by Karen Booth
"You aren't one of those freaky chicks who's going to tie me up or steal my clothes, are you?"
I arched my eyebrows and planted my hands on my hips. He closed his eyes but I could tell that he was trying to peek as a mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips. "No looking." I knelt on the bed and he wrapped his hand around my leg. "You have a very hard time following rules, don't you?" I trailed a finger down the center of his chest along the tempting path of dark hair that led to his bellybutton and beyond, beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. "Do you want me to keep going?"
He smiled. "What do you think?"
I peeled back his boxers and his thick erection sprang free. As soon as I touched him, his silky skin pulsed and I relished how iron-hard he was. "Mmm," I said and took him in my mouth. I sucked softly, riding his firm length from base to tip, pausing to tease the ultra-sensitive ridge of the head with my tongue.
He moaned and arched his back. "You should jump in at some point or I'm going to finish before you even get started."
I released him from my mouth and straddled him. "I find it hard to believe you can't keep it together." I spread my hands across the patch of hair in the center of his chest. "You can touch me now."
I fully expected him to act like a kid and go crazy on me. Peter, however, merely opened his eyes and placed his hands behind his head. "So you want me to touch you. Really? I thought you were just going to do everything yourself."
"Very funny. Now's your chance to be in charge, big guy."
"What if I just lie here?"
"What if I just leave?"
"You wouldn't do that. You're as worked up as I am."
"You're so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you? I find that highly annoying."
"Most women love it." He reached up with one hand and grazed my nipple with the tip of his finger. He smiled at me, wholly satisfied with himself. "Come here." His strong hands gripped my hips and urged me closer.
I leaned forward, placing my hands on either side of his head, my hair cascading down around us. "Tell me you have a condom," I mumbled, burying my face in his neck. Impatience prickled my spine, the shadow of stubble along his strong jaw bristled against my cheek.
"In my wallet. Jeans pocket."
I hopped up from the bed a little too eagerly, as if I was a runner after the starting shot, but caught myself and tried to play it cool. My foreplay tease had revved me up way more than I would call normal, or maybe it was that Peter had me so turned-on that everything between my legs was in charge. I handed him his wallet and he slid out the foil pouch, presenting it to me in his open palm. "Would you like to do the honors?"
I bit my lower lip as I knelt next to him on the bed. "Gladly." I opened the packet and opted to start by licking away the bead of moisture that had collected at his tip. He groaned and squirmed. Our eyes connected as I rolled on the condom. He seemed to take great delight in watching.
"Are we going to do this?" I asked, straddling him again.
"Yes, we are." He pressed his hands firmly into my lower back, just enough pressure for his cock to rest against my folds, magnifying my already teeming frustration. He sucked my breast into his mouth, starting a staggering cycle of tongue and teeth, pleasure following torment and back again.
My body responded with a slick pool of heat between my legs. I rolled my hips and slid along his length. His tip caressed my clit with every backward stroke.
He grinned and rolled to his side while tugging on my arm. I stretched out on my back, wriggling back and forth against the smooth and silky sheets. He spread my legs with his hands—long, strong fingers clutching the tender skin of my inner thighs. Greedily, he leaned down to kiss my lower stomach a dozen times before separating my swollen folds with his fingertips.
He pressed his lips against the warmth, his tongue circling my clit, every rotation inching me closer to my peak. I clamped my eyes shut and knocked my head back as he slipped a finger inside, my hips bucking as he curled it masterfully into the bundle of supersensitive nerves. It was as though he had a road map to my entire body, managing to home in on the very thing that I most wanted at that moment.
Peter bracketed my waist with his hands and hovered above me, dipping his head to kiss me, his lips wet. I locked my ankles under his ass, urging him inside as the ache between my legs blazed. He toyed with me, building anticipation as his cock grazed my center before he took a long, fluid thrust. I gasped and my body gave in, molding around him.
