“You can go back to doing . . . whatever. You don’t need to keep bringing me food or fixing stuff out of guilt. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” Her voice had progressively thickened.
“Look, Lilliana, about the other night—”
“It’s okay, I get it. But, I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” Lilliana stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and sidled a few steps away. Tears had nearly bridged the dam, and her nose tickled, forcing her to sniff. She was a seriously ugly crier. “See you around.”
She ran-walked past the practice field and into the still-crowded street. The mood was jubilant, expectation weaving through the slowly moving crowd. Diametrically opposite to how she felt. She fought the sea of people to the other side of the road and ducked into the tree line, finally allowing the tears to escape.
* * *
Alec watched Lilliana run away. His heart was beating too fast, his knees embarrassingly shaky. The news had sent relief flooding through him. He’d imagined they would both celebrate the news, but instead Lilliana hadn’t sounded happy in the least.
She disappeared into the crowd, lost to him. This was better. She’d been thoroughly pissed last night, and he wasn’t sure if he could fix things, especially now that nothing bound them together. But, damn, he would miss her laugh, her smile, her tuneless humming while she worked, the way she took care of everyone around her—him included.
Hunter leaned against his tailgate with earbuds in and scrolled through his phone. A blue sedan turned into the parking lot, headlights brushing over the few people left mingling. Hunter glanced over his shoulder, but then straightened and popped the earbuds out. The car stopped behind Alec’s truck, and the driver got out. Hunter’s mother.
Alec strode toward the reunion of sorts, not sure if he needed to protect Hunter or encourage him to make things right. Indistinguishable voices carried.
When Hunter turned toward Alec, the headlights reflected Hunter’s joy. “Mom is off nightshift, Coach. She wants me to come home.” Hunter’s mom pressed a red bandana to each eye in turn. The tears appeared genuine enough.
“Is Bone-man still around?” Alec asked.
Hunter’s mom looked down and away. “James isn’t a bad man, Coach Grayson. You don’t know him. He’s helping me with the boys.”
Alec made a scoffing sound. “I’m not sure you need his kind of help.”
“You don’t have kids yet, but when you do you’ll understand.” Ms. Galloway was a tall, broad, handsome woman with soft eyes that reminded Alec of Hunter’s thoughtfulness, but the aggression in her stance was all Will. Alec imagined Ms. Galloway would go to war to protect her sons whether it was in their best interests or not.
“I’m not trying to steal him from you, Ms. Galloway. Hunter’s free to make his own decisions.”
She put an arm around Hunter, and even though he was several inches taller, he dropped his head and hugged her shoulders like a little kid. Hunter would choose his family above all else.
Worry pinged like a radar blip, but Alec walked over to his truck and grabbed Hunter’s duffle. “Head home with your mom.”
Alec tossed him the duffle, and Hunter made a one-handed grab. “I’ll be at Miss Lilliana’s in the morning to help with the tiling. I still need to pay you back.”
“You have my number, right?”
Hunter gave him a thumbs-up as he climbed into the passenger seat, chattering to his mom like he was getting picked up from camp. Long after their taillights disappeared, Alec stared into the night. Hunter would be okay. With his mother home, maybe Will would even straighten up. Doubt inserted itself like a deep splinter.
Time for things to get back to normal. He’d go home, make a sandwich, and watch ESPN.
He slipped behind the wheel and turned the key. The truck roared then settled into a soft growl. His house would be dark, lonely, silent. At one time, that’s all he craved, but things had fundamentally shifted inside of him.
“What ifs” scrolled. What if they didn’t make a clean break? What if her pregnancy scare was the beginning and not the end? What if he went to her without guilt or suspicions of ulterior motives coloring the situation?
Traffic was stop and go down Main Street. Horns honked and pedestrians walked up to cars and trucks for minutes-long conversations. Impatience had him tapping his foot and banging his head back against the headrest. Finally, he made the turn onto Lilliana’s street.
