Anything For You (Harlequin Blaze)

by Sarah Mayberry

  She felt a gentle touch on her cheek and she opened her eyes to find Sam leaning close to her, his expression intent.

  “You look very beautiful in the sunlight, Laney,” he said softly. “Have I told you how much I like your new hair?”

  “No.”

  “I do. I like it a lot.” Sam had a mischievous glint in his eye as he shot her a conspiratorial look. “I like it this much,” he said, lifting the newspaper from his lap to reveal a significant bulge in his jeans.

  Delaney’s mouth went dry as she stared at his crotch, wishing she’d opted to cook him breakfast in their cabin after all.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll keep,” Sam said confidently, reading her chagrin.

  Further conversation was stymied by the arrival of their food. Once her meal was in front of her, Delaney was surprised to realize she was starving. She tucked in with gusto, and Sam gave an approving nod.

  “Good. Keep up your strength. You’re going to need it,” he said.

  “So are you, so eat up yourself,” she warned him.

  They grinned at each other. Delaney felt a rush of pleasure at the fact that the friendly teasing and rivalry that had characterized their friendship seemed to have transferred so readily to this new—if temporary—dynamic.

  It’s only because this is exactly how Sam likes it, an evil little voice whispered in her mind. No strings, no tomorrows. Just fun and games with no consequences.

  Delaney banished the thought as soon as it had entered her mind. She was the one who had issued the invitation for this weekend. They were her rules. She had no right to start sulking over Sam’s attitude when she was getting exactly what she’d asked for.

  After breakfast, they wandered down the main street and discovered that the local church was having a trash and treasure sale. Delaney cast Sam a hopeful look—although she hated shopping in general, trash and treasure sales were a sentimental favorite of hers. Something to do with the fact that she and Sam had manned the lamington stand at their school fete when they were thirteen and had the time of their lives eating the leftovers. Her mouth watered as she thought about getting her hands on a home-baked lamington. There was something so simple and perfect about the fresh sponge squares rolled in chocolate frosting, then dipped in coconut. If they were really lucky, someone would have made them with jam in the middle.

  “There’s probably a cake stall,” she wheedled when Sam rolled his eyes. “There might be lamingtons.”

  Making a big show of being magnanimous, Sam gestured for her to go ahead. Walking amongst the rows of trestle tables, she tried not to look too surprised when he casually slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to walk alongside him. Sex was one thing, but this was a whole other ball game. Her heart seemed to expand inside her rib cage as they browsed slowly amongst the flotsam and jetsam from other people’s lives, Sam’s arm a warm, reassuring-yet-exciting weight across her shoulders.

  At last they came to the food section, staffed as always by an array of elderly ladies. Delaney hid a smile as they all sat a little straighter, primping their hair and tweaking their dresses as she and Sam approached. Within minutes Sam was the center of a circle of elderly female admirers, and she was shaking her head at his apparently universal charm.

  “Here, try my preserves,” said a stick-thin old woman with the name Mabel embroidered on a homemade badge on her bony chest.

  “He looks more like a marmalade man to me,” a tiny, plump woman interjected. “Something with a bit of bite in it.” The look she gave Sam was positively carnal.

  Delaney wasn’t sure at exactly what point Sam began to fear for his personal safety, if not his virtue. It didn’t take the old dears long to segue from offering him samples of their culinary wares to asking how he stayed so fit and strong, and then reaching out to pat a muscle here and there.

  Sam shot her a worried look as Mabel edged around behind him to check out his rear.

  “As I suspected—not a saggy bit of denim in sight,” she said approvingly. “Back in my salad days I had a boyfriend who was a surfer. Reginald. Excellent buttocks. Just like yours,” she said.

  Sam got a peculiar expression on his face, and insisted on buying one of each lady’s offerings before ushering Delaney away.

  “I still can’t believe there were no lamingtons,” she said whimsically as they arranged their jams, pickles, slices and fudges in the back of Sam’s car.

  “Just as bloody well. God only knows what the lamington lady would have done to me,” Sam said.

  “Sam!” Delaney said, choking on a laugh.

  “I’m serious. That skinny little one—Mabel—she pinched me on the butt when she thought I wasn’t looking,” Sam said, his face a picture of outrage.

  “Serves you right for being such a flirt.”

  Sam shot her a speculative look. “Don’t tell me you were jealous, Laney,” he teased.

  Delaney puffed her cheeks out. “Jealous! Hardly,” she said. She would never, ever admit to him that she’d had to staunchly resist the impulse to claim him by giving him a big pash in front of his elderly harem. Not her finest moment.

  Sam wasn’t buying, however, and he pushed her up against the side of the car and kissed her until she was mindless.

  “Don’t worry, Laney. They weren’t even in with a chance,” he said when he finally broke away.

  She stared at him, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak.

  “Time to go back to the cabin,” he said decisively.

  Since it was exactly what she wanted to do, she nodded compliantly.

  The journey back seemed to take far longer than it had going the other way, and she crossed and recrossed her legs, already so hot for him she could feel her pulse throbbing dully between her thighs. Sam kept shooting her hungry glances, and by the time they were pulling up next to the cabin Delaney was feeling well and truly breathless with need.

