Searching for Beautiful

by Jennifer Probst

  HE NEEDED TO GET laid.

  Bad.

  Wolfe dropped her hand and eased away. Her body was so soft and womanly. She'd finally put weight back on and lost the sharp edges stress had lent her. Those killer curves were back, and his fingers itched to grab and stroke and pleasure.

  The shocks were coming faster and more frequently now. Moments when their eyes met and heat surged between them, leaving him weak. What was happening between them? Every night he lay on the couch, battling sleep and imagining her in bed. Cotton nightgown twisted around her thighs. Lips parted and moist as she breathed. Those beautiful corkscrew curls falling wildly over the pillow.

  He was beginning to wonder if he'd sleep better in the car.

  Wolfe used to be able to put his hands on her without fuss. He'd grab her around the hips and tickle her ribs, which she despised. He'd ruffle and tug on her hair. Wrap his arms around her for a big bear hug. Sure, they'd always had a connection, but the tiny simmer had exploded into a wildfire, and he didn't know what the hell to do. What had changed? And why did he suddenly want so much more?

  She must've reached the same conclusion, because she forced a smile and spoke with fake cheer. "Thanks for the defense, friend." She subtly emphasized the word as if reminding both of them their true relationship. For his sake? Or hers?

  He smiled back. "Anytime. Friend."

  They both turned and listened to the music. The band was pretty good, able to crank out a variety of alternative and some recognizable pop songs without sounding like karaoke. Gen swayed her hips and mouthed the words. She'd always been a great dancer, able to throw herself into the music and the moment without caring how she looked. A strange ache fluttered from his gut. What would it feel like to claim her, man to woman, rather than friend to friend? Would she explode in bed like she did in the daylight, full of energy and joy and determination to wring the most out of the moment?

  The man who held her heart for keeps needed to be extraordinary. Needed to match the same inner lightness she exhibited in her soul. The memories flashed hard and painful. Wolfe scratched absently at his leather wristband, accepting he'd never be that man, never be good enough for her.

  At least he'd protect her.

  Even from himself.

  A fierce possession reared up. Gen belonged to the world of the living; of beautiful things; of a future filled with happiness and babies and domestic bliss. This time, he'd make sure she chose correctly.

  The music slowed to a moody ballad, and the pink-haired singer launched into some classic pop song he vaguely remembered from the radio. His voice held a rich baritone, lending an air of smoky nightclub atmosphere. Night folded around them, battling the blinding lights from the stage. Stars exploded in the sky. The air was heavy with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and damp grass. Couples began to dance near picnic blankets, bodies entwining and moving slowly together.

  He blinked when she held out her hand. Her eyes yearned for something big, something he desperately wanted to give her but knew he didn't have. Wolfe fought the lump in his throat and opened his mouth to make some excuse to bolt.

  "Dance with me."

  Her voice echoed the singer's. Low. Raspy. Seductive. He meant to say no.

  Instead, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

  Home.

  The warm comfort of familiarity mingled with the spark of sex. She didn't just fit into him, she completely consumed his space, stealing his breath and cells and heart. Wolfe held himself back, battling for distance her presence wouldn't allow. Full breasts pressed against his chest. Thigh brushed thigh. The scent of peach shampoo drifted up, reminding him of sweet juices and the first delicious bite into flesh. An animal moan rose up from his chest, ready to escape his lips in an agony of need.

  Words of unfulfilled longing filled the air in the seductive tone of the singer. The low beat of drums and guitar in the background added to the scene. Back from the crowd, trapped in darkness, they were alone in the world. With a sorceress's skill, Gen wove her feminine essence around him simply by surrendering to his embrace.

  He gave up the fight. Just this once.

  Burying his face in her curls, he grabbed her waist and pulled her tight, his growing erection trapped between their bodies. She gasped. Wolfe wondered if she'd move away, stop the dangerous game they flirted with, but once again she surprised him. Wrapping her arms tight around his back, she arched into him full power.

  He gritted his teeth against the sweet ache of need. His feet moved in a faint parody of dancing, allowing each body part to touch, tease, and slide against one another. Fingers dug into him, urging him on. Wolfe ached to slide his hand under her shorts, under her panties, and dive in. Could he scent her musky arousal or was that just his mind fantasizing? She shuddered. Oh yeah, she was wet, and needy, and wanting . . . him.