We rocked together in perfect pitch, my hips lifting off the bed as he ground against my pelvic bone. He groaned and I smiled on the inside, sensing the tension in his body was already close to the bursting point. I arched my back, wanting him even closer. Electricity bubbled under my skin. It rolled through my belly, building steadily behind an invisible barrier until the current broke through in a barrage of pulses.
My body hungrily pulled on his and Peter braced his forehead against mine, driving himself deeper and with greater force. My fingers dug into his lower back, taken by surprise as a second wave began to crest in me while I was still reeling from the first. It came quickly, my body overly sensitized to his motions, his weight and his seductive smell. He became rigid as a board and I heard his breath catch in his throat. He grunted and keened forward as he throbbed inside me, thrusting with a careful rhythm. I sucked in a breath as a second orgasm tumbled out of me, circling waves of pleasure, more intense and fiery than the first.
Peter collapsed on top of me, both of us struggling for breath. He rolled to my side and swept his hair from his forehead, damp with sweat. "Damn," he said. "I actually think I like the no-touching rule." He placed his palm on the side of my face and kissed me tenderly. His hand sat on my stomach and he did nothing but look at me for moments, his nose inches from mine.
I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, if he was going to tell me I should think about going soon.
"Katie, you're so beautiful. You knock the wind right out of me." He leaned down and ringed the end of his nose around my bellybutton before kissing it, making me giggle, something I rarely do. "You know, I wanted you from the minute I laid eyes on you. I couldn't stop watching you the day of the photo shoot."
A disconcerting rush of emotion fluttered in my stomach. "You're sweet, but I'm already naked and in your bed. You don't need to worry about sweet-talking me."
He furrowed his brow. "Most women like it if I say that their shoes are cute. I'm not feeding you a line."
"Oh." My chest thumped in an unfamiliar pattern. "I'm sorry. I just, well, never mind..."
"There's no way I'm the first guy that's told you that you're beautiful and sexy and amazing." He kissed my stomach again with his mouth open, tracing his tongue in a tiny circle against my skin. "Men must tell you that all the time."
"No. You're not the first." He just happened to be the first who sounded as if he didn't expect anything in return.
Chapter Four
"Has the sun always been this bright?" Gwen asked with disdain. "Whose idea was it to come to Miami, anyway? It's so sunny here."
We sluggishly ventured to the shadier side of the pool deck where there were several open chaises. Men and women reading the likes of The New York Times and Vogue bathed in the sunniest spots, apparently unconcerned with premature aging.
Despite the inviting beauty of the crystal-clear infinity-edge pool, there was no one in the water, even when the day was already showing signs of a scorcher. Midmorning and it had to be in the upper eighties.
The pool boy in white tennis shorts and polo rushed over to spread terry covers on our chairs and I wondered why any grown man would take a job where he was referred to as a boy. Maybe it was the implied sex benefits, that every woman's fantasy was a romp in the towel room with the pool boy.
"I'm Julian. I'll be your server today, ladies. May I start you off with a mojito?"
My stomach lurched at the notion of mint, rum and lime. Gwen groaned and buried her forehead in her hand while s
he slumped down into her chair.
"Thanks, Julian. I'm thinking iced tea for us this morning." I set my pool bag next to my chair. "You doing okay over there?" I asked Gwen, patting her on the knee.
"Uhh. Do you have to be so loud?"
I smiled and shook my head. "Sorry, honey. I'll try to keep it to a dull roar."
I reclined, draping my forearm across my face. The sun was just high enough in the sky that it blanketed my legs in warmth. I slid my cover-up to the top of my thighs and sank further into the chair while I tried to convince myself that I wasn't hung over like Gwen, I was merely taking my sweet time.
Just as my stomach chose to do a few somersaults, someone loudly cleared his throat. I lifted my arm and peeked through one eye.
"Morning. Feeling a little rough?" Peter was breathtaking, damn him, shirtless in long black board shorts and Ray-Bans, unfortunately accompanied by Stony.
The only discussion Gwen and I'd had that morning was when she made it clear she wanted to stay as far away from Tony as possible.
