Melting Into You (Due South Book 2)

by Tracey Alvarez

  “Yes, but you asked about my, ah, inexperience, and I changed the subject.”

  “I shouldn’t have pressured you.” He dropped his hand from hers, stroking his fingers down her leg.

  Hot tingles raced along her skin and congregated low in her belly. “If we’re going to sleep together, you should know what you’re getting…” She swallowed past the stickiness clogging her throat. “And what you’re not.”

  His hand paused on her knee. “I get you, right? In a bed or on the floor. Naked.”

  The hot tingles spread until her face caught fire. “Yes. Is that enough?”

  The soft chuckle stirred her curls and fanned his warm breath over her ear. “What you’re really asking is if you’re enough. And Kez, I never imagined being permitted to touch you, let alone make love to you for a night. I should be asking you—am I enough?”

  Her nipples pebbled as his hand slid over her waist and settled on her ribs, his thumb brushing slow arcs inches below her breast. “Enough? You’re too much.”

  He pulled back, a deep line bisecting his drawn eyebrows, as if her words were a rejection. She shook her head and drew his hand up to her right breast. His fingers closed on her, and she shuddered with bone-deep pleasure. Would it always be like this?

  “You must understand—you kiss me, and I can’t do anything but feel. You put your hands on me, and my self-control is andato. Just gone.”

  “I like that you have no control with me.” His voice roughened as his palm grazed the bud of her nipple through the soft synthetic fabric. “I like that you came in my arms, that I could smell you on my skin for hours afterwards.”

  “Oh God.” She closed her eyes. “I’m still mortified.”

  “But sweetheart, you were married for—how many years?”

  “Nearly five.” She kept her eyes closed.

  “I’ll make the huge assumption here that that orgasm wasn’t your first.”

  “No.”

  How could she explain the difference when she could barely explain it to herself? Wasn’t one orgasm much the same as another? Evidently not. Try a comparison between a TV dinner lasagna to the real thing cooked from scratch with fresh ingredients.

  Ben was the real thing.

  She hadn’t had to strive, hadn’t had to mentally trick her body into arousal and eventually climax, Ben had driven her over the precipice with little effort. God knew how she’d stand the intensity of a full night of lovemaking.

  “And—hell.” He shifted, and the hard length of him pressed into her bottom. “As weird as it is discussing this—I assume your husband gave you orgasms on a regular basis?”

  Kezia cracked an eye open to a narrow slit. “Our sex life dwindled after Zoe got sick.”

  “And before then?”

  “Sex was…nice. A little irregular, but then we were first-time parents, and work put a lot of pressure on Callum.”

  “Uh huh. So. Sex was nice.” He took his hand off her breast, tipped her face up. Eyes dark with sudden hunger pierced clear through her. “You and I aren’t gonna have nice sex, sweetheart. We’re gonna have hot, wild, sweaty sex that’ll leave us unconscious or dead.”

  Oh, hot, wild, and sweaty sounded good. Sounded fantastico.

  He twisted a stray curl of her hair and rubbed it under his nose. “We won’t need riding crops or handcuffs. I’m not into kinky stuff, Kezzy. I’m into you.”

  The hunger in his eyes melted to a tenderness that caused her stomach butterflies to resume acrobatic antics.

  She pushed against his chest. This time he didn’t try to prevent her from scrambling off his lap.

  “I have to go.”

  Tugging her skirt down, she crossed to the bar stool and slipped on her coat.

  Ben wrapped the scarf around her neck as she fumbled with the buttons.

  “Can you keep next weekend free?”

  “Yes.” But how would she not explode in the next nine days? “I haven’t any plans.”

  “You have now.” He turned her to face him, bent and nibbled at her lower lip before soothing it with a soft kiss. “And Kez? Leave the penguin pajamas at home.”

  ***

  “No. Nuh-uh, not going to happen,” said Kezia.

  “But they’re so cute.” Shaye pooched out her lower lip and waved the ridiculously tiny pink panties under Kezia’s nose again.

  Already regretting this Saturday shopping trip with Shaye and Piper in Invercargill, Kezia glanced around the boutique lingerie store Flirt. “That wouldn’t cover a four-year-old’s bottom, let alone mine.”

