by Julie Kenner
As he spoke, his hand snaked down, slipping inside the robe. She wasn’t wearing panties, and his fingertip brushed the soft skin just above her pubic hair. She tensed, terrified he’d stop but more terrified he’d continue.
His fingers danced on her skin, heating her body but never actually easing lower. She squirmed under his touch, one hand still clutching his neck, the other flat against his chest. All she had to do was straighten her arm and she’d push him back. Then she could breathe. Get her head back on straight and tell him that this was too much, too fast. Her head was spinning.
But she didn’t straighten her arm. Instead she closed her eyes and lost herself in the feel of his hand against her bare flesh, strung tight by the heady hope that his fingers would slip lower and lower.
They didn’t, and she almost moaned in frustration. Instead his hand eased back up, this time sliding over the robe and then inside at the neck. He eased it over her shoulders and let it fall away so that it hung free, attached only by the loose tie around her waist.
The night was hot and humid. The rain had stopped, but it had done nothing to cool the city. The air felt sultry, sexy somehow, as if every molecule had joined with Shane to caress and tease her over-heated skin.
His hand slipped back down, tugged quickly at the sash. Ella gasped, as much from surprise as from the exhilarating sensation of being suddenly naked on her balcony, right there for all the world to see, with her pale blue robe pooled at her feet.
She opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn’t sure what. Her head screamed that she should protest, but the rest of her body wanted simply to close her mind and lose herself in the moment.
She ended up saying nothing at all, instead giving in to the feel of Shane’s mouth as he closed his lips over her breast, his hot tongue teasing her already sensitive nipple. She moaned and squirmed, desperate for more contact. If she’d been wearing her tight jeans, at least she’d be able to get some friction going in her crotch, maybe take some of the edge off the decadent pressure that was building in her veins. As it was, though, she was naked and needy.
From somewhere the thought came again that she should protest. She shouldn’t let Shane do these things to her. The trouble was, at the moment she couldn’t remember why not. Only that she wanted it. Needed it.
The feeling was so sensational, she didn’t want it to end. And yes, there was a certain thrill attached to knowing that anyone looking out their window might see them. Might even be turned on by them.
Just the thought made her wetter, and she shifted, pressing her legs tight together. She was on the edge, right on the precipice, and all he had to do was touch her—just a featherlight touch against her crotch—and she knew she’d explode with an orgasm like nothing she’d had before.
“More.” He ground out the word, his voice raw.
Oh, yes. She wanted to scream it. Wanted to pull him to her, feel him inside her. But it was hesitation that tinged her voice when she spoke. Hesitation and raw need. “God, Shane. I’m not sure. I’m—”
“Desperate,” he said, his hand stroking down, his fingers finding her wet heat. She cried out, her body twitching as she writhed against his hand. And she knew that no matter what, this night wouldn’t end without Shane inside her. “I can see it in your eyes, El,” he added, his lips brushing her ear even as his finger played with her clit. “You want this. And so do I.”
“I don’t want to want it,” she said. A useless protest but true.
In the background, Tina Turner’s “What’s Love Got To Do With It?” drifted out from the radio’s speakers. He cocked his head toward the radio. “Tina understands.”
“We’re friends.” Maybe if she forced herself to remember that, she could back away.
“Maybe more friends should fool around,” he said.
“Shane, I think—”
He cut her off by pressing his mouth to her lips, then took her with a kiss so long and deep, she was sure she was going to lose herself. He pulled away slowly, and she wanted to whimper from the lost contact. Her lips were full and tender, and she wanted his touch again.
“Don’t think,” he said as he cupped her breasts. “Undress me, El. We’re out here, under the sky. Let’s finish what we’ve started.”
Ella swallowed, but her fingers went to his jeans, fumbling with the button. What they’d started… They’d started fooling around. Hell, they’d started having sex. And even though she knew she ought to stop this right now, somehow she just couldn’t. Somehow she had to have Shane. Now. Tonight.
If she didn’t, this would always be hanging between them. Unfinished business. If she didn’t, she’d always wonder.
But honestly those were just excuses. The real reason was that she was flat-out, boiling-over horny. She wanted him inside her more than she could remember wanting anything before.
She drew in a breath, her whole body seeming to shake in anticipation. “Tonight doesn’t really feel real, does it?” she whispered. “It’s almost magical.”
He rolled her nipple between a thumb and forefinger as his other hand snaked down, teasing the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. Ella trembled under his touch and fought to keep her head clear. “There are always possibilities in the dark,” he said. “And with a blackout…” He trailed off, and she looked up to see his wicked smile.
“It’s like time has stopped,” she said. “And nothing that happens tonight really counts.”
She expected his easy agreement, but when it didn’t come, she turned away from his touch, suddenly feeling exposed and just a little too daring.
Behind her she heard Shane sigh. “Truth or dare, Ella?”
She blew out a long breath. This was going to happen. She wanted his touch, even if only for tonight. And if he asked her that, she’d tell him. “Truth.”
