The Ex Factor

by Cate Masters

  The surge of lust washing over pinned him against her. Reaching to cup her ass, his hand smashed against the rock. “Ah, fuck!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Keep kissing her.

  “No, you hurt yourself.” She ran her fingers across the scrape and lightly kissed it.

  His lips followed the delicate outline of her cheekbone. “I’m fine.”

  “No, it’s this rock. This won’t work.”

  Despair dragged him down like quicksand. “It will, trust me.” He’d make it work.

  Her soft laugh sounded like music, soothing to his frayed nerves.

  She dropped her feet to the beach. “No, one or both of us will end up cut and bruised. Come here.” She sat, tugging him along with her.

  She’s not sending me packing. He fell to his knees.

  Linking her arms around his neck, she dragged him the rest of the way down. “Now where were we?”

  “Right about here.” He leaned over, hand freely caressing the arc of her ass, and headed south, where heat radiated. Oh yes, much better. Except for the cold ground. Where had she tossed that T-shirt? He couldn’t see much in the darkness.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing, I’m looking for your shirt.”

  “What? Why?”

  “To spread beneath you. Your hair’s going to get all gritty.” Stars always worried about their appearance, didn’t they? He groped but came up empty.

  “Don’t you want me?” She sounded incredulous, bordering on desperate.

  Exactly like him. “Of course.”

  “Then stop worrying and come here.” She lay back.

  Damn, he wished he could see more than the outline of her figure. Not that it wasn’t an outstanding outline. Hurry up, before you lose her for good.

  He settled his elbow beside her and wanted to say something romantic. Something that would win her heart forever. I’m so bad at this.

  Her foot crept over his waist. With one nudge, she flipped him atop her. Cupping his face, she kissed him so sweetly, he thought he’d died. Until she reached down to squeeze his ass, and he roared back to life. He moaned into her mouth and felt her smile beneath his lips. Fingers delving between them, he raised a hip to accommodate her when she loosened his belt buckle. His heart nearly exploded with the surge of blood that traveled south as she unzipped him.

  He unsnapped her pants, thankful she hadn’t worn a belt, making it easy to unzip. The unbelievably soft skin beneath invited his touch. Impossible with the jeans in the way. He knelt over her, one hand on either side, and dragged them down her legs. She did the same to him, and they both kicked away their clothes.

  Shit, he wished he could see her face. Did she want to go through with this?

  A swift yank of his briefs gave him the answer. One hand caressing beneath his length, the other teased the top, circling the rim of the head. Leg muscles tense, she raised her hips invitingly.

  Silky fabric halted his fingers. Delving beneath them, he tugged slowly, and she lowered her legs until they were free of her panties.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “Do you have protection?”

  It took a moment for his brain to register. “A condom?” Shit. “I think so.” He’d never expected tonight to go so well. Had he remembered to put it in his back pocket?

  One push up, and he scrambled in the dark until his fingers found denim. His? The clang of the belt buckle meant they were. Please please please. One pocket yielded only lint. Another, his wallet. And—yes!—a square packet he’d have traded his beach house for. “Got it.” Now to put the thing on. Christ, he hadn’t used one in too long.

  “Need any help?”

  He was about to say no when she slid the packet from his grasp. The crumple of foil never sounded so tantalizing. Another tease along his length restored what nervousness had wilted. She unrolled the condom from tip to base then tickled his balls.

  “So glad your nickname’s not true.” Her teasing laugh in the dark boosted his confidence. So impossibly sexy.

  “Not as glad as me.”

  His hands followed her calves to her thighs as he lowered, his cock perfectly positioned. She guided him inside, hips rocking against his thrusts.

  This never happened like this, not for him. It was all so perfect, so amazing. She clung to him like he was life itself, moved with him like she knew exactly what he wanted. Her little sighs and moans growing faster, urging him on, he gripped her ass to keep her from sinking into the sand. Cold freaking sand. She had to be freezing.

  He forced himself to slow down.

