Can't Hurry Love

by Christie Ridgway

  He drew his mouth along her jaw. “There’s no one out here this morning.”

  “Kohl—”

  His head shot up. “Forget you ever heard his name.”

  She made a little face. “Be reasonable.”

  The admonition riled him. He’d been reasonable every damn day of his life—weighing options, making the smartest decisions under the circumstances, using a level head instead of listening to his heart. Always trying to do the best for his family. Where had it got him?

  Where the fuck had it got him?

  Fury he’d been banking for years leapt into a full-fledged fire. Liam’s arms slid around Giuliana’s body as his muscles tightened into uncompromising cords, binding her to him.

  Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  Sending my common sense on vacation, he thought. But he pulled her to her feet without answering. Then he swung her up in his arms and found her mouth again, kissing her and kissing her as he set off for his house. Finally carrying off the spoils of a war he’d been waging with himself for far too long.

  He might have stayed in the vineyard and got her naked in the dirt and under the sun. It appealed to him right now, the primitiveness of that, but there were too many ways he wanted to have her.

  Her arms wound around his neck even as she laughed against his mouth. “Liam, don’t.”

  Liam would. Liam would do anything and everything he wanted this time, damn logic and consequences and even Giuliana Baci, who’d crawled into his being as surely as he’d crawled into her bedroom window when she was seventeen years old. Unless and until she said no, he was going to take and take and take from her until all his lustful wanting of her body was wrung out of him.

  It was a contradiction, God, he was aware of that. But their relationship had always been a contradiction. Push-pull, Baci-Bennett, infatuation–pretend indifference.

  “I hope you’re ready for me,” he said, his voice rough. “Because I’m going to be inside you for hours.”

  She twitched in his arms.

  It didn’t put the slightest hesitation in his stride. She was the captured prize after a long, hard battle and should know what lay ahead for her. “I’m going to bathe myself in you.”

  She groaned, a sweet, sexy sound. “Liam . . .”

  “Are you wet?” he whispered against her ear, feeling her shudder. “Because I want to write my name on your belly with your come. And I want to bite your nipples into hard berries and then string kisses between your hipbones before I bury my tongue—”

  Hers slid between his lips as she angled her head to instigate a lush mouth-to-mouth. Heat flashed over his skin and he lengthened his strides as his feet found the path he’d worn between their homes. He hitched her higher in his arms, taking charge of the kiss.

  She broke free to suck in air. “I’m too heavy.”

  She was light as a cat, lighter, because he would swear she’d lost a dozen pounds since returning home last year. It worried him, how delicate she’d become, as if she might float away from him at any moment. The thought caused him to adjust his hold, bringing her even closer. She shifted, too, winding her legs around his waist.

  “God,” he muttered. The new position pushed the folds of her skirt between their bodies, leaving her panties to ride the tip of his erection. He slipped his hands beneath the ruffles in back and then under the elastic edges of her panties so his palms were filled with the sleek curves of her ass. Her fine ass. His cock surged and he hastened his speed toward home.

  The path allowed him to avoid the workers in his own vineyard, and he blessed the fact as each footstep brought the aching head of him against the sweet heat between her thighs. He could hear her breathing, and even though he was doing all the work, hers was quickening. Her inner thighs tightened on him and she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

  “Liam.” It sounded like a plea and then she licked him like a kitten, a delicate lap along his throat that went straight to his groin.

  His hands tightened on her ass. “Hold on.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered against him, as her pelvis tilted toward his body. “Every move . . . It’s so good, Liam.”

  He groaned, yanking her even closer. “Soon, sweetheart.”

  She was ablaze in his arms, her flesh hot, her hips plastered to his so that his jeans abraded her with each tiny jolt. She sank her teeth into his neck and fire shot up his spine. He had to get her naked.

  Pausing, he got one hand between their bodies. He yanked at the buttons on her shirt, feeling them pop free or pop off, he didn’t care which. It only mattered that his fingers could travel along the silky skin covering her ribs and then up to her bra. It clasped in front and he twisted it open. The cups sprang free and he brushed them off her breasts, the edge of his hand catching on nipples that were already hard.

