by Sami Lee
As she and Greg clinked glasses, Summer glanced beyond the man’s shoulder and saw Ty.
The glass halted halfway to her lips. He lounged against the pub wall, clutching a pool cue like it and the wall were the only things holding him up. A woman in a denim skirt grabbed another cue off a man Summer recognized as Aaron Sanderson and proceeded to bend over the pool table. As she lined up her shot, both men fairly craned their necks trying to improve their view of her backside.
Fury sizzled inside Summer. As usual, Ty Butler wasn’t nursing his wounds, crying in his wine the way Summer was. He knew how to move on faster than any person she knew.
“You should take lessons from that guy.” Summer gestured with her glass before downing three big gulps.
Greg turned to follow the line of her gaze. “Which one?”
“The one who moves faster than an express train.” Summer remembered all those years ago seeing Ty on a YouTube video, sporting a huge grin and a trophy. Out of nowhere some woman in a bikini kissed him—and he’d seemed to kiss back enthusiastically. She couldn’t believe he didn’t even remember that. “Doesn’t work with me?” Summer grumbled. “Any woman will do.”
Summer took another swallow from her glass, before Greg gently tried to extract it from her. “Maybe you’d better slow down on the wine.”
“I’m sick of being sensible. I’m sick of feeling responsible for everything. Why can’t I just do whatever I want and get away with it like other people?” Summer gestured in the general direction of the pool tables with her now empty hand. “Like him.”
“Okay, I think I’m starting to get the picture,” Greg drawled. “I wasn’t in with a chance, was I?”
“Poor Greg.” Summer pouted. “Poor me. I even feel responsible that you had a terrible time tonight. And now here I am, yammering about some other man I should be over. I should really be over him.”
“Since when is it ever that easy?” Greg extracted his wallet and put some money on the bar in front of Summer. “Take this in case you need it for a cab.”
“I have my own money.”
“Just take it.” Greg shoved it into her hand. “I’m the responsible type too.”
Summer smiled wryly. “You’re a very nice man, Greg Danvers.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before. I’m going to leave you and the two lovebirds.” He canted his head at his brother and Penny. “I don’t think I’m needed here. It was nice meeting you, Summer Campbell.”
Before he left he placed a quick kiss on her forehead, a sweet gesture that made Summer’s regret all the more acute. Why couldn’t she fall for some nice man like Greg, someone who’d respect her and be there for her? That’s what she needed in her life. Not hot hard sex with a ghost from her past who’d be gone again as soon as the wind changed direction.
Unfortunately, it had been hot hard sex with Ty Butler that she’d thought about all night while she should have been getting to know Greg. She’d thought about it when she’d gotten dressed in her sexiest black underwear, her breasts aching with the remembered sensation of Ty’s kneading and caressing hands. She’d thought about it when she’d impulsively dialed Jasmine’s mobile phone number, hoping to talk. Praying, in vain, for some sage sisterly advice.
Her call went to message bank, which Summer concluded was for the best. What could she have said anyway? Hey, Jasmine, remember Ty, that boy we both fell in love with once upon a time? He’s back in town and wants to have a quick, meaningless fling. What would you think about that? Is there a statute of limitation on going after your sister’s ex?
She couldn’t imagine that conversation would have gone smoothly. Summer and Jasmine never spoke about Ty, as though they both sensed their fragile relationship couldn’t withstand the destructive subject matter.
Summer’s gaze strayed to the other side of the pub. Her breath caught when she saw Ty watching her, his expression grim. The woman was bent over the table again, right in Ty’s line of sight. But while his companion was copping an eyeful, Ty was staring across the pub at Summer as though he was pissed off about something.
He was pissed off. What a jerk. Briefly checking that Penny was okay—she was still necking like crazy and happy to send Summer on her way—Summer squared her shoulders and headed for Ty. In her efforts to saunter like a cool, confident woman, she almost stumbled on her high heels. Damn shoes. The dress wasn’t helpful either, creeping up her thighs as she tried for long, smooth strides. She had to stop to tug the black material down.
