Burning Ache

by Adrienne Giordano

  And what she had on her mind definitely didn’t fall under her job description.

  But, hey. Where was the CIA when she’d almost gotten catapulted off a mountain? Roni’s eyes snapped to the rearview mirror. Nothing but darkness behind her. She’d spent the ride over checking—and rechecking—that mirror. The lone car that had pulled behind her on Main Street had turned down a side road. Beyond that? No suspicious cars.

  Excellent.

  She turned the engine off. Way’s SUV and his remaining motorcycle sat parked in front of the barn, the overhead spotlight shining down on them.

  What am I doing?

  She could leave right now. Forget the whole thing.

  She lifted her phone from the cupholder, tapped on Way’s message and read it.

  Four times.

  At the very least, she should respond. Let him know she was okay. Relatively speaking.

  Why couldn’t Steele Ridge have a twenty-four-hour gym?

  Finally, she poked at her screen and tapped out a quick response.

  Not okay. In your driveway.

  Ten seconds, then twenty more passed. What if he was inside, figuring out how to get rid of her?

  Rejecting her.

  To her own mortification, she actually liked Way Kingston.

  A lot.

  And for someone who’d spent her life perfecting the art of isolation, all this liking the man created issues.

  Still, she had to smile.

  Strike up the band, I like this guy.

  Her phone vibrated. Way. She frantically poked at the screen. Schoolgirl crushes and the silly excitement they brought were kinda fun. And a completely new experience.

  She tapped his message.

  Girl, what are you doing? Get in here. Back door.

  She let out a breath, laughing at herself as relief took hold.

  By the time she exited the car, he stood on the small back porch, backlit by the lone sconce. His T-shirt was half untucked, his jeans riding low on his hips—oh, baby—and his feet bare.

  The bare feet?

  Killer.

  Without a doubt, Way and his lean muscles did something to her. Brought out a hunger she’d shoved away for years. Experiencing him in his own space where he’d probably had those bare feet kicked up while he watched sports or read one of those books on his coffee table, triggered long-dormant memories of home. Her home. Before her father passed and they’d had "chill” nights. Just the two of them. Completely at ease despite her mother’s absence.

  God, I want that again.

  As she approached, Way shook his head. “Are you insane? Someone tried to kill us. You should have called me.”

  Lovely way to obliterate her little fantasy. “Nobody tailed me. I made sure. Can I come in?”

  He stepped back and waved her inside. “Of course. What’s wrong? Did something else happen? Talk to me.”

  Oh, something happened all right.

  “There’s no twenty-four-hour gym in this town. You know that, right?”

  The look he gave her, that cross between she’s-totally-whacked and someone-must-have-hit-her-on-the-head made her laugh. Which didn’t necessarily help convince Way she hadn’t lost her mind.

  She crossed the threshold into his kitchen. “A gym. My building has one. In times of extreme stress, I like to go there. Burn off some steam.”

  “O-kay. If it’s that important, I can call my cousin Reid. See if he’ll let you use the gym at the training center. If, you know, that’s the thing you really need.”

  Now he’s getting it.

  She spun around, met his gaze, holding the stare long enough to communicate, unless he was a complete moron, that she wanted him. Naked. On his bed and—wow—a blast of heat, an absolute volcano, erupted inside her.

  Fanning herself wouldn’t exactly be appropriate.

  “That’s not what I want,” she said. “I think you know that.”

  His lips, those amazing lips she’d like to devour, lifted into a smile and she rushed him. Barreled right into him and smacked her hand over the back of his neck, dragging him to her, mashing her lips against his.

  He wasted no time sweeping his tongue into her mouth, then retreating. In and out, in and out—wow, wow, wow—. The teasing motion snapped her mind to his bed again. The two of them naked, their bodies entwined and doing…things. Really fun things.

  Rather than break the kiss, he lifted her straight up, clamped his hands on her ass and oh, that felt good. She wrapped her legs around him, hanging on as he carried her through the house. And, hello, that whole carrying thing took her to another supremely lovely level. When did Roni Fenwick ever allow anyone to get her off her feet?

