A Not-So-Perfect Past

by Beth Andrews

  NINA ATTEMPTED to work moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth. “Oh.”

  Dillon studied her, his shoulders slouched in a negligent pose. Despite his shaggy hairstyle, he should’ve seemed bland and non-threatening in his dark suit coat and tie. Sort of like an accountant, or one of those catalog models.

  But no civilized demeanor could hide his rough edges. His raw sex appeal.

  “This is going to sound idiotic, but I…I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

  He flashed her a heart-stopping grin. “They say it’s like riding a bike.”

  She burst out laughing. “That’s not quite what I meant.” Although, dear Lord, what if she had forgotten how? Was that even possible?

  “I see your brain working,” he said, his hands in his front pockets. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “Do you…have you changed your mind?”

  He gave one, quick shake of his head. “It would kill me to walk away from you now, but you have to want this. And be here, with me, totally.”

  “I’m here. There’s no place else I’d rather be.”

  He smiled. “All I can say to that is, thank God.”

  She returned his smile but then gestured between them. “Is this awkward? I mean, is it supposed to be this…weird? What do we do first?”

  “Why don’t we take it step by step?” he asked.

  Mesmerized by the fire in his eyes, she could only nod in agreement.

  “Step one,” he murmured, moving forward, forcing her to back up until she bumped into the side table.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. Closing her eyes, she nearly jumped out of her skin when he tucked her hair behind her ear.

  He traced her ear with the tip of his finger. She shivered. He then dragged that finger down the side of her neck and over her shoulder to the sleeve of her dress.

  “Step two is to tell you how amazing you look tonight,” he said roughly. But his touch was still whisper-soft as he skimmed his finger down the edge of her dress to the top of her breast. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  He drew his finger over her breast. She reached behind her and gripped the table with both hands. Caught her breath. Her nipples beaded, pressed against her dress. Heat pooled low in her stomach. Between her legs.

  “Your skin’s so soft.” He rubbed his finger back and forth across the skin just above the bodice of her dress. He paused to dip his knuckle in the space between her breasts. “Lovely.”

  He cupped the back of her head, his fingers in her hair. “Step three,” he murmured before pressing his mouth against the side of her neck.

  A shiver ran up her spine and she laid her hands against his solid chest for balance. For a touchstone to reality. His shirt was cool and silky. A decided contrast to the heat of his mouth.

  He brushed his lips over her sensitized skin. She gasped and curled her fingers into his shirt. He used both hands to sweep her hair to the side, wrapped one fist around it and tugged lightly until she tipped her head to give him better access. He scraped her pulse with his teeth and she jerked and tipped her hips toward him.

  Her nerve endings thrummed. Unable to stop herself, she pressed against his chest, trapping her hands between the hard planes of his chest and her breasts.

  Dillon groaned, yanked her against him and kissed her with a hunger that made her knees weak. She threw her arms around his neck, thankful for the heels that aligned their bodies. They kissed, a heated mesh of tongues and teeth, greed and desire. His erection pressed against her stomach and she arched against him.

  Still kissing her, he tugged her bodice down. Lifting his head, he stared at her bared breasts. She held her breath only to release it on a long whoosh when he bent and sucked one nipple into his mouth. She slid her hands into his silky hair and allowed her head to fall back against the mirror nailed to the wall, her hips pressed forward by the narrow table. The wet suction of his mouth made her squirm against him, trying to find relief from the ache building between her legs.

  Turning to her other breast, he gathered the skirt of her dress in his hand and lifted it above her waist, pinning it there with his lower body. Pulling her panties down her legs, he laid his hand flat against her.

  She should’ve been embarrassed, standing in her foyer with a gorgeous man’s mouth on her breast. His hand between her legs. The fact that she was breathing hard and already so wet for him should give her pause. But it didn’t. She wanted this, wanted Dillon.

  So when he placed his large, callused palm on her inner thigh, nudging her legs apart, she couldn’t refuse him. And when he finally touched her, when he slid one finger, and then two, inside her, she moaned and undulated against his hand.

  He groaned and shifted his hand, his thumb rubbing her where she needed it most. She panted as she climbed toward release, moving her head back and forth against the mirror. And when he gently rolled her nipple between his teeth, she bucked hard against his hand and cried out as she came, her body quivering.

  Thank God Dillon was there to support her as she recovered. He held her in his arms, his face against her shoulder, his breathing ragged, his rigid body still vibrating with need.

  Her eyes filled with tears at the sweetness of what had happened between them, at how he held himself back. She blinked the tears away. She didn’t want anything—not her stupid sentimentality or her very scary growing feeling for Dillon—to ruin this night.

  “If those were just the first three steps,” she said, bending down and wiggling back into her panties, “I can’t wait to see what you have in mind for steps four through ten.”

  He lifted his head, his upper lip dotted with sweat, his jaw tight with tension. “What makes you think there are only ten steps?”

  She raised her eyebrows even as she tugged her dress back up over her breasts. “You have more?”

  “Cupcake, I have so many things I want to do to you, I’m not sure I could get to them all in just one night.”

