Risking It All

by JM Stewart

  Glad for the reprieve, she rose from her crouched position and left the room. After closing the door softly behind her, she trotted down the stairs. The instant she yanked open the front door, her feet froze in their spot on the polished hardwood floor.

  “Kyle.”

  Though they’d spoken almost every day, she hadn’t seen him since that night by the river. He stood leaning a shoulder against the door frame, arms folded, appearing too relaxed and casual, like he could stand there forever. He looked sexier than any man had a right to be in faded, hip-hugging jeans. Too well she remembered the torturous sight of his rear end in denim as he’d turned to walk back to the house the night he’d left her by the river.

  His T-shirt was worse, though. Dark blue, with the police department logo covering the center of his chest, the blasted thing molded itself to his upper body, teasing her by showing off every twitch of muscle, every hill and valley. Staring at him, she couldn’t forget the luscious press of his body against her. Despite her desperate attempt to squelch the feelings, desire sank low in her belly all over again, leaving her trembling in front of him.

  She gripped the door frame with one hand and bit back a frustrated groan.

  “You didn’t pick up when I called this morning.” He hitched a shoulder, as though not answering the phone was reason enough for him to come over.

  She averted her gaze to her feet, heat slipping into her cheeks. He had a point. Her not picking up the phone normally would have been more than enough reason for him to come over. Kyle had always been protective of her. It had been commonplace once for him to drop by out of the blue.

  Before he’d kissed her. Before she’d become aware of him as a man.

  “Everything okay?”

  His gaze seared into her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze again. Only to wish she hadn’t. The barest hint of heat simmered in his eyes, slightly out of reach, subdued, as if he tried to hide it, but it was undeniably there. A tiny flame that smoldered in the recesses of his eyes, now the color of rain clouds right before a torrential downpour.

  Those eyes trailed the length of her and back up. An action she felt as surely as if his hands drifted over her. He’d done it before. He’d done it a million times over the years, taking her in. His eagle eye didn’t miss much. It was part of who he was, part of being a good cop. Besides, she’d done the same with him, looked him over and told him he looked good. Now? Now that single glance had her insides melting. The desire in his eyes had the same liquid heat flaring in her belly and spreading like wildfire over the surface of her skin.

  It didn’t help that his gaze locked on hers, and for a moment, neither one of them moved. As he waited for an answer, electricity leapt between them, the air sizzling with an aching awareness.

  “I was, um, up in Gran’s room going through her belongings.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair.

  His brow furrowed, concern lighting in his eyes.

  “You should’ve called me. I would’ve helped.” He pulled his hand from his pocket, paused, let out a heavy sigh, and stuffed it back in.

  “No, I need to do it myself.” She folded her arms, desperate to control the shaking of her limbs.

  An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. She diverted her eyes to her bare feet and flexed her toes a couple of times. His gaze burned into her. Was he waiting for her to say something? What could she say?

  “So, do I get to come in, or have I been banished to the porch?” His tone teased, but looking up, his eyes held only seriousness, telling her he was attempting to break the uneasiness between them.

  But, God, she couldn’t handle him in the house right now. That was a terrible thing to admit. After all, they were supposed to be working their way back to being friends, but right then, she was entirely too aware of . . . him.

  She heaved a sigh. She couldn’t lie to him, either. The truth was always better, even if painful. It was the only way they’d get back to where they ought to be, if they stopped avoiding telling each other things.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can handle you being in the house right now.”

  He turned his attention to the porch and, for a long moment, remained silent, seeming to study the boards beneath his feet. Then his jaw tightened, and his brows came together, his head snapping up. “Why?”

  The familiar hardness gleaming back at her from the depth of his eyes had apprehension dropping like a stone in her stomach. Oh God, she hated when he got that look, the unerring determination. “I think you know why.” She lowered her gaze, running perspiration-dampened palms down the front of her worn, dust-coated jeans.

