A Time to Fall (Love by the Seasons Book 1)

by Jess Vonn

  “Mmm-hmm,” he consented, his lips still close enough to her skin that she could feel the sound vibrate off them.

  A tiny moan echoed in Winnie’s throat, but she forced her mind to focus for just a few minutes more. She would gladly lose herself in this moment with this man, but not before she outlined a few more ground rules.

  “It builds slowly,” she said as his lips made a trail down her neck to the curve of her collarbone. Already it was so clear the ways he could leverage that mouth to please her. “You cannot incinerate me.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said, his voice husky and warm on her skin.

  “Cal,” she pleaded, the panicked tone of her voice stopping his mouth’s pleasure assault.

  He stood to his full height, suddenly so tall, so imposing, so all-consuming pressed there against her body. His green eyes locked into hers, and her stomach dropped.

  “I mean it,” she said, her quiet voice quivering.

  “I do, too. I’ll take care of you. One inch at a time.”

  She looked for a reason to doubt him. For a reason to be cynical. But damn it, she believed him.

  “What else?” he asked, his hand slipping behind her neck, his thumb sweetly brushing her sensitive skin.

  “No terms of endearment. No sleepovers. And I can call it off at any time.”

  His eyes flashed at the last line, though she couldn’t quite discern the meaning in the darkness of the parking lot.

  “I assume that goes for me, too?”

  Her stomach sank. Naturally, her thoughts wanted to swirl toward the negative. Of course he’ll want to call it off. You’re vastly inexperienced with men. You’re beyond complicated.

  But she fortified herself. This hadn’t been her idea. He made the offer, and he wouldn’t have done it if there wasn’t real interest there.

  “Of course.”

  He nodded and she couldn’t help but grin. It was amazing how cooperative the man had become now that the topic related to him getting some action.

  “I mean, what if I can’t handle you? What if you annihilate me, Briggs?”

  She laughed lightly, grateful that he could lighten the mood again. She took comfort in her deep sense that Cal would be a playful lover.

  Lover. Lord. She’d never had a lover in her entire life. She’d had two long-term relationships, both of which took their sweet time to work up to incredibly basic relationship sex. Now, here she was being mouthed by the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

  What a difference a month could make. She couldn’t help but smile, astonished at not only this twist of fate, but at how excited she felt about it.

  “And most importantly,” she continued, “your mother cannot, under any circumstance, know about our pleasure hunting.”

  He smiled at the phrase.

  “As a general rule, I tend not to keep her abreast of what I do with my lovers.”

  She smiled, yet the comment rankled in Winnie’s stomach. Lovers, plural. How many women had experienced pleasure beneath Cal’s hands? His mouth? How would her own sexual history, with only two self-absorbed men, possibly compare?

  It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on or talk about. This realization led to another condition.

  “No deep digging into each other’s backstories or baggage,” she said. “Let’s focus on the present.”

  “Gladly,” he said, his hands raking up her curls by the handful so he could kiss the side of her neck without obstruction. His fingertips gently massaged her scalp, sending chills all throughout her body.

  But thoughts of other lovers brought to mind a final, non-negotiable rule.

  “One last condition.”

  “Anything,” he said, his eyes sparked with a lust that empowered her enough to believe him.

  “No one else.”

  His brow quirked, confused.

  “We devote some time to getting this thing that’s bouncing between us completely out of our system, you teach me a thing or two about manifesting pleasure in my life, but during that time, we have no other partners.”

  “Deal.”

  He consented too quickly. He’d shake out of whatever haze he was in soon. He’d remember what caliber of woman he was surely accustomed to, and he’d take his clever hands and hot mouth and sweet ass along his merry way.

  Winnie could already imagine the depth of that inevitable loss, of that physical withdrawal she’d experience when his body was no longer hers to peruse, but it didn’t deter her. Until then, she intended to absorb every ounce of pleasure this man could offer her. Some opportunities came around only once in a lifetime, and Winnie intended to relish this gift, even if it scared her to death.