  He turned into a darkened room and flipped the light switch.

  She backed away from the kiss, her chest rising and falling. “Lights on?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve been thinking about this for days. I want to see you.”

  He tossed her on the bed and ripped his T-shirt off, revealing one hell of a set of six-pack abs and ropey muscles she’d spend the night curled up with.

  Propping herself on her elbows, she lifted one foot and pointed it at the bulge in his pants. “Lucky me.”

  “One thing,” he said.

  “Do tell.”

  “If I do anything you don’t like, you have to say something. I want you happy.” He flashed a smile. “And highly satisfied.”

  * * *

  Way could not believe his luck.

  If nearly getting pushed off a mountain got Roni into his bed, he’d deal with it. Every night if possible.

  Damn, she drove him wild. In the best possible way.

  He reached out, grabbed her foot and slowly slid her boot off. “Is that a deal?”

  “Me being highly satisfied?”

  He laughed. “Yeah.”

  “I’m all about satisfaction. Particularly when it involves hot guys.”

  He tossed her boot over his shoulder, then her sock before repeating the exercise with her other foot. This would be fun. She was fun. In a twisted, fucked-up sort of way.

  He stood for a second, just looking. Enjoying the view of her on his bed, her long, dark hair spilling across his comforter. He itched to get his hands there. Grab hold and get lost in the silky strands, maybe run his fingers over her sculpted cheeks.

  Too many clothes.

  Both of them.

  He wanted her bare-assed naked. Free of her requisite tank top and unbuttoned overshirt. Skin to skin. That’s what he liked.

  “You are so damned beautiful.”

  She sat up, hooked her finger into his belt loop, and pulled him forward, popping the button on his jeans and slow-oh-oh-oh-ly dragging his zipper down.

  He dropped his head back, focused on the feel of her fingers, that light touch through the fabric. “You’re killing me.”

  Then her hands were inside his pants, moving around his hips into his boxer briefs. She guided his underwear and jeans down. His erection sprang free.

  She ran the tip of her finger over him and his brain fried. Just zzzzppp. Done. He lifted his head, found her grinning up at him, those devastating dark eyes connecting with his. Can’t take it.

  He kicked out of his pants and underwear. “You’re not getting any sleep tonight,” he said.

  “I’m not a great sleeper anyway.”

  She jerked her overshirt off and he shoved her back on the bed, got right to work unfastening her jeans. He needed to see her. All of her. Working her pants over her hips, he ran his hands over her toned legs.

  Red thong.

  God help me.

  He tugged the jeans free and stroked his hand back up her leg, pausing at her inner thigh, then rubbing one thumb over the crotch of her panties. Her wet heat seeped through the cotton and he met her gaze. “All mine.”

  She bolted to a sitting position, whipping her tank top over her head, revealing—thank you, sweet baby Jesus—a red bra that matched her panties. Hard nipples poked through lace. Can’t stan
d it.

  Had to touch.

  He reached right into the bra, pressing his palms against her nipples and cupping his fingers over the soft flesh.

  Latching on to his wrists to keep them in place, she closed her eyes and let out a little moan. Banging her all night wouldn’t be good enough. Not for him.

  Reaching behind, she unhooked her bra. He slid his hands away, moving them up to her shoulders. For the fun of it, he inched the straps down, revealing more and more and more until—oh yeah—the bra was completely off.

  Roni was more than his imagination had conjured. All full breasts and curvy hips that made him think of bombshell pinup models.

  So damned beautiful.

  I want her.

  She lifted her hand, wrapping her fingers around him, gently stroking. The friction, combined with the sight of her hard nipples, forced him to lock his jaw, pretend that he wasn’t about to blow all over her hand.

  Speaking of. He reached for her, cupping his hand under her chin. “I love how that feels.”

  “Good. Please tell me you have condoms.”

  Bet your sweet ass I do. “Yep.”

