The Sex Diet

by Rhonda Nelson

  Her gaze turned inward, recalled that exact moment when she’d welcomed him into her body. He’d worn the most curious, equally awed and startled expression. Like he’d felt a special connection as well. He’d locked himself inside her and, for a moment, hadn’t moved. Of course, he could have developed a leg cramp. Hell, who knew? Certainly not her.

  And in all honesty, it was probably better to believe it was a leg cramp, or some other unknown reason, because daring to suspect that he felt more for her than mere attraction was a danger she’d just as soon avoid. It was detrimental to her peace of mind. For many reasons, the most important of which being her heart. Furthermore, tricking Hank into tipping his hand with this sex diet was bad enough, but tricking his heart as well? That would be truly heinous.

  Sam cast a covert look at Hank from beneath her lashes and need and affection broadsided her once more. God, he was gorgeous. He had the most masculine features, high cheekbones, lean cheeks, a strong jaw and a thin blade of a nose…and yet there was something boyish and vulnerable about him, too. Something so sweet that made her heart ache.

  He turned and caught her staring and his eyes crinkled as a smile caught the corner of his mouth. He tightened his arm around her shoulders and dragged her closer to his side. “I see a new freckle,” he told her. “Did you forget your sunblock?”

  Sam chuckled. “A new freckle? How do you know it’s a new freckle?”

  “Because it wasn’t there this morning.”

  Her lips curled with wry humor. “And you looked at my face close enough this morning to notice a new freckle?” she asked skeptically.

  Hank winced. “Not exactly your whole face. Just your mouth.”

  “What?”

  He slid his finger next to her mouth, then followed the path with his lips. “That one,” he murmured silkily, “wasn’t there. It’s new. I know because I stare at your mouth a lot. You have an amazing mouth. Haven’t you noticed?”

  Sam blinked drunkenly. She’d lost the thread of the conversation. “That I have an amazing mouth?”

  He grinned. “No. That I stare at it all the time.”

  “Oh… No.” Her knees wobbled.

  He brushed another butterfly kiss across her lips and his voice lowered to a more intimate level. “Your mouth is lush and ripe…very carnal. I look at and think about kissing you…and having you kiss me…in lots of different places.”

  All of those places flitted rapid-fire through her mind. Then Hank laid siege to her mouth and her mind blanked. Sensation eradicated thought, ceased all cognitive thinking. She twined her arms around his neck, then slid her hands into the silky hair at his nape, angled his head so that she could devour him as well. The kiss was long and hot, slow and deep, and when they finally broke apart, Sam could scarcely catch her breath.

  Breathing somewhat hard, Hank rested his forehead against hers. “God, you make me crazy,” he growled. “I’ve wanted you forever, since you got here, since we finished this morning. It’s making me insane. We’re in a public place, for crying out loud, and all I can think about is how wonderful it would be to bend you over this railing and lift your skirt and… Jesus.” He dragged her forward. “Let’s go to the car.”

  Secretly thrilled, Sam allowed herself to be pulled along. “We’re going to— In the car?”

  He swiftly descended the steps. “It’s got tinted glass and good suspension.”

  Anticipation jimmied a wicked giggle from her throat. Clearly Operation Orgasm wasn’t over.

  HANK CHECKED THE PARKING LOT for other cars and was relieved to see that there was only one at the moment and it was parked closer to the entrance. They’d parked on the far side of the lot, away from the heavy foot traffic. He fished a couple of things from his pocket—a condom and the keys—then swiftly crossed the lot.

  It was crazy, utterly crazy, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been a perpetually aroused wreck because of her since…forever and he’d wrongly assumed that having her would at least take the edge off.

  It hadn’t.

  In fact, if anything, he was in a sorrier state now than before. Because now he knew how incredible being with her was. Now he knew how she tasted against his tongue, how her breast felt in his mouth and how utterly wonderful it felt to plunge in and out of her sweet, tight heat. This sort of need was completely out of the realm of his experience and he suspected he knew the reason why—he was in love with her. Hank didn’t know when, how or why—didn’t care. It was a moot point.

  He loved her.

  He needed her.

  The end.

  And he’d have her now.

  Hank hit the power door lock with the keyless remote and opened the driver’s side back door for Sam. With a scandalous laugh of sheer delight, she hurried into the back seat. Hank followed her in, shut and locked the door. He cranked the power long enough to raise the windows for the required privacy, and vaguely noted that he was glad they’d had the forethought to put them down in the first place, otherwise it would have been too stifling even for great sex.

  He felt something hit the back of his head, turned and with a shock of delight, realized it was Sam’s panties. He felt his eyes widen.

  Then an evil chuckle rumbled from his chest, he dropped his pants, quickly sheathed himself with a condom and, still laughing, dove at her. She parted instantly—her mouth and her legs—and he plunged into her while he ravaged her mouth with a kiss, sucked at her tongue. Her greedy hands were all over his body, tugging at his shirt, then cool fingers against his back. She skimmed the line of his spine, forcing a shiver that shook him from the inside out.

