by Lori Foster
She straightened slowly, her bottoms on the floor, her face bright red but her gaze direct.
She hadn’t worn panties.
Guy thought he might come from just looking at her.
Not perfect? She was the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. Her body, her smile, her blush. The brazen way she’d seduced him so thoroughly, her strength and her determination. Her caring. They all combined to make her irresistible to him.
Guy took a deep breath and held out his hand. “C’mere.”
Two seconds later Annie was in the bed with him, her skin silky and hot against his own, and he knew he was a goner.
The battle had just been won.
8
“IT’S KIND OF cold in here, isn’t it? Are you chilled? I don’t want you to get sick on top of everything else.”
Guy could hear the concern—and the slight nervousness—in Annie’s tone as he pulled her on top of him. She tried to keep her legs closed, and he clasped her thighs and opened them over his. His injured knee got bumped, but the pain was a dull ache compared to his pounding lust.
Annie tucked her face in close to his throat and her fingers bit into his upper arms. Now that they were all situated, now that he’d quit fighting her, her bravado had melted away.
He hadn’t done a very good job of seducing her, overwhelming her, making her forget herself. She was all too aware of the uniqueness of being with him, and that wouldn’t do.
He wanted her mindless with wanting, and set about getting her there.
“It’s hot as hell,” he told her, stroking her shoulder, the small of her back, over her firm, silky bottom. “You make me hot.”
“That’s—” She gasped as his hand slid between her thighs from behind. “—good.”
She’d nearly screeched, in mingled surprise and excitement. He didn’t need to ask if any other man had touched her this way. Her reaction was telling enough for him to know this was a new experience.
Stroking his fingers over her, he found her wet, ready, despite her nervousness. He touched her gently, opened her, then carefully pushed one finger inside.
Her muscles clenched, her body tightened, and he whispered, “Shh. Easy now.”
She was deathly silent.
Guy kissed her shoulder, her throat, loving the taste of her warm flesh, inhaling her scent. With his free hand he rubbed her nape, then brought her mouth to his.
He took her gasping breath and gave her his own as he continued to stroke deep inside her.
His mouth still against hers, their lips wet, he whispered, “You’re so tight.”
“I’m sorry.” She wiggled, trying to accommodate his finger, the unfamiliar intimacy, and the movement tantalized his swollen erection.
“Don’t be sorry. I love it.” I love you. The words burned in his throat, but Annie didn’t deserve his emotional trap. He’d give her what she wanted, but he refused to burden her with the rest.
“I…I want to touch you, too.”
He couldn’t give her that. “Not right now.”
“Guy—”
“I’d lose it, sweetheart. I’m too close to the edge already.” An understatement if ever there was one. In truth, he’d fallen off the cliff the second she’d popped the buttons on her flannel shirt. He’d been teetering there for months anyway. Maybe even years.
Marrying Melissa was out of the question.
Hell, he couldn’t marry anyone, not when it was Annie he loved.
Yet she was just experimenting, and this was only one step in all the new experiences she wanted, deserved, to have.
“Do you know how soft you feel, Annie?”
Gasping, her narrow back arched, she asked, “Am as I soft as you are hard?”
“Yes.” He kissed her again. He wanted to imprint himself on her, to force the same memories on her that he knew would stay with him forever.
With one arm tight around her waist, he brought her higher so that the warm notch of her thighs rested on his bare abdomen and he could attend to her breasts.
Annie helped by stiffening her arms, raising her breasts over his mouth. To his distraction, the movement also caused her mound to press more firmly against him, making him nearly incoherent with need.
Keeping his hips still, holding back the savage urge to take her, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
She made no sound as he drew one taut nipple into his mouth. Other than the grasp of her feminine muscles, she was immobile. He drew on her for long minutes, stroked her with his fingers until they were both shaking and on the verge of coming.
“Annie?” She didn’t answer and when he looked at her, he saw her face was utterly still, drawn tight, her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.
Guy smoothed her backside as he studied her. “Sweetheart, I need to know if you like what I’m doing.”
Her head bobbed, sending her hair to play over his chest, his shoulders.
“Tell me.”
Her eyes snapped open; her breath left her in a loud rush. “You told me not to,” she rasped, accusing. “You told me to be quiet.”
Her nipples were wet, stiff. He plucked at them with his fingertips. “I told you I didn’t need a blow-by-blow report. I never told you to hold your breath, to be so quiet I wasn’t sure if you were still alive.”
Her lashes lifted until her eyes were round. He could practically feel the groan bubbling up inside her before it burst out, loud, heartfelt.
“I love what you’re doing to me! I feel like I’m melting on the inside and coming apart on the outside and I never want it to end, but I want to find the end if that makes any sense and—”
Guy kissed her, smiling, damned pleased with her enthusiasm. “And this?” he asked, still teasing her mouth with his as he moved his fingers out of her, higher, finding a spot that made her entire body shudder.
“Yes!”
Watching her face while he carefully stroked her, he judged her response, and he saw the moment she was near climax. He wanted it with her. He wanted to see her scream, to see her face contort. Orgasm face. He smiled painfully, biting back his own cresting need to come.