  But, hell on earth, he didn’t want to move. Not with how good her fingers felt on him. Reluctantly, he eased away from her and walked to his dresser and the stash of rubbers he kept there. When he swung back, she’d rolled to her side, staring as he ripped the package open and worked the condom on. “You like watching?” he asked.

  “I like watching you. Now get over here and get inside me before I lose my mind.”

  He moved back to the side of the bed, dragged her panties off, and stuck one finger inside her. Just…bam. She let out a gasp, ground her hips against him and slammed her hand against the bed. “Oh, that’s fantastic.”

  Stroking inside her, he watched her eyes roll back in her head and—wow—too much. He’d give her an orgasm she’d never forget. First thing. Totally blow her mind and then he’d get inside her and give her another one.

  That was the goal. Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

  * * *

  Way Kingston’s fingers should be insured. That’s all Roni could think. A million bucks. Ten million maybe. He drove his middle finger farther inside her, then stroked and stroked again and Roni’s lower core caught fire. Pressure built and swirled, layer after layer creating a euphoric sensation.

  “So good,” she moaned.

  So, so, good. He was going to do it. Make her come first. Not that she minded, but…no. She wanted him inside her when it happened. So deep she’d forget her stone-cold heart and let herself, for the first time, be free. Free to enjoy whatever he wanted to give her.

  To let him in.

  Way stroked inside her again, murmuring something filthy that she couldn’t quite understand, but somehow wanted to hear more of.

  He kept stroking and stroking, kicking that pressure up and up and up.

  “Stop.”

  His finger stilled and—dammit—she was so close.

  “Wait,” he said. “You want me to stop?”

  She rocked her hips, urging him on. “No.” He stroked again. “Yes!” She grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin and he withdrew his finger. She pulled him to her. “I want you inside me. Right. Fucking. Now!”

  She dropped to her back and opened her legs. In one swift move, he pulled her to the edge and—yes!—plunged into her, the movement hard and fast and so incredibly deep she cried out.

  “So good,” she said, just in case he got any crazy ideas of stopping.

  “My girl knows what she wants,” he said.

  His girl. She liked the sound of that.

  And, yes, she knew. More, more, more. She lifted her hips, nearly bucking under him, urging him on. Faster, harder, faster, harder.

  Never enough. Never.

  “Don’t stop. Please,” she said. “Harder.”

  He pushed inside her again, his hips like pistons, pushing her closer and closer to that edge. “Go,” he said. “Just let go.”

  He kept talking, telling her every place he’d lick and touch and lick and touch. If only she’d come for him. Way Kingston? Filthy mouth.

  But she kinda loved it.

  Who knew?

  “So close,” she muttered.

  And then he did it. Rammed himself into her, holding her hips in place as he ground into her, creating a whole other type of friction that—ohmygod. She squeezed her eyes closed and flashes of color—red, pink, blue—exploded.

  She gripped Way’s wrists and moaned as her body convulsed.

  Still, he pumped his hips. Again and again and again.

  She opened her eyes again and the sight of him, all taut muscles and sculpted jaw, indicated she wasn’t the only one going over that fantastic edge.

  “Look at me,” she said.

  He locked his dark eyes on her and a piece of her heart broke free. Just sliced right off. One night with Way and she crumbled.

  After one last plunge inside her, Way threw his head back. His grip tightened and he held her there, their bodies rammed together, his fingers digging into her skin.

  He cried out, the sound like heaven to her. Letting go, he braced his hands on either side of her, their bodies still joined.

  She could stay like this awhile. Easy-peasy. His warm breath tickled her ear and she snuggled against him, loving the simple pleasure of it. Intimacy. So powerful.

  He lifted his head, smiled down at her, and dipped his head closer. The kiss was gentle, a soft brush of his lips and so utterly perfect that Roni thought maybe, just maybe, Way Kingston might make her believe in love again.

  * * *

  The buzz of her phone jolted Roni from the best sleep she’d had in months. Maybe years.