  Her hand fisted in the fabric of his T-shirt at the back of his neck. He grasped there, too, and between them they pulled it over his head. Then torso met torso and they both closed their eyes.

  “Hurry,” Giuliana said.

  He jogged forward. She moaned and he knew that this only brought her closer, the jerkier movement causing her tight nipples to rub his chest and her clitoris to pulse against his hard, jean-clad cock. It was agony for him, too, because she was the beautiful, willful girl of his memory here, finally, in his arms. Giuliana Baci, unafraid of her passion and with her black hair gleaming in the sun, her tanned skin a golden hue that made her appear part goddess.

  She rolled her shoulders and her blouse and bra dropped to the bend of her elbows. One impatient arm at a time, she released her hold on his neck. The clothes dropped and he kicked them aside and kept right on moving. He didn’t look where he was going, mesmerized instead by her naked shoulders and naked breasts, curve upon curve that led his gaze to the plum pink hard centers.

  She reached up to kiss him again, all the while rubbing herself against him with tiny pulses of her hips. He saw her cheeks flush and the blush spread across her breasts. “Oh, no,” he said, wrenching his mouth from hers. “You wait.”

  His fingers felt thick as he fumbled with the latch. Giuliana had her eyes closed now, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks, and she was still moving on him, the little hedonist. Taking what she wanted, pleasing herself, proving she didn’t need him.

  “Don’t wanna wait,” she whispered, confirming his thought. Her hips rolled against his in more frantic circles. She was close. About to take off without him.

  He couldn’t have that. When he kicked open the courtyard gate, his gaze focused on the center fountain. Its pool was flush with the terra-cotta pavers and six feet across, with eight inches of standing water. In the middle, a carved stone base stood, taller than he was, supporting a shallow stone bowl. Water jetted from it, then fell back into the dish where it cascaded over the dish’s lip in a shower of drenching water.

  He glanced down at Giuliana. Bending his mouth to hers, he thrust his tongue inside. She sucked, clearly frantic with desire, and her nipples pressed into his chest, hard brands of lust. Oh, yeah, she was ready to detonate.

  Fire flared up his spine like a lit fuse. Skirting a grouping of patio furniture, he walked them straight to the fountain and climbed in. Cool water rained down. Instantly drenched, Giuliana jerked away from the kiss, sputtering and struggling against his hold.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Cooling you off.” He was the captor, the rewards were his to bestow or withhold.

  When she struggled again, he let her slide down his body. Her feet splashed into the fountain, found solid ground, and then he bent his head again to take one wet, naked nipple into his mouth.

  Her hands forked into his hair. For a moment he thought she’d push him away, but he curled his tongue around her peak, rasping over it with steady strokes, and her fingernails dug into his scalp. Another flame rocketed up his spine.

  He lifted his mouth from her and slid his wet cheek over her taut flesh. She made
a noise, a plea, he thought, and he squeezed her abandoned nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he closed his mouth over the other. Giuliana went rigid, and his free hand found the small of her back, holding her close. Her desire was rising again, he could feel it in the quivering of her muscles and in the urgent clasp of her hands on him.

  “Please, Liam,” she murmured. “Please.”

  But he’d been at her mercy for far too long to give in so readily. Payback necessitated protraction, he thought through a haze of lust. He’d promised her hours and it was going to take at least that long.

  Her wet skin made her slippery, though, and even as he tried to grip her, she escaped him. She took a step back, and he stared at her, hypnotized. Her wet skirt hung low on her hips, the sodden folds wrapping her thighs. She was naked from there up, rivulets of water running down her gleaming torso and over her swollen breasts. Her hair clung to her neck in black waves.

  From beneath her spiky lashes, she stared back, her dark pupils nearly overtaking her brown eyes. He saw the pulse in her neck throbbing against the thin skin.

  He jerked himself free of her spell. “You’d better not run again,” he warned.

  Licking water off her lips, she shook her head. Wary, though, he braced himself for her next move. Then she dropped to her knees and his heart crashed against his ribs. His captive, transformed to fallen angel.