  His lips had a mind of their own. He dipped his head and tasted the soft crease where her shoulder met her neck. Like powdered sugar, he craved more. His teeth nibbled on her collarbone, and she made a low, hungry noise.

  "Wolfe? Oh, God, what are we doing? That feels so good."

  His brain exploded. He swiped his tongue to the vulnerable curve under her cheek, opened his mouth, and bit.

  Her body shuddered. She grabbed his face with shaking hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. Drugged blue eyes stared back at him. Her breath came out in uneven pants from her plump lips. She was so damn honest in her responses, so willing to give him whatever he needed. "Why am I feeling like this?" she whispered, clinging with a feminine strength he found sexy as hell. "What are you doing to me?"

  "Don't know. Same thing you're doing to me." He stared at her mouth, so close, so moist. "I want to kiss you."

  "Oh yes. Just this once. Yes."

  He didn't wait a second longer. Just lowered his head and captured her lips. Slid over and into the slick, sweet cave, thrusting his tongue with slow, languid motions, deflowering her completely. He leaned against the tree trunk and hitched her higher, until her legs wrapped around his hips. Her taste swamped him, driving him to capture the very essence of her mouth, refusing to let her keep anything back.

  She didn't. Hanging tight, she melted in his arms and surrendered completely. Her body heat engulfed him, licking flames of fire that drove him mad for more. He couldn't remember when a kiss had stolen his breath and sanity, but nothing mattered except the need to rip her clothes off, taste her everywhere, give her pleasure. Using his teeth to scrape against her bottom lip, he captured her needy moan and worked his hips in a slow, grinding thrust. She ripped her mouth off his and panted, digging her nails deep into his shoulders. She tilted her head back so he saw the wetness on her swollen lips.

  "Feels too good," she panted. "Give me more."

  Oh yeah.

  He moved quickly, turning her so her back pressed against the rough bark of the tree. Losing his head completely, he forgot he was in a public park, forgot she was his best friend and sex wasn't an option, forgot everything except getting closer and deeper into her until he faded away.

  He took her mouth again, bruising, but she kissed him back with such raw hunger and need, Wolfe shook. He gripped her head and pulled her hair, notched into the center of her thighs, and gave it all to her with everything he got.

  She was wild in his arms, biting and licking back, arching up for more, until the simple kiss burned barriers and exploded out of control. Wolfe dimly heard the song ending and the smattering of applause. Low chatter and movement finally cut through the fog.

  He lifted his head. Froze. Dragging in a breath, chest tight, dick so hard and swollen it could be registered as a deadly weapon, he fought for sanity.

  She opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. When she spoke, her words came out slurred. "Wh--what happened?"

  Holy shit, he did it again. The awful Britney Spears pop song clanged loudly in his head. He couldn't blame anyone but himself this time. What type of friend was he? She was vulnerable right now. Needy. He had
to suck it up, get himself under control, and be the supportive buddy she deserved.

  But how would he ever look at her again without wanting to kiss her?

  "Wolfe?" She blinked. "What's wrong?"

  He forced a smile and slowly lowered her back to the ground. Her breasts dragged over his chest and almost caused him to weep. "Song's over." His voice came out a bit rough, so he softened the words by running a finger down her cheek. She seemed to catch his unease, and an awkward silence descended as the lead singer spoke her gratitude. Everyone clapped and began to gather their stuff, trudging out of the park. He was left with a hard-on and a cloud of confusion as he tried to decide the best route to take.

  "Ready to go?" he asked.

  "Sure." This time he didn't take her hand. They didn't speak. The shops were closed, the stars twinkled overhead, and their shoes clopped on the pavement. Halfway home, she finally broke. "I'd like to say I'm sorry but I'm not."

  He bit back a laugh. She was always so . . . unexpected. Honest. Once again, he vowed not to destroy the most precious relationship he had. "I'm not either, sweetheart. I am sorry if we blurred the line though. Our friendship means more to me than some raging hormones. Maybe the lead singer did it. She kinda reminds me of Pink."