  Piper ducked between two displays of pastel bra and panty sets. “As your best friends, we can’t send you off in granny knickers and a mum-bra.”

  “There’s nothing granny or mum-like about my underwear. My unmentionables, as Mamma used to say, are comfortable, practical, and stylish.” Kezia snatched the pink panties off Shaye and shoved them back on the rack.

  Okay, maybe she did own a disproportionate amount of white and nude underwear, but explaining to Zoe why tiny scraps of satin and lace were on her washing line every laundry day? No thanks.

  “You are very stylish, hon.” Shaye slung an arm around her waist. “But white cotton isn’t sexy enough for your dirty weekend.”

  “It’s only one night—and shopping for lingerie with the sisters of the man I’m going away with is plain disturbing.”

  Piper smirked. “Don’t worry about us—we’re blacking out the image of Ben loving you up in these smoking hot panties and replacing it with Steven Amell. God, I love a bad boy in leather.” She sighed dreamily.

  “Arrow’s a hero, not a bad boy, dummy.” Shaye selected a leopard-print push-up bra. “Personally, I’m thinking of Joe Magliano. Have you seen that man? He’s ripped.”

  “No way in hell, put that back,” said Kezia. “And you’re picturing me with Steven Amell and Joe Magliano instead of your brother? How is that less disturbing?”

  “Actually, I’m picturing me with Steve and Joe, and thinking I’ll buy the leopard print myself.” Shaye held the bra up to her chest.

  Piper wrested it out of her hands. “Hey, I’m the only one who needs a little help in that area. You two have more than enough boobage to spill out of a normal bra.”

  While Piper and Shaye argued the merits of Steve versus Joe, demi-cup versus full, and thong versus bikini, Kezia moved to a different part of the store. She fingered the buttery soft cottons and slippery satins, all the time trying to ignore the fluttery sensations in her belly.

  She was doing this. Going away with Ben. Buying something pretty and completely impractical to make her feel sexy. Hoping the little scraps of fabric would act like a magnet for his hands and mouth.

  Gesù.

  Kezia slipped a pair of black panties off the nearest display, the butterflies in her stomach transforming into bats slashing with razor tipped claws.

  The last time she’d shopped for pretty lingerie was a few months before Callum died, in a desperate attempt to lure her husband back into her bed. She’d failed spectacularly and so had thrown the offending garments into the trash the next morning. Along with negligées, suspender belts, and even a bustier Callum had bought her years ago. Asking him to empty the trash can had been a statement, and he’d spent every night afterward in their spare room.

  But Ben wasn’t Callum—wasn’t anything like her late husband in looks or personality. She didn’t need anyone to point that out. Ben would want her whether she wore a full length 1950s girdle or a pair of crotch-less panties—like the ones she now held. Kezia returned them to the rack with a smile. He wanted her, and she wouldn’t turn this fun trip with her friends into a bad-acid-trip down memory lane.

  “Still can’t make a decision?”

  Kezia turned at the sound of Piper’s voice.

  “There are too many options.”

  Piper flicked through a display of feather trimmed corsets. “Who in their right mind would lace themselves into that torture device?” She blew out a pff
ft of disgust and moved away. “Anyway, it’s not like a man’s gonna rate your choice of unmentionables, he just wants to get you naked with the least amount of effort.” She pointed a finger at Kezia. “But Ben can remove a bra one-handed in six seconds, so perhaps you will want something like a corset to challenge him.”

  “The poor guy could lose a finger fiddling with all those hooks and laces.” Shaye appeared at her other side, one hand behind her back.

  “What about that one?” Kezia gestured to a peach-colored set.

  “Classy, sexy, but not trampy,” said Shaye. “They’re totally you.”

  Something Kezia could wear after the weekend, though she never would. She’d hand-wash the lacy garments, wrap them in tissue paper and tuck them into her drawer as a reminder of her one amazing night with Ben. Except a small part of her stubbornly refused to agree to one night only. A small part of her wanted more.

  As she reached for the hanger, Shaye tapped her shoulder. She turned, coming face to face with a box of condoms, complete with a curly scarlet ribbon tied in a bow.