  His brain scrambled as she leaned forward and opened her mouth against the length of his cock, hot breath penetrating the wet denim. Damn! He reached for her hair, intending to pull her away . . .

  . . . But it was too good, and his sense was long gone, just what he’d said he wanted.

  Her hands had him naked then, too, his cock free to her touch, and he gritted his teeth as her lips caressed his flesh. Giuliana’s tongue slid along the rigid column and his head dropped back, lust overwhelming him. Yeah, he was definitely beyond thinking now.

  Her mouth closed over the knob of his shaft, its suction as sweet as the sting of her fingernails digging into the back of his thighs. He palmed her wet hair, and she sucked harder, her gaze lifting to his.

  Jesus. Lust redoubled as he remembered that he’d taught her this himself. Giuliana had always been an eager, willing, and generous lover, and they’d played like lusty, unself-conscious animals before and after they’d married. Watching her pleasure him like this twined memory, fantasy, and reality into a braid of heated gratification that wrapped around his chest and pulled tight.

  “Stroke yourself,” he said softly.

  She paused, her nostrils flaring, her tongue still on his flesh. Her lashes dropped, hiding her eyes.

  “Look at me.” He added a hint of command.

  Her lashes rose. Her tongue swirled.

  He didn’t allow himself to be sidetracked. “Touch your nipples.” This had been part of their play, too. “Show me how you like it.”

  Slowly, her hand left the back of his leg. Her tongue lapped at him as she brought her fingers slowly toward her breast. An inch away, her movement froze. Her hand dropped as tears sprang to her eyes.

  The sight slapped at him. He’d taken the game too far, too soon, and made her feel vulnerable and exposed instead of sexy and confident.

  Cursing himself, Liam moved swiftly, yanking up his pants then capturing her once again in his arms. She was trembling now, and he could only make it as far as a wide chaise lounge before he collapsed onto the cushions. He made the struggle to remove their remaining wet clothes as quick as possible, and then he had her against him, flesh to flesh, letting the sun warm her. He stroked her hair back from her face and laid a gentle, comforting kiss upon her forehead.

  Once upon a time she’d been his sweet playmate, his innocent lover, and he’d just pushed too hard. She was quivering under the hand he stroked down her arm. Her mouth turned up to his and he kissed it, gentle again, but she didn’t move away. Instead her tongue came out, painting his lower lip. He groaned, common sense ready to make another escape. He held on to it with both hands. “Jules . . .” he groaned.

  And then she was kissing him harder, writhing in his arms. His fingers flexed and he felt his good judgment slip through them. He drew her higher in his arms, bringing her nipple to his mouth, and he played there with tender licks and delicate laps. Her hips moved, and he took his cue, his fingers finding their way to the slippery folds between her legs.

  “Liam,” she whispered. “Liam.”

  He knew what she liked, because he’d taught her this, too, once upon a time. He opened her with his hand, spreading the pretty, glistening folds to the sunshine. When she closed her eyes, he kissed the lids, and slid one long finger inside her. She bowed into his touch, and he kissed her cheek, rolling his thumb around her clitoris.

  Her mouth was swollen and half open to take in panting breaths, and he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful as Giuliana responding to his hand. But then her body seized, shuddered, and her flesh tightened around his penetrating finger. As her skin flushed and she moaned, sweet and familiar, Liam felt, oddly, like he’d been freed.

  She was still recovering when he made a quick trip into the house. He came out with a dry towel hanging around his neck and a warm, wet washcloth in his other hand. Standing over her, he took a memory snapshot of the sight. This was the post-orgasmic Giuliana he remembered. Limbs splayed, eyes languorous, a cat smile turning up her mouth. He smiled, too, the male animal in him damn satisfied with his work.

  He propped a hip on the cushion beside her, coming to grips with the return of his good sense. He didn’t welcome it, but he couldn’t help it, either. Clarity was rushing in with a sharp focus.

  He drew the warm cloth over her intimate flesh, soothing the sensitive skin. It had been one of their lovers’ rituals, and he’d delighted in this kind of aftercare, knowing it bespoke of a deep trust.