  Her heart pounded. The need to run, to close the door and forget he had ever come over, seized her in a vise grip, but only too quickly she realized it wouldn’t do her any good. If she knew him, he’d follow her into the house.

  “Say it.”

  The determination in his voice had irritation rising within her.

  “What good will it do us?” She lifted her gaze and shook her head, silently pleading with him not to push. “Except to bring us right back where we were a week ago.”

  “Say it.” This time, he folded his arms, appearing too much like an immovable mountain. “Obviously we still need to clear the air. Don’t think I didn’t notice the other night the way you cut off our conversation. Now you can’t stand me being in the house and there are things you aren’t telling me. I can see it. We can’t move forward if we can’t get this out in the open. Isn’t that what you said you wanted? For us to go back to normal? So, talk to me, damn it.”

  She almost wanted to laugh. How ironic that he wanted what she had when they sat by the river a week ago. To make matters worse, those eyes bored into her, refused to let her run and hide, demanding honesty the way she always demanded it from him.

  So she turned her back to him. It didn’t matter if he was right. She didn’t want to say those words, not out loud. If she did, she might not be able to hold back the emotions threatening to burst from her chest. The very ones that had her on the verge of throwing caution to the wind. For once in her life to stop being afraid and fling herself into his arms, capture that wicked mouth, and—

  “Say it, Cecelia.”

  The demand in his voice this time pushed her over the edge, and emotion bubbled to the surface before she could stop it. She spun to face him, her hands fisted at her sides, and glared at him, the words tumbling from her mouth. “Because I want you, Kyle. I can’t forget the way you kissed me. The way you touched me. Nobody has ever made me feel like that. Jimmy sure as hell never did. So crazy and mindless, like I could get lost in your eyes, in the way you touch me . . .”

  Heart pounding, her breaths coming hard and fast, she stopped and waited for him to say . . . something. To react. He stiffened, a muscle ticked in his jaw, but otherwise, he didn’t say anything. So she threw her hands in the air and pivoted, pacing a few feet away from him.

  “But you pulled away, stopped it, the way you always do. It was the right thing to do, but it frustrates the hell out of me. I can’t just turn it back off like you can. And I’m confused as hell because you’re my best friend, and I shouldn’t be feeling any of this. I want everything to be back the way it was. How the hell are we going to raise a child together when we can’t even talk? Except I can’t forget because you called me every day this week.” Halfway down the hallway, she halted and pivoted to face him. She drew her brows together, lowered her voice, and shook her head, vulnerability rising over her. “Do you have any idea what the sound of your voice does to me now? It makes me want, Kyle. Want to hear you whisper to me in the dark, tell me things you shouldn’t. Like how much you want to touch me. Touch me like you did a week ago.

  “Then you show up here in, in that”—she waved a hand at him, gesturing at his clothing—“and all I can think about is how good you look, and how much I ache to strip it all off you, because I’m dying to know what your skin feels like sliding against mine. Is that what you
wanted to know? Are you satisfied now?”

  Her chest heaving with her breathlessness, she squared her shoulders and glared at him. His eyes widened and his brows raised, no longer cool and controlled but stunned. A million emotions erupted in the depths of his searching eyes—confusion, indecision, white-hot need. His chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. Like it took all the power within him to stay rooted to the spot.

  Then something snapped. A low, growling curse slipped from his lips, and he crossed the threshold. One strong arm seized her waist, yanking her against him, all fire and determination that evaporated the instant his body fused with hers.

  Cecelia gasped at the shock of his warmth against her. Her lungs filled with his heady scent, a mixture of soap and a light, spicy aftershave. The fierce, languid heat in his eyes, no longer smoldering but so palpable it seeped into her every pore, had need ravaging through her. Oh God, she needed to push him away, but he leaned down, brushing his mouth over hers, and her body leaned into him instead. Her fingers closed, fisting handfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer, and her head tipped back, her mouth shamelessly offering itself up to him.