  The joke fell flat and her smile seemed forced. "Right. We got caught up in a moment."

  "This weekend will be good for us. We'll both start dating again, and release some of the pressure."

  Why did her shoulders suddenly slump? He thought mentioning her date would ease her mind. He had no right to screw with her head and get her to want more.

  Even if he did.

  Hell, yes, he wanted more than that kiss. If he was honest, he'd confess he wanted Gen in his bed, naked, open, and ready to do his bidding. He wanted her heat and passion and sweetness. He also realized if he ever slept with her, besides wrecking their friendship, he'd never be satisfied with anyone else.

  But Gen could never know or suspect. She needed to have an open mind and heart for her date. Even though the thought of another man touching her made Wolfe want to wreck his face. He'd manage not to screw it up for her sake.

  Her soft sigh echoed into the night. "Guess so. I always did have a thing for Pink."

  He relaxed slightly. She was playing the game. Leaving it behind them. Helping him pretend it meant nothing.

  Much better this way.

  They walked the rest of the way home in silence.

  GEN MADE UP THE couch and tried not to mope.

  She needed to get over this. They had kissed. She had liked it. Hell, she'd loved it. She'd never been so turned on in her entire life. They had touched and traded bodily fluids and now it was over. Done.

  The echo of the shower running rose to her ears. The image of Wolfe naked and wet made her belly lurch and her thighs tingle. She'd been wondering if that kiss they shared on the dock in Saratoga was a freak occurrence. After all, that type of heat between friends was impossible. Right?

  Instead, tonight confirmed the worst. She wanted her best friend in bed. Bad. She wanted to do all sorts of dirty things with him, and was super close to suggesting the whole friends-with-benefits package for a moment, and then he had to go mention their dates. Talk about a buzzkill.

  Gen changed the pillowcase on his memory foam pillow and sighed. Wolfe was probably hot for every girl he kissed. She couldn't think of herself as special. Hell, he practically told her he was hard up from not sleeping with someone and needed sex. Definitely an oversurge of testosterone. Add in some moody music, her body pressing into his, a seductive night with the stars, and wham. A crazy, hot kiss against a tree. Now over.

  She shook her head. Time to be a big girl and not get all moody over the whole thing. Especially with him staying here. Maybe Wolfe was right. Maybe her upcoming date would work out well and take away these crazy emotions she was starting to feel. Maybe--

  "Holy shit!"

  She froze. The roar from the bathroom shook the tiny house on its foundation. Heart pounding, she stumbled forward, terrified he'd slipped in the tub, or cut something important, or saw a ghost with bloody teeth and eyes ready to rip him apart. Stupid Syfy channel.

  Gen called out his name and reached the door. It was flung open and she caught a blur of nakedness rush past her. A puddle of water soaked the floor and steam drifted out lazily. Trying to keep calm, she stuck her head inside and looked around, but nothing seemed wrong. The water ran in the tub, the curtain was pulled back, and the mirrors were fogged. A pile of clothes lay in a heap on the floor. Towels were strewn around. Other than a mess, there was nothing in there.

  "Dammit, Wolfe, you scared me. What's going on?"

  "There's a fucking tarantula in there! I've never seen anything like that--don't you clean?"

  She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his chauvinistic remark, then stopped. Gen recognized the tone well. He was terrified, and as much as she loved to tease him, she respected this one weakness regarding crawly, hairy bugs. She shook her head and marched back into the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues. "Where is it?" she called out.

  "By the towels. I saw it drop down from the ceiling. Nasty motherfucker."

  She smothered a laugh and began searching for it. "Why can't you hang the towels up on the hook? They get wet and moldy on the floor."

  "Can we talk about that after you kill the spider?"

  She picked up the towel and shook it out. Nothing. "And what's that crack about my cleaning? I sweep the cobwebs, buddy, but I haven't seen you get out the vacuum yet. Maybe you should help more if you don't want creepy crawlies around here."

  "Will you just get the spider, Gen?"

  She bit her lip at the high tone of his voice and narrowed her gaze. If it was so big, why didn't she see it? She lifted the bath mat and jerked back as the bug skittered over the white tile. What the hell?

