Lime Ricky (Romantic Suspense)

by Jill Winters

  "And who's going to distract me from how cocky you are?" Gretchen teased.

  "Moi? Cocky?"

  "You are cocky as hell" she said with a laugh.

  He pretended to weigh that, then feigned confusion. "You know, I don't see it." As he pulled her in tighter, his full erection rubbed against her opening through the warm water. She sighed breathlessly and tilted her hips back to press against him, felt herself begin to pulse, to throb. "Is this what you meant by cocky?" he said, whispering the words right in her ear, sending whorls of heat fluttering between her legs.

  "Tell me my bad points," Rick said softly. "You know, since we've already covered my good ones." On the face of it, he was teasing, but there seemed to be seriousness underlying his words. As if he didn't want to blow this—that this was somehow too good, but he'd hold on anyway—which was funny, because that was exactly how she felt.

  But he was wrong about one thing: They hadn't remotely covered his good points. He had so many that went beyond the surface, that were hard for her even to put into words, but that she simply felt whenever she was with him.

  Still... he'd asked a question, so she might as well take advantage of the opportunity. "Well... you can be kind of sexist," she offered tentatively, sitting forward so she could turn her head and look at him.

  "Me? Sexist?" he said, surprised. "Really? Doesn't sound like me."

  "Oh, you know," she explained, "with your 'girlie' this and 'girlie' that."

  "Ohh," he said, nodding. "Okay. I'll work on that. What else?"

  Biting her lip, Gretchen had trouble suppressing a smile; he was just so damn cute. "C'mere," he said—commanded really—his voice low and serious, as he slid his arms around her belly and pulled her close again. A thrill shivered through her even as she was reminded of another point.

  "You're a little bossy, too," she noted, then smiled sweetly. "And stubborn."

  "Right, strong. We've covered that."

  "We have?"

  "The whole furniture-moving thing?"

  "Oh," she said with a wisp of a laugh. "True, but strong and stubborn are not the same thing," she argued.

  He shrugged. "It's all in the same ballpark."

  "Fine, but bossy is in a different ballpark," she maintained. "Okay, I'm kinda bossy," he conceded. "Is that all? Anything else?" He said it like he just wanted to make sure he was getting all of it—like he was clarifying.

  "Actually, I don't even mind it," Gretchen admitted with a warm smile. "Though I have a feeling I'm gonna have to keep you in line."

  "Oh, you'll definitely have to keep me in line," he said with a rough laugh. Like he was thinking: jeez, is that all?

  As Gretchen leaned in to kiss him, she thought of one more thing. "And the kind of, uh, blunt expressions you use at times maybe you could soften those a bit?"

  "Boy, you're just full of grievances tonight," he said, eyeing her mischievously, and she giggled. Then he covered her mouth with his, kissing her softly, tenderly.

  When they finally pulled apart, Gretchen's lips moved to the curve of his neck and she sighed against his skin. "Oh, Rick... I didn't mean any of it. I don't want you to change a thing."

  He ran a hand up her back, then into her hair, urging her to look up at him. When her eyes met his, their gaze held. As he studied her, his expression darkened. He looked pensive, romantic, and then slowly it changed. An amused sparkle appeared in his eyes. Curving his mouth into a sexy grin, he said, "Thanks, I'm glad to hear that. So what now—should we bang?"

  With a startled laugh, Gretchen shoved his chest in exasperation.

  He knew damn well that bang was one of his "uh, blunt expressions" that needed work.

  Rick burst out laughing and pulled her tighter. "Oh, I'm just messing with you, baby," he said, his voice low again, but gentle now—so she turned her body, rose up, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and straddled him. He looked so boyishly cute, almost innocent the way a lock of his black hair was dipping onto his forehead, the rest messy and half wet, and his dark eyes glittering as they searched hers.

  "And in answer to your question," she said, and pressed her hips down, almost sliding him inside her. "Yes." With a groan, he pulled her tighter, and she sighed and melded her mouth with his, and both of them tried not to drown.

