In college, she’d dated some. He could remember those guys. One had been a jackass and she’d dumped him after two dates. One had lasted a few months. During their senior year, the guy she had dated had actually lasted throughout the year. That one had seemed serious but then the guy had died.
“You don’t date much.”
It wasn’t a question and she didn’t treat it as one. A wry smile curled her lips and she lifted one shoulder carelessly. “I’m picky.”
“Picky about what?”
“The guys I date.”
“What are you so picky about?” Bracing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. What made a woman so picky that she went on less than two or three dates a year? He knew she got asked out a lot—or at least it seemed a regular occurrence, from what he’d seen. No surprise. She was flat-out sexy, she was funny in a quiet, understated way and she was one of the kindest people he’d ever known.
“Maybe I just haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.”
“What are you looking for?”
She rolled her eyes. “Geez, Colby, what is this? Twenty questions? If a guy asks me out and I’m interested, I’ll go out with him. I’m usually just not interested.”
“You’re here with me.”
Her dark-gray eyes narrowed and she said acerbically, “So apparently, I’m not picky enough. I hadn’t realized I was going to get the Spanish Inquisition.”
He slid his hand across the table and took hers. Lacing their fingers together, he whispered, “If we’re doing an inquisition, does that mean I can get you on the rack later?”
Her eyes widened. A startled laugh escaped her and she clapped her free hand over her mouth, muffling the sound. “I don’t do racks on the first date.”
He was flirting with her. Okay, Bree wasn’t an idiot, but it took her a little while to actually realize the truth. Colby was actually flirting with her. Why the hell is that such a shock? He had his hand in your panties and his tongue halfway down your throat a couple of hours ago. He more or less said he wanted to sleep with you. Why shouldn’t he flirt?
Still—it was weird. Seriously weird.
And unsettling as hell. Not just because it felt like some bizarre fantasy come to life either. You and I both know we’ve gone past being just friends. Actually, she hadn’t let herself think along those lines, even after he’d kissed her outside the winery. She just wasn’t ready to let herself think about that, because Bree was a linear type of thinker. If she knew one thing was coming, she started to plan for what happened after.
Here, the “after” that seemed most likely was that Colby wasn’t seriously interested in her and once he got whatever this was out of his system, she’d go back to being a friend—probably not even that.
Definitely not something she was equipped for.
By the time the waiter brought the check, she felt as though she was going to splinter into a thousand pieces from the pressure. Trying to keep it light, trying not to let him see how he affected her, trying not to read too much into his casual, sexy flirtation.
The ride home was a little easier—not having to sit across from him, staring at the perfect face with his sexy mouth and those amber eyes, having to sit still while he looked at her with such heat that she could almost feel it stroking over her skin. He pulled into her driveway and she bent to get her purse from the floor. He was already halfway around the car and when she opened her door, he was there with his hand outstretched.
Tucking her hand into his arm, he guided her around the side of the house, instead of in. Bree lived in the house where she’d grown up, under the care of her aunt. When her aunt moved to Florida a few years after Bree graduated from college, she had bought the house and spent the past eight years working on it.
The backyard looked like something straight out of Extreme Home Makeover—an outdoor kitchen complete with a stone fire pit, a small swimming pool, water gardens, every last inch of ground perfectly landscaped. It was her pride and joy and normally, she loved being out here.
But for some reason, tonight, here in the darkness with Colby, it was unsettling, to say the least.
The neighborhood where she lived was an older one and the lots were huge. Tall privacy fences separated the yards and the vining plants that she had growing along the perimeter inside her yard only added to the sense of seclusion. He unlatched the gate and guided her inside with his hand resting low on her back.
“I think, if you want to tell me to go home, now’s going to be a good time.”
She glanced up at him. It was a full moon and the silvery light shown down on him, highlighting the planes and hollows of his face, revealing the heat in his eyes—a heat he’d made little attempt to disguise during the night. Her head was spinning. She could barely keep up with the changes in him, going from quiet, brooding widower to sexy, flirtatious charmer. None of it made sense and if she was smart, she’d tell him it was best to call it a night.
But Bree couldn’t say it.
Fifteen years of fantasy stood next to her and even if she ended up getting her heart broken, at least she’d have something, right?
“You know, you’re confusing the hell out of me,” she said, keeping her tone light. Slipping her arm away from his, she reached down and unbuckled her shoes. Stepping out of them, she carried them over to the porch and laid them down, along with her purse. Then she turned to face him, her arms hanging loose at her sides, her heart pounding with anticipation and nerves.
“How?”
Bree shook her head. “You just are. Five weeks ago, I had no idea where you were, if you were ever going to come home. Then you’re here, but you’re not…not quite you. Grief is a bitch, I know. It does weird things to people…”
Her voice trailed off and she licked her lips. She lifted a hand futilely, as though she could pull the words from the air. But words were his thing. Not hers. “Then all of a sudden, you’re flirting with me, teasing me. You kiss me, tell me you want to sleep with me.”
She eyed him nervously. He stood mostly in shadow now, the moon at his back, throwing his features into darkness. She could make out the hungry glitter of his eyes but not much more than that. “So what is this? You trying yourself out on training wheels or something before you rejoin the land of the living?”
