Rachel, Out of Office
Page 18
“Lie down.” He watched, a new fire in his eyes this time. One like she’d never seen before.
“How do you take off the shaper thing?” he asked, settling the condoms on the pillow within arm’s reach but not intrusively in the way.
Travis was good at being prepared. Who knew?
“It’s just…like…” She wanted to hide her face behind her palm. She didn’t, because she had a feeling that would only ignite more of whatever was going on in his eyes. While that look excited her, it also scared the bejeezus out of her.
“Like?” he asked.
“Like underwear.”
Just like that—lickety-split—his face hovered over hers. “And you’re wearing this underwear?”
“Yes?” She sort of asked and sort of answered.
“It’s covering you?” he asked. “Between your legs?”
“Yes?” The sort of asked, sort of answered thing was becoming habit with not-bickering Travis.
“Then, ma’am,” he said, leaning heavily on the accent. “I guarantee this shaper thing is desirable, and sexy, and somethin’ I want to see. Nothing you say will make it not.” He said the words, and he moved to pin her with his hips against her own, the impressive evidence of his arousal against her stomach, and then his mouth descended to meet hers.
Urgent, sweet, and a balm that made her not care what kind of underwear she wore, because pretty soon she’d be wearing none and that was perfectly awesome. Preferable, even.
“Lift for me.” His words against her mouth were gravel and crushed marble as he straddled her again, guiding her hips so she raised them, her heels pressing into the white duvet cover.
With her hips lifted, he pushed her dress up to her waist. His hands touching everything along the way, skimming the skin of her thighs, brushing against spandex, until he got to the waistband nestled high above her belly button.
Then, Travis Frank surprised her, because he removed the shaper without any assistance. Like he was a spandex-shaper-remover professional.
This was impressive because it took her a solid three minutes to get the thing on and off, yet he rolled the material down, down, down, and tossed it off the bed like it wasn’t a big deal and she was still desirable and…yes, she was so going to put her mouth on that tent in his trousers. A lot.
A whole lot.
Later, though, because he needed to finish undressing her. And she was damp between her thighs and she had barely moved but was breathing heavily and it would probably take only two strokes from him and she’d come.
With tongue and lips and hands, he pressed butterfly kisses to the scar just above her pubic bone, around the side of her belly where silver stretch marks marred the skin.
He continued touching and kissing all the spots she’d never shown anyone except her doctor.
“Travis, you don’t have to…” she started to say but ended on an ahhhh, because his kisses had moved to between her thighs and this time they were of the French variety.
Using his thumbs to stroke her sensitive opening, he tongued her core, rolling his mouth over the center of her desire until she was clutching the bedspread. Panting, she was pretty much seeing all the stars that were ever in the night sky.
“I want to.” He raised his gaze. His eyes held hers, which was amazing but also not, because his mouth left the space between her thighs.
What did he want to do?
He should continue doing whatever it was he wanted to do.
She must’ve somehow broadcast this either telepathically or, more likely, with words she didn’t realize she was speaking, because he chuckled. Deep and low and she clenched the bedspread harder.
Seriously? Could a woman come when a man wasn’t even touching her?
“Let me see you.” He massaged the spot where her thighs met her torso with the pads of his thumbs.
She pinched her eyes shut. They’d come this far. He was into this. She was into this. He’d already seen most of it.
If they were going to do this, she could hold off him seeing her totally exposed for only a little while.
Eventually, he’d catch glimpses.
Hopefully, later, in a shower where they could experiment with aquatic sex and she could do the whole going down on him thing she really, really wanted to do.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Open your eyes, sunshine.” The words were commanding and gentle and how he managed them to be both, she had no idea.
She did, however, do as he asked.
He sat back on his heels, looking over her body like he was cataloging all the things that needed changing.
But maybe he wasn’t.
Because the heat was back in his eyes. He looked wrecked. In a good way.
“God, Rach.” His gaze skimmed her once more, from her face to her core. “You have no idea, do you?”
Okay, or maybe not. Maybe it was exactly as she’d expected.
Mortifying. This was mortifying. She started to pull the dress back down. “I know. I know. It’s not—”
He pressed his hand over hers, stilling their descent with the fabric. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
Um. What?
“No idea at all.” He said this, but not to her. He seemed to be speaking to himself. “Fucking stunning and no idea.”
“Trav?” She rose to her elbows, which wasn’t super comfortable given the way he straddled her at the knees.
Her use of his name seemed to jerk him back to the present.
“No idea what?” she asked softly. “What don’t I know?”
He ruffled a hand through the thick black ink of his hair. “That nearly every man in every room—even some of the women—are looking at you. Wanting you just like I’ve got you. Wishing they could taste you. Make you moan like that.”
Her throat clogged. Well, she hadn’t expected that.