  Epilogue

  Two months later Rick and Gretchen were at Rick's house in Maine. Brett had relinquished his half, selling it to Rick at a much lower price than Rick had expected. It was a kind of thanks for all that Rick had done and maybe an unspoken truce between them. Rick always said it was the second-best thing he'd gotten that year Gretchen was the first. (He was so sweet like that.)

  Things weren't quite as peachy for Brett these days. Though he tried to twist the publicity from his arrest into a good thing, rumors of his salacious relationship with Misty and the notion that he'd withheld information from the police regarding her death had tarnished his image. His shadiness lost him a lot of fans... but gained him a slew of new ones. (People were such sick fucks.)

  But for all intents and purposes, Brett was still on top. He still had his Madison Avenue apartment and his Hawaiian bodyguard, who kept the paparazzi and gossip columnists at bay. Soon it would die down. Like every other kind of chaos, it would eventually level out.

  Just like work—which was consuming these days, but better now that Shawnee had returned to Massachusetts. Meanwhile Susanna was more anxious than ever with her new show, Dining Elegance, going into production, so she still leaned heavily on Gretchen, but it was all just part of the job—a job she loved. Dana had been lucky, too, landing a position at a beautiful day care center on the West Side, with her weekends and nights still free for auditions.

  "Holy Christ, is this damn thing done yet?" Rick said now, waving his stick in the air. He was lying on his back on the bearskin rug right by the fire, while they made s'mores indoors. A favorite pastime of Gretchen's when she was growing up, it was so much better when she shared it with someone. "I can't believe it's April and we're sitting by a fire," he added.

  "But it's fun, right?"

  He quirked his mouth. "Yeah, it's fun." Bit by bit, Rick was acquiescing, trying her way of patience with determination when it came to cooking his marshmallows, but it was killing him. She could tell he was still just dying to char it black and then slap it on a graham cracker.

  "A little patience, please," she said now, smiling sweetly, knowing it would only frustrate him more. Then she leaned down to place soft kisses on his cheek. "Good, you're learning," she murmured teasingly. "Soon you'll have it..."

  His arm came up and slid from her neck, down her back, to her waist—and suddenly she was pulled forward and rolled over onto her back, and Rick was kissing her deeply, passionately, with a savage appetite. She moaned softly and melded into the kiss, folding her mouth over his, gently sucking his tongue, which slid in and out with lazy sensuality. What happened to his marshmallow stick? He must've dropped it. But neither of them really cared as they rolled again, and Gretchen was lying on top of him, looking into his flickering blue eyes. Straddling him, she could feel him hard beneath his jeans and she pressed into him. "C'mere," he said huskily, reaching up to cup her neck and pulling her down for another kiss. It was soft and gentle—lingering—and his breath brushed against her lips when he said, "I love you."

  Her heart jumped at the words. She'd thought she'd heard him mumble them a few times during sex, but neither of them had ever addressed it. But now Rick was telling her straight out and she knew with every ounce of her soul—

  "I love you, too," she whispered, and he kissed her again.

  A breathy, blissful sigh spilled from her, feathered his lips, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held on, freezing this moment, savoring it. It hadn't been the requisite four months yet, but... maybe he'd get his key lime pie a little early. She couldn't help it; when it came right down to it she was just a softie.

  His kisses went on slowly, tenderly, like he was luxuriating in a
nd absorbing the feel of her, the taste of her—but in his arms, she was combustible.

  She slid her tongue down his neck, running her mouth over his bare chest and lower, until she got to his fly. Teasingly, she rubbed her cheek against the hard bulge in his pants, until he groaned, "Unzip me," and she did. He wrapped her hair through his fingers, holding her in place. There was something arousing in his grip, the intensity, the authority, because it was Rick and she knew how kind and gentle his heart was. And the sight of him naked and erect, jutting before her, so close to her mouth, undid her.

