“You read my mind,” he said. S’mores had been a special treat when he and his dad went camping. And, yeah, he’d shared them once with Cleo on a camping trip, too. She’d been new to the roughing-it thing, but she’d loved it, and they’d told ghost stories around the campfire and fed each other gooey marshmallows, which had led to some rather gooey sex, as well. She had to remember. The question was whether she was remotely interested in an encore performance.
But he had to stop anticipating things that might not happen. Better to just live in the moment and appreciate what did.
By the time he returned to the living room, she’d straightened out two hangers and was kneeling in front of the fire. She’d set the grate to one side, and he put the plate down on the hearth and settled in next to her. “I’m going to burn mine to a crisp,” she said. “Don’t laugh.”
“You’re supposed to gently brown them.”
“No way. Burned is better.” As if to prove the point, she shoved a marshmallow on the makeshift skewer, stuck it into the flames and pulled it out. The white ball of fluff flamed like a meteorite, and she turned the skewer, making sure that all of it got charred. Then she blew it out, waited a few seconds for it to cool and popped the whole thing in her mouth. “Mmm,” she said through a mouthful of gooey goodness.
“Heathen. Let me show you how it’s done.” He put a marshmallow on his own coat hanger, then held it over the fire until it was toasted a perfect brown. “Tada.”
“Not bad. But not gooey enough for a s’more.” As if to demonstrate, she flamed another marshmallow and smushed it in between the cookies and chocolate. She took a big bite, and ended up with a clump of chocolate and marshmallow in the corner of her mouth.
He reached out and brushed his thumb over it, then brought his thumb back to his mouth. “You’re right. Your way tastes great.”
“Josh, I—”
Before he could talk himself out of it—before she could think to stop him—he moved in for a kiss.
He was right, she did taste like chocolate and wine.
Her response was hesitant at first, but finally she opened her mouth under his, and he thought he was going to lose it right there. She was everything he ever wanted, and she was right there in his arms. That was all that mattered. There were no second-guesses, no fear that this was going to end and she’d bolt from the room. Just this moment. Only this.
She pulled away, and his heart twisted. “Josh—” Her breathing was as tight as his, and he could see the desire in her eyes. It was in the way she rubbed her palms down her jeans, the way her lips were parted. And the way her nipples peaked behind her T-shirt, so hard he could see them even under her bra. “Josh,” she repeated, and he leaned closer, wanting to take her. Wanting only to hear her name.
“I—I’m sorry.” She got to her feet, her expression confused and frazzled. “I think— I’m going to take a shower and crash.”
And then she was gone, and he was left sitting there wondering how he’d gone from having the woman he craved melting and willing in his arms, to sitting alone in front of a fireplace littered with graham-cracker crumbs.
CHAPTER FOUR
CLEO SHUT THE BATHROOM DOOR behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard, her mind in a muddle. What am I doing?
She’d come to talk business, not to rekindle romance. Not even for fabulous reunion sex. And yet she’d almost let herself get carried away and surrender to her desire. And why? Because Josh called to her. Because, of all the men she’d ever known, he was the only one who made her feel open and alive. Who made her feel as if sex was an extension of the fun they were having with each other. An expression of unity rather than just exercise and heat between the sheets.
She wanted him, plain and simple.
But she’d walked away because she knew she had to. The re-creation of their first date, the candles, the tone of his voice—all these things told her that it would be more than reunion sex to Josh, more than just fun.
She had to tell him why she’d come. And yet, if she did, then the chance to have Josh in her arms would evaporate. She’d never expected that to be a complication, and yet, damn her, she wanted to feel him against her again. She’d realized just how much she wanted that when he’d kissed her. A kiss that had worked its way down to her toes and into her soul. Making her forget common sense and reason. Making her remember only him.
She’d done the only thing she could do to prevent herself from hurting him—she’d pushed away and ran. And probably hurt him anyway in the process. Smooth, very smooth.
So now he was in the living room stinging, and she was in the bathroom, tipsy and more than a little turned on.
So go out there and sleep with him. The truth will still be there in the morning.
She wanted to—oh, how she wanted to.
But she couldn’t bear the thought of making this any harder on Josh than it already was. Which meant that she and her raging libido were going to take a nice cold shower, then climb into a nice warm bed—alone. Not the most enticing of plans…but she couldn’t argue with its practicality.
She ran the icy water and tried to get in. But she couldn’t deal with the cold, much as she might need it. Instead, she twisted the temperature-control knob and slid under a stream of warm water, letting it sluice over her, letting it warm her.
Her skin was already sensitive with desire, and she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander, imagining Josh’s hands on her breasts, following the path of the water down her stomach and lower. Her own hand dipped between her thighs, and she moaned as she touched herself, wishing it could be Josh, but nonetheless wanting the release.
Stop it.
She opened her eyes. This really wasn’t the way to get her libido in check. Shower. Sleep. That was the plan. Getting hotter and hornier was really not the smartest thing to do.
She turned the handle to increase the hot water, then looked around the shower. No soap, no shampoo.