"I'm good. You?" I asked, perplexed that he was seeking me out the morning after. Maybe he was the rare guy who bothered making the effort involved with friendship after sex, an arrangement that never really worked.
"I feel great. May I?" Peter gestured to the chair next to mine but didn't wait for me to answer before he dropped his towel and a paperback and stretched out. "I missed you this morning." He dragged his fingertip along the top of my hand. "Why didn't you wake me before you left?"
I pulled my hand into my lap. "Do you have to announce it?" I sat upright and propped up the back of my chair.
He leaned closer and pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead, his eyes sparkling more brilliantly than the pool. "Oh Katie. Come on," he whispered. "You're not a prude. You proved that last night." His eyebrow arched in a playful, but cocky way.
I glanced over Peter's shoulder at Stony, who was standing at the foot of the empty chaise next to Peter, looking confused. Gwen had turned away from us, likely hoping that her flirtation with Stony had been a bad dream. A gray-haired man was asleep on the chair next to hers, leaving Stony to fend for himself.
Peter followed my line of sight and glanced over his shoulder. "Tony. Sit. We're staying. Unless you want to go find the rest of the guys."
"Staying?" I asked as Stony plopped into the chair.
"I like the view. Is that okay? Next round is on me."
"I'm drinking iced tea. They give you refills."
"Fine. I'll buy you lunch."
I watched him, his eyes sweeping across my face and narrowing. It was different seeing him in the light of day, knowing I wasn't going to sleep with him again. The air held a tinge of sadness. We'd already had our fun together and we'd had so much fun I was surprised I could walk without a limp.
"Okay," I said. "Lunch could be okay."
An attempt at friendship we would make—surely no harm in hanging out and having lunch. He was fun to be around when he wasn't being arrogant, even though just looking at him made me squirm in my own skin.
Peter settled in with his book and Stony slid a baseball hat over his face. I tried to relax, taking a stab at reading a magazine. Unfortunately, sitting next to Peter was driving me berserk, the temptation to look at him too great. He made me lose my place when his finger wandered to my chair and grazed my thigh. I took a deep breath, attempting to ignore the brush of his skin. This was precisely why it was so difficult to be friends with a guy after sex—the attraction was still there, only now I knew how good it felt when we gave into it.
I stood and tossed my hat onto the chair before lifting my cover-up over my head. I'd taken only a single step when I heard his voice.
"Hey, Katie. Want some company?" Again he didn't wait for the answer but folded the corner of his page and hopped up from his chair. He smoothed his palm over the bare skin of my hip. "You look amazing." He eyed me, I'd like to say it was from head to toe, but he seemed to be concentrating on the middlemost parts. "I'm serious." He took a few more steps and dove in, making the tiniest splash imaginable.
I strode to the wide steps into the pool. With one toe in, it became obvious why Peter and I were the only ones taking a dip. The water was nearly the same temperature as the air, like a lukewarm cup of coffee, not the refreshment I'd hoped for. I waded until I was in to my waist in the shallow end.
Peter was doing handstands in the deep end, his long feet wagging. He could stay up for a good ten seconds before he'd flip over and come back up for air. I swam to the side, folded my arms on the hot concrete and set my chin on my hands. My legs floated near the surface and I closed my eyes, enjoying the gentle lap of the waves Peter was creating from the other end.
There was a splashing sound and droplets of water hit my back. Peter was next to me, swiping his wet hair from his forehead, his brilliant white smile tugging at me as I placed my feet on the pool bottom again.
"So what's the plan tonight?" he asked. "Stony and I have sound check at four, but we don't go on until ten. Do you and Gwen want to grab dinner?" He moved closer and trailed his fingers down my spine. "Or we could ditch those two and have dinner alone." His eyebrows shifted up and down.
I had a fuzzy recollection of the reason Slump was in town—their sold-out show at one of the big rock clubs downtown. "Right. You guys are playing tonight. Gwen and I should probably go out on our own for dinner. It's the only night left of our girls' weekend."
