet innocent scent had stayed with him for days, the taste of her lingered for weeks. The soft whimpering sounds she’d made when she came…

  The memories made him consider a brisk swim to settle himself down. But he wouldn’t risk waking her.

  It seemed impossible that she could have stayed so sweet and innocent after all this time. Not untouched, he clearly knew, but surprisingly shy and naive. No, not naive. Inexperienced. A more worldly woman wouldn’t blush the way she did, particularly a woman who looked like Lindsey. With that long blond hair, angelic face and wide blue eyes, she could do some serious damage to a man. No way he’d even see it coming.

  He gazed down and studied the thick lashes fanning her cheeks, the slight part of her lips. She looked younger than twenty-seven now that he thought about it. Could she have lied about her age? The idea made him uneasy.

  Nah. The lie about her name was probably her limit.

  He’d been fooled before, though. Nowadays it seemed that half the girls who hung out at Waimea and Sunset were thirteen going on thirty.

  Rick was no saint, but he stayed away from women under twenty-one. In fact, he’d found himself pulling away from casual sex more and more. Maybe because hooking up had gotten too easy. There was no fun or challenge anymore, no slow buildup that lit a fire in your belly and got your heart pounding. Hell, that was true of life lately.

  The surfboard shop he owned was a reasonable distraction when he spent time there. The place was finally breaking even, and he liked employing some kids who otherwise might have found less principled means to line their pockets. But the store didn’t need his supervision. Wally took care of business. The veteran surfer had stepped in and tightened the reins. Which worked out fine since it allowed Rick more time to work on his new board design.

  The wind picked up, and with it a slight chill swept off the ocean. Lindsey stirred, and snuggled closer to him. For him it wasn’t cold. He didn’t mind the drop in temperature. Most of his winters had been spent in Michigan shoveling snow. He moved his arm so that her cheek rested on his chest, and tried to remember where she’d grown up, or if she’d even told him. Someplace in the Midwest, he was pretty sure. Or maybe he was getting confused because she’d recently lived in Chicago. He’d been there a couple of times in the middle of winter. Not to his liking.

  Rick yanked the towel out from under his head, gave it a one-handed shake and spread it over her. He remembered now what Lindsey had told him. She’d moved around a lot as a kid, mostly sticking to the Great Lakes area and Florida, but never staying anywhere more than three years. Something to do with her father’s job. Hard to make friends that way.

  More clouds had drifted over the beach, blotting out the moon and stars. It was harder for him to see her. But her body was warm and snug against his, and for now that was enough.

  5

  VOICES BROKE INTO her crazy dream about Easter bunnies and surfboards. Was someone talking to her? No, the voices were distant. Easter bunnies? Where had that come from?

  Lindsey flexed her left shoulder, and tried to straighten out her arm. Something was in her way. Still groggy, she slowly rolled onto her back, wiggling to lose the lumpy blanket under her shoulder blade. Frustrated that she couldn’t get comfy, she opened her eyes.

  This wasn’t her room.

  She stared up at the muted gray sky.

  Her heart jumped, and then she remembered. They’d had a picnic on the beach, and she’d dozed. But hadn’t it been dark already?

  She turned her head and faced Rick just as he opened his eyes, a slow lazy smile lifting the corners of his mouth. The lumpy blanket turned out to be his arm, which he curled around her.

  “Mornin’,” he murmured and pulled her toward him.

  “Good morning.” She smiled back, briefly closing her eyes when his ill-aimed kiss landed half on her cheek and partly on her eyelid. A second later his words sunk in. “Morning? No, it can’t be.” She pushed away, scrambled to a sitting position and scanned the hazy gray horizon.

  Coming from behind, there were voices, too distant to be distinct. She remembered now. That’s what had awoken her.

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw two men carrying surfboards under their arms, still a good way down the beach but headed toward them.

  “Is it really morning?” she asked, panicked.

  Rick unhurriedly sat up and squinted at the water. “Nice swells.”