  A low groan rumbled out of him, and his arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer. His mouth swooped down to cover hers. He devoured her with a hunger that stole the breath from her lungs, his wicked tongue teasing hers. His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom, and he ground his hips against hers.

  Sensation overwhelmed her senses. The hard press of his body against her. The ridge of his erection pushing into the softness of her belly. All sense of rational thought fled as he swept her into a world of sensation she never thought she’d experience. His hands moved, sliding over her curves, touching places he’d never dared before, and with each one, every nerve ending came alive. Every touch was a new discovery, and every one pulled her deeper into him. He had molten fire racing through her veins, yet she couldn’t stop trembling.

  God, she didn’t even know it was possible to want someone this much. She wanted to lose herself, to be so close they fused, and her hands clutched at him, desperate to draw him closer.

  His mouth never left hers as he backed her through the entryway. The door slammed behind them, and Ceci became lost. The next few minutes passed in a frenzy as they struggled to shed clothing and get upstairs, neither one willing to relinquish their hold. His mouth sought the curve of her neck, his hands working the buttons of her shirt. She divested him of his T-shirt, took pleasure in exploring his fantastic chest, and reveled in the softness of his skin, the solidness of his muscles.

  He managed to get her out of her shirt, and they’d worked their way up five steps, before he growled in frustration.

  “This is taking too long. I need to touch you. All of you.” He snipped at her bottom lip, swept her off her feet, and bounded up the stairs as if she weighed little more than a pile of feathers.

  Upon reaching her bedroom, he crossed to her bed with long, determined strides, then set her feet on the floor, letting her body slink along his. Staring into his eyes increased the tremors running through her. Tenderness mixed with heat in his heavy-lidded eyes. His gaze locked on hers, he dropped to his knees, unbuttoning and pulling her jeans down her legs. He tossed them aside and pushed to his feet again, then stood back and trailed his gaze over her, to her feet and back up. The storm in his eyes grew stronger, headier, with every inch of her he took in.

  He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of her bra, down her stomach and around the top edge of her panties. Everywhere he touched, she tingled, delicious little goose bumps skittering along her sensitized skin, eliciting soft gasps. His slow perusal had her trembling all over again, this time with a potent combination of nervousness and arousal. She’d never been naked in front of him before, and it left her feeling open and exposed. This wasn’t just anyone. This was the boy she grew up with, who knew her better than anyone. Standing almost naked in front of him, she revealed so much more of herself than her body, but her heart and soul as well.

  “White cotton.” He slowly shook his head, awe in his tone. “I should’ve known.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t own any fancy lingerie.” Suddenly self-conscious, she looked down at herself, her shaking hands fluttering over her plain white underwear. It had never occurred to her to buy lingerie until this moment. Jimmy never seemed to mind, and she’d always been a simple kind of girl. Her fanciest pair had lace in them, but they were still cotton, still plain white.

  “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.” He captured her hands in his, ceasing their nervous fluttering, tugged her close again, and pressed a series of soft, light, barely there kisses to her lips. “I don’t care what kind of underwear you wear. I happen to think you’re beautiful just the way you are. But I’ve never seen you naked before. I can’t resist looking at you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. To hear him say those things to her, to know he found her beautiful, made her whole body sing. As if to torture her further, his mouth moved, soft lips caressing her cheek, along her jawline. All the while his hands roamed her curves. Down her sides, over the swell of her hips, to her bottom. When his hot tongue flicked against her ear, a quiet moan escaped her.

  “Now it’s your turn.” His voice came as a husky rumble against her earlobe, his teeth scraping the soft, sensitive flesh. “Undress me, Ceci. Touch me.”

  He pulled back, and his gaze caught on hers. Deep in their depths, the connection she’d always felt with him shined. She nodded, and her cheeks flushed. She’d never touched him like this, either. Her hands trembled as she reached for the buttons on his jeans, but she kept her gaze on his, let their connection fuel the fire raging within her.