  Leaning forward a fraction, she wrapped her lips around his cock, and when she sucked it deep into her mouth, she ran her tongue around, stroking him as he was inside her. With a deep groan, he tightened his hands in her hair. But she pulled back, and succulently, she kissed the tip. Holding him tightly in her hand, she kept on kissing until he nearly growled—then she slid him back inside her mouth as far as he could go. She could feel him full and throbbing, ready to burst. Gruffly he urged her, "Keep sucking," and the rough sound of need, together with his power, his maleness, his hunger, sent her over the edge. She sucked him even harder and, with his hand gripped in her hair, he exploded in her mouth. She took in all of him, aroused by the rush and the taste of him, and when she finally climbed back up to look into her eyes, he was drowsily looking back at her.

  "Holy Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God..." he said in a string of religious words that, given the context, would offend good Catholics everywhere.

  Later, when they were hugging sleepily on the bearskin rug, watching the glowing embers, she said, "Isn't it funny how the first night we met, you—"

  "Saved you from a fire," he supplied. "I was gonna say yelled at me."

  "Oh, right... but why's that funny?"

  "Because here we are. And putting out a fire. Okay, you're right about that. And then I saw you again and you were helping me at Terra Cottage when I dropped my stuff everywhere—and Susanna's lunch, too—and then I saw you again at Brett's house and you were being all enigmatic and hard to read, because you thought I liked your brother..."

  "Oh, that's right..." he said casually, acting like his jealousy were mild, now that it had passed. Snuggling in closer, Gretchen rested her cheek in the crook of Rick's neck for a moment and sighed. "And don't forget how I helped you up when you fell in the snow," he put in.

  Smiling softly, she said, "Yes. That was sweet... but then you were a jerk again, of course."

  "Was that before or after you seduced me?"

  "I seduced you?" she echoed incredulously. "Hal You seduced me."

  "No, I'm pretty sure you seduced me," he insisted, but she wasn't buying it. By the gleam in his eye, she wasn't sure that he was, either. "And then I saved you from a murderer," he added. With a shake of his head, Rick clicked his tongue and said, "A lot of saving your cute butt going on in this relationship." Comments like this might have seemed sexist if she didn't know him better—but she did know him. And besides being sweet and caring, when he was feeling mischievous, he loved to tease her.

  Curving her mouth, Gretchen concluded, "Well, I have to say, in light of everything you've laid out here, you are pretty wonderful."

  "Thanks," Rick said with a satisfied grin. "I'd better get my hooks in fast."

  "You already have. Let's monogram the towels right now." Laughing, Gretchen said, "Okay. And let's carve our names in the nearest wooden surface. Oh! And let's get matching T-shirts that say ENDLESS LOVE."

  Doubtfully, Rick slanted her a look. "We'll start with the towels and see how far we get." Then he leaned in closer with that wolfish grin of his, and she knew what came next. Sliding his warm, strong hand up her neck, he kissed her deeply, drugging her with the slow, sensual glide of his tongue, until she was clutching the fabric of his shirt, nearly breathless. As he strummed his fingers along her skin, he murmured, "Rick plus Gretchen, that's simple enough."

  "For what, the carving, the T-shirts, or the towels?" she asked playfully, knowing that none of the above was actually going to happen.

  "Take your pick," he replied, kissing her cheek.

  "Hmm," she sighed. "It's nice... but I think I know something even better."

  "What?"

  Grinning, she ran her palm over his roughened cheek. "Little apple and the wolf."

  Well, he could hardly argue with that.

  The End

  Excerpt from

  Blushing Pink

  by

  Jill Winters

  "Hello?" Reese called out, shutting the heavy oak door behind her and immediately turning the dead bolt—a habit she'd formed after having five dead bolts installed in her New York apartment. The two duffel bags she'd taken out of her trunk were weighing her down, so she dropped them by the stairs. "Anyone home?" she said, walking down the front hall toward the kitchen.

  "Oh, hi, sweetheart!" Joanna called. "In here!" Reese followed her mother's voice, and rounded the bend through the kitchen to the family room. She found Joanna curled up in a little ball on the sofa, covered by a patchwork quilt. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, and some maudlin Wedding Story piano music resonating from the television.

  "Hi, Mommy," Reese said, smiling, and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

  Joanna angled the remote and pressed “stop.” Reaching up, she hugged Reese tightly. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're home. Have you finished your toast for Ally's wedding?"