  “Oh, my God.” She rubbed her gritty eyes. How could she have been so stupid, so inconsiderate? Mia and Shelby had probably contacted search-and-rescue by now. She had to get back to the hotel, call them, let them know she was all right.

  “I must’ve dozed off after you.” He arched backward, stretching out his arms.

  “I have to—” She broke off, and stared at the breadth of his shoulders and chest, at the definition of muscle along his forearms, the bunching of his biceps before they disappeared under the T-shirt sleeve. The man had been carved out of bronze, and no one could convince her otherwise.

  “I’m sorry, Jill, what did—” He stopped, stricken for a second, and then gave her a wry grin. “Hey, you’ve been Jill in my head for six years. I get a pass until Lindsey sticks.”

  Unsettled, she tugged at the hem of her shirt. He’d been thinking of her for six years? No, in the light of day the idea was absurd. She couldn’t have made that big of an impression on him, not even as the adventurous Jill. A man like Rick probably had more women interested in him than he knew what to do with.

  Naturally Lindsey had thought about him over the years. In the beginning, after she’d returned to NYU to finish her senior year, a night hadn’t gone by without her reliving those hours on the beach. The obsession only stopped because she’d feared she would flunk every one of her finals if she didn’t get more sleep. But then, she’d never had an orgasm before Rick.

  She cleared her throat. “I forgot what we were saying.”

  He agilely got to his feet, extended her a hand. “I have an idea.”

  She let him pull her up while she fixated on his long lean fingers, remembering where they’d been last night. Oh, God. She felt warm suddenly. Not a blush, or maybe it was, but this time her whole body was involved. The sense memory of convulsing at his touch had her squeezing her thighs together.

  Her nipples tightened, and he obviously knew it. He was staring at them.

  “Someone’s coming,” she said, and bent to scoop up one of the towels.

  “Just a couple of surfers.”

  “We should go.”

  “Yep.” He picked up the mat and rolled it up.

  “My friends are going to kill me.”

  “Why? You texted them last night.”

  She could hear the voices coming closer, and her anxiety level rose. It wasn’t as if she and Rick had been caught doing anything wrong. “I told them we were eating on the beach, not that I was staying out all night,” she said.

  He grinned. “I bet they figured it out.”

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed the other towel, hastily folding it in half. She hated the sudden awkwardness that came over her. A shrink would probably blame her parents. Sometimes she did, too. Except both her brothers had grown up in the same oppressively strict, never-say-the-word-sex household as she had, and the
y didn’t seem to have problems expressing themselves.

  In fact, her older brother, Brian, had rebelled in the opposite direction. He’d become a father at seventeen. Lindsey had been more astonished than her puritanical parents. She’d been almost eighteen before she even kissed a boy.

  Looking past her at the strangers, Rick smiled and lifted his chin in greeting. He said something about the waves she didn’t understand, but the two men apparently did since they responded in kind.

  Courtesy dictated that she at least acknowledge them. She turned, saw that they were older teenagers who were walking along the water’s edge. She smiled, but they didn’t seem to notice her. The lanky blond boy stared openly at Rick, and even in the shadowy dawn light, she could see admiration on his face.

  “Hey,” he said, “I saw you out there in December when Sunset was breaking at thirteen.”

  The shorter, stockier boy grinned, his teeth white against his dark round face. “You were awesome, dude.” He flashed him a hand sign using his extended thumb and little finger. “When are we gonna see you at the Triple Crown?”

  Rick shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

  “C’mon, brah, you said that last February in Surfer,” the shorter one said, pausing for Rick’s response.

  The taller boy kept walking. “Let’s go, Skeet.” He gestured with a nod to Rick. “See ya, dude.”

  “You guys have a good one,” Rick said, and started draining the cooler.

  Lindsey sensed that the second boy had finally moved on, but her gaze was on Rick. “Do you know them?”

  He shook his head. “The colas are still cold. Want one?” He popped open a can. “At least until we can get some coffee.”

  “Thanks.” She took a sip, her dry icky mouth feeling instantly better. “Sorry, I don’t have time for coffee.”