“I said,” Paul repeated, and stared at her profile as she watched the movie instead of him, “I could curl your toes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving one hand at him.
Paul bit back a rush of frustration. “You know, I’m not that sixteen-year-old kid anymore.”
This time she looked at him and smiled. But she still didn’t look convinced that he was anything but “good ol’ reliable Paul.” Exasperation spilled through him. It was one thing to be fighting to ignore his response to her. It was quite another for her to not even admit to a chance that he could take her places she’d never been before.
And a purely male streak of pride rose up and refused to be quieted.
“I know that.”
“Y’know,” he said, studying her, “I don’t think you do.”
“What is up with you tonight?”
“It’s not just tonight,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“Paul,” she said with a shake of her head. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. We’ve known each other too long.”
“Yeah. Maybe too long.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Pushing one hand through his hair again, he muttered, “I’ll bet you five bucks I can make you whimper.”
“Huh?”
She looked so surprised, her expression only fed the sudden need to prove something to her—and to himself. If all they were going to share were memories, then he’d damn well give her one worth remembering.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet, thumbed through a stack of bills, and plucked one out. Slamming the five-dollar bill onto the coffee table, he looked at her. “Five bucks says I can make you curl up and cry ‘uncle.’”
“You’re crazy,” she said on a laugh that bubbled from her throat and fizzed through his bloodstream.
“Probably, but that’s beside the point.”
She stiffened. “I’m not going to bet you. And I’m not kissing you.”
“Chicken?” he prodded, knowing damn well that Stevie Ryan had never turned down a dare in her life.
“No, I’m not chicken,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “But I think you’re nuts.”
“Chicken, like I said.”
She shook her head slowly and blew out an exasperated breath. Paul was pretty sure she was going to say no after all and then he wasn’t sure what he’d do, because suddenly he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to take another breath.
Then in the next instant, her expression shifted into one of resigned submission. “Okay, fine. I don’t know where this is coming from, but if it’ll make you happy”—she scooted closer to him, tipping her face up to his—“go ahead. Give it your best shot.”
There was nothing he wanted more. But even as he made his move, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, sending out a warning. Which he ignored.
“I plan to,” he promised, and grabbed her bare shoulders. His thumbs pressed into her warm, soft skin and instantly fires erupted in his body. Fires that had been smoldering for so long, the slightest touch was enough to snap them into an inferno.
Pulling her close, Paul took his time, letting his gaze drift across her features. Her hair was still dusted with rainwater and her eyes looked huge and surprised and so damn blue he was pretty sure he could drown in them. He slid his hands up, along the column of her throat, and he felt her shiver as he cupped her face between his palms. Her skin still felt cool and rain-damp. He speared his fingers through her hair at her temples and slowly, slowly, lowered his head until he slanted his mouth across hers.
Her quick intake of breath was enough to feed the fires within. Relishing this long-awaited second taste of her, Paul was in no hurry to have it end. Her mouth against his was soft, pliant. Her breath puffed against his cheek and a small, faint moan built in the back of her throat.
He pulled her closer, letting his hands slide down to her back, splaying against her spine, holding her tightly enough to him that he felt the hard, rigid tips of her nipples stabbing into his chest. His body quickened, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and Paul deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue and sweeping into the warmth of her. Tasting her, exploring her, and as he did, he felt her surrender.
But he was too lost himself to savor the victory.
CHAPTER THREE
STEVIE’S BRAIN SHORT-CIRCUITED.
That was the only explanation for what was happening inside her. Her stomach was spinning, her blood was humming, and her heartbeat pounded out a quick, hard rhythm to match the rain pelting the roof. Every inch of her body felt screamingly alive.
She melted into the strong arms sweeping her close to a broad chest and one small corner of her mind tried to remind her that this was Paul. Paul, her friend. Paul, Carla’s brother. Paul, Nick’s twin.
Paul, the best damn kisser she’d ever experienced.
Cells in her body that had been in a coma for too long suddenly woke up and started shouting, Hallelujah! A swirl of excitement pulsed inside her and brought a dangerous thrill that ached for more. Demanded more.
She should stop. Think. Figure out what was happening here. But Stevie didn’t want to question what she was feeling. She wanted to revel in it. She wanted to give herself over to the mind-numbing magic swamping her. And that realization shook her to her bones.
When Paul finally pulled back, breaking their kiss, Stevie looked up at him through eyes blurred with a passion she’d never known before. He looked hazy, indistinct, and so damn good it floored her.
“Toes curling?” he whispered, a half-smile curving his mouth in a way that tugged at her insides and promised secret pleasures.
She gulped. “You could say that.”
“Uh-uh. I want to hear you say that.”
“Okay,” she said, and swallowed hard, hoping she’d remember to breathe again in a minute. Her head was still a little spacey and she was pretty sure it was from lack of oxygen. Which right now didn’t seem like a bad trade-off. “My toes not only curled; I think my bones melted.”
Something dangerously wicked and enticing flashed in his dark eyes and Stevie felt that tug again. The ache settling low inside her pulsed with a need she hadn’t expected—and wasn’t quite sure what to do about. This was just so out-of-the-blue. What was a girl supposed to say to one of her best friends when she was suddenly imagining him naked?
