She moaned at the sexy slide of his tongue against hers, shuddered when he squeezed her nipple and circled it with his thumb. An ache was growing between her thighs, everything becoming hyper-sensitive. Wherever he touched her burned. His kisses were becoming more demanding, his mouth hungry, and she groaned when he kissed down her neck and then bent to cover a nipple with his mouth, his tongue teasing the tip through the lace.
“Aaron…” She clutched hold of his jeans and pulled his hips to hers, rocking against his hard length as he kissed back up to her mouth and delved his tongue inside. She lifted her leg to wrap around him, and he stroked his hand up her thigh to her hip, sliding beneath the material to cup her bare bottom.
His fingers traced over her hip and along the inside of her thigh, and then he lifted his head as he moved his hand to cup her mound. Slowly, as if he was giving her time to object, his eyes on hers, he pushed the teddy aside and slipped two fingers down and into her folds.
She must have been wet and swollen because his fingers slid easily into her, and he gave a half laugh, half groan, and used his other hand to cup the back of her head while he crushed his lips to hers.
Bridget felt herself spiraling out of control. His fingers were skilled and sure, slick with her moisture, insistent as they massaged her clit until she teetered on the edge of a climax.
“Aaron.” She fumbled at the button of his jeans, then paused as something occurred to her. “Oh shit. Please tell me you have a condom.”
He stared at her for a moment, then mumbled something and took his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. Opening it, he fumbled around and then withdrew a foil packet with a relieved sigh.
“Thank God,” she said with a heartfelt exhalation.
“It’s over two years old. Do these things have a use-by date?”
She started to laugh. “If it disintegrates when you get it out of the packet, we’ll know we’re in trouble.”
He grinned and tossed it onto the counter, then cupped her face and brushed his lips against hers. “Come to the bedroom with me.”
She let him kiss her, then gave a little shake of her head as she returned to unbuttoning his jeans. “Here.”
His eyebrows rose, excitement flashing in his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“I can’t wait, Aaron. I need you now.” She felt feverish with desire, desperate to have him inside her. He let her unbutton his fly, hesitating, then joined in and pushed down his boxers to release his erection.
Bridget inhaled, eyes widening. “Holy shit.”
He looked down at himself. “Sorry, is it not what you expected?”
“Yes, of course, but you’re…” Her face burned. She’d never had anything to compare Mal to, so she wasn’t sure if Mal was small or Aaron was big, but when she closed her fingers around him and gave him a slow, experimental stroke, she was shocked to find her fingers didn’t meet. “Wow.”
He kissed her. “You really know how to say the right thing, sweetheart.”
She reached for the condom and tore off the foil wrapper. “Can I?’
He nodded, and she rolled it on carefully, enjoying the way he blew out a breath as she stroked down. When she’d done, she glanced behind her at the counter. There wasn’t a lot of room amongst the pans, mugs, and jars, but at least it was clean, and she couldn’t wait any longer.
As if reading her mind, he placed both hands under her bottom and lifted her easily onto the counter, then wrapped her legs around his waist. Pulling the panties part of the teddy to one side, he guided the tip of his erection to her opening, then paused and looked into her eyes.
“Wait,” she said. “Stop.”
Chapter Fourteen
He blinked a few times, swallowed hard, then nodded. “Okay.”
She caught him by the waistband of his jeans so he couldn’t pull away. “Only kidding, Aaron. Sorry. My perverted sense of humor.”
He stared at her, and then a glint appeared in his eye. “I see.”
She touched her lips to his. Her heart raced and the sensitive flesh between her legs throbbed. Tucking her fingers into his belt loops, she tugged. He didn’t move, and worry flickered through her. She’d thought he had a good sense of humor, but she didn’t know him well. Maybe she’d pushed him too far.
Keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he placed his hands on her hips and gave her a sharp pull toward him. She gasped, and he took the opportunity to plunder her mouth with his tongue as, at the same time, he pushed his hips forward and slid into her, punishing her jest with torturous sensual delight.
A long, low moan escaped her at the feel of him sliding through her swollen folds. Shit, he was big, stretching her in an erotic way she’d never experienced before. He paused, his breath mingling with hers, maybe letting her adjust and get used to him. He pulled back an inch or two, then pushed forward again, this time all the way inside.
Bridget gasped and arched her back, shocked at how he filled her. Her elbow knocked a saucepan and behind her a bottle of something fell over with a crash, but it all faded into the background. The only thing in the world was Aaron, his warm hands on her breasts, his mouth on her skin, hard inside her, teasing her toward satisfaction as he began to thrust.
Now he’d obviously realized she wasn’t going to ask him to stop, he let himself go, and she fell back onto her elbows as he began to give long, rhythmic movements of his hips. A jar of pasta shapes tipped over and penne tubes and farfalle bow ties spilled onto the tiled floor, while mugs and plates clattered and clanked against the wall, but Aaron didn’t stop, and she dropped her head back, closed her eyes, and focused on the amazing sensations.
He tugged down the lace strap of the bodice of the teddy, exposing a breast, and leaned over her to fasten his mouth on it and suck. Oh… what a heavenly feeling… his tongue rasping against the soft skin, the heat and wetness only adding to its sensitivity. She exclaimed with each thrust, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” as an exquisite shock ran from her nipple straight to her clit.