  He took her hard and fast and she begged for more, just as desperate for release as he was. She clamped her feminine muscles around him as he thrust, over and over, until Hank felt the first flash of release stir in his loins. He pumped harder, hooked an arm under the bend of her knee and pushed deeper.

  Her breath became sharp and ragged and she writhed beneath him. Her skin dewed and a single strawberry curl clung to her mouth. Back and neck arched, her breasts bounced on her chest as they absorbed the force of his manic thrusts. Then she screamed, her back left the seat in a rigid curve and she convulsed around him, a greedy clench and release that seemed to go on forever. That pushed him over the edge as well. He pumped through the climax, rode the tidal wave of ecstasy until it crested and broke and there was nothing left but a gentle pulsing of contentedness.

  After a moment, he heaved himself off her and sat back on his haunches. Her chest rapidly rose and fell and she wore the expression of a woman who had just been thoroughly loved. She flung an arm across her forehead, then looked up at him and laughed. “That,” she said meaningfully, “was amazing.”

  Hank smiled, absently scratched his chest. “I aim to please.”

  She eyed him up and down and something wicked shifted in her gaze. “I noticed.”

  “And I intend on pleasing you again and again, starting tonight.”

  She arched a brow. “Oh?”

  Hank glanced at his watch and winced at the time. “Yeah, and we have to go. I’ve got an errand to run.”

  She sat up and fished her panties from the floor. “Are you going into town?”

  “Yeah.” Hank found a napkin, disposed of the condom, then dragged his shorts back up his legs.

  “Good, because I’d really like to hit some of the outlet—”

  Oh, shit, Hank thought, panicked. “You can’t go.”

  She stilled at his abrupt pronouncement and shot him a look. “O-kay.”

  Dammit, he was making a mess of things. “You can’t go because it’ll ruin my surprise.”

  Her mouth curved. “Another one?”

  He nodded. A big one. “It plays in with the romantic evening I have planned.”

  When he came back from Foley today, he’d have an engagement ring in his pocket. He’d propose tonight. She’d say yes. They would both return to Aspen and he’d help get her packed up and ready to move while she worked out a t
wo-week notice. Then they would return here, get married, have lots of sex, make babies, raise their family and live happily ever after. His parents would be thrilled.

  For the first time in his life, he had everything figured out. Hank had never been a man to dawdle after making a decision and the moment he’d realized that he was in love with Samantha, he’d mapped out the rest of their lives. That way, things didn’t get complicated. He just had to follow the plan.

  Love was not complicated—people were.

  Furthermore, he’d begun to suspect that Jamie had been right when he suggested that Sam had been carrying a torch for him for years. He didn’t know what had prevented him from seeing it before, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved him as well. Conceited? No—perceptive. He could tell that she loved him, knew it. Telling glances, gentle touches, small smiles. It was all there, written in her face, in her behavior toward him. Just knowing it made an almost painful ache swell beneath his sternum.

  Hank couldn’t imagine anything better than being loved—and being in love with—Samantha McCafferty, his Belle of the Beach. He couldn’t wait to share his home with her, to make it theirs, couldn’t wait to go to bed with her at night, and wake up with her in the morning. To snuggle on the couch, go on long drives with no immediate destination, to have a live-in friend and lover, partner and confidante.

  He couldn’t wait to have her.

  And, provided things went right tonight—and he couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t—his wait would soon be over.

  14

  SAM TRIED TO FOCUS on something more than the bittersweet goodbye she knew she’d be making tomorrow, but it was just so damned hard. Hank seemed a wee bit tense as well—distracted for want of a better term—and she figured that his mood was simply a result of her own. And she had to stop this, she thought with a silent curse. She couldn’t let what she knew was an inevitable end to this relationship ruin her last night with him.

  She couldn’t.

  To that end she’d doubled up on the sex diet portions and antihistamines. While Hank had run his mysterious “errand,” she’d hit the oyster bar again. If she ever saw another half shell, she’d undoubtedly puke. In addition, she’d taken so many antihistamines she felt like her scalp was going to crawl right off her head. That was the only good thing about leaving tomorrow—she could go off this infernal diet.

  Sam perused the menu and blew out a small sigh. In the meantime, she’d better stick to it, though. “What are you going to have?” she asked Hank.

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to have the filet and lobster. What about you?”

  Sam had perused the menu and decided that the bouillabaisse would probably be her best bet. It was packed full of various shellfish and seafood. It should definitely shoot her pheromone level up. “The bouillabaisse,” she told him. “And I’d love some calamari.”

  Hank nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Conversation flowed easily between them, just like it always had. She figured that he’d start in on her moving back here, but curiously he hadn’t. Despite whatever happened between them, Sam would move back. This was her home. Even if things ended poorly, she’d rather be close to Hank as not be. So regardless of the outcome, her plans remained the same.

  Hank asked her opinion on plans he had for the B&B, seemed particularly interested in her input. They talked about his parents, about the new head football coach at Alabama, her job and whatnot. The usual stuff.

  In fact, the only noticeable difference that she could tell was the perpetual look of desire Hank wore and the tender way he held her hand across the table. How she wished it would stay that way, Sam thought with a bittersweet pang of regret. But she knew it wouldn’t.