Annie lurched off him. Panting, she moved out of reach before he could stop her.
“What is it?” Was she afraid of what she felt? Ha. Not his Annie.
“I want you with me.” Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, shimmering, her nipples flushed dark and pointed. She swallowed hard, still breathing in pants. “I want you inside me my first time.”
The words alone were almost enough to send him into oblivion. Summoning herculean control, he lied, “I don’t have any protection.”
“I do.”
His conscience slumped in regret while his body did a robust cheer.
Then all he could do was gaze in mute surprise as Annie pulled a shoebox out from beneath the bed. It overflowed with a variety of rubbers in every color of the rainbow, every size, some French ticklers, some haltingly plain.
“Where in the world…?”
“Lace sent them. She included a note telling me not to show them to you until the right time, because some of them might intimidate you.”
Annie climbed over him, the box in hand and settled herself at his side. She stared at his erection, the box, then asked, “Large?”
Guy dropped his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t a saint. And no mere man was set up to resist the irresistible.
With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, he said, “Average will do.”
“You’re kidding?” Her voice rang with disbelief. “They come larger than that?”
He didn’t open his eyes; he wasn’t prepared for her speculation on the size of male parts, especially not his male part.
Actually, he wasn’t prepared for any of this.
“Are you okay, Guy?”
“Yeah.” Why not? Why not do this for her, and then suffer silently while she carried her newfound knowledge to that other lucky bastard?
This, he was
certain, was one of those times when a man’s two heads debated over the ideas of wisdom. And in this case, bigger was not better—not when the smaller of the two was winning.
“Blue? Red?”
His hands fisted in the sheet. Her voice was breathy, anxious, awed. He couldn’t answer, then realized he didn’t need to when he heard the rustling of plastic, and felt Annie’s warm fingers fold around him.
“It’s all right, Guy. I know you’re probably nervous. I promise I’ll be very, very careful. You’ll barely notice me.”
Barely notice her? She was naked and sitting beside him and had his average male part held securely in her hand! Every fiber of his being was noticing her in a big way.
Annie expertly slid the condom—plain, thank goodness—onto his erection. He ground his teeth together, some small part of his honor still warring with his decision, and still losing.
“You did that awfully well,” he half complained, thinking that a little fumbling on her part might have helped him to regain his senses.
“I’ve been practicing.”
Guy lurched as damning pictures ran through his mind. His sudden tensing caused her hand to tighten on his erection.
When their gazes clashed, Annie soothed him by saying, “Not on men, at least not before now. The book said to practice on a broomstick. I nearly went through an entire box before I got it right.”
He fell back in relief, right before her thighs encased his hips and her hands braced on his chest.
“I can’t know why they suggested a broomstick, though. As far as I can tell, there’s absolutely no resemblance.”
“Annie.” Guy stared at her, amazed by her initiative, her determination.
“Shh,” she said, stroking one pectoral muscle which he’d just noticed was incredibly sensitive to her touch. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
If he hadn’t been so turned-on, he might have laughed at her cocky, clichéd assurances which, under normal circumstances, she should have been receiving, not giving.
Instead he gave up. Annie on the make was a heady experience. Too heady to temper.
“Scoot up a little.”
She anxiously did as he asked.
“Just relax, Annie.” His fingers were large, rough against her soft flesh, and she made a crooning sound as he opened her, his touch as gentle as he could make it.
He held himself ready for her, and with the other hand cupped her bottom as she carefully prepared to slide down his length. “Easy now.”
She flinched as his erection began to stretch her. It tore at his heart, and at the same time made him feel like doing the tarzan yell.
Sweat broke out on his brow.
Not to be deterred, Annie continued her descent despite her discomfort. In a rasp, she asked, “Are you sure you’re just average?”
Her innocence filled him with warmth. “I promise.”
Using the tip of one callused finger, Guy stroked her slick female flesh, up and around her most sensitive nerve endings. Her stifled groan broke the silence.
Clamped against his sides, her thighs tightened even more. He stroked her soothingly, insistently, watching her lips part, her eyes close. She was wet, but still a virgin, and she needed his careful care, his restraint.
“Go as slow as you like—”
His words died on a shout as she abruptly forced herself down in one hard, fast movement, taking him deep inside her, enclosing him in snug wet heat.
Sweet hell! Her nails bit into his chest, her muscles grasped him tight, and she yelled, “Guy!”
Amazingly, he felt her contractions begin. His back arched, his body pulsed. Pain radiated from his knee, his shoulder, but he didn’t care. Pleasure overrode the pain. The pleasure of Annie coming, her scent, her gasps, her hands clinging to him.
His body alternately went into spasms of intense sensation, explosive release, then blessed numbness. It was by far the most pleasure he’d ever had, more than he’d ever expected.
He sank into the bedding, Annie draped over him, her soft mouth touching his throat as she gulped for air. Her limbs were still shaking, her heartbeat still thumping in counter time to his.
