by R. J. Groves
Surely her sobbing wasn’t put on to make him feel like this.
She shook her head again, her face still buried in his shoulder. ‘I’m s—sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I do—don’t know what’s wr—wrong with me.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ he said, pressing his cheek against her head again, breathing her all in. If this was the last time he’d be this close to her, he at least wanted to remember how she smelled. How she felt in his arms.
She pulled back, dropping her gaze to his chest, her eyes red and tear-stained. He wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Y—your shirt’s ruined,’ she muttered, taking a shaky breath as if trying to regain control of herself.
‘It’ll wash.’ He stroked her damp hair from her forehead. God, he wanted to kiss her again, kiss the pain away. Everything that had caused this little breakdown. Was it something he did? Did he come on too fast? Give too much too soon?
‘You must think I’m silly,’ she muttered, resting a hand on his chest.
Good, that was a good sign. Wasn’t it? She hadn’t pushed him away when he was comforting her. Hadn’t protested when he pulled her into his lap. She was worried about what he thought of her. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Why should he be relieved that it wasn’t over, when he hadn’t wanted anything in the first place? He tightened his arms, not wanting to let her go. Not wanting to feel the emptiness of not having her close to him.
‘Not at all.’
She narrowed her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. ‘Not even a little?’
He tucked another lock behind her ear, his thumb lingering against the warmth of her cheek. Would it be wrong if he kissed her again? Now, after she’d been crying? She was so beautiful. Even with puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks and hot chocolate spread all over her clothes. His eyes drifted to where her wet shirt clung to her skin, and he lowered his hand to smooth it over. A feeble attempt to dry it. Or so he told himself. A certain part of his anatomy thought differently.
‘I’m sure you have your reasons.’ Reasons that he would give anything to know. If it wasn’t him that made her cry, he needed to know what it was so that he could fix it.
Her head tilted to the side, exposing her neck, making it harder and harder to hold himself back. He swallowed, lifting his gaze to her eyes. If he didn’t look, he couldn’t be tempted, right? Except … he knew what she tasted like. And he wanted to see if that soft part of her neck was as good as her lips and as soft and smooth as what was no doubt beneath her clothes. He felt himself squinting, forcing himself not to lower his gaze. God, she was beautiful.
‘You’re not going to ask me what they are?’ He shook his head, his gaze lowering to her supple lips and then to the soft part of her neck again. Just a taste … ‘You’re not even the least bit interested?’
He smoothed his hand over her stomach, sliding around to rest on her soft hip, pulling her closer, hoping that the simple movement would bring her slender neck closer. She allowed herself to be pulled into him, her breasts heaving just below his chin.
It was completely normal, right? To be this attracted to a beautiful woman? Even when she’d just been crying her eyes out?
‘Is it something I did?’ He pulled her closer again, and her hand slid up from his chest to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. It felt … nice. Almost too nice.
‘No.’
‘Something I said?’ A little closer again.
Her lips curved into a delicious smile. ‘No.’
‘Then, I’m sure you’d tell me if you wanted to.’
She pulled back, holding him by the shoulders, and he could have sworn he felt his whole body groan. She studied him with serious eyes. ‘You’re not going to push it?’
Tell me. ‘No.’ He steadied his breathing, trying not to get his hopes up. Trying to tell his body to behave itself, even though he had a beautiful Andrea Gray on his lap.
Her mouth opened and closed as though she was going to say something but was unsure of what to say. Tell him? Of course he wanted her to tell him, damn it. He wanted her to tell him everything. Who he had to deal with, what he had to do to make sure he never saw tears like that on her face again.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her body relaxing.
He could tell she truly was thankful by the look in her eyes, and it made him wonder. Wonder what she’d been through. Who she’d been with to make her so wary, so cautious. His thoughts drifted back to the name he’d seen next to hers on the vineyard’s files. Joseph. Joseph who? There hadn’t been a last name on that file. But surely he would have signed something, wouldn’t he? If he could just find out his name, he could look into him. Look into the kind of guy that had hurt Andie. And make sure he never hurt her again. It didn’t count as an invasion of privacy if he was worried for her safety and had proper cause to look into it … did it?
He swallowed again. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘I do have one question though.’
Her eyebrow lifted. ‘And what would that be, Mr Ballin?’
For the first time since he’d met her, he didn’t mind her calling him that. This time, she said it with a curious, mischievous glint in her eyes. And this time, her fingers were back to tangling in his hair. He slipped a hand under the wet part of her shirt, sliding his hand across her stomach. Soft. Warm. Tantalising.
‘Aren’t you finding this shirt a bit uncomfortable?’
Her smile returned, and her nose crinkled in a way that looked adorable. He kissed her softly, hoping his lips would smooth the crinkles. He leaned back, pulling her with him, lowering them both to the bed.
‘It is a bit wet, isn’t it?’ she teased, shifting so she was almost laying on him. He felt the rumble start at the base of his throat.
‘I’d hate for you to get a chill.’ He slid his hands up her back, sliding the shirt slowly up her body.