  Now she allowed him to spread her legs wider. He touched her with near reverence. Chasing her through the vineyard, he’d supposed that sex with Giuliana would purge her from his system. They’d left their relationship unresolved and he’d counted on the act bringing it down to a level he could dismiss. It would be something to kick aside as easily as those clothes they’d dropped on the way here.

  He’d told himself this story: they’d been horny young people who’d loved too easily, married too soon, and paid the price. He’d told himself it would just take some wrap-up sex to finally write “The End.”

  Except now he knew differently.

  Giuliana’s legs shifted, restless. He saw her eyes were no longer closed, but at a sexy half-mast. Her gaze was directed at his cock, still hard, still stretching up his belly. He swiped at the flesh of her pussy again, and saw that she was becoming once more aroused.

  He threw the cloth to the ground. She gave him a sleepy smile. “What are you doing?”

  No longer a conqueror, but just a man, he took her into his arms and started for his bedroom. “I promised I was going to be inside you for hours.”

  His level head silently worried that it was going to take much longer than that, much longer than he’d ever expected, to get her outside of his life.

  11

  Giuliana slipped out of Liam’s home as quietly as she’d slipped out of his bed. In her own room, she showered, then stepped into a pair of Stevie’s old sweatpants she’d cropped herself just below the knee. The T-shirt she’d pulled on was one she’d found in Liam’s room and had worn for her dawn dash down the stairs. Soft from washing, it was the glacial blue of his eyes. In an act of rebellion, before heading out of the house, she’d dug out the rubber flip-flops he so despised from the back of her closet.

  She didn’t need to please him, she told herself, although he’d seen to her pleasure time and again since capturing her in the vineyard the morning before. I’m going to be inside you for hours. He’d made good on the promise, and the memories of it tickled her skin, still sensitive from his mouth, his hand, the possessive strokes of him on her, everywhere. There’d been hours du
ring which he’d just held her, too. They hadn’t spoken much—she’d been glad for that. When he’d finally fallen asleep hours after midnight, she’d remained beside him until she was sure he wouldn’t awaken when she left.

  It was a relief to walk into the cool Napa morning. There was the smell of summer sunrise in the air, that buttery Chardonnay scent that landed like a sip of gold on the back of her tongue. She greedily swallowed it down like someone about to give it up for Lent. These tastes of home would have to last her for a lifetime.

  On the shortcut to the winery, she found the abandoned clothes. Her face burned as she balled in her hands their shirts and her bra. The evidence of her complete abandon embarrassed her now, though it had always been like that with Liam. He’d been the patient tutor and she the avid student, her physical ardor for him as fiery as her temper. All these years later, she’d believed she had both under control.

  But no.

  His Bennett restraint seemed to set her Baci passions ablaze. Maybe they were cursed after all.

  Squeezing the clothes between her hands, she refused to believe the thought. Wasn’t she walking away from him? Hadn’t she done it before and didn’t this prove she could do it again?

  Liam had said it was “time.” He’d implied that the tension between them was making themselves and everyone around them nuts, and he was right. She’d been crazed with desire for him, but yesterday and last night the flaming sex had burned away the last threads of connection between them.

  Surely it had . . . right?

  She squeezed the clothes again. No one would be up and about Tanti Baci this early, but she’d stash them in her office closet the minute she got in. Then she’d go back to the task of purging the unnecessary files. It wasn’t only wanting to get away from Liam that had her heading for her desk at this hour. As a precaution, she was clearing out the bulk of the paperwork when family and staff weren’t around. They might ask questions she wasn’t yet ready to answer.

  In the distance, she saw the roof of Anne and Alonzo’s cottage. Though she felt herself smile, her heart ached a little at the sight. Allie and Penn had worked so hard, a year ago, to get it ready for that first wedding. Then Stevie had pitched in to make sure the winter nuptials were carried out. Her sisters joked about purchasing a unicorn to graze on its front lawn, but her mind’s eye always saw her mother there, her daughters surrounding her during some long-ago picnic tea party.