She’d hoped to hide behind a couple swaying where there was no dance floor, but they moved aside and provided no cover. When she looked up, she found Ty staring at her. Here she’d been worried about exposing too much leg, not even realizing her bent-over pose gave him a direct view of her cleavage—such as it was. Furious once again, Summer straightened and stopped worrying about trying to perfect her walk. She strode toward him like a woman on a mission.
When she reached his side, she poked at his biceps with her finger. Ouch. “You son-of-a-bitch.”
Eyeing her sideways, Ty put a finger to his chest and raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“Who else? Cop an eyeful of this bimbo’s backside, did you?”
Over the offended protest of the woman who was apparently not out of earshot, Ty fired back, “Have fun smooching with your preppy-looking friend over there?”
“He kissed me once. On the head.” Summer pointed to her forehead for emphasis. “That how you’re planning to end your lovely evening with Miss Miniskirt?”
“You should talk.” Ty sneered at the length of leg her dress exposed, something feral and lascivious in the survey. “You dress this nice for all your dates?”
“I hardly date. I don’t see the point.”
“Oh?” He queried with exaggerated boredom. “Why’s that?”
“Because you ruined me for other men!”
Summer clamped her lips together. She was too inebriated to be as embarrassed as she should be, but clear-headed enough to be thankful for that. Ruined her for other men. What was she thinking, admitting something like that?
She turned to leave, but Ty’s hand clamped over her arm. He whirled her back to face him. His gaze bore into hers, all pretense of disinterest gone. “What did you say?”
What was the point in trying to deny it now? “I’ve never felt about anyone again the way I felt about you.” The way I feel, Summer thought, relieved she’d had the presence of mind to speak in the past tense. “Sexually speaking. And it’s really cramping my style.”
Ty’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His gaze didn’t waver, and his hand on her arm was a hot brand. Summer was trapped, but as had been the case this morning, her prevailing response was to be massively turned on.
When he at last spoke, Ty’s voice was raspy. “What do you expect me to do with that, Summer?”
Summer stepped closer, courting danger as she hadn’t done in a decade. She held his gaze. “I expect you to take advantage of the fact I’m too drunk to be responsible. Take me home, Ty, before I come to my senses.”
“Where do you live?”
The air outside the pub hit Ty in the face, sobering him enough that he realized he had no idea where he was going. He acknowledged also that he might have been close to ripping Summer’s arm out of its socket in his haste to act on her suggestion to take her home.
With effort, he loosened his grip on her small hand, tried to relax his muscles. Looking at her, he repeated more gently, “Where do you live?”
Summer appeared a little shell-shocked. By her own behavior or his, Ty could not say. Maybe the fresh air had had a sobering effect on her too. Ty prayed not. The last thing he wanted was for Summer to wise up and realize she was acting out of character.
But she didn’t take back what she’d said, gesturing with her hand in the general direction of west. “A few blocks that way.”
“A few? As in three or four?”
“Three and a half.”
Three and a hal
f blocks. He wasn’t going to make it. Even the movement of her arm was sexy because it made that draping black material of her dress shift against her breasts. The spaghetti-thin straps gave away that she wasn’t wearing a bra—unless it was a barely there, strapless one. Ty didn’t know which possibility made him hotter.
Three and a half blocks. He wasn’t going to make it.
You’re not going to make it standing here with your dick in the wind.
Ty started up the street, all but dragging Summer with him. Her heels made hurried, clickety-clack sounds on the pavement as she struggled to match his pace. Her voice was breathless. “Slow down, will you?”
“No. You keep up,” Ty countered. “If I don’t get you alone soon, I’m going to end up with another ticket for indecent exposure on my record.”
“Another one?”
Ty smirked. “Is that a note of jealousy I hear in your voice?”