He snorted. “Shit, you don’t think much of me, do you, Bree?”
“Actually, I think the world of you.” You have absolutely no idea just how much I think of you. If you knew just how much I think of you, you’d probably take off running. “I just…” her voice trailed off and she sighed. “I don’t know what you want.”
He didn’t say anything right away, but she could all but hear him laying out his thoughts. Sometimes, it seemed this man spent way too much time thinking, and when he spent a lot of time thinking, she had to wonder what that meant for her. He paced toward her, not speaking until he was close, so close she could feel the heat of his body. “I want you.”
“But for what? For a night? For a few nights? You just need to take the edge off? What? I like knowing what I’m getting into and I can’t tell with you.”
He cupped a hand over the back of her neck, drawing her close until he could press his brow to hers. “I’ve been dreaming of you nearly every damn night for the past six months. I wake up half sick with guilt and feeling like the lowest life form in existence because of those dreams. Alyssa’s only been gone a year but I’ve spent half of that year obsessed with her best friend. Whatever is going on inside me isn’t something that’s going to go away after one night, two nights—probably not even if we spent the next six months in bed.” He brushed his lips over hers.
If he hadn’t been standing so close she could lean against him, her quivering legs just might have given way beneath her. But then he stepped away and she wobbled, automatically throwing out a hand and grabbing onto him. He covered her hand with his and with his other, he cupped her cheek. “But if this isn’t something you want, you better tell me now.”
It was her call.
Bree knew if she told him to leave, he’d do just that. In all likelihood, whatever chance it was that lay before her would be gone. Colby wouldn’t do this again. If she pushed him away, she knew she’d never have this chance again.
Not that pushing him away was even a possibility. For her, it never had been. The minute he made it clear that he wanted her, she’d been his. All the words, all her worries and doubts and fears, none of it made any difference. Words. She closed her eyes, wished she could find the words to tell him what was inside her, but they weren’t there.
Words. They were his thing. Not hers.
But she didn’t need words.
Slowly, she stepped back. His hand fell away and as she watched, his gaze became shuttered, locking her completely out. But, as she reached for the placket of buttons running down the front of her dress, he hissed out a breath. She didn’t look at him.
Bree was pretty sure that if she looked at him, she’d freeze. She’d panic. Worse—she’d throw herself at him and ask if he loved her, even a little. She might not even care if he lied. At least not right away.
So instead of looking at him, she kept her lashes low as she worked the dress off. It was a halter style, a complicated thing that buttoned up almost like a man’s dress shirt, with a collar and a vee neckline, but it left her shoulders and back bare. It fit close, which meant that even after she unbuttoned it all the way down, she had to shimmy her way out of it. Letting it fall to her feet in a puddle, she stepped out of it.
An attack of nerves seized her, though, and she couldn’t finish stripping out of her clothes while standing in front of him. She felt the burn of his gaze following her as she started toward the pool. She undid her strapless bra and dropped it by the pool’s edge. The lights in the pool were kept on a timer and in the darkness of the night, the water gleamed a vibrant, jewel-like shade of turquoise. It reflected light off her body as she hooked her thumbs in her panties and pushed them down.
She heard him coming up behind her as she dove into the water and swam along the bottom of the pool until she reached the far edge. She surfaced, rested a hand on the edge and turned her head toward him. He still stood at the other side of the pool. Shoving off the wall, she stroked toward him in a lazy crawl. Her heart leapt as he stripped away his shirt, letting it fall to the stone walkway bordering the pool. After he kicked his shoes off, he crouched down beside the pool and hooked a hand over the back of her neck, drawing her up.
She braced her hands on the lip of the pool and shoved upward, meeting his mouth as he dipped his head and snaking one arm around his shoulders. He traced the edge of her lips with his tongue before pushing inside. She shuddered. Already the need was threatening to spiral out of control. Bree wasn’t quite so ready to give into it. Bracing one foot against the pool wall, she shoved.
He tumbled into the water with her, but if she thought that would buy her some breathing room, she’d thought wrong. He kept his arms wrapped around her and took her to the bottom, keeping their mouths fused until the need to breathe drove them to the surface. He swam upward, keeping her body pressed to his. Catching hold of the ladder, he kept them afloat, pressed his brow to hers. “That was mean. You do realize I still have my pants on, don’t you?”
She smiled against his lips and slid one hand down his chest. “Oops.” It took some fumbling and some patience to strip him out of the wet black trousers. He caught them before they could sink to the bottom and tossed the sodden material onto the walkway.
Sliding her palms into the waistband of the boxer briefs he wore, she brushed the tips of her fingers over the head of his cock. His rigid flesh jerked under her touch and a harsh breath hissed out from between his teeth. “Damn it, Bree.”
She grinned as she closed her hand around his cock and stroked. One slow stroke down, one slow stroke up. The cool kiss of water couldn’t hide the fiery heat of his penis. The skin stretched over his cock was silken smooth, and underneath, rigid, so damn hard. She realized she was clenching her knees together as her sex throbbed.