  She smoothed a lock of hair off his forehead. “Well, in that case, we’d better get started on number four.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DILLON’S HEART hammered. He yanked Nina into his arms and kissed her. She felt so incredible. The heat from her skin scorched through his clothes, and her face and chest were flushed. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls.

  Better yet, she still trembled from the strength of her orgasm. The orgasm he’d given her. Pure male satisfaction filled him.

  “Bedroom?” he asked in between kisses as he backed her down the dark hallway.

  “Last door…on the right.”

  At her bedroom door, Dillon pressed his body against hers, trapping her against the wall. He shoved both hands into her hair and held her head immobile while he deepened the kiss. Her body was so soft, so responsive he couldn’t help but roll his hips against hers. Her soft moan and the way she arched against him left him insane for her. With a low growl, he spun them into the room.

  Still kissing her—he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing her—he tugged the zipper down the back of her dress. The sleeves fell off her shoulders. He pressed his mouth against her clavicle, flicked his tongue over the pulse that beat erratically at her neck.

  But it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him. He had to see her.

  With one arm wrapped around her waist, he reached around the wall until he came in contact with the light switch. He flipped it on.

  “Wait,” she said. “Dillon, stop.”

  Her words, and the fact that she was pushing at his chest filtered through the desire muddying his thoughts. He shook his head and blinked until his vision cleared and he saw the very real apprehension in her eyes.

  Though it took an act of superhuman will, he forced himself to let her go.

  She clutched the fabric of her dress against her breasts and stepped back.

  “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

  She frowned. “What?” He could see realization dawn in the widening of her eye
s. “No. I was just wondering if we could…keep the lights off?”

  “We can do whatever you want,” he said carefully, “but I’d love to see you.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I’ve been dying to see you.”

  She swallowed. “It’s just that I’m…I have stretch marks. And…well, it’s no secret I’m carrying around a few extra pounds…and I’ve…never done this except in the dark.”

  Dillon raised his eyebrows. So that’s what this is about?

  No way would he let Nina continue to believe whatever bullshit her ex had told her. But since he sucked at expressing how he felt, he’d just have to show her.

  “I’m not him.” His tone wasn’t harsh but she winced anyway.

  “No, I know you’re not.”

  “Do you?” He skimmed his fingers over the hand that still clutched her dress to cover herself. “Then let me see you.”

  He dropped his arm back to his side. His breath hitched as he watched the emotions cross her face. Anxiety and uncertainty mixed with desire. And finally, thankfully, trust.

  Nina unclenched her hand. His head buzzed with anticipation as she inhaled and slowly—ever so slowly—slid one sleeve, then the other, down her arms then tugged at the dress until it slithered past her hips to pool at her feet.

  The air left his lungs. Her silk panties were black, a decided contrast against the paleness of her skin. And seeing as how panties—and her shoes—were all she wore, he held onto his control by a very thin thread.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Her blush deepened and she dropped her gaze. He didn’t have the words to convince her he was speaking the truth. What he felt when he looked at her.

  “Come here,” he ordered as he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie.

  When she hesitated, he tossed his coat onto the armchair but made no move to close the distance between them.

  After another long moment, she stepped over her dress toward him.

  He laid his hands on her hips, hooked his thumbs under the elastic waist of her panties. “Did I tell you how much I like those shoes?”

  She laughed shakily. “No, you didn’t.” Pulling his tie off over his head, she undid the top three buttons of his shirt. Her trembling knuckles brushed against him. “I never would’ve figured you as the type of guy to have a shoe fetish.”

  He rubbed his thumbs back and forth across the incredible smoothness of her skin. “Maybe it’s more of a curiosity of how women even walk in those things.” He dragged her closer. “I’m just glad someone invented them.”

  She lifted her head at the same time he leaned down to capture her mouth with his. He slipped his hands into her panties and caressed the top curve of her rear while she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. After a moment, she growled in frustration. The next thing he knew, she’d torn his shirt and the last few buttons popped off.

  He wrapped both arms around her waist and carried her to the bed, letting go of her only long enough to strip off his ruined shirt before settling on top of her.

  He braced himself on his elbows. He had to slow down. He wanted to touch her, bring her back to the edge of pleasure again. But it was hard when she tasted so damn sweet and the soft sounds she made were such a turn-on. Still, he fought his need and slid his hands over her breasts.

  Her own hands moved over him, over his shoulders and down his chest and stomach. She lightly brushed his erection and he sucked in a harsh breath. Exhaled heavily when she worked his belt loose and undid his pants. She slipped inside his briefs and wrapped her warm, soft fingers around him. He cursed brokenly at her touch.

  He bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucked as he smoothed his hands down her rib cage to her silky stomach. He placed soft, biting kisses across her collarbone and up her neck until their mouths met again. Kissing her, he skimmed his hand over her panties, tracing tiny, featherlight circles over them. She arched against him.

  “Dillon, please,” she gasped. “Now.”

  Beyond control, beyond reason, he toed off his shoes and kicked away his pants while Nina lifted her hips and wiggled out of her panties. He grabbed a condom from his wallet, sheathed himself and settled between her legs. Bracing his hands on either side of her head, he kissed her deeply and entered her.