The lights were off. Not a promising portent. He took the porch steps two at a time and rang the doorbell. Nothing. He rapped hard on the door and waited. Movement shadowed on the other side of the stained glass.
The door cracked open. Her voice was husky. “What are you doing here, Alec?”
He shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous and at a loss for words. Moonlight streamed over his shoulder, touching her face. Her eyes and nose were red, her eyelashes spiky with tears. An answering lump formed in his throat, knowing in his core that he’d been the cause.
He clenched his hands, wanting to push inside. His gut told him once he was inside, everything would be fine, but he needed her to invite him inside her house, her heart. For the first time in a long time, he trusted his instincts.
“Lilliana, please let me apologize.”
“For what? I told you I’m not pregnant. You’re free to do whatever you want.” The door cracked open another inch and she leaned her head against the jamb.
He took a step closer, his shadow blocking the moonlight once more. “What if I want you?”
The door opened another inch. From the narrow vantage, he could see her hair was loose around her shoulders and she wore a tight red tank top, no bra, and man-style boxers. Her breasts were full and high and peaked against the chill of the late October evening.
“If you don’t want me too, I’ll go and won’t bother you again.” His voice echoed past her and through the entry, sounding stronger than the shaking of his hands would indicate. She was silent for too long and he took a step back, bracing himself for her rejection.
Her hand shot out, fisted in his shirt, and she yanked him forward. The momentum took him into her body. They stumbled into the entry together, and he closed the door with his foot.
He wound a hand around a thick, soft swath of her hair and brought them even closer. God, she was tiny yet voluptuous, abrasive yet sweet, sarcastic yet kind.
He wanted her to guide the moment. An eternity passed. Finally, slowly, she moved against him, sliding her hands up his chest. He gusted out a long breath as his heart raced against her fingertips.
Their bodies in tune, he leaned down as she came up on her toes. Her lips moved against his jaw, her whisper making him shiver. “I most definitely want you too.”
He tilted her face to his, using the hand in her hair, while his other arm banded around her waist, lifting her further. For a long moment, he kept them nose to nose, her inky eyes weaving a spell around him. Lit by a shaft of stained-glass colored moonlight, magic surrounded her.
A melancholy lurked on the edges of his desire, adding a bittersweet poignancy. Jumping from the safe outskirts of life into chaos, he kissed her. Her lips were soft and moved against his. She tasted of toothpaste, but the faint scent of cinnamon whiskey was on her breath.
He moved them to the staircase, setting her on the second step up, putting them at equal heights. Untangling his hand from her hair, he brushed fingertips from her temple to her neck, and then across her cheekbone to outline her lips.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
One of her hands dove into his hair, the other clutched him close around the shoulders, her breasts tight against his chest. He skimmed a hand over her ass, cupping a cheek and pressing her against his erection.
He lifted her off the step, and she circled her legs around his hips. While he climbed, she scattered kisses over his face and pulled at his shirt. He wanted to take things slow, but the pulse of his blood quickened his body, loosening the grasp on his self-control.
The diffused light from her lamp led him into her bedroom. He lay her on the bed, bracing his elbows on either side of head. Her hair spilled over the comforter like an ink stain, her lips curved in welcome, her eyes blazing.
“This is about you and me and nothing else, right?” she asked tentatively.
“Damn straight.”
Her legs clamped his hips even tighter, and he rocked his erection between her legs. She grabbed his biceps, her fingernails biting into his muscle. Her back arched and her neck bowed. It had been years since he’d chased pleasure, and now twice with Lilliana, the compulsion to bury himself inside of her was strong and undeniable. He canted his hips back, ready to rip his jeans down and her panties aside.
Her smile was uncertain and shy. Nothing like the woman who had kissed her way over his tattoos. The feelings tangling in his chest warred, aggression and tenderness, the need to claim and protect, conquer and surrender.
This would not be a quick fuck. She needed to know bone deep how gorgeous and sexy and sweet he found her. Searching for a measure of control, he nuzzled his face into her hair, laying kisses along the delicate cup of her ear. The faint flowery scent of her shampoo mixed with the smell of paints and turpentine.