Long minutes passed while he refused to think. And then he heard Annie whisper, her voice still shaky but soft, “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
His every nerve ending was still tingling and she thought it wasn’t so bad? He got his eyes open. She watched him, her elbows propped on his chest, one hand stroking his jaw.
Weariness dragged at him. He felt too lethargic, too sated, to stay alert.
“I love your orgasm face,” she said, and he realized that rather than watching her, she’d watched him!
“Annie.” Damn, choking back the words was near impossible. He’d done what he shouldn’t have done, and gotten more than he’d ever counted on. Regret weighed him down; regret that they couldn’t stay here forever, regret that he couldn’t claim her as his own.
Regret that she intended this as the first experience of many—with another man, a man who didn’t deserve her.
Knowing he shouldn’t, but too tired to stop himself, he touched her face, her lips, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Annie. So damn sorry. This never should have happened.”
Her face paled, but she didn’t say anything, just lowered her head. Guy thought she was going to kiss him again, and he closed his eyes, waiting. But the kiss didn’t come, and then it didn’t matter—because like a pig, he fell asleep.
GUY CAME AWAKE with a start at an unfamiliar noise. He looked around the room, but he was alone. He didn’t know what had disturbed him, but now that he was awake, he discovered that every bruise on his body held new complaints.
Annie had loved him thoroughly, that was for sure. And then, without any pillow talk, without any reassurances, he’d passed out.
Damn, he was worse than Perry!
He closed his eyes while considering what he’d done.
Making love with Annie had been the sweetest, most emotionally devastating thing he’d ever experienced. She was good. Better than good.
Maybe he should read a few of her books.
Guy smiled. He felt so replete, he almost chuckled. Annie had made love to him.
“Look at him!” a familiar voice said, intruding into his thoughts. “He’s banged up from one end to the other and he’s smiling like a sap even in his sleep.”
Guy lurched half out of the bed and his eyes snapped open so fast that his head throbbed. Silhouetted by the sunlight streaming through the large front window, Daniel stood there in the bedroom doorway. He looked like an avenging angel, highlighted as he was.
Then the significance of his appearance registered.
Daniel!
Obviously, Daniel was responsible for disturbing his sleep, but his appearance at this precise moment didn’t make any sense. “Uh…”
Daniel frowned. He looked over his shoulder at someone and asked, “Is he still drugged? No? Then I’d like to know what he’s so happy about, all things considered.”
He turned to Guy again, waiting.
“Uh…” What the hell could he say?
And where was Annie? Guy hated to think of her being a witness to her big brother’s disapproval.
Although Daniel didn’t look disapproving so much as curious.
With a guilty start, Guy realized that the sheet barely maintained his modesty. And it was obvious he’d been sleeping naked. It was an effort, but he forced himself into a sitting position and covered himself more thoroughly.
In an affected tone that he hoped sounded calm and reassuring, Guy asked, “What are you doing here, Daniel?”
“Melissa knows where you are,” Daniel said without hesitation. “And she’s on her way.”
“What?” The very last thing he needed was for Melissa to show up. Having Daniel as an observer was more than enough to have to deal with.
“Dad told her you were here. With Annie. I can’t believe he did, but he did.” Daniel shrugged.
“But
…where is Annie?” He tried to see around Daniel and couldn’t. It dawned on him that the cabin suddenly felt…empty.
And so did his heart.
He moved to the edge of the bed to stand.
Daniel rushed to his side. “Hey, you should take it easy. Here, let me help you.”
Panic edged away Guy’s guilt and any pain he felt. “Where the hell is Annie?”
Daniel, looking faintly satisfied, said, “She said she was getting ready to leave.”
“Leave?”
“Yeah.” Daniel clasped Guy’s arm and helped him to stand, then grinned when he saw Guy was naked. “You think you should get dressed before you start chasing my baby sister?”
Guy’s face went blank. What the hell was he doing? What was Annie doing? He shook his head and hurriedly looked around for something to put on. Daniel again came to his rescue and produced the scrubs from where they’d been half kicked beneath the bed.
Guy felt color race back up his neck when he remembered the way Annie had stripped him. And now her brother was standing before him.
Raising one brow, Daniel asked, “Undressed in a hurry last night, did you?”
With a lot of groaning and wincing, Guy sat on the side of the bed and worked the bottoms on over the knee immobilizer. He ignored Daniel’s question to ask one of his own. “Why is Annie leaving?”
After adjusting his glasses, Daniel said philosophically, “I guess she figured that with Melissa here, she might as well take off.”
“Is Melissa here?”
“She should be any minute.”
Seconds later Daniel’s younger brother, Max Sawyers, daredevil, world wanderer and admitted woman addict, stuck his head around the door.
“The virago has arrived.”
Guy felt stunned at Max’s appearance. The last he’d heard, Max was still in the wilds of Canada, wrestling bears and personal demons.
Daniel nodded at Guy and answered unasked questions. “Yep, he’s back. And no worse for the wear of roughing it in total seclusion.”
“I had a relaxing time,” Max claimed, and as usual he omitted any details. “That is, until your lady friend insisted that I give her a ride here.” Max made a face. “She’s not a happy woman.”