Well, damn.
Her own travel bag was in the living room, but surely there was some outside the small shower. She pulled the curtain aside and peered around. Sure enough, a few feet away a small table stood, topped with bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap and what looked like a delicious body gel.
Fab.
She slid back under the water and cranked the hot up a bit more. She should be turning the cold up, but that was okay. She was determined. Confident. Completely in control.
She could take a hot shower without succumbing to the demands of her libido.
Of course she could.
SINCE JOSH COULDN’T JUST sit there wallowing in disappointment after Cleo bolted for the shower, he started to clear the dishes. Only he accidentally dropped the dessert plate onto the hearth, and, as he was picking the pieces up and tossing them into the trash, he managed to slice his thumb.
It didn’t hurt—well, not a lot. But it was bleeding.
Damn.
He wrapped a tissue around it, which promptly turned red. He was on his way to grab his car keys so he could snag the first-aid kit from the trunk, when he remembered the Check Engine light that had come on as he’d followed Jillian to the cabin. They’d backtracked and left his car at Guy’s Auto Shop in exchange for the promise that it would be good as new on January 1, despite Josh’s protests that Guy didn’t need to work on a holiday.
Which meant any bandages he was going to find would have to be in the cabin.
He scoured the kitchen first and came up with nothing. Then he searched the games closet and the bedroom. Nothing, and nothing.
Of course, most people kept first-aid supplies in the bathroom.
But Cleo was in the bathroom, naked, and he couldn’t exactly go barging in there.
But he didn’t want to bleed out on the rug.
He glanced at the closed bathroom door. His thumb throbbed.
Okay. He’d go in. If he made no noise, he might not even disturb her. There was a flowered curtain around the tub, after all
. It wasn’t as if he was going to get an eyeful. And too bad for that…
He opened the door gently, paused just long enough to make sure the shower was still running, and walked in, closing the door behind him so that the steam wouldn’t escape. A mirrored medicine cabinet hung over the sink. He opened it and found himself staring at a box of Band-Aids.
Perfect. He opened one, tossed the tissue, rinsed his thumb and performed some quick first aid right over the sink. Behind the shower curtain, he could hear the water pounding, and it didn’t take much imagination to picture her in there, sleek and sexy and warm and wet.
Go.
He went, but he paused at the door to look back, letting his imagination carry him to heaven one last time.
And that’s when it happened. The curtain pulled aside and a very wet, very naked Cleo was standing right there, her eyes wide.
“Oh!”
“Sorry! Sorry!”
“What are you doing?” She pulled the shower curtain so it hid what he’d already seen. What was burned in his mind forever.
“I needed a Band-Aid. I was on my way out.” He held up his bandaged thumb, and realized how lame he must look since he was obviously still in the bathroom. And obviously staring in her
“Ever heard of the power of speech? A simple ‘hey, I’m in here’ would have done just fine.”
“Sorry. I—”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I thought I could slip in and out without disturbing you.” Although part of him wondered if secretly he hadn’t been hoping for a moment exactly like this. Him in front of the tub, and her slowly pulling back the curtain. “Josh? Hello?”
“What?” He blinked and realized she’d said something to him.
“I asked if you could bring me the soap and the shampoo.” She cocked her head toward the table.
“Sure.” He grabbed the stuff and took it to her, knowing full well he should just pass it to her and go. Fast. That was what a gentleman would do.
Except he wasn’t even remotely interested in being a gentleman.
He reached out with the soap, and when she took it, he brushed his thumb over her hand. She gasped. Such a soft sound, it was almost swallowed by the sound of the running water. But he heard it. He heard it, and he knew.
“Cleo…”
She ran her teeth over her lower lip.
“You want help?” he asked. And then he waited, bold and silent, holding his breath.
She let go of the shower curtain, and it seemed to fall in slow motion. Suddenly, Josh could breathe again.
“It can’t mean anything,” she whispered. “It’s just…I just want you.”
“I know,” he said. But she was wrong. It meant everything. And before the weekend was over, he’d prove it to her. “I want you, too.”
She smiled with the words, reaching for his waistband and tugging him close. Her fingers fumbled at his button and fly, and he helped her along, stepping out of his pants and socks, and then climbing into the tub with her. His T-shirt was soaked immediately under the warm spray, and she peeled it off him, her hands sliding over his chest, making his heartbeat pick up tempo and his cock take notice. She noticed, too, and her hand slipped down between them. “Where’s that soap?” she whispered.
“You put it in the dish.”
“Right.”
She released him long enough to lather her hands, then passed the bar to him. He tried to concentrate on working up a lather, but it was hard with her expert fingers gliding over him. Lord, how he’d missed her touch.
He was tense and tight and ready to explode. He reached down and eased her hands around to his back. “Too fast,” he murmured, and she made a satisfied little noise, as if her goal of tormenting him had been soundly met.
He slid his hands over her belly and breasts, making her body slick with soap before pulling her close. The water beat down on them, drenching them, heating them, and he used the soap as an excuse to explore every inch of her, refamiliarizing himself with a body he’d once known as intimately as his own.