Everything about the moment felt unique. Different. New. A strange premonition halted the grind of his erection against her core. His life teetered on a precipice of change. He had spent the last three years comfortable and safe but far from happy. Was change such a terrible thing?
Memories of broken trust and betrayals and abandonment hammered at him. The warm darkness of her eyes smothered his worries, and he leaned down to take her lips in a slow, mind-numbing kiss.
11
The intensity of his gaze stilled her, until his features blurred and her eyes closed at the touch of his lips. Their kiss was unrushed and exploratory. She slipped her tongue past his lips, seeking and rubbing. Passion and need bled into the moment like watercolors. She pulled his long-sleeved T-shirt up his torso, and he broke away long enough to rip it over his head and toss it aside.
Her breath caught. She traced her hands over his torso—one side beautifully inked, the other beautifully unblemished, both beautifully muscled. He skimmed a hand under her tank top, taking the cloth with him until it was bunched under her breasts, his fingertips caressing the undersides.
Although turnabout was certainly fair, she had no bra on, and once her tank was off, she would be wholly exposed. With the light on. Rearing back, he grasped her red top with both hands. Before he could whip it over her head, she scooched backward, reaching for the light. Her voice was airy. “Here, let me—”
He grabbed her hand and pushed it down, trapping her wrist. “Was I not clear last night how much I love your body? You’ve seen me. I want to see you.”
She tested the strength of his hold. Instead of tightening his grip, he let go of her wrist and thread his fingers through hers and squeezed. The sweet gesture undid her. She relaxed in his hold and nodded.
He peeled her shirt up and over her head. His gaze was transfixed like a typical red-blooded American male. She was used to it. When a teasing remark didn’t come immediately, she beat him to the barb. “My personal set of flotation devices. Amiright?”
His gaze shot to her face, his eyes narrowed, squashing her anemic smile into nothing. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”
She didn’t need to ask what he meant. With her mouth dry and her throat tight, she swallowed hard.
Instead of going straight for her breasts, he pressed his chest against hers, nuzzling her neck with his nose and lips. She closed her eyes and squirmed under him, his chest hair teasing her nipples. The soft denim of his jeans rasped her thighs, his erection pressed between her legs.
“Lilliana, sweet Lilliana. Kiss me.” Her name rolled off his tongue like honeyed magic, rough and sweet.
When he said her name like that, she would have jumped off the Tuckalachee Bridge if he’d asked. She aimed her mouth toward his but hit his jaw. The stubble teased her lips as she moved inexorably closer to her ultimate destination. Throughout her search, he stayed still, waiting, but when her lips met his, he groaned and took control. The intensity of the kiss obliterated logical thought.
He pressed her into the mattress with his big body, dominating her. Instead of feeling trapped or intimidated, her arousal grew with every passing second. His lips and tongue continued to seduce her. She couldn’t control her writhing hips or the soft gasps and moans. With every kiss, the bricks of her defenses crumbled. He had too much power over her, physically and emotionally.
She pushed at his chest. At first, he didn’t move. Not until she broke their kiss. With the few inches of freedom, she reached for the lamp and fumbled for the switch. The darkness gave her back a feeling of control, but it was short-lived. The moon was high and bright and her eyes adjusted quickly.
Alec turned to his back and propped himself up on pillows. She sat up, one arm over her breasts. Had she ruined the moment?
He shifted and grabbed her hips, rolling her over him and pushing her into a straddle over his stomach. His hands circled her torso between her waist and the curves of her breasts, his fingers caressing her back. She could made out the swirls of dark ink on his chest and could feel his gaze lick over her breasts like a physical touch. Her nipples tingled and grew painful.
He slid his hands higher, and her back arched, a soft begging sound escaping her throat. She leaned forward, her palms landing on his chest. Did he want her to beg? Was she that desperate?
“Alec, if you don’t touch me, I’m going to—”
With a jerk, he pulled her closer and flicked his tongue across her nipple.