  Something about Way let her decompress. Let her feel safe.

  Rest.

  A beautiful thing she’d never realized had been lacking. At least until now.

  Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.

  The phone again. She pried her eyes open and blinked against the early glow of sunshine slipping between the cracks in the blinds.

  Slowly, she eased from under Way’s arm draped over her shoulder and rolled to her side. His arm dropped to the bed and she glanced up at him. No movement. The man slept like the dead. He must have been as tired as she’d been.

  Not a surprise. Between the hell they’d been through on the mountain the night before and the ensuing round of crazy good sex, a month of sleep might not be enough.

  Mmm, mmm, mmm, the man knew the way around a woman’s body. A thought that didn’t make her all that happy, since he’d clearly had plenty of practice.

  Roni Fenwick, jealous. Go figure.

  The bling of her voice mail notification replaced the buzzing, and Roni scooped the phone from the hunk of tree trunk Way had modified into a nightstand. Talented guy, for sure.

  She tapped the screen, noted the time—7:03—and found Maggie’s name attached to the voice mail. Rather than risk waking Way up with more noise, instead of listening to the message, she read the transcript.

  Call me. ASAP.

  Short and to the point. Typical Maggie.

  Beside her, Way rolled to his side, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “What’s up?”

  “Maggie called. She wants to talk to me.”

  “You need privacy?”

  “I don’t think so. But maybe we shouldn’t announce that we just spent the night together.”

  He grinned. “You don’t want my sister to know I gave you three orgasms last night?”

  She flipped over and faced him, worming her leg between his and sliding it against him. “Seems to me, you got as good as you gave.”

  “Absolutely. And if you keep that up with your leg, you’re gonna get as good as you gave again.”

  Promises. Promises.

  “After I call your sister, I’ll take you up on that.”

  He kissed her, long and slow, morning breath and all. Neither of them seemed to mind. He pulled back from the kiss. “I had fun
last night. Well, after we almost got thrown off that damned mountain.”

  “I knew what you meant. I had fun, too. I think we’re…”

  Good together. No. Couldn’t say it. Too soon. Wasn’t it? For both of them. They’d just met. Obviously, they had chemistry, but the situation was highly charged. She’d been in enough bad relationships—sexual and platonic—to know that charged incidents often brought on feelings that wouldn’t survive the mundane trappings of everyday life.

  “Yeah,” Way said. “We’re good together.”

  “Wow. You just read my mind.”

  He ran one finger down her cheek. “I feel it, too. I’m not sure what the hell to do about it. Eventually, you’re gonna leave.”

  Maybe.

  What was wrong with her? Lust had fried every working brain cell. She had a career in DC. The perfect job, for her anyway, and now all of a sudden small towns and picket fences seemed mighty appealing. Women like her didn’t get that particular fairy tale.

  Or did they?

  Maybe the fairy tale needed to be tweaked. Small towns, picket fences, and commuting on weekends.

  Getting ahead of herself. That’s what she was doing right now.

  She tapped Maggie’s name and waited for the phone to connect while Way’s hands explored her naked body.

  “Hey,” Maggie said.

  Roni smacked at Way’s hand, now firmly cupped around her left breast. “Hey.”

  When Way didn’t budge, she helped her own cause by whipping the sheet off and sliding out of bed. She made her way to the open bedroom door and across the hallway to the bathroom, where she locked herself in and leaned against the sink. “What’s happening?”

  “Where are you? I stopped at Mrs. Tasky’s, but you weren’t there.”

  “I’m…out. Couldn’t sleep so I ran for breakfast.”

  “Are you at the B? I’ll come by.”

  Oh, boy. “Um, no. You need something?”

  “I need to see you and my brother. He didn’t answer his cell.”

  Because he’d left it in the living room last night.

  Roni blew out a silent breath. Messy, messy, messy, all this lying to her friend.

  But, this early, Maggie must have something interesting to tell them if she wanted a face-to-face meeting. “I can come to your office,” Roni said. “Now?”