by Julie Kenner
Which, as it happened, was how she felt now that he’d returned to suckling on her fingers, the gentle pressure igniting a live wire that seemed to spread throughout her entire body. She moaned and strained against the silky bonds, not wanting to be free so much as wanting to touch him back.
He made a soft noise, gently chastising her, then continued to explore every inch of her with his mouth. Everywhere his lips touched, her body seemed to catch fire, and she shimmied on the bed, desperate for his hands to slip between her legs—desperate even just to close her thighs together tight and squeeze, but she couldn’t. She was wide open and at his mercy, and that only turned her on all the more.
She was just about to beg when she felt the weight on the bed change and his lips lift from her skin. Then his knees pressed on either side of her as he slid down, repositioning himself over her. She made a soft sound of surprise mixed with hope and then lifted her hips off the bed, embarrassingly needy but really not caring. She could feel him right there, his cock pressed against her, the teasing pressure making her even more wet. She jerked, a spastic reaction, desperate to draw him inside her.
And Shane, bless the man, understood. With one quick thrust he entered her, groaning with pleasure as he did. And now, with her best friend deep inside her, she could only think that this was like something out of an erotic fantasy. Actually it was her erotic fantasy.
The thought sent a wild trill of pleasure coursing through her body, and she arched her hips, wanting more of this man who was her fantasy come to life. In her whole life she’d never acted on her fantasies. But now she was. They could make love all night, take each other in ways she’d only imagined. She could tell him all her fantasies—the ones she could never tell Tony but just her best friend—and he could make them a reality.
Dear Lord, he was making them a reality.
The ability to think faded as they moved together rhythmically, her body arching up to meet his, his kisses wild and hot. And only one coherent thought edged through her addled brain as the orgasm whisked her away: they fit.
Hell, they always had.
She should have known they’d fit together so well as lovers. It should have been obvious.
Instead she’d been swept away by a delicious surprise. And for the moment, at least, she couldn’t have been happier.
“WE SHOULD SLEEP,” SHANE said as he gently untied the scarves that bound her.
Ella shook her head. Every minute they slept was a minute they lost together. And she couldn’t bear to lose even a second. “Do you really want to sleep?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want you to think I was a sex fiend or something.”
She laughed and rolled over to snuggle against him, relishing the warmth of his skin and the musky scent of sex. “Too late.”
“You’re not sore?”
“A little. But I like it. I feel taken.”
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her, his expression a bit more serious than she would have expected. “Have I taken you away?”
“Of course,” she said. “You’ve taken me places I’ve never been before.” An honest answer, but somehow she had the feeling she hadn’t really answered his question. And it wasn’t a question she wanted to examine too closely because she didn’t want to go where it could lead—to Tony.
The truth was she felt totally at ease with Shane. Happy and comfortable hanging out or having sex or even being tied up and totally vulnerable. She’d never felt that way with Tony. Never felt as though if she didn’t touch him or he didn’t touch her, she might die.
With Tony she’d never really felt drawn to sex. To his life, yes, but not to sex. And that little tidbit of reality made her sad. Sex wasn’t the sum total of a relationship, of course. And passion faded, she knew that. Sex wasn’t what made a stable marriage or even a happy one.
She couldn’t help but want that wildness and she had it right now with Shane.
She wanted to hang on to that feeling for as long as she could. Wanted to keep him with her and draw every memory she could from this day, because soon he’d be going to Texas and she’d be going back to Tony and everything would return to normal. More or less, anyway.
“Ella?” He stroked a finger down her cheekbone. “Have I lost you?”
She shook her head, hoping to push the melancholy away. “I was just thinking about how different you are tonight.”
“This is me, Ella. This is the same me who’s been beside you all your life.”
“Then I wonder if that ‘same me’ would like to play out another little fantasy of mine,” she teased. “You brought up the piece about the photographs, but there’s another one that’s always intrigued me. I told you about it once. Do you remember?”
“The mysterious stranger,” Shane said with a nod. “Yeah. I, um, brought a modern-day version of that story, too. For your paper, I mean.”
“Yeah?” She smiled, intrigued. The end result of his reading of the photographer’s story had been more than satisfactory. “Maybe we should read it. You know, chalk it up to studying?”
The scenario was common in erotica, but it was still one of her favorites: a woman, possibly married, frustrated with her current situation. She’d never cheat, but when faced with a mysterious stranger—
She realized with a start that, tonight at least, Shane had been as mysterious as any stranger. A Shane she barely knew had come to her and taken her to bed.
“You want me to play the dark, sexy stranger?” he asked.
She grinned. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing tonight?”
He shook his head, the hardness in his face surprising her. “No.” He said the word with such force, she scooted back a bit.
Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. This time he spoke more softly, but he said the same thing. “No.”
“Shane?” Something had pushed a button, but she wasn’t sure what.
“I don’t want to be a stranger to you, Ella. Not even pretend. Everything we’ve done tonight, we’ve done with our eyes open.”