  With the first button, the muscles in his stomach jumped and his breath hitched. With the second, his eyes closed, a tremor running through him she felt down to her toes. By the third, her fingers brushed his erection, and a quiet, needy moan slipped from his lips. His mouth hung open, his chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace. He looked as if he was hanging on by the barest thread.

  The knowledge that she affected him with such intensity sent a wave of pleasure pulsing through her. Angling her head, she pressed her mouth to his throat, reveling in the salty taste of his skin, his masculine scent. The rest of the buttons undone, she sank to her knees at his feet. His head came back up, his gaze searing into hers as she pulled his jeans down his legs and tossed them aside.

  By the time she finished and rose to her feet, pressing close again, she couldn’t be sure who trembled more. Her or him.

  She leaned in to nip at his bottom lip, and his arms closed around her. Then he leaned down and captured her mouth. He kissed her long and slow this time, his tongue slipping inside to caress hers. Every stroke made her shudder with tenderness and ache with wonder. Would he make love to her the same way?

  His palms pressed to her stomach, he hooked his thumbs under the material of her bra, followed it to the back, and, with one flick, freed her breasts. Anticipation shuddered through her as she shrugged off the cotton garment and let it fall to the floor. More of her nerves surfaced. The luscious flush of excitement and arousal warred with the part of her that wanted to cover herself. Being naked in front of him for the first time was an ultra-vulnerable sensation. It warred with the part of her that kept insisting, “This is just Kyle.”

  When his warm palms curved around her breasts, though, all thought fled again. His thumbs flicked across her nipples, back and forth. As if he’d done it a thousand times before. As if she were an instrument and he knew exactly what strings to sweep to make her hum.

  And hum she did. He massaged her sensitive breasts, his soft hands stroking and caressing, fingers gently pinching her nipples. Until all her previous nervousness fled, lost in his touch. She let her head loll back, closed her eyes, and immersed herself in the wondrous sensations. Her only other lover had been with a man whose actions now seemed selfish. Jimmy had never taken this much time, and Kyle had her ready to weep with th
e pleasure. Pregnancy had made her breasts super sensitive, and every stroke was a hot brand on her skin.

  When his mouth closed over one hardened, aching tip, more pleasure than she’d ever thought possible arrowed straight to her core. She couldn’t contain her choked cry. Her knees turned to gelatin, refusing to hold her up, and she reached out to anchor herself against him.

  In one fluid motion, he swept her off her feet. She opened her heavy-lidded eyes in time for him to set her on the bed. She laid back, gaze caught on his, on the heat, the overwhelming desire blazing back at her, as he crawled up the bed. It took her breath away.

  At last, he settled over her, and for a moment, they lay there, gazes caught. She bent her knees, cradling his hips, and he stroked her hair back off her face with the tip of his index finger. Long moments passed in silence as something a bit more tender passed between them. The press of his body covering hers wasn’t one she’d forget anytime soon. His weight pressing her into the mattress, the silky heat of his skin, even the hair on his chest caressing her tender nipples. All of it heightened the sensations. But none of it compared to watching his eyes. That connection flowed between them, and she could get lost in it.

  Finally he bent his head, nipping and suckling at her skin as he made his way across her jawline and down her neck to the curve of her shoulder. Holding himself on one elbow, he stroked a hand down her side, over the curve of her hip, and around the soft swell of her bottom. His hips rocked into hers, nudging that sweet spot at the apex of her thighs, and every inch of her lit up like a bonfire.

  “Oh God.” The words left her mouth on a hoarse whisper as the tremors renewed themselves. His erection nudged the exact right spot, and she moaned, rocking her hips against the intimate connection. She slid her hands inside his boxer briefs to cup his firm, bare bottom and pressed him closer. “Kyle, please. I ache.”

  “I know. Me too.” His voice came as a husky murmur, his breathing as harsh and erratic as her own, a hot huff against her ear. “But I’ve waited a long time for this. I intend to take my time with you.”