“So then,” he said, his voice a deep rumble of sound that echoed the thunder and seemed to roll along her spine. “I guess you owe me five dollars.”
She nodded dumbly. Five dollars. The bet he’d made. The challenge he’d thrown at her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist the dare. It had seemed like a silly thing. A risk easily taken and disarmed. But he’d tricked her. Tricked her into discovering a whole new side to him. And now everything was different. Before, when she looked at Paul, she’d always seen her friend. Someone to count on. Someone who was as much a part of her ordinary life as the Leaf and Bean.
Oh, she wasn’t blind. She’d certainly noticed how handsome he was. How tall. How sure of himself. How good he looked in his usual jeans—and she’d for sure noticed other women noticing him. But she’d never felt that flash of liquid heat. The tingle of awareness a woman feels when a man is driving her crazy. The spiraling sense of desire as it rushed through her body demanding to be assuaged.
Now, though, she looked into those dark brown eyes of his and saw carefully banked passion. And she wondered why she’d never seen it before.
A part of her worried—about what they’d just done and what it might mean to their friendship—another, stronger part of her wanted to feel it all again. And to hell with the consequences.
Instantly her heartbeat stampeded into life. No more thinking. She wasn’t going to question anything. God knew there’d be plenty of time for that tomorrow and the days to follow. For now, “I’ll see that five and raise you five more.” She heard herself saying it and still coul
dn’t believe it.
“Yeah?” he asked, running his fingertips along her forearm. “What’s the bet this time?”
Stevie trembled at his touch, felt the slow slide of his fingers against her skin, and was pretty sure she was on fire. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again to meet his steady gaze. Thunder crashed overhead, rain slashed at the windows, and she heard the television, too, as a background buzzing in her head.
But none of it mattered. All she could see was Paul. All she felt was the surprisingly strong reaction to him that was still simmering inside her. And she knew that no matter what happened tomorrow, she had to have tonight. “The bet is … can you do that again?”
His eyes darkened even further until they looked almost black in the dim lamplight. A muscle in his jaw twitched and that incredible mouth of his tightened into a hard, thin line that defined the restraint holding him in place.
“We do that again and it won’t be enough,” he warned thickly.
“I know.” Right now there wasn’t much she was sure of, but Stevie knew without a doubt that if he kissed her again, neither of them would be able to stop. And life as they knew it would be changed forever.
Slowly, very slowly, Stevie leaned into Paul, and one heartbreaking inch at a time, she brought her mouth closer to his. When tension bubbled in the air between them, she touched her mouth to his and surrendered to the magic.
* * *
Angela Candellano went through the house she’d lived in for more than thirty years, turning off lights and moving inexorably toward her bed. At the moment, visions of that soft mattress were all that kept her moving.
“I’m getting too old for this, huh, Anthony?” She tipped her head back and smiled at the ceiling and, far above that, heaven. Her smile faded slightly as she scolded her late husband. “You should have been there. You couldn’t wait two years to die?” Starting up the stairs, she gripped the banister and kept up a steady one-sided conversation. After all, just because a person dies doesn’t mean you should stop talking to him. How would that look? The only person in heaven no one talked to? People would think no one loved him. And she couldn’t have that.
“Our Tony, he walked Carla down the aisle. But you know that, don’t you? I felt you there. Your daughter, she did, too.” She made it to the landing and paused, thoughtful. “And Nicky. Did you see him? Such misery there. He won’t talk. Not to his mama anyway.” She shook her head again. “Not like Nicky to be quiet. Paul, he’s the one like you.”
She opened the door closest to her and sneaked a peek at her two grandchildren, sleeping in Carla’s old room. Little Tina was still in the family crib that had seen more than its share of babies over the years. And Reese, her newest granddaughter, was sleeping peacefully in the single bed.
Along with … Angela sighed and reached down to stroke the golden retriever’s silky head. Whispering, she said, “Is good thing I don’t see a dog in the bed.”
Abbey laid her head back down atop Reese’s feet and settled in for the night.
“You look after our girls, huh?” Angela walked quietly out of the room, leaving the door open just a bit in case one of the girls needed her. And with that thought in mind, she kept her voice down as she went on to her room at the end of the hall.
“You think just because you went to heaven you don’t have to do anything anymore?” She walked into her room and stopped beside the long maple dresser. There on its highly polished surface was a votive candle, a statue of the Blessed Virgin, and Angela’s favorite picture of her husband. She picked up the silver-framed photo, stared into those smiling eyes she still missed so much, and said, “Talk to Nicky. Do something. You don’t have friends up there?” She ran the tip of her finger across the glass and murmured, “I’m worried, Anthony. Something is wrong.”
* * *
“This is crazy,” Stevie murmured when Paul tore his mouth from hers. She dragged in a deep, gulping gasp of air and then let it out on a hissing moan as Paul’s mouth moved down her throat and left a trail of heat behind him.
“Nuts,” he agreed, his breath brushing her skin and singeing it.
“We should stop.”
“Yeah, we should.”