  “My shout, sweetie,” Shaye said.

  “Sweet Mother—” Kezia grabbed the box and dropped it into the little wire shopping basket.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to get them at Russell’s.” Shaye grinned, completely unabashed. “You’d better buy in bulk at the supermarket before we head back over. A good girl scout’s always prepared.”

  Trying to slip a box past the eagle eye of Caroline Russell would certainly start the gossip mill churning. Stocking up on condoms made things a little too real.

  “Over prepared if you ask me.” Piper snickered and folded her arms. “That’s a pack of twelve—how many do you think they’ll use?”

  Shaye drilled a finger into her sister’s stomach. “This coming from a woman who once spent forty-eight hours straight in bed with her man—”

  “It was a weekend and the weather was crap. We saved on our electricity bill by utilizing body heat under the covers.”

  Good-natured sibling bickering ensued. Kezia stared into her basket and her throat closed up as if she was having an allergic reaction. Perhaps she was. A reaction to this crazy, tangled mess of desire, need, and giddiness every time she thought about being alone with Ben Harland.

  “Wait, wait.” Kezia held up a hand. “Maybe this whole thing is a really bad idea.”

  Shaye and Piper fell silent and flanked her, one on each side.

  “Hon?” Shaye slipped an arm through hers and squeezed. “We’re just teasing. Ben won’t pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.”

  Kezia sighed. “I’m not an eighteen-year-old virgin. I know what a man means when he arranges an overnight date.”

  “You could cancel.” Piper leveled a flat stare at her. “If you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared of your brother.”

  “Not that kind of scared.” The corner of Piper’s mouth twitched. “The kind which says you’ve developed something more serious for Ben than the urge to get laid.”

  “Hah.” Maledizione—Piper was right. But she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself, let alone anyone else. So she fixed her lips into a smile and waved her hand dismissively. “It’s more that I haven’t had sex in a long time. I’m a little—no, a lot—out of practice.”

  “Aw, hon. Sex isn’t like the algebra you learn in high school and forget the moment you graduate. I’m sure you’ll remember what goes where,” said Shaye.

  Piper remained silent, watching with the steady hazel gaze Kezia knew meant her friend wasn’t buying it.

  “This weekend’s a great idea.” Piper flicked through the rack of peach lingerie and selected Kezia’s sizes. “You’ll get to spend some time with Ben, realize he’s a straight-up guy who’s not like he-who-won’t-be-named—” She waggled her eyebrows, a reference to when she and Shaye had got Kezia tipsy on bubbles, dragging out details of the last few years of her marriage. “You’ll have fun together—in bed and out.”

  “Fun? I’ve forgotten how to have fun with a man,” Kezia said. “What if I screw it up and we have a terrible time?”

  Piper snorted out a laugh. “Then you’ll have wasted your two grand.”

  Shaye reached behind Kezia and shoved her sister’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to her—you’ll have a fantastic time, while Pipe and I dazzle Zoe and Jade with girly delights.”

  Kezia rolled her eyes and headed for the cashier.

  A fantastic time? She hoped so. She also hoped she’d return to her little cottage on Stewart Island with her heart intact.

  Chapter 12

  Saturday morning, D-day, Ben stood beside the red and white striped Cessna, grinning like a loon as Kezia crossed the tarmac. Pretty as a picture didn’t begin to describe her in a blue dress, chunky sweater, and calf-high boots, her curls blowing sideways as the choppy breeze skimmed along the runway.

  “This isn’t one of the island’s planes.” She stopped in front of him.

  “Good morning to you too, Ms. Murphy.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled.

  “It’s a private charter. The owner owes me a favor, and I called it in.” Ben stooped and grabbed her suitcase. His sports bag—stuffed with little more than a change of clothes and a toothbrush—was already inside the plane.

  Plus a box of thirty condoms. Just in case.

  “I didn’t think we’d be flying anywhere.”

  “Did you see me romancing you in one of the Rakiura track huts then? Maybe setting up a tent on Kahurangi Bay beach?”

  She shoved his arm. “You better be taking me somewhere warmer than a hut or a tent.”