  "Mom, I don't even have my coat off."

  "Oh, well, I was just interested," she said innocently, and gave her another squeeze. Reese kissed her cheek once more, and pulled back to shrug off her hooded fleece jacket. "Oh, no, is that all you wore for a coat?" Joanna asked, alarmed. "For goodness' sake, it's December! Don't you have a winter coat?"

  "Yeah, but—"

  "We're gonna buy you a winter coat while you're home."

  "I have one—"

  "Sit, sit. How was your ride? Let me hear all about it."

  "There's really not much to tell. What's new around here?"

  "Nothing, really. Just last-minute stuff for Ally's wedding."

  "Oh, yeah, I heard about her dress."

  Joanna put a soft, delicate hand to her forehead. "Please. Don't even get me started."

  Reese grinned. "Right, okay. So where is everybody?"

  "Ally's out with Ben, and your father's in his study. By the way, there's left over poulet a la crime in the fridge."

  "No, thanks. I had something on the way over." Stupid, stupid.

  Joanna's head shot up. "You did? What did you eat? What?"

  "Um—"

  "Not fast food, right? Please tell me it wasn't fast food." Reese hesitated, and Joanna groaned as if in pain. "Oh, please, not fast food."

  "It was just a cheeseburger, jeez." Reese felt a little embarrassed now, which was silly because this was her mother, but somehow the woman always managed to make her feel like a complete fool.

  "Oh, but why?" Joanna asked, and fell back against the sofa cushions in martyrdom.

  "I don't know...."

  She sprang back up. "Look, honey, I'm not trying to be a pain. All I'm saying is, why on earth have a greasy burger when you can eat something healthy and well-balanced here? You know I have good food. At the very least, you can always pick on the foie gras and brioche."

  "Okay, can we move on now?" Reese said, flopping down on the opposite couch.

  Joanna shrugged in response, as if it were no big deal, but she was obviously still itching to preach more on the extremely overdone topic.

  "What were you watching?" Reese asked, knowing full well, but she was determined to deflect the conversation.

  "Oh, I was bored, so I took out a tape of Wedding Story."

  "Oh."

  "Disc fourteen, episode two-b. Rodney and Claire."

  "Ah. Well, put it on; I'll watch, too."

  "Okay, great." She settled back under her quilt. "Did your roommates go home, too?"

  Reese shrugged. "I guess. Well,
two of them graduated this semester, and the other wasn't there when I left." Graduate living was nothing like undergraduate; roommates came and went, and were usually too busy to stop and chat along the way.

  Joanna nodded and pressed play.

  Reese watched as Rodney and Claire's story unfolded. It was one of those nauseating "the minute I laid eyes on her, I knew" stories. Yuck. Not that Reese was cynical about love—she wasn't. In fact, deep down, she was a romantic. But she hated hearing people claim they "knew" the moment they looked at someone, because real life didn't work like that. If it did, she would still be with her ex-boyfriend, Pete, instead of getting an occasional postcard from him in South America, where he'd bolted three years ago to do volunteer work.

  She had looked at him, and only thought she knew. That was the point.

  "Isn't that so sweet?" Joanna crooned, clearly taken in by the televised emotions playing before her.

  "Uh-huh."

  "I love this episode," she gushed, "because Rodney is such a nice, quiet, intellectual type." Reese held back a gagging gesture. "Like Kenneth," she threw in. Reese said nothing. "So how is Kenneth?"

  "Fine."

  "Well, he's still coming to Ally's wedding, right?"

  "Mmm-hmm."

  "But have you made plans to see him over break? Besides the wedding, I mean. When do you think you'll see him? I want him to come to the house again so your father can meet him. What's he doing for Christmas?"

  "Mom," Reese interrupted, holding up her hand. Her mother might be an adorable little bundle but she was also a force that must be stopped. "I don't know what's going on with Kenneth, okay?"

  Joanna's eyebrows shot up with alarm; she popped upright on the couch again. "Well, what do you mean? Did you two have a fight? Oh, no, what happened? What did you do?"