There was only a beat before he made some kind of decision, and he nodded along with it.
He unbuckled his pants and quickly removed them.
“Dress comes off,” he said as he removed his boxer shorts next. “Bra, too.”
Not that she noticed, but, okay, she totally noticed the little dabble of pre-cum on the front of them. Given the way the length of him stood straight, he was as worked up as she was.
She pulled the dress over her head—not near as smoothly as he’d done with the spandex, but she didn’t fall off the bed while she did it. She was totally claiming that as a win.
There.
They were both out of breath, turned on, and naked. She wasn’t even freaking out because…holy crap on a croissant, Travis was a sight to behold.
He. Worked. Out.
His gaze melded with hers and he climbed on the bed, pressed up over her, and kissed the hell out of her mouth.
Travis could seriously earn a gold medal in the kissing Olympics.
The hard length of his erection weighed heavy against her thigh as his mouth did amazingly fantastic things to her lips. His hands lightly gripping both sides of her head, she moaned as he swept his tongue along her own.
Her skin tingled with the fire of his touch, her legs parting to make room for him, the ache between her thighs growing with each stroke of his tongue. She was ready to climb him like a tree.
What had come over her? She wasn’t really sure, but she nipped at his bottom lip. That seemed to push him further onto the ledge they climbed together, the length of his erection pulsing hot against the inside of her thigh.
They were skin to skin, her nipples pressing against the light smattering of hair on his chest, the friction building everywhere.
She moaned and arched. Needing more.
Barely putting any space between them, he grabbed one of the condoms, ripping open the package and rolling it over the length of his erection.
Travis’s gaze settled on the way her fingers worked for a beat, the length of him stiffening further, before he took the invitation, lying over her, one hand on his erection, the other bracing himself against the mattress as his mouth met hers again.
She gave up all control as he guided himself inside her body, his mouth never leaving hers.
Okay. So. Clearly, he was an exceptional multitasker when he put his mind to it.
Their bodies melded as she wrapped her legs around his thighs, the hair along his legs giving friction as she groaned. She continued making all kinds of noises she was pretty sure she’d never made before.
Clearly, he took the noises as an invitation—as he should, because she couldn’t speak at the moment to issue a formal one.
He started thrusting, taking her there in only four movements. They’d barely begun when her body clenched around his, moans escaping her throat that he caught with more kisses, his own groans more subdued than hers but no less urgent.
The next wave began before the first had fully receded. This time he followed her as she clenched around him once more. He seated himself fully inside her, and his expression was one of concentration. Desire. Lust.
“Beautiful.” The word coming from his final grunt was so many things—a plea and a promise and…everything.
The word was everything.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his earlobe. “Thank you, Trav.”
They were sweaty and spent as he rolled off her, pausing to press a kiss against her temple before he said, “Condom,” and left the bed.
The bathroom light flickered on and she closed her eyes.
Reality began seeping in centimeter by centimeter.
She’d just had amazing sex.
With Travis.
Travis.
The faucet turned on and off and…no, they couldn’t stay like this.
The kids were coming home. They’d need her. Then Evelyn might come looking and figure out what they’d done.
Rachel usually kept her phone with her for clients in case they had an emergency.
She should get dressed and go back to work.
That’s what she should have done, but instead she climbed between the sheets, and that small movement took everything she had, because her bones had turned to mush. Sleep pulled at her.
Gah, sleep called. Maybe she could take just a little nap. Nothing big.
Her eyes fluttered closed. She was pretty sure she was three-quarters of the way to REM when the bed moved, and Travis was there.
“Open your legs,” he said, the words gruff but filled with peace.
She did as he asked because…what else was she supposed to do?
She opened her eyes as his warm-washcloth-covered hand stroked between her legs.
Travis cleaned up his own messes? She stilled but didn’t say anything. Unsure of what to say.
Finally, she settled on, “Thank you.”
He tossed the washcloth off the bed and settled in behind her, holding the spot of the big spoon.
Not taking the time to dress, they were both naked, and she was so tired, and he was so warm, and this was so intimate.
What they’d done was intense and fun and…yeah. But this? This was beyond that.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“How do you know I’m not asleep?” she responded.
“You think really loud.” He snuggled in deeper.
“I’m just wondering why you get to be the big spoon,” she said as the sleep that she’d nearly had before started to pull at her again.
“You’re such a goof,” he murmured against her hair.
“Hey, Trav?” She yawned.
“Umm-hmm?” he murmured against her hair.
“That wasn’t like doing the laundry at all.”
He chuckled, then he kissed the crown of her skull. As she drifted to sleep, he took her hand in his, tethering her to a reality she was pretty sure she didn’t get to keep.