  Surprising herself and Cal, she slipped her arms inside his suit jacket, reaching up his back and rubbing down his broad, muscular shoulders as she burrowed into the comfort of his chest. He felt better than she could have imagined.

  He hugged her close to him and the intimacy of it allowed her to speak the final words she needed to say before they started this fiery game.

  “I just need you to know that I’ve never done anything remotely like this,” she whispered into the strength of his chest. How something so hard and muscular could provide so much comfort was a mystery. “I’m terrified.”

  His hands gently ran across her shoulders as he spoke his response softly into Winnie’s hair beneath his chin.

  “You don’t need to worry. You’re in good hands.”

  “Those good hands are exactly what I’m afraid of. And looking forward to.”

  He laughed.

  Having gotten that vulnerable admission of her chest, Winnie felt emboldened to begin her own long-awaited exploration. He filled his hands with her hair as she kissed his chest through his shirt, imagining the hot skin beneath it.

  She peeled herself away and slid her hands up to his neck, then his hair. That hair, which had tortured her from the very beginning. She practically pulled herself up with it until her mouth reached his throat. It felt hot and right beneath her lips.

  Cal let out a low, satisfied groan, urging Winnie on. She could feel his racing pulse throb beneath her lips near his Adam’s apple.

  She thought of his mouth, but she couldn’t rush. Not after waiting so long. She needed time with every inch of him. He tilted his head as her mouth moved up the side of his neck and under his chin, her breath hot on his skin as she kissed her way up.

  “That feels so good,” he whispered.

  He put her face in his hands and leaned toward her, his mouth landing on her forehead, then brushing her cheek quickly, before finally, mercifully, landing on her lips. Again, then again, he pressed into her before she opened her mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss with softness and wetness. Their hungry mouths revealed the truth that had been there all along: that these bodies were destined to connect from the inside out.

  As his tongue swept between her lips, Winnie moaned, no longer concerned with the ruse of disinterest. The freedom of pursuing pleasure just for pleasure’s sake thrilled her. She met him there, in the hot, velvety softness of their connected mouths, and she tasted him.

  Perfection.

  She could lose herself in this man, but finally she leaned back, desperate for air. She needed a moment to gather herself, but he pushed his lips against hers once more, his hands reaching down across her back, along the sides of her breast, down to the full curve of her backside. As his fingers kneaded her and his tongue caressed her and the thick length of his arousal pressed against her, she knew there was nowhere she’d rather be than here tasting Cal Spencer. Here, holding this magnificent man’s full bodily attention.

  She’d never known such power.

  It was Cal who finally pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers in an unexpectedly intimate gesture. He panted, and it took every iota of self-discipline for Winnie to not stretch onto her tippy toes and press her lips against his once more.

  “Slowly,” he said, his breath ragged. His desire for her seemed as sharp and
as unsettling as what she felt for him. Nothing could have shocked her more.

  “Mmm,” she managed, the closest semblance of words she could formulate under Cal’s hands. His perfect mouth.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead, the sweetness of the gesture somehow more devastating than the warm passion that had just surged between their open mouths. It was more tender than she could have imagined. She pictured him rough, aggressive. Not gentle enough to melt her.

  “Good night, Briggs,” he said, his breath hot on her skin.

  She may have whimpered. For her pride’s sake, she hoped she didn’t, but the quirk of his kiss-swollen lips suggested otherwise.

  “Buh…bye,” she managed, as the most delicious guy she’d ever met pushed his body away from hers, and began the slow walk across the parking lot.

  Her mouth, her breasts, her sex, her heart, they all ached for the man now too far away from her, and she knew in the pit of her lust-ravaged stomach that no matter what he said, this game they were playing would consume her in flames.

  What surprised Winnie was her deep sense that in the end, it would be worth it.