“I…” She trailed off, suddenly flustered, the veneer of fantasy starting to crack around her. “I mean, sure. Of course.”
He shook his head, and she could see the frustration roll off him in waves. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I didn’t mean to snap. And I know just the way to lighten the mood.”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s play a game.”
“A game?”
“Trust me,” he said. Then he smiled mischievously. “We’re playing Strip Go Fish.”
“Strip Go Fish,” she repeated, unable to hide her amusement. “But we’re already naked.”
He rolled over to the edge of the bed and tossed her clothes toward her. “Put them on,” he said. “And then we can get naked all over again.”
11
THEY LAY SPOONED TOGETHER, the Go Fish game having only stripped them both of their shirts. After that Shane hadn’t been able to stand it any longer. He’d pulled her knit pants off, seen that she hadn’t bothered with panties and slid into her while she’d been on her hands and knees.
He could still feel the way her breasts felt in the palms of his hands as he’d thrust, the soft curves of her ass pressing against him as he lost himself deep inside her. He’d come hard and fast, and so help him, he was ready to go again.
With Ella he always seemed to be ready to go again.
“What are you thinking?” she murmured, snuggling up closer.
He told her and she laughed. “You’re insatiable,” she said.
“Apparently so,” he said. In the background, “You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like That” played, and Shane let the words flow over him, one thought pounding through his head—he and Ella had to figure out a way to make this last, because he couldn’t bear to be just friends. She’d kissed him “like that,” and he damn sure hoped she’d meant it. Because in his mind she was his. And no matter what, he intended to claim her.
“I think it’s my turn,” she whispered, her voice playful.
She rolled him over onto his back and straddled him, her fingers trailing over his abdomen, her rear right above his cock so that she rubbed against him when she moved, making him hard all over again.
He reached up, rubbing her stomach, her breasts, moving his hands to span her waist. Had he already done it? Had he already claimed her? Surely he must have. How could she be this free with him otherwise? How could they be so intimate if she simply planned to call a halt when he went back to Texas?
The thought cheered him, but he couldn’t analyze it too closely because she lifted her hips and, with a cry of pleasure, impaled herself on him. And then, of course, he could think of nothing except the woman on top of him and the way she was riding him, drawing him out, urging the universe to explode, with him right there in the center of it.
ELLA HAD COLLAPSED AGAINST Shane, totally spent, totally sore and totally satisfied. Now her thoughts drifted as he breathed deeply in sleep beside her.
She’d called the shots that last time, taking charge and riding him to an orgasm that had just about shattered them both. And once again she was struck by how she’d never done anything like that with Tony. They’d tried, actually, but they just didn’t quite fit, and somehow they always ended up with her on her back and him thrusting from above her. Nice enough but not like this. With Shane it was just…wow.
More thoughts of Tony filled her mind, along with a deep guilt. She eased off Shane and rolled over, snuggling up against him. His arm went around her automatically, and she welcomed it, taking comfort from his touch even though he was the reason she felt uncomfortable in the first place.
The truth was, there had to be something missing in her relationship with Tony. And something more than just sex. She wasn’t the cheating type. She’d never cheated on a boyfriend—well, not before tonight—and the thought had never even entered her mind.
But with Shane they’d practically fallen into it. Of course, she’d been primed by that little fantasy in the library. And the night had been perfect for seduction. First the fancy candlelight dinner, then the blackout and even more candles since her flashlights had gone AWOL. And then—
Wait just a minute!
She turned over, sitting up with a start as the realization hit. Shane had known exactly where to find flashlights when Marjorie had come over. And he’d had a condom in his back pocket—not in his wallet, just loose in his pocket. And the candlelight dinner. And the erotica selections he’d just happened to bring.
She’d been an idiot not to notice before. They hadn’t fallen in together as she’d thought. No, she’d been pushed—and hard—by Shane.
Dear Lord. He’d tricked her. Manipulated her. He was her best friend and yet he’d actually had the balls to do that to her.
Everything she’d thought she knew seemed to shatter, and she rolled onto her side, moving away from the heat of Shane’s naked body beside her. With a frown she reached for her robe, suddenly wanting to be covered up. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and stood up, haphazardly knotting the belt as she made her way into the bathroom.
The one candle they’d set up in there still burned, and she closed the door behind her, then slid down the door until her legs were pulled up in front of her and she could press her forehead against her knees.
He’d lied to her.
This evening hadn’t just happened. It hadn’t been just a case of two friends sparking together. The whole evening had been a full-fledged, all-out assault. The romantic dinner, the erotica open to all the right pages, the hidden flashlights to force the candlelight issue. Hell, if she didn’t know better, she’d say that Shane had engineered the blackout. Instead he’d just gotten supremely lucky.
She closed her eyes at the poor choice of words. He’d gotten lucky, all right. And if she was being fair, she had to admit that she’d enjoyed it. No, it was more than enjoyed. He’d absolutely, totally blown her away.