“We’ve known each other almost twenty years. You know everything there is to know about me. Except how I make love. Ever been curious?”
“I am now,” she admitted. “But we’re friends, Shane. Do we really want to change that?”
“Would it change that?”
“I—”
“It’s a dare between friends, Ella. Not some sleazy proposition.” He lifted his brows. “Unless you’re chicken.”
“I’m not chicken,” she said. “But—”
“Tell you what,” he said. “You ask. The ball’s in your court.”
“Me?” And then, when she realized what he meant, she nodded. She could walk away or she could take this forward.
As soon as they crossed the line, their relationship would change and there would be no going back. Was she willing to risk that?
But even as she asked herself the question, she had to acknowledge the tiny little voice in her head that pointed out that she’d already put everything between her and Shane on the line. And pulling back now wasn’t going to change that in the slightest.
When the day had started, she would have said there was no way she’d see this through, but now every atom in her body screamed that she had to at least try or else she’d just dissolve in a heap of goo. Might as well get this thing between them out in the open before she spent the rest of her life dancing around intimate topics with her best friend.
She drew in a breath, then met his eyes. “Truth or dare, Shane?”
He met her eyes, his own dancing with anticipation. “Dare.”
She drew in a breath, wanting it but still needing the courage to say it. And then quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “Make love to me, Shane. Here. Outside. With the world all around us.”
She held her breath, fearful in spite of everything between them tonight that she’d gone too far. But the smile that crossed his face told her everything she needed to know, and when he silently pulled her into his arms, she practically melted against him.
He was brilliant in the way he touched her body.
His mouth teased her lips, dancing from there to her ear and lightly playing over her
eyelids.
His hands stroked up to cup her bare breasts, his fingers finding her nipples and teasing them until she felt as though a strand of electricity had shot straight through her, connecting her nipples, her mouth and her clit.
Her body throbbed with need, and she shifted, spreading her legs to let him slide against her, his thigh pressed against her pubis. His hands slipped down, one gliding around to cup her rear.
She squirmed a bit, trying to increase the pressure of his thigh against her crotch. He shifted his leg, helping her out, and she just about melted with gratitude.
His lips grazed her ear, his soft breath on her tender flesh driving her wild. “Are you hot?” he whispered.
“Burning up,” she admitted.
“Be right back.”
And then he left her, and she was standing there outside, a gooey mass of lust and need. She cursed him softly, but he was back almost before the curse was out of her mouth.
“Where did you go?”
“The freezer. The ice hasn’t melted yet.”
“Shane, I meant I was hot. I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” he said, and there was such knowledge and raw maleness in his voice that she simply hushed up. “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice broaching no argument.
She did, her mind too fogged with desire to let her reconcile the Shane she knew with this aggressive, take-charge lover.
“Shane?”
“Shhh. Just wait.”
“Shane, I—oh!” Something cold and wet pressed against her belly, and she arched her back, feeling her rear press against the warm, solid metal that surrounded the fire escape.
“Wait, wait,” he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just relax.”
She tried to, tried to focus on nothing but the sensation of ice against her burning hot skin. Tried not to think of who might be watching and then tried to think of exactly that. She shivered from the possibility as much as from his touch, and so help her, she slipped her own hand between her thighs without thinking.
“None of that,” he whispered, pulling her hand away. “No taking the edge off. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”
She groaned in frustration, but the sound was cut short, lost in her throat as Shane got busy with the ice cube. He drew a line from her belly button up between her breasts with the ice, leaving a long, wet trail that his tongue lapped up. He traced circles on her breasts with the ice, slower and slower as he got closer and closer to her tight, puckered nipple.
She whimpered, then cried out as his mouth closed over her. Heat on cold on hot, hot flesh.
Dear Lord, he was driving her crazy. And doing things in such a short time that she’d never done before with anyone at all.
He spent serious time on her breasts, making sure she was completely on fire and that every square inch of flesh had been fully attended to by his tongue. Then he took the wet remains of the cube and trailed it back down her belly.
He didn’t slide the ice cube down between her legs, though. Just his hand, and the sensation of his chilled fingers sliding over her clit then slipping inside her until the digits were just as hot as she was just about drove her over the edge.
He slid his finger farther inside her, and she felt her body tighten around him, her hips thrusting against his hand, trying to urge him even deeper. He slipped out, and she moaned in protest, opening her eyes just long enough to see his little smile of satisfaction.
“Shane…”
He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. He thrust back inside her with two fingers, maybe three, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that he was filling her up and his thumb was flicking over her clit.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, her eyes closed.
“Soon,” he promised. His hands moved over her body, sure and possessive, as if they belonged there. As if she was his to do with whatever he wanted.
She lost herself, savoring the possibilities.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think. Just melted into him, her lips surrendering to his and her entire body longing to be kissed and touched just as thoroughly.