“Jealous of your fair-weather fuck buddies? Hardly.”
It was the first time Ty could ever remember hearing her swear, and he realized Summer was really pissed at him. For making her want something she didn’t want to want? Or for ruining her for other men? He couldn’t help the smile that spread at the memory of those words, even knowing he must look like a smug bastard. She wanted him, not that good-looking douchebag he’d seen her with, and there was something inherently satisfying in knowing he was her preference. First place was always an improvement on second, and it was a damn sight better than rotten cheese.
As they entered the apartment complex that Summer indicated as hers, Ty tugged on her hand until she faced him. “Is this really how you want to do this, Sum?”
“Do what?”
“I can have sex angry, if that’s how you like it. Do you?”
“I’ve never done it like that.” She averted her gaze quickly, searching in her little black evening bag for her keys. “I’ve never done it on the beach or against a wall. I’ve certainly never gotten indecent-exposure warnings or even a disapproving stare from anyone. Apparently I’m as boring as they come.”
Ty thought about how this woman had had him in a state of perpetual stimulation for most of past week and burst out laughing. Summer shot him a look, and in the illumination cast by a nearby street lamp, he saw her eyes were shiny.
The reality that she was close to tears killed the laughter in Ty’s throat. “Sum?”
She didn’t answer him. Whirling on her spike heel, she inserted a key into the lock on unit number two and pushed open the door. When she strode inside, Ty followed her. “Summer, talk to me.”
“I’m sick of talking!” She spun back to face him. Ty saw the sheen was still there in her dark eyes, but her expression was all fury and frustration. “I talk or think everything to death. I don’t want to think about this right now. I don’t want to weigh up the pros and cons because I know it’s all going to be con. But I don’t want to change my mind. I just want you to treat me like I’m one of your other girlfriends and do me.”
There was a loud thump as Summer threw her purse on the floor. Then she grabbed the hem of her dress and dragged the material up and over her body. The action mussed her perfectly straight hair, static electricity causing it to fan around her shoulders like a living thing. The ends fell to the very tops of her breasts. Ty’s gaze followed. Barely there, strapless and black. He saw the circles of her areola peeking over the top of the miniscule bra and his knees almost buckled.
Words, too numerous to name, clogged Ty’s throat. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t like any of his past girlfriends. He wanted to say that the two of them finally having sex did not warrant a spot on the “con” list. He wanted to apologize for causing that shimmer to appear in her pretty eyes. But he could do none of those things because the words do me kept reverberating in his head. Those two little words and the sight of Summer standing there in wispy black-lace underwear and a pair of high heels became Ty’s whole world.
He saw the second her confidence started to slip away and realized he’d stared at her without acting for too long. In a rush of movement, Ty stepped forward and grabbed her up against him. Her lips were parted in a tempting little O, hard and fast breaths coming out of them. Ty speared a hand through her silken hair, tilted her head back and kissed her.
She sighed her pleasure and opened for him. The years melted away, and Ty was once again nineteen years old, in that car parked on Wattle Street, lost in the girl he’d never dreamed he could touch. Every single one of his favorite sex fantasies over the years began and ended with that moment, that girl.
This woman. She was really here, in his arms, writhing against him, wanting him as much as he wanted her. And this time there was nothing stopping them. The truth of it made his cock spasm in his jeans. Grasping her bottom, Ty lifted Summer until her legs wrapped around his waist. Then he carried her toward the couch because no way were his knees strong enough for upright sex.
She dropped onto the soft white cushions with a plop, her hair fanning around her face. It was such a beautiful sight, all that brown skin and black lace against the white couch, that the ache in Ty’s cock moved to his chest, squeezing like a vise. Better not to look. If he kept looking at her, he might suffer an embarrassing premature incident.