  The moment she left, and he was out of range of her superpheromones, the attraction would wane and he’d wonder what the hell he’d been thinking. She truly regretted that for Hank, but everyone had what-was-I-thinking? moments. He would recover, even if their friendship didn’t, and she’d decided the sacrifice was worth the reward. Who knew? Maybe later, they could resume their friendship, though Sam knew it would never the same as it had been before. It would be awkward, but hopefully, at some point, they could work past it. Wishful thinking again, but wishes were all she had left.

  “Did I tell you that I found an antique claw foot tub to go in my bathroom?” Hank asked.

  Mouth full of calamari, Sam shook her head.

  “I’m going to do a massive remodel of that bathroom in the near future. Put in the new tub…and his and her vanities.”

  “Really?” His and her vanities. Sam felt the bite of clam hit the lump that had inexplicably formed in her throat. So he’d finally started thinking about settling down. Pity it couldn’t be with her. “That’s nice,” she said, for lack of anything better.

  “I’d even thought about adding on, but wouldn’t dream of it unless I could find an architect who could remain true to the house.”

  Adding on, too? So not only the idea of settling down had occurred, but also the idea of having a family seemed to have gelled as well. Unless he gave up guest rooms, he’d have no choice but to add on a family wing of the house. Sam was finding it hard to be encouraging, but finally managed to dredge up the required enthusiasm. It was what a friend would do.

  “I’m sure that you could find someone who could do the job,” she said. “Since it’s a B&B as well, it would be excellent advertising for whoever did the work.”

  Hank nodded, seemingly mulling that over.

  Thankfully, before he could tell her any more of his heart-wrenching plans, their food arrived. Sam dove into her bouillabaisse with gusto. The more she thought about Hank and his mythical family, the more she ached. Her chest squeezed and she developed an eye twitch.

  “Sam, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” Hank said, somewhat nervously.

  What now? Sam wondered. Did he want her to give an opinion on what he should name his future children? Nevertheless, she pushed a smile into place and looked up at him.

  “I’d planned to wait until after dessert, but—” He stopped abruptly and frowned. “What’s wrong with your eye?”

  “Nothing. It’s just a twitch.” For some reason, it was hard to talk. Her tongue felt…large.

  “No, it’s bright red and it’s swelling.” He leaned forward and peered at her closely. “So’s the other one.”

  That wasn’t the only thing that was swelling, Sam realized with ballooning horror—so was her throat.

  Rapidly.

  Sam tried to suck in a breath but could barely get any air through her tight throat. She gasped and clutched her neck and her frightened eyes met Hank’s. Her heart tripped wildly in her chest and her skin seemed to be too small for her body. An itchy heat started at her scalp and worked its way down. She gasped again as her eyes streamed.

  “My God, you’re having an allergic reaction.” His gaze flew to her plate, then back to her face, then realization dawned and in that instant she knew that he’d remembered her allergy. His brows formed an angry baffled line. “You’re allergic to seafood. Why in God’s name have you been—”

  But the rest of what he said was lost on Sam. She clutched her neck and tried to drag in air, but her constricted throat wouldn’t let any oxygen into her lungs. Seemingly from far away she saw Hank leap up from the table and grab her. Dimly she heard a series of shouts, the clank of abandoned cutlery. Then she felt a prick on her thigh and, in the midst of all this the words stupid, reckless, and sorry floated through her mind, then Am I dying?

  Then nothing…

  HOURS LATER SAM DISCOVERED that she hadn’t died—merely fainted—but the possibility that she would die from mortification and stupidity was beginning to be a grim fear.

  Hank sat in the corner of the Emergency Room on the chair that was reserved for the doctor. “A sex diet?” he asked, his voice quietly ominous.

  “Yes,” Sam said miserably. Her throat was still swollen, and made her voice hoa
rse. The prick she’d felt had been an Epi Pen another customer in the restaurant had had in their purse. It had provided enough relief to get her to the hospital, where a frowning doctor came in and generally treated her like she was a complete moron.

  Which she was.

  What she’d done had been unforgivably stupid.

  “Because you wanted to make yourself attractive to the opposite sex. Because you wanted an orgasm.” Statements, not questions and his voice literally throbbed with weary pent-up rage. He clearly wanted to throttle her.

  “I know it was stupid, but—”

  Hank shot up from his seat. “Stupid?” he quietly roared. “Stupid? Stupid doesn’t begin to cover it, Sam. What you did was insane! Crazy!” He speared his hands through his hair. “You could have seriously hurt yourself! Could have died! And for what? An orgasm? What in God’s name were you thinking? What made you keep eating all that seafood? Why did you go and have oysters at Captain Jack’s when you knew we had dinner reservations?” He shook his head. “None of this makes sense.”

  Sam winced. She’d hoped he’d missed that part about Captain Jack’s when she’d spoken to the doctor—she’d had to tell him everything she’d had to eat that day—but obviously he hadn’t.

  “What? Were you trying to hurt yourself?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then why?” he demanded.

  “I’ve already told you,” Sam said wearily. She couldn’t believe this was the way things would end between them. A lump of emotion formed in her tortured throat and she blinked back tears.

  “Then why?” he demanded. “Tell me why.”