‘Is that so?’ she said, biting into her lip. ‘Well, in that case …’
She shimmied when her shirt stuck between them, and pulled her legs up onto the bed, straddling him. God, he hoped she wasn’t just teasing. He might just die if she was. He wasn’t sure he could hold off much longer. She seemed to hesitate briefly before lifting her shirt up and over her head. Then she held her breath.
Or maybe he was holding his.
Well, he definitely was. She was stunning. Breathtaking. The milky cream of her skin, curving in all the right places. No, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back now.
‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered. She gave him a look that showed him she didn’t hear it anywhere near enough. He would make sure that changed. ‘Truly beautiful.’
He ran his hands up her sides, across her back, and brought himself up to kiss her on that soft spot on her neck. He felt her shiver as he nipped and sucked, and her head dropped to one side to give him better access. He was sure he heard her moan. He lowered his hands to cup her ass, and pressed her harder against him, wishing they didn’t have so many layers between them.
She responded with a wriggle, pressing closer, and he felt like he might just die from the waiting anyway. God, he needed her. He needed to feel her body pressing against his, feel her moving with him as one, bursting into oblivion around him like there was no tomorrow, and then he would join her. He kissed a trail down from her neck to the mounds of her breasts and reached behind her to unclip her bra. She stopped him.
‘Wait.’
He groaned, his fingers touching the clip lightly. One smooth flick and it would be off. That’s all it would take. It was painful to keep his fingers still. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said, burying his face between the silky, smooth mounds and breathing in all that was her. The gentle fragrance of her soap. The smoothness of her perfume. Chocolate and marshmallows. And beneath it all, her. Just her. He took a deep breath.
Waiting was something he didn’t like to do. But he would wait for her. Even if it killed him. God, he hoped it didn’t come to that.
***
Andie bit into her lip,
revelling in the way his kisses made her feel. And when he kissed her neck, her breasts, and he breathed her in like he wanted to remember that moment forever. Oh, she knew she was probably overreacting. Weaving a fantasy out of nothing. Well, it wasn’t nothing. Not really. Nothing wasn’t straddling a guy, half-naked, with his head nestled on your chest, his hands clutching you like he would never let you go. Like he didn’t want to.
Nothing wasn’t having a guy comfort you the way Taylor had for her—and without expecting an explanation, too. Nothing wasn’t this, whatever it was. No, she didn’t know what exactly was going on between them, but it sure as hell wasn’t nothing. A fantasy, perhaps. A dream, most likely. And maybe he treated all women like this—how could she know? She felt a pang of jealousy inside her and scolded herself.
This wasn’t nothing.
But could she really afford it to be something?
Taylor Ballin.
The guy who swept into her life all arrogant and annoying and demanding and … and who hadn’t left her dreams since then. Who she’d missed spending time with, even if a lot of that time had been arguing and contending. And who called her beautiful.
He was the only one to have ever called her beautiful.
In all the time she’d spent with Joseph, he’d never once said she was beautiful. And what he had said wouldn’t even compare to the reverence in Taylor’s voice and his eyes when he said it to her. It wasn’t just a word to Taylor Ballin. She could see that. She didn’t know much about him, but she could see that he wasn’t the kind of guy to just say words without meaning them.
Her brain told her this was a bad idea.
If she’d thought she was heartbroken about Joseph, then things not working out with Taylor would shatter her. She would not come out of this in one piece. And after his kisses …
Well, no other kiss could compare.
Nothing could compare with how he made her feel. And that should be a warning sign telling her to run, that the damage he could cause was serious. But while the siren was going off in her head, the other part of her—the part that was usually small and quiet—told her he was worth the risk. And if she wound up broken in the end, it would be worth it, because she would know what it was like to feel beautiful for the first time in her life. And who better to make her feel that way than the man with his face buried between her breasts? The same man who’d been there while she had a breakdown, asked no questions, and still wanted to explore what he had with her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind made up. She would be hurt, she knew she would. It was a feeling she just couldn’t shake. As different as Taylor was to Joseph, they were still both ambitious businessmen who looked at everything as a business transaction. Their first date proved that point. But she couldn’t walk away from this moment wondering what it would have been like.
‘A shirt for a shirt,’ she whispered, hoping he didn’t catch the wavering in her voice. He pulled back, looking up at her. His eyes were dark with desire and an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. ‘After all,’ she added, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. His eyes darkened further, if that were at all possible. ‘You’re wet as well.’
His lips curved into a grin so wicked it made her heart feel like it was going to leap out of her chest. ‘So, you admit that you’re wet.’ He pressed his lips against her neck once more, sending a burning sensation straight to her core.
‘I thought we’d already established that,’ she said, closing her eyes once more, taking in every little detail of his kisses.
She felt his smile deepen against her neck. ‘That we did. Very well, one for one.’
His fingers moved quickly at her back, and in what felt like less than a second, her breasts were freed from their restraints and he’d tossed her bra to the floor. He focused on her breasts greedily. Then, his eyes not leaving their targets, he shrugged off his shirt and pulled his singlet over his head, tossing them to join the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor.