“—die.” She barely recognized the husky moan as hers.
Sensation shot from her breast to between her legs. Her knees went soft. Her elbows trembled and threatened to crumple. Even as the pleasure washed through her, the frustration moved south.
Pressed against his bare stomach, her shorts felt damp. A tinge of embarrassment permeated the edges of her arousal, but when she tried to shift, the hands around her torso firmed and held her in place.
He cupped her breasts as his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking it hard and deep, his fingers plucking and rolling the unattended nipple. Most men viewed her breasts as their playthings, not as instruments for her pleasure.
The pressure coiling in her belly reached painlike proportions. He rolled her to her back, but instead of pressing her down with his body, he kissed his way south, pulling her boyish boxer shorts down her hips and tossing them away.
Alec continued his trek until the wet, soft touch of his tongue bucked her hips off the bed. Grabbing her thighs, he held her spread open. She’d never been with a man who acted as if her orgasm was paramount to his.
His tongue erased all of her self-consciousness. She pressed her feet flat on the bed and pushed against his mouth. She tried to mimic his play with her breasts, her pinches only providing an echo of the pleasure he’d provided.
Nonsense words rasped out of her mouth and into the darkness. She begged him to never stop and then to end to torture. In the light of day, her uninhibited response might embarrass her, but in the dark of night, she tugged on his hair, driving him even closer to her core. Finally, yet too soon, she splintered apart, shudders racking her body.
After kissing her inner thigh, he rose over her once more. Riding high on the endorphins and power of her climax, she pulled him in for a kiss, groaning into his mouth at the taste. She trailed her hands down his chest and fought his belt and zipper. Loosening them, she delved inside his boxer briefs.
The feel of him made her heart stutter once more. He thrust into her hand a few times before shifting to stand at the side of the bed and push his clothes off. He didn’t immediately return to her, but stood, circling his hand around the head of his erection.
Moonlight diffused through the room, but she didn’t hide this time. She left her legs spread wide, raised he
r hands over her head, and arched her back.
“Do you want me to embarrass myself like a teenager watching his favorite centerfold come to life?” His voice bordered on aggressive drawl, but a hint of humor lightened the tone to almost playful.
“I’m not some picture you can’t touch. I’m waiting and very willing.” She dropped a hand to glide through her slickened core.
He crawled to kneel between her legs. Something crackled. She popped up on her elbows to watch him roll a condom on. No mistakes this time.
“I wanted a turn to explore you,” she said.
“Darlin’, I wouldn’t make it five minutes with your hands on me.” His erection bobbed closer and her hips shifted instinctively to take him.
“What about my mouth?”
He flashed a strained smile. “I’d give myself less than thirty seconds in your mouth.”
“I’d like to see you lose control.” The last word emerged on a gasp as he entered her. The farther he pushed inside of her, the more intense her pleasure grew.
He knelt between her legs, staring where they joined and for the first time, she wished she’d left the light on. The sensations were overwhelming—the stretch, the friction, the push-pull of his hands on her body. He tightened his grip around her thighs and made the first driving thrust.
His head fell back with a guttural moan. Yet, instead of focusing on himself, he went to work, rubbing her with a singular goal. He thrust again, this time short and stabby. His hips bucked into her, almost as if he couldn’t help it. Between his short thrusts and the frantic rub of his fingers, he pushed her hard. The rush of her orgasm was a release from the pleasure-pain of the steep climb.
She said his name on a moan. As if a signal had been given, he dropped over her, his hands by her shoulders. His pace increased, the push into her body became deeper, harder. Pulses cascaded through her body. Whether it was the build to another orgasm or aftershocks, she didn’t have time to determine.
With one last thrust forward, he fell on top of her, his body shuddering. Her face was pressed into his damp shoulder, and she flicked her tongue against his skin. The salty smoothness made her wiggle, and his hips ground against hers. Lightning shot from between legs to her nipples.
Melting into You Page 13