He held his hand to his brow and scanned my face. "Are you not okay with what happened last night? Because I thought it was spectacular." He moved his hand to the tender underside of my arm, caressing my skin beneath the water.
I didn't know what to say and he put me off track every time he touched me. "It was great, but we should probably just stick to lunch. I don't want to make things any more complicated than they have to be. For me or for you."
"What exactly is so complicated about dinner?"
"Nothing, but you and I both know we're talking about more than dinner."
"Of course we are. I have all sorts of tricks up my sleeve. Although I won't be wearing sleeves."
I had to smile at his goofiness, even when he was frustrating the hell out of me. "I'm sure your tricks would blow my mind, but I don't do more than one night. And I assumed that you were on the same page. I mean, you're in a band. Isn't that your thing? I just assumed that one night was all you wanted too."
"Hey. Don't make assumptions. It's not cool." His eyebrows drew tightly together. "We had an amazing night together and we get along great. Why is dinner and another night together a big deal?"
"It's a big deal to me. A really big deal." I wasn't about to launch into the story behind my rule while I was chest-deep in water with dozens of strangers within earshot. One night had been tested. I knew my limits. I knew the places my heart was all too eager to go.
He grumbled and shook his head. "I have to say this is a first. And I have to admit that I admire you for having the balls to do what guys do all of the time." He reached into the water and scooped a handful over the top of his head, sweeping his hair back. "But I'm not other guys. I think you should break your rule for me." He reached for my hand, his eyes a pale and icy blue in the blazing midday sun.
"Give me one good reason."
"This." He slid his other hand around the back of my neck, threading his fingers through my hair. His mouth against mine was soft and wet. He pulled back only a few inches. His breath was warm on my lips. "Seriously, what do I have to do to convince you to give me one more night?"
I gnawed on my lower lip. My brain felt as if it had been turned upside-down. With shimmery beads of water along his shoulders and collarbone, he was irresistible. The question only made the situation more disorienting. No man had ever asked me such a thing. The few who stuck around long enough for the explanation always seemed to take it at face value, willing to walk away. "I don't know."
"You want to spend time with Gwen? Have dinner with her and spend the night
with me." He took my hand and raised it to his perfect lips, kissing the back of it lightly. "The whole night."
My stomach knotted at the thought of breaking the rule that had protected me so well. A second night would mean one thing, I was only going to get more drawn in to Peter. How could I not? I needed time to process this. "Can I think about it?"
"Of course you can." His thumb rode back and forth over my knuckles. "But I think you already know the answer. I think you want to and you just don't want to say it."
* * * * *
"Your turn," I announced to Gwen, wrapping my hair up in a towel. I stepped out of the bathroom to see her perched on the edge of the bed, looking deep in thought. "You okay?"
She frowned. "I called Ted. I feel guilty."
"You didn't tell him, did you?" I plopped down next to her and she popped up on the mattress. I wrapped my arm around her. "It was just some flirting. You had the sense to stop before you did anything stupid."
"What was I thinking in the first place?"
I bit my tongue. I'd been wondering the same thing. "You were drunk and he's sorta cute."
She responded to my answer with a quizzical look.
"There's the rock star thing," I said. "Every woman has that fantasy, doesn't she?"
"Apparently you do. Is Peter number four or five?" She picked at her fingernail. "Not that I blame you. He's ridiculously hot."
"I don't exactly keep track, but it's more like two. Maybe three."
"Well, whatever the number is, clearly you're not rock starred out yet."
"One could argue that it's an occupational hazard."
"Even though those are exactly the kind of guys who don't stick around?"
Gwen had missed her calling as a talk-show host or a therapist—her talent for getting to the heart of the matter was unmatched. That was precisely what I'd done. The handful of one-nighters I'd had since Brad had all been that type...guys who don't stick around. Even though he'd said he was different, there was a good chance I'd just found another one in Peter. I played it off with a wave of my hand. "We weren't talking about me anyway."