Chapter Eighteen
“I always say if you aren’t yelling at your kids, you’re not spending enough time with them.” — Reese Witherspoon
Rachel
Shit.
She was naked. Travis was there.
Sex. There had been sex. Really good sex.
Then she took a nap.
She never took a nap.
Naps were for those who had time to take them. She was not that person.
Travis’s warm breath came in small puffs against her neck as his body cradled hers.
Apparently, he’d fallen asleep, too.
He’d gotten dressed first, though.
A sliver of light still shone through the curtains, but barely.
“Trav.” She rolled so they were face-to-face, and shook his shoulder. “Travis.”
He pinched open an eyelid. Then, even half awake, he turned on the magnetism and gave her a grin that would’ve had her dropping her panties—if she’d been wearing any.
“We fell asleep,” she said, already peeling herself from his arms and searching the bedding for her clothes.
“You were really tired.” He smiled. “Seemed like you needed to catch some sleep.” The just-awake timbre of his voice was so inviting, she nearly found herself jumping him again.
Her stomach soured. The kids could be home any minute.
“You had a conference call.” She rubbed her hands over her face, pinching at her cheeks to wake herself up. “I have clients.”
“I rescheduled.” He moved his hand to hold hers. “Your clients can survive a couple of hours without you.” He squeezed her hand.
“You have no idea what my clients can survive.” She started to get out of bed, but Travis’s arm snaked around her waist.
His spoke against her bare neck. “Even you get to take a nap sometimes.”
“We don’t all get to pick and choose what work we do.” Okay, so that came out way harsher than she meant.
He clenched his jaw, tight.
“What I mean is we need a plan,” Rachel said because, first of all, they needed a plan. Second of all, they couldn’t continue without some kind of direction.
“Rach—”
“I have kids,” she continued.
“I know you have kids. We’ve talked about your kids. I love your kids.”
“I can’t confuse them.” Blurgh. She hoped her tone transmitted the sincerity of those words and how desperate she was to ensure that she didn’t mess up her boys. Finding Mom in bed with Uncle Travis was not something she wanted to try to explain.
“No one needs to know anything yet.” Travis rolled and sat, the sheet bunching at his waist. She’d grown really fond that afternoon of what lay under his clothes.
And him. And his dimples. And his humor. And his voice.
“Everyone’s going to find out.” She fidgeted with the bedspread. “I am horrible at keeping secrets.”
“Who is going to find out?” he asked. “Mama? Dad? Gavin?”
“Brady, Kellan,” she continued listing in the same tone he had.
“Then don’t make it a secret.” He moved his palms to her face, stroking her neck. “In your head, while we figure things out, don’t make it a secret. It’s just somethin’ we’re not ready to share. There’s a difference.”
“Your mom is going to be so mad,” she said against his lips because, dammit, his lips were right there.
“My mother has no say in this.”
“Your mom has a say in everything,” Rachel whispered. “She’s the Puffle Yum Momster.”
“No.” Travis shifted, not even bothering to reali
ze that she was still totally naked. Apparently, he was cool with naked. Good to know.
“Mama thinks she has a say in everything. The only two people this involves are you and me.” He paused, looking lost in a moment of thought. “Eventually, it’ll involve your kids, because they’re a huge part of who you are.”
His fingers met her chin, holding her face up to his. He pressed a kiss to her lips, gentle, with a soft quality that wrapped around her and reassured that everything was going to be fine.
She let out a long breath.
“Are you with me on this?” he asked.
Not like she really had a choice. If they went around announcing what they were doing, she’d get tossed out, and the boys would be confused. “Next time I fall asleep like that, wake me up.”
“No.” He seemed firm on this, which meant she’d never get to fall asleep in the afternoon again.
“While you were asleep, Dad checked in with me. They’re staying in Confluence for dinner, and they’ll be back late. He worried when they couldn’t reach you. I told them you were taking a nap, and I’d let you know when you woke up.” He moved closer to her like a predator and she was his prey. “This is me, letting you know.”
Since his lips were right there and her lips were right there, she kissed him. Hard, long, and with some tongue action.
He pulled away from her mouth, adjusting the bedding so it didn’t cover any of her.
She resisted the urge to cover her stretch marks with her hand.
“For the record, I haven’t worried what my mother thinks about any woman in my bed since I was sixteen,” Travis said, nibbling along her neck.
Rachel stilled. “Sixteen?”
“You’re thinking again, sunshine.” He kissed her, the same way that she’d kissed him. “Don’t dig too deep. That’s where we keep the skeletons.”
She looked up at him and saw the heat of his gaze, felt reassurance in his touch. “What if we mess everything up?”
“You’re giving us too much power.” He rolled her onto her back, settling between her thighs.
This felt…this felt natural. Like it was always supposed to be this way. Rachel and Travis.