  Chapter 12

  Lying in bed the next morning, trying to simultaneously remember and forget the feeling of Cal Spencer’s hungry hands roaming across her body last night, Winnie’s heart and body felt conflicted. There had been so much goodness in Cal’s proposition, and in those first tastes of the lessons in pleasure he could offer her with his hands. His lips. His tongue. With that hard length of his body pressed up against hers.

  My God, if the man could melt her so thoroughly even through multiple layers of clothing, she’d be putty in his hands once they got naked.

  Naked. One word, and her heart sank, all thoughts of pleasure replaced by something less desirable. She had more or less signed up to get naked with Cal Spencer, a man who might very well be sculpted from marble beneath all those sexy clothes.

  Winnie’s hands involuntarily began to rub across her own body in exploration, over top the thin fabric of her nightgown. They roamed over the full slopes of her breasts. Soft, yes, and beyond a handful, but decidedly more wobbly when she reclined than when she stood. She pressed her hand into her stomach— not round, but far from flat. Pressing her fingers gently down against her midsection, she couldn’t think of a single word to describe the area other than squishy.

  And she couldn’t fathom a world where a man found squishy to be anything akin to sexy.

  Traveling farther down her body, she allowed her fingers to trace over the soft silk of her panties, feeling the intimate hair beneath, left mostly natural. She never thought about grooming there much beyond basic bathing suit boundaries.

  A man like Cal had probably experienced every kind of woman. He probably preferred some kind of expensive, torturous body hair removal technique named after a tropical country known for its flawless women.

  Naked.

  Her heart skittered over itself, feeling nervous, anxious, but deep down, if she were honest with herself, she felt damn excited, too. And as her fingers traced along the thin underside of her panties, wet evidence of that excitement was more than apparent.

  The fact of the matter was that she wanted the man with every fiber of her being, and he’d all but offered himself up on a platter for her to devour. It didn’t have to make sense. It didn’t have to reflect her assumptions about what men wanted in a partner or her own perceived shortcomings. She didn’t have to worry about a month from now, about what would happen “after,” not when the days rolling out before her had so much to offer.

  From somewhere in the dark and conflicted depths of her brain, her mantra bubbled up to the forefront of her consciousness.

  Winnie first.

  And for the first time in her entire sexual history, a revolutionary thought occurred to her. A thought that a former version of herself might never have even believed possible.

  I want him, and I should have him.

  So simple, yet so world-altering.

  Cal Spencer, despite his perceived perfection, didn’t have to find her perfect, because this wasn’t about him. Winnie wanted the man down to the tips of her toenails. She deserved a chance at him. He was willing. She was able.

  And she was hungry in a way she didn’t even know possible.

  Despite this personal epiphany, she had one small caveat for the universe: just give her a day or two away from the man to gather her wits about her. To prepare for the inevitability of needing to tamp down her desire for him in public and professional contexts.

  Even if Winnie had come to peace with her desire for Cal, she still had no idea how she was going to subdue it in front of other people. Bree used to tease her relentlessly about her inability to hide one single emotion, even when doing so would benefit her enormously.

  Bree. Oh, how she wished she could call up her best friend. How she wished they hadn’t placed this stupid communication moratorium. She couldn’t even count on indirect peeks into Bree’s life on social media because her friend was notoriously anti-technology. The woman didn’t even own a smart phone.

  And yet, it was working. Winnie was exploring a new friendship with Evie, and a new friends-with-benefits scenario with Cal. Time and distance had dulled her sad memories from Chicago.

  But oh, the stories she’d have for her friend when they reconnected. Bree might not believe her. Winnie might have to secure some photographic evidence of Cal’s vitality.

  But for as much as she wanted to avoid Cal Spencer for the rest of the week, the universe, unfortunately, had denied her request, and when Winnie walked into the Guiding Star community luncheon on Thursday, she zeroed in on Cal immediately, despite the group of more than forty people gathered in the room. If her vagina was a compass, the man appeared to be her true North. Her draw to his body was damn near magnetic.