He tugged down the other strap and swapped to that nipple, and she slumped onto her back, flat out beneath him, her legs wrapped high around his waist. He sucked—just hard enough to make her squeal—and she clenched her fingers in his hair, cursing and pleading at the same time.
Her head banged against crockery and her hair tangled with the lead of the kettle, but she didn’t care because her body had taken the final step to become all nerve endings and sensations, and nothing else existed except the agonizing, blissful, erotic slide of him inside her.
He ground against her clit each time he rocked his hips, and rather embarrassingly it was less than a minute before she felt the approach of her climax, muscles tightening deep within her.
“Oh my God,” she said, panting, unable to stop her thighs falling open as she abandoned herself completely, “holy shit, I can’t… I’m going to…”
“Yes,” he said and thrust harder, and that was it, the orgasm exploded inside her. She cried out, saying his name, cursing, begging him not to stop, not that he was showing any signs of doing so. He thrust and thrust, and surely the whole counter was going to give way, because the cups rattled and the bottles clanked against each other.
But then he stopped and shuddered, and she dug her nails into rock-hard muscle as his body tightened and jerked and spilled inside her. They locked together for what seemed an eternity, and she knew that even if an earthquake had struck or a tidal wave had washed over the house, they couldn’t have moved.
“Holy shit.” She flopped back onto the counter, limp and spent, conscious that she lay in a mass of spilled pasta and rolling jars. “Oh my God, Aaron, I think we’ve ruined your kitchen.”
He slumped on top of her, his forehead on her shoulder, and started laughing, and she joined in, the two of them hot, sweaty, and blissfully sated.
Eventually he lifted up, withdrew from her with a groan, and disposed of the condom. Bridget raised herself onto her elbows, wondering how she was going to compose herself
and get down from the counter in a ladylike manner, but she needn’t have worried. He came back, gathered her up in his arms, and carried her through the house to his bedroom.
She had a brief glimpse of a smallish room with white walls bearing odd photographs of what looked like colorful clouds, and then he lowered her onto her back on the mattress and stretched out on top of her.
They exchanged a long, dreamy, languid kiss that warmed her all the way through to her toes.
“Mmm,” she said when he eventually lifted his head. “That was nice.”
“That was fucking fantastic,” he corrected. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“Of course not.”
“I got carried away.”
“Did you hear me complaining?”
“I’m not sure. There were a few swear words in there.” Her face warmed, and he chuckled and kissed her again. “You are sublime.”
“Mmm. You too.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I can’t believe you haven’t done that for years. You’re pretty good at it.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I mean it.” She kissed him. “I know you were worried because you thought I might regret it afterward, but I don’t.”
“I’m glad.” He shifted off her to the side and pulled her toward him, and she curled up with her head on his shoulder. He stroked down her back. “I’d hate you to regret it, because that was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Me too,” she said. It was the truth. When had she last felt this content, this happy?
Mal hadn’t been bad in bed. But it was only as she grew older that she realized a satisfying sex life and a good relationship relied on more than just compatibility in the bedroom. Sex with Mal had always carried with it the burden of worry about how long he would stay, because inevitably he’d want to be off out with his mates. She didn’t think he’d ever been unfaithful to her, but she’d never felt that he wanted to be with her all the time the way she had with him.
When had she become so weak, so dependent on another person? While at university, she’d seen other girls fawning over guys and compromising what they wanted out of life to get them, and she’d promised herself she’d never do that. She’d told herself that she would always wear what she wanted, eat what she wanted, and see whomever she liked, and she would never let a man tell her what to do.
Then she’d started dating Mal, and gradually, over the years, she’d changed herself to fit him. She’d worn her jeans tighter than she liked because he’d commented that he found girls sexy in them. She’d tried to stop eating the food she enjoyed because he liked girls on the slimmer side, although that was a battle she’d never quite won. And she’d even seen less of her friends when she was with him, because he didn’t like them—he thought Callie was scatty, Rowan dull, and Neve opinionated, and he’d never bothered to get to know them better. He’d liked Hitch well enough, but then everyone liked Hitch. But he’d thought Gene was stoic and superior, and he’d disliked Rhett. He’d never been able to say why, but she suspected it was because of Rhett’s good looks and natural charm.
She’d told him he should make an effort to get to know her friends, but it was only now that she realized he’d never tried, had never compromised on anything, in fact. He’d always expected her to follow him and do things his way, and she had, because she’d been afraid of losing him, afraid of being alone. Their relationship had been like a silver statue that had held the promise of beauty, but over time it had gradually grown more and more tarnished, until in the end it was difficult to see any of the original shine.
“Penny for them,” Aaron said, tracing his fingers down her spine.
She cleared her throat. “Just daydreaming.”
“You tensed up. Thinking about Mal?”
Shame flickered through her. Here she was lying in bed with a guy after having had fantastic sex, and she was thinking about her ex.
“It’s okay.” He kissed her hair. “I would think that’s quite normal.”