He lifted her arms, soaping them and then closing her hand over the shower rod. Then he eased to his knees and slid his hand between her legs, touching her lightly, feeling her tremble in his hand. Her soft moans mingled with the splashing of the water, the small bathroom making the sounds echo, so it felt as though he was lost in her passion.
He bent close, desperate to taste her, and brought his tongue to her clit. She gasped, and he held her steady as she soared higher. And he was the one who was taking her there. He didn’t let up, stroking and teasing, his fingers sliding up to stroke her nipples, his cock hardening with every moan, every little squeal, every desperate, needy thrust of her hips.
On and on it built until he could feel her body tighten, the tension mounting higher and higher and higher, more and more, until finally she grabbed his shoulders and he realized he was holding her up because her knees had given out.
She slid down into the tub, now half-full since his soaked T-shirt was blocking the drain.
“Heaven,” she whispered, her mouth finding his.
He kissed her, wanting to share the taste of her. She clung to him, her body soft and ready. “More,” she whispered. “Oh, yeah.”
“Not here,” she said. She lifted a hand to the shower spray. “It’s gone cold.”
He hadn’t noticed, but she was right. They’d used up all the hot water.
“Not a problem,” he said. He got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist, then helped her out. Slowly, methodically, gently, he dried her off.
“Have you seen the bedroom?”
“I haven’t. Want to show it to me?”
“I do,” he said. And at the moment he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.
SHE DIDN’T HAVE A CHANCE to be chilled from the cold water because Josh scooped her up, pressed her close to his warm naked chest and carried her to the bedroom. He deposited her in the middle of absolute decadence: a soft velour bedspread that caressed her already aroused and sensitive skin.
For one moment while he was carrying her, reason had tried to slide back into her mind, screaming that she had to take it back, to stop this. That she never should have let desire win out over reason.
But somehow the words couldn’t come. She wanted this, needed it. She’d missed what she had in Josh—a friend, a lover, a teammate, all rolled into one. When she’d been with Perry, she’d always had the feeling that he was performing. As if after every date, every kind word, every orgasm, he expected her to lift up a scorecard or something. And the truth was, he’d never ranked a perfect ten.
Not the way Josh had, just by being himself.
Was it too much to ask to want to be blown away this weekend, just one last time?
Beneath her, the bedspread was soft and warm. She writhed against it, wanting him. Only he’d gone back to turn off the water.
She ran her fingertips over her sensitive skin, her eyes closed, her nerve endings on fire.
“That’s an enticing sight.”
“Do you want to look?” she teased. “Or touch?”
“I’ll admit to enjoying the view, but I think I’ll take door number two.”
“Good choice,” she said. She reached up as he came over her, then she hooked her arms around his neck as he straddled her. With a low moan, she lifted her mouth to his, desperate to taste him. His hands slipped down, fingers stroking her already sensitive sex, and she trembled in his hand, hot and wet and ready.
His mouth closed over hers, and she devoured him, all chocolate and sweet and oh, so male.
Ignoring his protest, she broke the kiss and trailed her mouth to his ear, biting and teasing and tasting, remembering that drove him crazy. It seemed some things never changed, because with only a few nips and licks, he let out a rough growl and flipped them over.
She settled herself again, laughing as she straddled him this time. “Nice trick,” she said, leaning forward as he reached up to cup he
r breasts. “Got any others?”
“Plenty,” he promised.
She stroked his chest, relishing the sensation of his skin against hers.
The fire had kept the living room warm, but the air in the bedroom was cool, and she shivered as it whispered against her overheated body.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I’ve missed looking at you. Talking to you.”
She’d missed it, too, but she didn’t dare say it out loud. Missing implied emotions, and that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about. Instead, she leaned over and kissed him, speaking through touch instead of with words.
He twined his fingers in her hair. It felt nice, but that wasn’t where she wanted his hands. She wanted palms on skin. Heat on heat. Body against body.
And so she boldly moved his hands to her breasts.
She moaned aloud when he squeezed her nipples, rising up so that he could close his mouth over one and tease it with his tongue. She twisted with the pleasure of it, wanting him to take more, to increase the violent heat of pleasure that was ripping through her. Wanting not just his mouth, but all of him. “Josh, please. Inside me.”
In answer, he slid his hand down, his fingers teasing her, making her even slicker, giving her a tempestuous preview of what was still to come.
“Let go,” he whispered.
She did, letting him stroke and tease her until she trembled against him, her orgasm ripping through her as he cupped her gently with his hand.
She rolled off him, sated and happy.
But at the same time she still wanted more. So much more.
“That was wonderful,” she said, turning onto her side. “But you know I’m not done with you.”
“I’m happy to hear that, actually.”
She grinned. “Make me the happiest girl in the world and tell me that you have some condoms handy.”
“Prepare to be ecstatic…” He reached over and pulled open the drawer on the bedside table. “I like to be cautiously optimistic,” he said as he removed a box.
Holiday Hideout Page 19