  Panting, she clung tighter. “No, don’t stop now. What’s wrong?”

  “Here, sit up.” He scooped an arm around her and knelt up, then fell back on his rear. When she fell against him, he lost his breath for more than one reason. Almost too good to be true. And oh, yeah, definitely freezing. Maybe this was a mistake. He’d hate to become a shrinking violet in the worst possible way.

  “Oh.” One word, without meaning until she said it, so sexy he forgot the cold beneath him. Especially when she ground against him. He raised his knees, forcing her closer.

  She unzipped the hoodie and rocked in a rhythm that seemed to hypnotize them both. “Oh yes.”

  The tilt of her sent his cock higher, buried deep inside her, an incredible sensation. He braced against the pulse of desire sending him hurtling toward that grand finale. He wanted this to last. He’d wait for her to come first.

  Easier said than done, with her soft moans more and more needy. More urgent. The softness encasing his cock pressed harder, the friction making every movement a new explosion of delight, a new high. Unable to help himself, he rammed into her, arms around her waist pumping in time to her. Her legs squeezed his sides, trembling. Tense, she rode his thrusts. The tension in his own body drew him up, arced into her. She held him tight as the waves of release washed over him. When they finally subsided, he relaxed into her.

  Her limbs still trembling, he rubbed her back. “You’re cold. We should go.”

  “No, I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay like this.”

  Oh yeah, so did he. But it would be so much nicer in a bed. “My place is down the beach, maybe a quarter mile.”

  She jerked away. “What?”

  “Sorry, I should have told you.” Shit, now he’d ruined it.

  Her laugh released his fears. “Okay, let’s go.”

  She rose, and the chilly air hit him, erasing her warmth. She tugged him up. “Brrr. Hurry. Where the hell are my clothes? I can’t see anything.” She bent down. “Oo, my pants. Where’s my T-shirt? And my underwear? Here’s one boot.”

  “I’ll buy you new ones.” The thought of her going commando, torso bare beneath her hoodie, sparked a new erection. He’d tossed his jeans in the direction of his briefs, so found both and put them on. “Be glad. It’s better than having sand up every crack.”

  A laugh burst out as she drew up her jeans. “True, but a shower would take care of that.” She tickled his butt. “I could help you wash those hard-to-reach places.”

  “What are we waiting for then?”

  She whirled to search, then bent. “One more boot, and my purse. I’m not leaving that behind.”

  Right, reporters would have a field day. If the stars and fate smiled on him and granted him a second date, the news of their new-couple status would hit the airwaves in nanoseconds, and multiply through tweets, blogs, articles, news bites, you name it. Don’t think about that now.

  Tonight, she was his alone.

  Chapter Four

  Holy cannoli. She chuckled, warm beneath his arm as they strolled. And what a yummy cannoli.

  With a gentle squeeze, hugging her closer, he asked, “What?”

  “Oh, tonight. This.” She flung her hand in the air.

  “Us?” he asked uncertainly.

  “No.” She liked the idea of them as an us. “Well, maybe us back there. A little crazy, huh?” Though it was hidden b
y darkness, she glanced back to the spot, wishing they hadn’t abandoned the magic moment so soon.

  “True,” he conceded. “Not my usual sort of first date.”

  “Me either! Sex on the beach is a drink at the bar. I’m not the kind of woman who normally has any sex on the first date, let alone in a public place.”

  “I’m glad you made an exception.”

  “You inspired me.”

  “Get out,” he teased.

  “Seriously. For a stoic director, so rigidly in control at work, you really let loose in private.” The man had moves she’d seen in porn flicks. He put all he had into it. But it wasn’t simply about banging her. He took his time, paid attention to her reactions. She wasn’t some faceless woman, but a real woman, one he obviously wanted to please. It made all the difference in the dating world.

  “You inspired me, too.” He kissed her head as they walked. “Here’s my place.”

  Framed against the starry sky, the structure rose in graceful arcs before them. Two flights of metal stairs, and they reached the house. He flicked a switch and lights rimmed the deck stretching around the corner, where it widened.