  He reached under her hips and lifted her so he could imbed himself in her more fully. She moaned and raked her nails down his back and he plunged into her again and again. Sweat covered their bodies. The sound of their breathing, the scent of their lovemaking filled the room.

  He grasped her behind her thighs, wrapped her legs around his waist. Her high heels dug into his back. Her hands clutched his biceps. He quickened his pace and her breathy moans turned into pants. Her body contracted beneath his. Her eyes clouded.

  “Dillon,” she gasped.

  And the sound of her saying his name sent him over the edge with her. His heart racing, he collapsed on top of her. Her fingers tightened in his hair. When his breathing returned to normal and his body stopped trembling, he rolled to the side and pulled the end of the comforter over them.

  Then he tucked her against him. Her head on his shoulder, she placed her hand on his chest. A few minutes later, her breathing deepened. He smoothed her hair back, kissed her forehead and sighed as he let his head fall back.

  Ah, hell.

  THE PHONE RANG. Nina sat up, the receiver to her ear before she opened her eyes.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” Luke said. “Hope I didn’t scare you but we’ve got a little situation here.”

  Nina squinted at the blurry numbers on her alarm clock. 3:53. “Luke?” She cleared her throat, brushed the hair out of her eyes. “What’s the matter?”

  “Hayley got sick.”

  “Hayley?” She swung her feet over the side of the bed. “She’s in bed sleeping.”

  “Wake up, Neen. The kids spent the night with Mom and Dad after the wedding, remember?”

  Nina frowned and rubbed her forehead. The wedding. Of course. She turned around so fast, she fell off the bed, landing on the carpet with a thump.

  “Hey, you still there?” Luke asked.

  “What?” She peered over the edge of the bed but Dillon must’ve shut the light off and she couldn’t make out anything. Not even a lump. “Uh, you said Hayley’s not feeling well?”

  “She threw up. She doesn’t have a fever, so Mom thinks she probably ate too much at the reception. But she was crying and wanted to come home—”

  “I’ll be right there.” Oh, her poor baby. Nina got to her feet and wobbled, balancing herself against the nightstand. Dear Lord, she still had her shoes on.

  And nothing else.

  “Don’t bother,” Luke said. “I’m already on my way.”

  “What?” She reached around, found the lamp and switched it on. Blinked against the sudden light.

  “Mom asked me to bring Hayley into town. It’s snowing pretty hard and she didn’t want you driving out here.”

  A chill racked Nina’s body. She faced the bed, not surprised to find Dillon leaning on his elbows watching her out of heavily lidded eyes.

  She gripped the phone tightly. “Uh…what do you mean, you’re on your way?”

  “I just passed the Glicks’ house. Hey, do me a favor and unlock your door. Hayley fell asleep a couple of miles back so maybe we can get her into her bed without waking her. See you in a few minutes.”

  The dial tone buzzed in Nina’s ear. Her entire body tingled—and not from the effects of two fabulous orgasms. No, this was good old-fashioned panic.

  “Everything all right?” Dillon asked, his voice husky from sleep.

  “You have to leave,” she told him as she spied her underwear on the floor. Pulling them over her hips, she gathered his clothes and threw them at him.

  “What the…” Dillon caught his pants before they hit him in the face. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t have time to explain.” She flew across the room, opened h
er middle dresser drawer, grabbed the first shirt she saw and pulled it over her head. “What are you waiting for?” she cried when he hadn’t moved. “Get dressed.” She picked out a pair of flannel pajama pants and, using the dresser for balance, put them on. “You have to go. Now. Right now.”

  Dillon stood and pulled his pants on.

  She tugged her hair back into a high ponytail, tying it with a hair band she’d snatched off the dresser and glanced at the clock. 3:55.

  “Listen, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to explain.” She practically shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt—both to hurry him along and because, well to be honest, the sight of him standing there barefoot and bare-chested was more than her jacked up system could take at the moment. “Luke said he was by the Glicks’ house, which is only two miles away, which means he’ll be here any minute.”

  “Is Hayley okay?” Dillon asked.

  “Fine.” Nina tossed his tie and coat at him, whirling around as she searched for his shoes. Aha. There they were, by the bed. She rushed over, picked them up and shoved them at him. “I mean, I guess she’s fine. A stomachache from too many sweets.”

  Another look at the clock. 3:56. Dillon still hadn’t moved, just stared down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. “I’ll tell you everything later. I promise. But right now you need to—”

  Headlights illuminated the hallway.

  She cursed and pushed him back into the room. “It’s too late, Luke’s already here. Promise me you’ll stay in the bedroom. And be quiet.”

  He opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Nina stepped out into the hallway and shut the door. She hurried to open the front door for Luke.

  “She’s out,” Luke whispered, carrying Hayley inside. His gaze flicked from the kitchen to the living room. “She didn’t even stir when I unbuckled her.”

  Nina swept her baby’s hair back and felt for any signs of fever but found none. “Let’s put her in bed.”