  Sam strode into the cabin like a man on a mission and immediately began shucking his clothes.

  She followed suit, kicking off her shoes, stripping off her jeans and panties in one smooth move, then leaning down to peel off her socks. When she straightened, Sam was lying on his back on the bed, stark naked and magnificently erect, his eyes glued to her body. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, his gaze avid and intent and completely focused, or maybe it was something to do with the weekend being a time-out from their usual lives, or her newfound confidence since her minimakeover, but a heady rush of power swept over her. Slowing everything down, she reached languidly for the top button on her shirt, sliding it loose oh-so-casually before letting her hand fall to the next button, and then the next.

  “Laney,” Sam growled warningly. “Don’t make me come and get you.”

  She just smiled, grasping the edges of her shirt and flipping first one side and then the other open, offering him fleeting glimpses of her breasts in her sexy, red push-up bra.

  “I’m going to count to ten, then you’re in big trouble.”

  Delaney just waggled her eyebrows at him and slowly pulled the shirt off one arm.

  “One. Two. Three,” Sam counted, eyes narrowed.

  Delaney pulled her other arm free of the shirt, throwing it toward the bed so that it landed in the middle of Sam’s chest.

  “Four. Five. Six,” Sam said, brushing her shirt aside impatiently.

  Stealing a move from a Madonna video clip, Delaney shimmied her hips and bent forward at the waist, reaching behind herself to unclip her bra. As the fabric fell slack around her ribs, she caught the cups of her bra in her hands and slowly peeled them away from her breasts while still bending forward. She knew it was a position that gave her the most possible cleavage, and she jiggled her shoulders a little as she dropped the bra completely.

  “Seven,” Sam said very slowly, his eyes glued to her breasts as she slid a hand down to touch her own nipples.

  As they pebbled and thrust forward, Sam made an impatient noise and tensed as though he were about to j
ump off the bed and come get her. Determined to keep the initiative, Delaney beat him to it, striding toward the bed and stepping up onto the mattress in a long bound. Sam half smiled and reclined again, a look on his face that said he was more than prepared to sit back and enjoy the show now that she’d added a bit of audience participation into the mix.

  Loving teasing him, Delaney boldly stepped over him so that she stood straddling his torso, looking down at his hard male body. Holding his eye, she slid a finger into her mouth, then slowly trailed it down her cleavage, over the erect, highly sensitive nipple of her left breast and down onto her belly. Sam’s mouth opened a little as she headed south, sliding her hand between her thighs to touch herself. Positioned where he was, he had a box seat—so to speak—and she loved the way his breath hitched as he watched her pleasure herself.

  When she figured he’d had enough, she bent her knees, preparing to lower herself over him and straddle him more traditionally, taking them both for the wildest of rides. But Sam had other ideas. As she started to kneel, he hooked a hand behind each knee and hauled her forward. Before she knew what was happening, she was off balance and falling forward, her bent knees landing just above his shoulders. His eyes locked to hers, Sam slid his hands up onto her rear, silently urging her farther forward still, and Delaney realized with a shock what he intended.

  She was by no means a novice where oral sex was concerned, but to press herself against his mouth like that from above seemed so…decadent that she hesitated. Sam took the decision out of her hands by scooting down on the bed, and the next thing she knew, his mouth was closing over her and his tongue was dancing over her clitoris, at first fast and firm, then slow and gentle, then fast and firm again. Delaney’s whole body shuddered and her thighs tensed as the most incredible sensations shot through her. Sam’s mouth felt so hot, so wet, so right against her, she could do nothing but lean forward, grab the headboard and let it happen.

  Within minutes she was writhing, on the verge, and Sam seemed to know exactly what she needed to push her over the edge. While he continued to caress her with his tongue, he slid a hand up her inside thigh and slipped a finger inside her. She came instantly, clenching around him, unable to contain her very vocal cries of ecstasy. Afterward, she slid off him and collapsed on her back, one hand falling across her face in a vain attempt to feel less exposed.

  Sam allowed her a moment’s respite before she felt the mattress dip as he moved to position himself beside her.

  She felt the delicious pressure of his lips beneath her ear, and she slowly lowered her arm.

  “You are the sexiest woman I have ever met,” Sam said, his expression very intent.

  All her self-consciousness left her. This was Sam. He’d held her hair when she was sick after too many cocktails when she was seventeen. He’d seen her throw temper tantrums when her laptop failed. He’d always been around to pick her up and dust her off when she’d fallen over. He’d just performed an incredibly intimate act on her, and she’d lost her mind for a moment—and she’d been safe the whole time, because she was with him.

  She nodded minutely, letting him know that she understood what he was saying. Sam nodded back, and started kissing her neck again, right where he knew it got her the most. She almost protested, sure that she couldn’t possibly even think about more sex after what had just happened.

  But amazingly, her hands were already reaching for Sam, one hand grasping the thick length of him, the other dragging his hips toward her own. When Sam slid into her, she sighed and wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked her pelvis forward and closed her eyes. Heaven. She could never get sick of this. Ever.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she’d just made a very dangerous admission to herself.