  “Wow.” Mostly glass framed in steel, but more elegant than most beach houses.

  “It’s home. Well, sometimes.” He opened the door. “Come on in. Excuse the mess.”

  Another flick, and muted interior lights revealed a cozy room dominated by a white stone gas fireplace. A sectional sofa was littered with books and magazines, which spilled onto the floor and coffee table. Another set of metal stairs led upstairs. Beyond the sliding glass doors opposite, an expansive patio and in-ground pool. She could already see herself sunning on the chaise lounge, watching his muscled torso slice through the white-capped water.

  Weird. She still didn’t know what he looked like naked. But you know how good he felt.

  His hand warmed her back. “You okay?”

  Embarrassed at being caught picturing him nude, she grinned. “Great.”

  “Do you… hmm.” He tapped his chin.

  “What?”

  “I was going to offer to take your sweatshirt, but, uh.” He grinned.

  Right, she’d lost her T-shirt on the beach. “Maybe you could lend me a shirt?”

  “Be right back.” He jogged upstairs and soon returned with a black tee. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  “How sweet.” She smoothed her hair, and her fingers met grit. “Ugh. I’m a mess.”

  “Me, too. You’re welcome to take a shower.”

  God, he’d already tensed up, reverting to the cold business persona. “You’re not going to make good on your earlier offer?”

  The hardness set in his features melted. “Do you want me to?” he asked softly.

  “I know this is very new, and a little weird—for both of us.” She meant to reassure him, but it sounded wrong. “I don’t want it to be. So no pretenses, okay? Just be yourself, and I’ll be myself.”

  He paced away like a lion in a zoo. “Easy for you. You’re sweet and likeable. I’m kind of, uh, the opposite.”

  She followed and held his shoulders. Beneath her hands, his tension eased, so she stroked his hair. “I don’t believe that. I think you need someone to take care of you.”

  With a wry smile, he shook his head. “I’m pretty self-sufficient.”

  “In most areas, I’m sure.” She traced her fingers down his mouth. “But some things generally require two people to make them memorable.” She drew his head to hers and lightly kissed him.

  “Good point.”

  Ah, there was that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I’m an intelligent woman.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  Another pleasant surprise. He said it with no trace of sarcasm, no condescension. Instead, respect. So elated, she wanted to give an impromptu imitation of Aretha and strip for him while singing R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Don’t push it so soon.

  “Excellent. So, where is the shower?” She couldn’t wait to strip him. Get a good look at him, finally, and maybe a repeat of earlier. Unless he has something better up his…shorts.

  “Right this way.” Grasping her hand, he led her up the stairs. Halfway down a wide hallway, he reached in and hit another switch. “Voila.”

  Simple yet elegant. He opened the closet opposite the double sinks, removed two oversized white towels, and guided her to the more spacious area. A glass-encased shower sat across from a large bathtub set in a tiled platform, a wide window overlooking the ocean and an impossibly fluffy white rug stretched beside it.

  Drawn to it, she crossed her arms. “Oh, you need candles. Lots of candles.”

  “Would you believe I’ve never used that once?”

  “Are you serious? What a waste.” She sat on the tile ledge. Mm, definitely big enough for two. And Jacuzzi jets. “Want to break it in tonight?”

  “It probably takes awhile to fill, though two faucets helps.”

  “We can keep ourselves occupied in the meantime.” She slid off a boot and dropped it to the floor, then the other.

  He pressed his lips together, and she could practically see the ideas whirling through his head. “Be right back.” He shot out the door.

  “Okay then.” A twist of the knobs, and the faucet gushed. While it filled, she moved the soaps and shampoo to the ledge and crouched beside the vanity to search for a candle, even a flashlight. Nothing. “Damn.”

  At a clinking sound, she looked up.

  Arms filled with a new bottle of wine , two glasses, an ice bucket and—hallelujah—candles, he grinned. “Brought some supplies.”