Lowering himself onto her, Ty took her lips. He’d intended to be skilled and persuasive, but the second their mouths made contact, Summer thrust her fingers through his hair and threw herself into the kiss with such commitment Ty could do nothing but respond in kind. He plundered her mouth—she countered by biting his lower lip. He ground his hips into hers—she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and ground back. He found her breast and cupped it, slipping one taut nipple out of the lace so he could stroke it. She reached between their bodies and started yanking at his shirt buttons.
Her capable hands stroking over the bared skin of his chest was like a fire trail. It blazed straight to his already overheated groin and made hot precome leak from his dick. Slow the fuck down, Butler. Ty was aware somewhere in his rum-and-sex-addled brain that a ten-year wait called for a more leisurely execution than this. No way was he going to come in his pants before he could even get inside Summer’s body.
“Too fast, Sum,” he said between ravaging kisses.
“It’s good. Fast is better. Don’t stop.”
Whatever the lady wants. With a groan Ty acquiesced to her breathless command. He moved down her body, until his trigger-happy dick was separated from the temptation of Summer’s grinding hips and his face was in line with her chest. Ravenous for the taste of her, he took her bared breast into his mouth, sucking hard on the tip until she cried out.
“Oh, yes. Oh, God, that’s…”
Whatever descriptor she’d been about to use trailed off when Ty moved his attention to her other breast and gave it the same treatment. Her legs clamped his waist, her hips gyrating so her pussy scraped his stomach. Every muscle there bunched tight with need when he felt that heat and dampness against him. Ty extracted himself from her twining limbs enough so he could rip open the fly of his jeans. His aching cock thrust out. She was so close. All he had to do was tug her panties aside and…
“Hurry. I want you now.”
Ordinarily such a breathy demand would have been music to Ty’s ears. But it wasn’t the first time Summer had indicated she was all about the end goal when it came to this encounter. Faster is better, she’d said. He’d never met a woman who actually believed that.
A horrifying thought filtered into his brain. Did Summer want to get this over with?
Sensing his hesitation, Summer asked, “What’s wrong?”
Ty looked into her face. “You tell me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” She smiled seductively and reached down to cup his erection in her hand. Ty’s blood surged like a pending volcanic eruption. “I’m aroused, and I want to have sex.”
If it weren’t for the note of surprise in her voice, Ty would have been happy with that. Instead he frowned. Not that he
particularly liked the idea of Summer enjoying herself with other men, but the alternative was much more disconcerting. “Don’t you usually want sex?”
“I don’t have much success with it, that’s all. This feels different.”
It felt fucking amazing. She continued to stroke his cock in a slow up-and-down movement. Ty realized he was thrusting into her touch, getting a hand job that was going to make him blow any second. He was going to come all over her when she might not even…
“Shit. Stop. God.” With all the willpower he possessed, Ty managed to grasp Summer’s wrist and move her hand to the couch above her head. Ty looked into her face, saw the bewilderment and lingering desire there and had to struggle to find the words he was trying to say. “Sum, are you saying you don’t enjoy sex?”
The fraction of a second delay and her blank expression gave away the truth. “I like it.”
“But you don’t love it.” How could anyone not love sex? Ty searched his mind for an answer. “You don’t always come—is that it?”
She avoided his eyes, looking at the ceiling somewhere past his shoulder. “Something like that.”
“Oh sweet Jesus, Sum.” Ty grew chilled at the realization. “You’ve never had an orgasm during sex, have you?”
“You don’t have to say it like that.” Summer returned her gaze to his and scowled. “Like you’re annoyed about it or something.”
“I am annoyed.” And so edgy with pent-up sexual need that every word came out clipped. “You were married for years. What the fuck was that guy doing?”
“I don’t want to talk about my husband with you. It wasn’t about him.”
“Don’t defend him.” Ty didn’t think he could stand that right now, when he was so filled with contempt for the man who’d stolen what should have been Ty’s—Summer’s innocence. He’d taken it and hadn’t even bothered to work out how to give her the pleasure she deserved in return.