God, he was a sight for sore eyes.
She was absolutely certain she could see every single plane of his body. She’d suspected he was strong under that shirt, but hell, she hadn’t expected this. How could a magnificent specimen such as himself think that she—a plumper-than-she-wished-she-was, short, uncertain woman of very average looks—looked beautiful? Suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable, she bit into her lip once more and moved her arms to cover herself, only to have her arms stopped mid-movement.
‘No.’
One word. Commanding. Simple. Clear. It should have made her feel more self-conscious than she already was. But there was something in the way he spoke that made every single part of her alert and waiting. Excited.
‘N—no?’ she whispered.
He shook his head slowly, and slid his hands up her body to cup her breasts. Gently, at first. Then firmer, his thumbs teasing the small peaks that were standing at attention. She felt … something … pulse through her with every tease, and a puff of air escaped her lips.
‘No,’ he said again. ‘You shouldn’t cover yourself up.’
She fought the sensations rushing through her in an attempt to form some kind of coherent sentence. What the hell was he doing to her? With just his thumbs! Well, she had no intention of covering herself up if he continued working his magic like this. ‘But I—’
Ohh …
She broke off when he brought his mouth to one peak and sucked, shooting a fiery arrow into every cell of her body. She found herself pressing harder against him, despite the fact she hadn’t told herself to. And, oh, God. He nibbled gently, teasing the hard nub with his tongue, sending a shiver through her body. Her back arched involuntarily and her mouth dropped open. Then, just as she felt like she was on the verge of bursting, he released his captive and kissed a trail across to the other peak, doing the same things he’d done with the first side, starting the overwhelming sensations all over again.
‘So beautiful,’ he muttered, kissing and sucking, and teasing with one hand while he held her closer with the other.
She couldn’t help herself anymore. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, his back, as he sent another arrow to her core. How had she never known that a man could do this to her? Make her feel like she was going to burst from exquisite pleasure in the way that he did? It wasn’t that she hadn’t been intimate with men before. She had. But never … like this. The men she’d been with—Joseph, in particular—had always been selfish in the intimate sense. Takers, never givers. Greedy. And she’d accepted that as the norm. If only she’d known Taylor Ballin then …
Oh, Taylor was greedy, too, in a sense. But he sure as hell wasn’t selfish, and was very much a giver. She could attest to that fact. A moan escaped, and her back arched once more as he hit another sweet spot. She felt his smile against her skin, and she wanted more. God, she wanted more. She couldn’t just sit there and take any more of these … incredible … sensations without trying to make him feel the same way he was making her feel.
What could she do to give him these same sensations? She didn’t even know where to start. She began to move her hands over his shoulders, down his chest, squeezing and digging her fingers into his hard flesh, sliding them through his soft spattering of chest hair. Exploring him. Memorising him. And she leaned forward, kissing his neck where she could reach it. She heard him moan, and he began to move his mouth back up her chest, her neck, leaving soft, tantalising kisses over every inch until he met her lips once more.
And he kissed her with a new kind of fervour—a hunger that was nothing like she’d ever known—and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, making her feel treasured, protected. Loved. Oh, it was silly to think it, she knew. But it was true. He made her feel loved in a way she had never been loved before. He laid back on the bed once more, pulling her with him, not breaking their kiss. She didn’t want it to end. Couldn’t bear the thought of it ending. But at the same time, the wait was almost unbearable.
&n
bsp; She lifted her body from his enough to slide her hands between them, still kissing him, meeting his fervour with an urgency of her own. She could feel him, pressing against her through their clothes, waiting to be released. It made her smile, that she could have that effect on a man. On Taylor. His hands fell to her ass, squeezing and pressing her closer. Finally, her fingers reached the button of his pants and began working it. He kissed her deeper, harder, pulling her even closer. Then, once she finally got the button free, he rolled her over on the bed so that he was on top and broke the kiss, looking at her with a fire in his eyes that made her only want more.
‘Patience, my love,’ he said, his tone deep, seductive, and reverberating through her until she shivered again.
‘I don’t want to be patient,’ she said, pouting, and reached to tug at his pants once more.
‘I see that.’ He laughed a rich, magnificent laugh.
He stopped her hand and lifted it above her head. Then he brought her other hand to the same spot and held both wrists with one of his hands. Gentle, but firm. It sent another shiver through her. She bit into her lip, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
He looked almost agonised. She bit harder, and he groaned. ‘Your poor lips,’ he muttered, bending to kiss her once more, teasing her with his lips, his tongue, his roaming hand. His hand smoothed over her flesh, leaving a trail of fire behind, moving lower … lower …
She broke the kiss and arched against him. ‘Wait,’ she said. He groaned again, freezing in place. ‘No, I—I’m not—’ she stammered. Her cheeks started to feel hot. ‘I just—I … I want to give you … I—’
His brow furrowed, and she felt his grip loosen around her wrists. She tried to ignore the disappointment. ‘You’re not a’—he gave her a look that could only say one thing—‘are you?’
Her eyes widened, her cheeks growing hotter by the second. ‘N—no,’ she said. ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’