  She rose and relieved him of the candles. “Ah, yes, the necessities.”

  He twisted his torso to reveal a long lighter protruding from his back pocket.

  “You remembered. Extra points for that.” She plucked the lighter, patted his rear, and set to work arranging and lighting the candles. “Worth sacrificing the wine we forgot on the beach, huh?”

  Long legs stretching from the corner of the ledge, he dipped his hand in the water, then turned off the valves. “Definitely much nicer. Great idea.”

  She eased onto his lap. Before kissing him, she said softly, “I’m full of them.”

  Apparently, so was he. Their kiss deepened and, without breaking it, he unzipped her hoodie and caressed her breasts.

  She shrugged out of the sweatshirt and inched his sweater up and over his head. Her hands followed the expanse of his shoulders down to his trim waist.

  Jared scooted off the ledge and laid her atop the plush carpet. He opened his mouth to say something, but she pressed her finger to his lips. “Shh. Come here.”

  All the instruction he needed. He crouched over her, his kiss more tender and at the same time, more deliberate. He took his time moving down her body. As he explored her curves, she loved the way he teased up a thrill with nuzzles, kisses and licks. He seemed to instinctively know how to draw out the most pleasure for both of them. The slow unzipping of her jeans, he followed with gentle tugs. With them halfway down her legs, his tongue probed her.

  She wanted him to be naked, too, but her toes were inadequate to the task of helping him shed his clothes. With the exquisite tension building, she instead grasped his hair, legs locked around him, an anchor while he sent her reeling into bliss.

  He lifted up, eyes blazing with heat. After shoving his jeans down his hips, he lowered and guided himself into her. The sheer power of his muscles rippling across her, into her, drove her need deeper. She wanted him to experience the same incredible rush, so slid her legs down to straddle his thighs then arched her back. The move earned her an appreciative groan, and he pumped harder. She planted her feet on the rug and thrust, hips pistoning against his, mind and body on the edge of explosion. His intense grip on her rear signaled he was close, and his fingers dug in as shudders wracked his body. She stroked his hair, caressed his back until his breathing evened out.

  He eased away to look at her.

  She braced for him to jump up, make some excuse ab
out something he needed to do. Another afterglow interruptus.

  Instead, he asked, “Shall I warm up the tub water?”

  “Yes.”

  This time, she didn’t mind when he lifted away, leaving her with a kiss before padding to the bathtub and bending to test the water.

  God, what an incredible ass. Sculpted, atop long, lean legs.

  Still bent, he looked back, hair swinging from his forehead. “It’s not too bad.” He swung a leg over, slid in, and held out a glass of wine. “Come and get it.”

  She couldn’t help but smile as she pushed up and sauntered the few steps toward him, loving the way he watched with undisguised appreciation.

  He raised his knees and patted the water. “I saved you a spot.”

  “Perfect.” In two long steps, she positioned herself there and leaned back against him. “Ah, the best seat in the house.” Absolutely perfect.

  ***

  By habit, he entered the bedroom and picked up the remote, then set it down. No television. No distractions.

  As he climbed into bed, she nestled against him. “So tell me, Mr. Director. Of any movie of all time, which do you wish you’d made?”

  A laugh escaped. “What’s this, an interview?”

  “No, an insight into the real you. What movie do you love most?”

  He ran his fingers up and down her arm. “That’s two separate questions.”

  “Okay, then give me two answers.”

  “Mm, let’s see. For the groundbreaking wow factor, great acting, and uniqueness—not to mention that it still has a strong cult following—Blade Runner. Course, I wouldn’t have turned down Fight Club or Pulp Fiction. Genius, all of them.”

  “And? In the category of most loved, the winner is?”

  “One movie? Out of all the different genres and generations?” He gave a long, low whistle.

  She wagged a finger. “Pick one.”

  He heaved a breath. “Casablanca.”

  “Really,” she said in a tone a psychotherapist might use.

  “Why?” He couldn’t help sounding suspicious.

  “I find it interesting.”

  “Because?”