She milked him with her hand, staring at his face, lost in the rapture she glimpsed on his features. His head was tilted back, eyes narrowed down to slits, teeth clenched in a hungry grimace. He started to move, rocking forward to meet her hand—quicker, harder.
Then abruptly, he stopped, pulled her hand away and caught her wrist when she would have reached for him again. He kissed her—deep, hard—thrusting his tongue past her lips, devouring her, as though he’d swallow her whole.
He tore his mouth away from hers to blaze a hot, stinging line of kisses up to her ear. “Gimme a break, Bree. Slow it down or this is going to be over before we get to the fun stuff.”
Tilting her head to the side, she shivered as he raked his teeth down her neck. “This isn’t the fun stuff?”
“Maybe a little fun.” He stroked one hand down her side, reaching between them to circle the tip of his finger around the entrance to her pussy. “But the real fun starts here. I want to taste you. I want to bury my dick inside this hot, wet pussy and fuck you until neither of us can handle any more.”
Bree whimpered. Dazed, she arched against him and said, “I already can’t handle any more. Colby…”
He laughed. “Slow down, beautiful. I haven’t waited this long to rush it.” His mouth roamed restlessly over her neck and shoulder as, between her thighs, he touched, teased and stroked. Colby dipped his fingers into her aching pussy, while rotating his thumb around her clit, keeping his touch teasingly light.
“Damn it, Colby.”
He laughed and looped an arm around her waist. “Take a breath.”
The water closed back over them, drifting along her body in a silken, cool caress as he propelled them along the floor until they reached the shallow end. There, he pressed her back against the wall. Just as he pressed against her though, his eyes flashed and he swore. “Damn it. I need my pants.”
“No.”
It was sheer insanity that drove her—the only explanation—as she twined her legs around his hips before he could pull away. “I’m on the Pill—and I’m clean. I haven’t been with…” her voice trailed off as she tried to think how long. Too long. Finishing with a lame shrug, she said, “I’m clean.”
Bad move, Colby thought as she rocked against him. Very, very bad move.
But he didn’t pull away.
He couldn’t pull away. Her long arms and legs twined around him, but even if she hadn’t held him so tightly, he couldn’t have pulled away.
He needed her—needed to feel her skin to skin, needed to lose himself inside her. Covering her mouth with his, he shifted the angle of his hips and let her impale herself on his cock.
Her pussy was wet and hot, so damn tight, and before she had taken half his length, she tensed up on him, arching backward. All that did was drive her farther down on his length.
A pained cry escaped her and she twisted, arching and rocking against him. Tension tightly held her body and Colby knew that even as sweet as it felt for him, those clenching, reluctant tissues fighting his intrusion, made it painful her.
Sliding a hand up her thigh, he cupped her hip and whispered, “Relax.”
She sighed into his mouth—a shaky, desperate little sound. He caught that sound and then trailed his tongue along her lips, skimmed his hand up her back and fisted his free hand in the short strands of her hair, tugged her head to the side and pressed a kiss to her throat. “Fuck, you’re hot, Bree. So damn tight…”
She shivered.
Against his lips, he felt her pulse skip a beat or two. Smiling against her skin, he whispered, “Sweet…hot…wet…”
She whimpered and arched against him, her tight nipples stabbing into his chest.
Bree liked dirty talk.
“You want to know how good you feel?” he asked. Bit by bit, her body eased. Just a little. Until he could sink another inch, then anot
her, into her pussy until she’d taken all of him. “You feel like heaven, like hot, wet, silky heaven.”
“Colby…” she whispered, her voice a soft, broken moan.
Working his hand between their bodies, he stroked his thumb around her clit and her hoarse whisper erupted into a harsh sob as he stroked her.
“Fuck, Bree…” he groaned as she climaxed around him, the silken walls of her sheath clenching his cock. He gritted his teeth against the urge to follow her as she whimpered and shuddered her way through orgasm.
Even as her climax passed, she continued to move against him. She was so damn perfect, her pussy gloving him, tight and sweet, clutching at his cock as he withdrew—greedy, demanding. All he wanted to do was give her every last thing she desired…and more.
He needed more—had to have it—but the buoyancy of the water kept him from taking her as deep, as hard as he needed. Growling against her mouth, he pulled away from her only long enough to climb from the pool and then snag her wrist, pulling her along behind him. Water dripped from their bodies as he tumbled her to the wooden chaise by the pool and mounted her, spreading her legs wide and pushing deep. Bracing his elbows next to her, he hooked his arms under her shoulders, twined his hands in her hair and kissed her.
Bree cried out, the sound smothered against his lips. Her short, neatly trimmed nails raked down his back, leaving fiery trails of sensation along the path her hands had taken.
The cool night air danced along his damp body, but for all he knew, they could have been surrounded by a lake of flame, he was so damn hot.
Hotter than hell, and burning even hotter as she moved underneath him, her snug pussy clenching down around him, milking him, drawing him deeper, deeper.
Warning chills danced along his spine. Between his legs, his balls drew tight against him. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he buried his face against her neck. Not yet…
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