  Tarantula, huh? The thing was dark and fat, but overall pretty small to make him scream like a girl. Ah, the blackmail could be incredible. She grinned with evil purpose and crushed the bug in the tissue. Sorry, Arilyn. In this case, she was in the camp of killing bugs and did not classify them in the animal kingdom.

  "Got it."

  A sigh of relief reached her ears. "Thanks. Are you okay?"

  She held back a snort. "It was a close call but I made it. You're right. He's huge. Wanna see?"

  His voice cut like a whiplash. "Don't screw with me, Gen. Flush it in the toilet or I swear to God--"

  "Aww, whatcha gonna do? Come on, maybe it'll help your arachnophobia. I'll show you." Grinning, she walked out of the bathroom, holding out the tissue ball in her hand like a present.

  "Get that thing away from me!" Gen opened her mouth to tease him, but he looked so freaked out she started to feel bad.

  Then she realized she shouldn't be focused on his face right now.

  Because he was naked.

  Holy hotness, Batman.

  Gen knew he had a great body. The world saw it in billboard color when he modeled boxers, with his badass leather wristbands and nothing else. But seeing him fully exposed in all ways almost made her hit the floor from the sheer weakness in her knees.

  Wolfe was amazing.

  Rivulets of water slid down a mass of hard muscle. Not an ounce of softness showed on his body. From the eight-pack abs, powerful biceps, and bulky thighs, he was lean, mean, and toned. Deep olive skin. Dark hair sprinkled his chest and narrowed to the mouthwatering line going lower. His tattoo crawled over his body like a gorgeous painting. Her gaze dropped to the nest of dark curls between his thighs.

  Oh. My. God.

  He was pierced.

  She almost gasped at the silver barbell that pierced his cock, which was impressive and steadily rising as she kept her gaze locked on target. Heat twisted through her body, and her mouth grew dry as she imagined her fingers playing with him, watching him grow hard under her ministrations. Imagined her tongue flicking the barbell, making him groan. Imagined what he'd feel li
ke buried deep inside her. Would the metal hit her G-spot? Tickle her clit as he thrust back and forth? The room blurred and her fingers clenched with the need to touch.

  "Gen."

  Her name rasped in the air. She watched him grow bigger, longer, surge forward in a massive erection under her hot gaze. "Yeah?" she murmured, fascinated with the male beauty and strength before her.

  "Gotta stop looking at me like that, sweetheart. I'm dying here. I need a towel."

  She blinked. "Oh. Right. A towel." Her tongue snuck out to wet her bottom lip. He groaned as if he was in agony. "Sorry."

  Gen didn't move. He was so hard. She ached to stroke the tip and know what he felt like. Clasp her hand around the root and pull up and down slowly. Drop to her knees and open her mouth and take him deep inside. Would he taste as clean and delicious as he smelled? Or would he have an earthy, musky flavor with his arousal?

  She jerked as he said her name again, more forcefully. "Yeah?"

  "If you don't get me a towel now, I'm gonna lose it."

  Oh, she was so tempted. Stroll over, grasp his cock, and make him forget for a while. Make them both forget. But when she finally lifted her gaze, there was more than lust and need in his eyes.

  There was desperation.

  With numb motions, she walked into the bathroom, grabbed the towel, and brought it over. He wrapped it around his hips and held it with one fist, as if afraid she'd try to yank it off him. Color flooded her cheeks. How humiliating. She must've been staring like some horny teenager looking to get rid of her virginity.

  "Sorry." Gen forced a smile. "Got carried away."

  His hand shot out. Grasped her chin and tilted her head up so she was forced to look at him. Blue eyes caught and held hers in a grip so tight and so fierce, the breath was forced out of her lungs. Raw hunger vibrated from his gaze.

  "Don't ever apologize to me again for anything we do together."

  She stared back at him, helpless. Waiting for him to make the decision for both of them, since she was too far gone to say no. If he reached for her, there'd be no turning back. One kiss, one touch, and they'd be in bed. Naked. Together.

  Gen trembled. Waited.

  He dropped his hand.

  "Thanks for killing the spider."

  She couldn't answer. He walked past her and shut the bathroom door. With shaking knees, she collapsed onto the sofa and wondered what the hell she was going to do.