  His eyes met hers instantly, and though he never stopped whatever conversation he was having with the older gentleman at the table where he sat, he shot Winnie a small, pleased nod that seemed to tug at a string attached deep within her womb.

  My God, the man was stunning. His thick, golden hair was parted on the side, sweeping over his head in gentle waves tinted with a half dozen shades of blond before it curled around his ears and collar. A soft, chocolate-brown V-neck sweater stretched across his broad shoulders, and she could see a light blue collar and tie peeking out around his tan neck. He looked like the kind of sexy professor all the undergraduates would swoon over.

  And Winnie felt ready for a hands-on lesson, right then and there. Her heart raced as she forced her focus somewhere else, anywhere else, after Cal’s attention returned to the people at his table. He seemed to be able to act like a normal human being around her, so why was she frozen in her tracks, dumbstruck?

  Luckily, Betty Jean Finnegan pulled Winnie out of her lustful reverie.

  Now there was a thought she would never have imagined having. But for once, Winnie felt grateful for the woman’s meddling. It worked better than a cold shower.

  “I’m glad you finally arrived,” Betty Jean chirped, her voice sweet, but with a bit of accusation, just for good measure. Winnie glanced at her watch and internally groaned. She had a solid ninety seconds before the luncheon was scheduled to begin, which counted as incredibly early for her.

  “I knew you’d show up, though,” Betty Jean continued. “Why on earth would you miss it? If you want to know the movers and shakers in this town, if you want to be privy to the latest and breaking news in Bloomsburo, then this is the place you need to be every Thursday at noon.”

  Winnie thought about how to proceed. When she’d flipped through archived copies of The Bloom, she was shocked to see how much coverage the weekly Guiding Star Luncheons received in the paper. Nearly every meeting story was run on the front page of the paper with multiple photos despite the fact that it was essentially a social club.

  This was a reporting trend she didn’t want to perpetuate. On the other hand, Winnie was desperately new in
town. Though Gloria and Evie could surely help her find sources for her stories, she would need to create her own network, too, and these weekly meetings weren’t a bad place to start.

  “Betty Jean, I agreed to attend the luncheons as often as I can,” Winnie replied with caution. She didn’t want to make any promises she wouldn’t be able to keep. “But I will not guarantee any coverage. I will pay dues, just like the other Guiding Star members, and participate as a community member, not as the editor of the paper. If something newsworthy is brought up at a meeting, I will consider it a tip and then pursue it as a separate story, not in any way affiliated with the luncheon.”

  Betty Jean’s brows narrowed ever so slightly, finally betraying her forced pleasantness.

  “Well, though I’m glad that we can count on your membership, I must say I’m sad to hear that the citizens of Bloomsburo can no longer read about the good and important work we do in your paper,” she said, looking down at her brightly polished finger nails, “a paper that seems so, well, hungry for news.”

  Winnie took the dig in stride and stood her ground.

  “Well, think of it this way,” she said. “You’ll no longer be giving away the milk for free.”

  Betty Jean looked up at Winnie, confused.

  “If people can just read about the weekly luncheon in the paper,” Winnie continued, “why would they spend the money to become official members? If they are as interested as you say in what goes on at the luncheons, they’ll surely join once they realize The Bloom won’t be providing a weekly play-by-play. Your membership numbers will shoot through the roof.”

  Betty Jean cracked a stiff smile.

  “Well, that would be a lovely side effect,” she said. “Now, please take a seat before you hold up the entire event.”

  Winnie huffed as she scanned the room. Granted, she wasn’t late, but with only a few seconds left before the luncheon began, she hardly had her choice of seats in the crowded banquet hall. Luckily for her Cal’s table was full so she didn’t even have to consider that possibility. Her eyes caressed the man once more, watching the casual way he worked his table, the way everyone around him seemed enchanted by him.