But she never—ever—would have slept with Shane under normal circumstances. He’d stacked the deck. And while that might be flattering if she were unattached, the fact was that he’d done it knowing full well that she was about to be engaged to another man.
She felt like a total slut.
And Shane? Well, at the moment he was the biggest jerk she knew.
Shane was sound asleep, and at the moment she really didn’t want to wake him up. She couldn’t deal with talking to him right now. For that matter, she really couldn’t deal with anything.
She felt itchy, dirty and uncomfortable in her own skin.
She stood up and wandered through the apartment, finally grabbing the box that held her loose photographs. She took it, then headed back into the bathroom, the only place where she could really have any privacy.
An hour before, she couldn’t imagine Shane leaving, now she wanted him gone. She needed him at a safe distance so she could get her head clear. But he was in her bed, and she was stuck in the bathroom. Thank goodness he was flying out in a couple days. He’d be gone and she’d be left with Tony.
And that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Of course it was.
She started the water running in the tub, then got in when it was only half-full. She soaped up completely, overcome with the need to be totally clean. Then she lay back and stared at the ceiling.
After that got old—her thoughts were too wild and she really didn’t want to think about anything too deeply—she reached for her towel and dried her hands, then sat up. She’d put the box on the little table near the tub and now she pulled out the photos one by one. She held them up, careful not to get them wet, and examined each in turn. Pictures of Tony and Leah and Matty. Tony’s dad and mom on a picnic. And even Shane’s earlier accusation—that she was marrying the family, not Tony—couldn’t take away the strong family ties the photos conveyed.
“Bastard,” she whispered, then grabbed a bottle of shampoo and hurled it at the door. Plastic, it merely banged against the wood then dropped harmlessly to the floor. A bit unsatisfying, but it wasn’t shampoo she wanted to break, it was Shane’s conniving head.
He’d been playing her even though he knew how happy she was with Tony. Knew how much she wanted a family and how thrilled she was to have one with a man she loved. Why on earth would her best friend try to screw her over? Try to mess with her mind—not to mention her body—the way Shane had?
It wasn’t fair, and right at the moment she hated him for it.
SHANE ROLLED OVER, ONLY half-asleep. His body was limp with exhaustion, but at the same time he felt more alive and more full of energy than he could ever remember feeling. Ella had that effect on him. Just being around her was like a shot of energy to him. Being inside her was like…
Well, it was like mainlining caffeine while drinking champagne. Which really made no sense, he realized, but since he wasn’t even really awake yet, he didn’t care.
Ella would get a kick out of it, though, especially with her Starbucks addiction and love of bubbly.
He rolled over to tell her, only to realize she wasn’t there. In fact, the spot next to him was cool—or as cool as could be expected without air-conditioning.
He ran his fingers through his hair and sat up, his head spinning slightly. He must have dozed off after all. Which was fine, except that he’d wanted to wake up in Ella’s arms. For that matter, he’d wanted never to leave her arms again.
She was, of course, in the bathroom. That was one of the benefits of a tiny apartment—you always knew where your housemate was. And he headed over and tapped softly at the door. No answer. He tapped again. “Ella.”
“Do you need in here?”
He cocked his head, examining the wooden door. That wasn’t the answer or the tone he’d been expecting. “No, I’m fine. Are you fine?”
No answer, and he didn’t like the way the silence sounded.
He twisted the knob without hesitation, thinking that she was sick and that he had t
o get in there and take care of her, but then stopped and called, “El, come on, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
“I’m not your sweetheart, Shane,” she said, her voice lower and sadder than he could ever remember hearing. “And pretty much everything is wrong. So just go away for a bit, okay. I want to think.”
Well, shit.
He turned around, looking back at the bed, all rumpled and inviting. For a few hours there everything had been perfect, and he wasn’t willing to let go of that. He sure as hell wasn’t letting go without a fight.
“Ella,” he called again. “Come on out. We need to talk.”
“We damn sure do,” came the reply. And then nothing. He waited for the knob to turn, but it never did.
“Ella!”
Nothing.
He knocked on the door, but still nothing.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he turned a slow circle, looking at the apartment in the dim glow of the few remaining candles and the sun, which was just beginning to rise outside the windows. Dammit all, she might be his best friend and the love of his life—his soul mate, even—but she could drive him crazy faster than any person he knew.
“El?” He tried one last time. “Come out now and let’s talk. Whatever’s bugging you, this isn’t the way to deal with it.”
“Whatever’s bugging me?” she repeated. “Believe me, Shane. I’m well justified in being bugged. I’m even justified in being totally, completely, one hundred percent pissed off. And if anyone should know that, it’s you.”
He was reaching the end of his temper. Whatever issue she had, it had to have stemmed from their extracurricular activities this evening. Which meant that she was just as complicit as he was, and he wasn’t about to just sit there and let her sulk about some imagined injury inflicted by him.
He lifted his hand to pound on the door, not expecting to be let in but just wanting to get her attention. But really, what was the point? She wasn’t going to open the door, and he wasn’t inclined to argue through a one-inch-thick piece of wood.