  “Much warmer, but our destination’s still a surprise—so don’t start with the where-are-we-going nag.”

  Brown eyes sparkling, Kezia climbed up the plane’s short flight of steps. “Fine. And FYI, I don’t nag—I instruct.”

  The flight across the Foveaux Straight was a little turbulent but evened out once they reached the mainland. Conversation over the roar of the engines became tedious after a while, so they sat quietly, Kezia staring out the tiny window. Fiordland’s snow-capped peaks in the distance seemed to capture her attention. Ben’s entire focus was on the gentle line of her jaw, the sweet spiciness of her perfume. He covered her hand with his, and she turned toward him, shifting closer and resting her head against his arm.

  “You’re missing the view.” Not that he was complaining.

  A small smile creased her lush mouth. “I’m not missing anything.”

  The pilot brought the Cessna down twenty minutes later and taxied past the main international airport to a smaller group of buildings off to the side.

  Kezia looked out the window. “Are those The Remarkables?”

  Ben ducked down for a glimpse of the mountain range on the south eastern shore of Lake Wakatipu. “Yep.”

  He understood where Zoe got her enthusiasm from as Kezia bounced in her seat and squealed. “We’re staying in Queenstown?”

  Wait until she saw Harley’s little shack just out of town. “Worth the two-grand so far?”

  She fisted a handful of his jacket and arched up—planted a smacking kiss on the corner of his mouth. “It is. And not because it’s Queenstown.”

  “Oh, so now you’re being friendly.”

  “I’ve always been friendly to you, Ben Harland.” She tugged his ear lobe. “You were the one either ignoring me or grouching at me.”

  “I ignored you because I knew you’d be trouble, Kez.”

  The pilot stepped out from the cockpit, destroying their little moment by cranking open the plane’s door.

  “Trouble. Hah,” she muttered as Ben helped her out onto the tarmac.

  By the time they’d picked up their rental car and headed into the lakeside tourist town, sunshine streamed through the clouds onto the denim-blue waters of Lake Wakatipu. The Holden Commodore with a V6 engine—a guys’ car, none of this hybrid-compact-sardine-can-crap for him—purred like a well-fed panther as they
cruised Queenstown’s streets.

  Skiers in puffer-jackets, tourists with cameras around their necks, and backpackers laden with gear, swarmed through the “Alpine style” town center. They bypassed the worst of the crowds, caught the roar of the bright yellow Kawarau jet as it buzzed away from the jetty.

  Kezia slanted him a look from the passenger seat, and he couldn’t resist. “Nah, I didn’t think you’d like to get wet.”

  From the top of Bob’s Peak and the Queenstown Gondola, colorful canopies of para-gliders drifted across the sky. Kezia threw back her head to follow them, laughing and calling them, “Pazzi—crazy!”

  “Not too pazzi for us, right?” He gave her his best this’ll be fun grin. “I’ve booked us in after lunch.”

  Her pretty bottom lip dropped. “You want me—us—to jump off a cliff with only a piece of silk to stop us from hurtling to certain death?”

  The Holden roared around another curve, Ben loving the stunned expression on Kezia’s face. He drew his eyebrows together and tilted his lips down. “I thought it’d appeal to your sense of adventure.”

  A feminine huff filled the car, but he kept his eyes on the road. After a minute of heavy silence, he glanced over. She smiled at him, showing almost every one of her straight, white teeth.

  “You know, I’ve always wanted to fly, and if the only way for an adrenalin rush with you is by jumping off a cliff, then I say—let’s do it, big guy.”

  The unexpected zing of her sultry voice flamed through him—made him want to get to Harley’s house in record time.

  Oh, he’d have her flying, all right. And not with a parachute, either.

  Ben signaled and turned off the main highway, navigating the winding road up into the hills. “I should call your bluff.”

  She chuckled softly, crossing one slender leg over the other, the whisper of her dress on her thighs hardening his growing arousal. Too many houses along this country road, otherwise he’d pull over and kiss the living daylights out of her. He spent the next five minutes calculating the car’s gas consumption, so when he pulled into Harley’s caretaker’s driveway he wouldn’t embarrass himself.