She lifted up and propped her head on a hand. She’d thought it would upset him to know she was thinking about another man, but he seemed amazingly placid and difficult to offend.
“Are you thinking about Nita?” she asked, wondering if he was also lying there thinking of his ex-wife.
“No,” he said. “Yes. Kind of. Not comparing or anything like that—at least, not in a way that would find you wanting. Feeling sad, I suppose, that this feels so good, and that maybe it used to be this way with her, but that it hasn’t been like that for… Jesus. I don’t know. Years and years. In fact, maybe never.”
He sighed and tucked an arm under his head. “I was thinking about how I’m impulsive and a romantic in the way I view women and relationships. I think when I met her that I was in love with the idea of her, does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense,” she said, thinking that explained how she’d felt about Mal exactly. “Maybe it’s easy to fall in love with the picture we have in our head of how we’d like a mate to be, and we try to make our partner fit that mold. I tried to fit Mal’s but clearly I didn’t do a very good job, and now I think about it, he never really made an effort to fit mine.”
“Mmm.” Aaron traced his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder, then down her back, absently, as if his fingers were exploring her independently of his brain. “I suppose it’s a matter of luck whether a person actually matches up to that ideal image. Do you think it happens?”
“Yes, I do. My friend Callie married a close protection officer—a bodyguard—and they’ve just had their first baby. They seem really happy. My other friend, Rowan, is engaged to my brother, and I’ve never seen him so…” She twirled a finger in the air. “Another friend, Neve, is dating a guy she went out with years ago—it was like they were two binary suns who parted for a while but they were always going to come back into each other’s gravity.”
“I like that analogy.”
She smiled. “Of course you would, if you like astronomy.” She gestured at the large pictures on the walls. “I’m guessing these are astronomy related?”
“They’re taken from the Hubble telescope.” He pointed to one. “That’s the Eagle Nebula. The pillars are made of cold hydrogen gas and dust, and they’re like a womb for new stars.” He pointed to another. “That’s the Small Magellanic Cloud filled with baby stars. I love the colors of the clouds.”
“Where did you get the photos from?”
“The Hubble website. You can just print off the photos and get them blown up by a photo lab as there aren’t any copyright restrictions.”
She admired them, smiling as she thought of his descriptions. “No wonder you’re a vet. I bet you go weak at the knees for a puppy or kitten.”
“I do.”
“You must have been wonderful when Mateo was born. I bet you were a real hands-on dad.”
“I did my best.” He looked past her at the stars that were popping out in the night sky. “It was a magical time, but even then things were going wrong between us. Those memories are scarred. Nita was diagnosed with postnatal depression, but although she undoubtedly suffered, I’m not sure that’s what it was. I think having Mat just intensified the unhappiness that was already within her.”
“I can’t understand how she could be unhappy with you.” Bridget didn’t mean to be glib—she was genuinely puzzled.
He kissed her forehead. “What a lovely thing to say. I’m far from perfect. I don’t know whether I just didn’t fit her image of the perfect partner, or whether it went deeper than that. Leaving Spain was a huge mistake for her. I suppose it was like removing a beautiful plant from its soil and placing it in a vase. She’s desperate to go back there, and that urge has forced her to be cruel and heartless to get what she wants. She didn’t used to be like that.”
“It must be very hard for you.”
“Yeah, well…” He sighed. “I hate getting the courts involved. It’s my natural instinct—like a dog I suppose who’s up a
gainst a bigger foe—to roll over and show my stomach, but I just can’t. It’s the only time I’ve ever stood up to her, which must be the thing that’s infuriating her the most. I want to make a clean break so we can both go on and lead separate lives, but of course it’s impossible when you have a child. I try to think what’s best for Mat, without putting my words in his mouth, but it’s not easy. He tells me he doesn’t want to go to Spain, but how do I know he’s not saying what I want to hear? I’ve spoken a lot to the Lawyer for Child, and she believes him, as do his grandparents—my parents, and that’s the main reason I’m not giving in and just letting her take him away. That and the fact that he’s the only thing keeping me going.” His gaze came back to meet hers, and he smiled. “And you now.” He kissed her.
Bridget let him, losing herself in the sensual press of his lips, the slide of his tongue against hers. This was heavenly, and she didn’t regret it at all, but she had to be careful not to entangle her emotions along with her physical desire. Aaron had a lot on his plate, and neither of them needed the complication of a long-distance relationship. It just wouldn’t work, and neither of them wanted to move. This was an interlude, a beautiful escape from their confusing lives. A hot fling. And it was best she remembered that.
Chapter Fifteen
They stayed in bed for an hour or so, talking, sipping wine, and just enjoying being with each other. At least Aaron hoped she was enjoying herself. She certainly seemed relaxed and happy, and there was no sign of the regret he’d suspected might appear after they made love.
For himself, feelings of relief and satisfaction combined to fill him with a warmth he hadn’t felt for far too long. He’d thought he could survive without this—without companionship and sex—but it was only now he realized how much he’d missed it, and how much he wanted it to be a part of his life.
He couldn’t stay in bed all evening, though. “I need to walk the dogs,” he said reluctantly. “I know it’s a bit late but I usually take them out for one last walk before bed.”
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 11