She tipped her head back and stared up at the ceiling, watching it as the wood beams began to spin. Then she realized her eyes were rolling. “Don’t you dare stop.”
“No problem.”
He shifted, drawing her onto his lap and dipping his head lower, following the edge of her tank top along the swell of her breasts. Lips and tongue drew a line of fire across her skin that sent Stevie into a rushing whirl of sensation. She wiggled on his lap and felt him, hard and ready beneath her. Her body weakened even as her blood leaped into life.
A tingling began, low and deep within, and she gave herself over to the glory of it. She’d never known such an amazing twist of feelings all at once. Want and need roared through her, demanding to be met. Paul’s hands moved on her and she swore she felt every imprint of his fingers like a brand, burning deep, sliding down into her bones.
He yanked the hem of her top up, exposing her breasts, and she arched into him, offering herself and silently commanding him to take. His hands closed over her and she nearly splintered. His thumbs and forefingers tweaked at her nipples, tugging and pulling, sending shafts of white-hot desire ricocheting through her body with a wild abandon that forced her to move. How could she lie still and not touch him, too? Not feel his skin, flushed and warm and strong and solid. She reached for him, tugging at the buttons lining the front of his shirt and grumbling frantically when they refused to give way.
“Tear ’em,” Paul muttered, too busy himself to care about the niceties.
“I’m trying.”
He lifted his head and looked down at her, eyes blazing. With an oath, he ripped his shirt open, and Stevie heard buttons pinging around the room as they took off like rockets.
A short, sharp laugh shot from her throat, but then her mouth went dry. Instantly she reached for him, drawing her palms down his chest, trailing across every well-defined and very tanned muscle. She hissed out a breath when he pulled her close, bringing skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
Madness. Everything about this was crazy. Wild. Insane. Stevie didn’t care. All she knew was that she needed his hands on her. Needed to feel his mouth taking her. Needed to feel the rush of something fierce and raw racing through her.
Paul couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. She was everything and more than he’d ever imagined. Her honey-colored skin tantalized him. Desire crashed inside him like storm waves pounding on the shore. They left him shaken, dazed, and hungry for more.
She was everything.
Everything he’d ever dreamed of. Everything he’d thought about for years. And he couldn’t get enough of her. He had to have her. Now. This minute. There’d been enough waiting.
Paul dropped one hand to the juncture of her thighs and felt her melt into him as he touched her. Even through the soft, worn fabric of her cotton pants, he felt her heat and knew that she was as ready for this moment as he was.
“Paul,” she ground out tightly as she moved into his touch, swiveling her hips and brushing her nipples against his chest. “I need you now. Here. Right now.”
“I can do that.” In one quick move, he flipped her off his lap and rolled with her onto the floor. The rag rug beneath them did nothing to soften the hardwood planks, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the need to touch. To feel. To explore.
To claim.
Breathing heavily, Stevie yanked at the drawstring at her waist, then scooted out of her pants while Paul ripped at his own clothes. There was no time to enjoy the image she made, lying naked on the floor. The roaring in his ears could have been thunder, but was probably his own blood, pounding through his veins.
In seconds, they were locked together on the floor, rolling back and forth, hands moving, touching. Mouths taking, giving. Breath burned hot and blood boiled.<
br />
His hands were everywhere at once and Stevie’s mind blanked out. She couldn’t think. Didn’t need or want to think. All she needed was him. Inside her. This minute. Before she exploded.
“God, Paul,” she managed to groan as she opened for him. “Now, now.”
“Now.” He pushed his way into her depths and Stevie screamed out his name.
She teetered briefly, heart-stoppingly, on the edge of completion and then with one swift, sure plunge, he took her over. Her body tightened around his, squeezing him hard, with a damp, velvety grip, forcing him to take that wild ride into oblivion with her.
And as they fell, he heard her whisper, “Paul,” just before he went deaf, dumb, and blind.
* * *
“Just bury me here,” Stevie murmured when she was finally able to make her voice work again.
Paul’s voice came muffled against her shoulder. “Can’t bury you. We’re inside.”
“’Kay. Cremate me. Burn down the building.”
“Jesus,” he said, lifting his head to look down at her. “You’re real cheery after sex.”
She blinked, then focused those blue eyes of hers on him. Blowing out a breath that ruffled the blond hair hanging across her forehead, she said, “Seriously. I can’t move.”
“Could be because I’m pinning you down.” He started to roll off her.
Her hands slapped down on his back. “No. Don’t move.”
Paul stopped dead and looked down at her again. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. His head was still pounding … could be the damn thunder again. His body was humming with completion and yet rarin’ to go. The slightest word from her and he’d have at her again, only this time there’d be more … style.
Stevie smiled and winced as she shifted under him. “If you move right now, I just might splinter.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
“Thanks, me, neither.” Her hands scraped along his back, her fingertips dancing up and down his spine until Paul had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning. “That was…”
He couldn’t resist. “Toe-curling?”
She laughed shortly and he felt the slam of it echo inside him. “Hair-curling.” One of her hands dropped to the side of his face and brushed his hair back. Shaking her head, she said, “I gotta say. I’m impressed.”
Knowing You Page 3