Their tongues danced together, his desperate heat consuming her. His hands were all over her, firing her body even more, though she never would have believed that was possible.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” he said, finally breaking the kiss. He urged them close to the candle and he inspected her in the flickering light, his finger tracing over her body.
He sank to his knees to continue the intimate inspection, then stopped when he got to the small scar on her lower belly, looking up at her with pain in his eyes. “I was so worried I’d lost you,” he said, his finger tracing the length of the scar.
“You didn’t lose me. You saved me.” They’d been driving through upstate New York the year they’d moved there, and she’d started to feel terrible. He’d insisted on finding a hospital and had headed back toward the nearest city despite her protests that she wanted to see the countryside. Because he’d been an unwavering bastard who hadn’t listened to a word she’d said, they’d been only five miles from the hospital when her appendix had burst.
He’d taken care of her then and all through her recovery. For that matter, she couldn’t remember a time and couldn’t imagine a future without Shane there watching out for her.
He didn’t answer, but he did press a soft kiss to the scar. A series of little shocks shot through her, and she gripped the railing to steady herself. Good thing, too, because she became decidedly less stable as his kisses dropped lower and lower.
He slipped his hands between her thighs and urged her legs apart and then slowly and sensually he laved her sex with his tongue. Ella’s knees went weak, and she was absolutely certain that if he didn’t stop, she was going to fall over, but she was just as certain that she might keel over and die if he did stop.
Except that wasn’t really what she wanted. No, as fabulous as his mouth against her was, those intimate kisses weren’t what she really wanted. She wanted—no, needed—this man inside her.
“Shane…” The voice that came out of her was weak like a kitten and full of protest.
He stopped and stood up, the expression on his face making it absolutely clear that he knew exactly what she wanted. She wasn’t surprised. They’d never had to use words where important things were concerned. Why would they start now?
“You’re sure?”
She didn’t answer with words, just reached again for the button on his jeans and started to fumble with it, finally getting it free, then starting to work on the zipper.
His hands closed over hers. “Better let me do that. I don’t want to injure anything important and you look a little shaky.”
“If I am, it’s your fault.”
“Good.”
He finished undressing and then he stood there, naked in front of her, hard and lean and so very ready.
He leaned down and pulled a condom packet from the back pocket of his jeans. She frowned, something striking her as off, but she couldn’t quite think what it was. For that matter, she couldn’t quite think…
“You’re sure about this?” he asked as he ripped open the condom.
“You already asked me that,” she said. She drew in a breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m sure. Don’t ask me again.”
SHANE WASN’T ABOUT TO ASK again. As soon as the question had slipped out of his mouth, he’d regretted it, fearing that she’d change her mind and shut the whole thing down.
That she hadn’t was a gift. And he had no intention of letting her take that gift back.
With one fluid motion he pulled her close, then moved them both around so that she was pressed up against the railing. He reached between her legs, thrilled by the wet heat he found there, and dammit all, he couldn’t wait.
He spread her legs, then grabbed her ass and lifted her up. She let out a startled little moan but didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs
around his waist. Then he slid into her, losing himself in her wet heat.
She grabbed his shoulders, her fingernails digging in, her body insisting without words that he pound harder, faster.
He didn’t argue. And he thrust into her again and again until, too soon, she cried out and thrashed against him. Her body tightened, milking him, and his own body exploded in response.
Moments later, she slid down him, and he sank, limp and sated, to the grating beside her, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms around her. They were on his jeans, the only barrier between them and the hard, rough iron. For Shane, though, they might as well have been on a lush bed surrounded by pillows. Anywhere that Ella was in his arms was heaven to him.
“That was nice,” she whispered.
“Very.”
“Do you think—” She cut herself off, burying her face against his chest as if she’d suddenly gone shy.
He laughed. “Do I think that anyone saw us? I don’t know.” He shifted, bringing his mouth as close to her ear as possible. “Maybe we should put on an encore performance.” He trailed a finger up her thigh, enjoying the way she stretched and mewled like a kitten. “You know, just in case someone out there missed our fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Isn’t that cheating? Stealing more than our fifteen minutes?”
“We took it pretty fast, El. I think between the two of us we should have another fifteen minutes of fame coming to us.”
She shifted, looking up at him with narrowed, amused eyes. “We did take it rather fast and furious, didn’t we?”
“I blame that on you, sweetheart. But I can take it slow now. As slow as you like.” As he spoke, he stroked his hand down, his palm cupping her sex and one finger slipping inside her heat. God, he was in heaven, living a fantasy. And the only thing that could make this moment better would be to make it permanent.
“You’re very persuasive,” she murmured, her voice thick.
“That I am.”
She rolled over into his arms then, her breasts pressed against his chest. He leaned in to kiss her, desperate for the feel of her mouth against his once again. He’d known for months that he wanted her, but he’d never imagined just how responsive—how hot—she would be in his arms. And he’d imagined some pretty red-hot moments…