  But Sam was inside her, and his hands and mouth were on her breasts, and there was no way she could think right now. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the moment.

  10

  SAM CLOSED HIS EYES and tilted his head back to rest it against the rim of the bathtub. At the other end of the tub, Delaney shifted her leg a little, and he felt the silky brush of her thigh against his in the water. He smiled wryly to himself. The idea of having a relaxing soak in the tub together was great in theory. In practice, there was no question of him ever being able to relax while Delaney was naked and in the near vicinity. In fact, he was beginning to wonder how he’d lasted all these years having her sleeping just below him. Even though their apartment bedrooms were separated by many, many inches of steel and concrete and floorboards, he knew that he would never again be able to lie in his own bed and not think of her lying below. And wonder if she were alone, and what she might be doing, and most importantly of all, if she were thinking of him…

  Sam derailed that particular train of thought before it could go anywhere. He’d been telling himself all weekend that everything would resolve itself once they returned to Melbourne. This incredible sensual time-out would be over. Hell, their friendship would probably be even stronger because of it.

  On a good day, with the wind blowing in the right direction and all the fates aligned, he almost believed his own bull.

  “This French champagne is so good. I know it’s unpatriotic to say it, but Australian champagne never tastes like this,” Delaney said.

  Sam opened his eyes. It didn’t help with the relaxing thing, but it seemed nothing would while his body was tangled with hers.

  They were soaking in the outdoor tub on the cabin’s front deck, and Delaney’s face was flushed pink from the heat. He could see the rosy tips of her breasts where they broke the surface of the water, but the rest of her was hidden by sudsy bubbles. Behind her, the bush was pitch-black, the darkness kept at bay by a circle of fat candles they’d placed around the decking.

  She held a champagne flute in one languid hand, and her expression was dreamy as she savored a mouthful.

  “Australia doesn’t make champagne. It’s sparkling wine now, remember?” he said.

  Delaney wrinkled her nose. “I still think that was a bit mean of the French. Kind of stopped everyone being able to fool themselves,” she said.

  “Very cruel,” Sam agreed, mock-solemnly. He sent a questing hand out to see what interesting things it might encounter. A smile curved Delaney’s lips as he found her inner thigh.

  “Hello, sailor,” she said in her best Mae West impersonation.

  He pinched her gently, and she sent a splash his way. Deciding she could keep, Sam reached for his own champagne glass.

  She was right, it was good. In fact, this whole weekend was just about perfect. The only wrong element was that it had to end.

  He frowned. Why was his mind constantly circling back to the same thought? He never dwelt on problems. He wasn’t a worrier. Life happened, he dealt with it, he moved on. Simple. But it hadn’t escaped his notice that lately he’d been spending a lot of his time thinking about Delaney, about what she meant to him, and how much he didn’t want things to change.

  But they had changed. They’d slept with each other. And Delaney was leaving the business and moving house. Things would never be the same again.

  Anxiety stabbed at his belly, and he took a hearty sip of champagne to try and dull it.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Delaney said dreamily. She shifted, lifting a leg from the water to prop an ankle on the edge of the tub.

  Immediately his brain set to work imagining what was happening under the water, how her thighs would be parted, and the heart of her exposed.

  “Yeah,” he said distractedly, leaning down to place his champagne flute on the deck, the better to free up both hands.

  “Thanks for coming away, Sam” she said suddenly. “I really appreciate it.”

  The distance inherent in her statement caught his attention.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Laney. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  She eyed him enigmatically for a beat before nodding. “Yes, I know that.”

  “And i
t’s not like I’m not having the time of my life here,” he said. Although, in truth, every great moment was increasingly tinged with thoughts about what would happen once they went home again.

  “That’s nice.”

  She looked sad all of a sudden. Sam sat up and patted the surface of the water in front of him.

  “I think you need to come up this end where there’s more company,” he said.

  She smiled, standing obediently. The candlelight reflected off her wet, lean body as she towered above him, and his breath caught in his throat as he realized how beautiful she was on the outside as well as the inside. His Laney.

  Turning away from him, she bent down and eased herself into the water so that she was sitting between his bent knees, her back leaning into his chest. He slid his arms around her torso and spread them possessively over her belly, holding her close. Her head dropped back against his chest and he felt her let out a deep sigh.

  Pressing his cheek against her head, Sam stared off into the darkness. He felt so close to her right now—closer than they’d ever been in some ways. But for the first time in their relationship, he felt scared, too. It wasn’t an emotion he associated with Delaney.

  She’d always been his touchstone, his stalwart, the one immutable thing that anchored his life. Ever since he’d been a kid and he’d found comfort and warmth and normality in her family’s home, she’d been a fundamental part of his world.

  And now things were changing between them. As though she could sense his thoughts, Delaney wrapped her arms on top of his and squeezed him tightly.

  “You’re the best, Sam,” she said. “I’ll never forget this. No matter what.”

  Sam felt a deep certainty chiming inside himself, and suddenly he knew, beyond a doubt, that everything was going to be okay. He pressed a kiss to her head.