Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men)

by Connor, Eden

  Shivering, Amy pawed through her trunk one-handed. The flashlight illuminated the black-and-white striped shirt easily, but the black slacks that went with her uniform proved more elusive. And where were her black athletic shoes?

  By the time she’d found all the pieces to her uniform, her ears, toes, and fingers were numb. Too numb to hunt for regular clothes. She’d just wear the uniform to school.

  Walking up the front steps didn’t feel like going toward her future so much as turning her back on the past. Twenty-two was damn old to have had only one lover. Maybe her lack of experience led her to settle for less than she deserved. Who was she to question why the Fates had decided the hottest man in the county would offer to make her feel sexy?

  “Russian tea,” Eric stated when she stepped into the kitchen. He held up a mug.” Want some?”

  “What’s Russian tea?”

  “Cynda made it. I think it’s made with Tang and powdered tea. I like the taste and all I have to do is drop some into hot water.” He grinned, stepping closer. She couldn’t tell what was in the hand he waved. He dunked something into the cup.

  “No extra charge for the cinnamon stick. Part of the house service.” He winked.

  She dropped her shoes, shifted her clothing to one hand, and took a sip. “Not bad. Can I use the washer and dryer?” Could I sound less sexy?

  “Sure.” He gestured to a room off the kitchen. She was relieved to find no dried clothing stuck to the drum, the way Drew left them, assuming she’d handle the chore. Dropping her uniform in, she added soap, punched the button, and took a deep breath.

  He leaned against the bar, still sipping the hot tea. When he offered her another sip, their fingers touched and she felt that damn sizzle again. What the hell is that?

  He refilled his cup and held out a hand. “Come warm up by the fire.” Giving her a crooked grin, he asked, “Are your feet cold?”

  “Little blocks of solid ice,” she admitted, returning the smile. Why did his eyes go all hot?

  He flicked off the light, leaving the fire as the only illumination. Standing by the sofa, she let him take the mug from her hand. Every time he touched her, her nervous system went haywire. He set the cup on the huge coffee table, beside a bowl piled high with chunks of chicken, carrots, and flaky crust. His bowl and a second cup sat at the other end. Her heart lurched when he turned to face her. His spicy, masculine scent obliterated the smell of burning wood. Her folds began to swell. Is this normal? Drew’s cologne never made her feel aroused.

  “Here,”—he flopped down on the couch and patted his thigh—“stretch your legs across my lap. Let me get those little feet thawed out while we eat.” He divested her of her shoes while she picked up her fork. “Good god, what size shoe do you wear?” He turned her sneaker in his hand.

  She rolled her eyes. “On a good day, I wear a ladies’ five. On a bad day, I have to go to the kid’s department and buy a junior’s four.” His laughter made her huff. “You have no idea how hard it is to find a decent pair of shoes.”

  “I bet I do. I wear a fourteen.”

  His fingers swept across her sole, chasing the icy pins and needles from one foot, while Grams’ delicious casserole melted on her tongue. I could get used to this. The view was incredible. He scarfed the contents of his bowl down before she’d taken four bites. Next, he shed his flannel shirt and she poked herself in the chin with her spoon. His thermal undershirt contrasted nicely with his olive skin. The unbleached knit strained across his muscular chest. Shadows accented the planes of his face. The fire accented the rich colors of the tattooed sleeve encasing his left arm.

  “What made you decide to be a teacher?” His inquiry surprised her. He lifted her foot. She moaned when his strong thumb drove into her arch. The penetrating motion felt so good, she couldn’t stop her hips from rising off the couch. She clutched her bowl. He tugged off her sock, laughing at the cartoon penguins decorating her knee-highs.

  For the first time in her life, Amy wished she had a pedicure.

  She managed to tick off the most important reasons, despite the pleasure clouding her brain. “I like children—when they belong to someone else—and I get summers off.”

  He removed her other sock. “I’m into OPK myself.” He grinned and explained, “Other people’s kids.” The stroke of his thumb across her bare skin made her folds swell and ache. She managed to take a few bites before he asked, “What will you do with those summers?”

  His strong hands felt magical. He had the blood flowing to her feet again. The rest seemed to be pooling around her clit. “Visit every major league ball park. Go to Vegas and bet on a sporting event, just to say I did. Start classes toward my Master’s degree. Eventually, I want to be a school principal.” The insistent throb in her channel made thinking hard, much less eating.

  “A principal?” He laughed again. “You’re mighty small to be a principal. Most fourth graders are bigger. And they have bigger feet.”

  Giggling when he raked his nails across her instep, she showed him how nice and tall her middle finger could be. “That’s why I’ll have scary assistant principals about your size. Duh.”

  “And this charity thing you want to talk to Phil about? What’s that?”

  “Wheelchair basketball.”

  Her eyes had adjusted to the low light. His brows rose and his eyes grew wide. “They play basketball in wheelchairs?”

  “They do. Picture a cross between basketball and demolition derby. They’re hard-core players, always banging those chairs together. They always need to pay for insurance, new uniforms, that kind of thing.”

  “So, what’re you asking Phil to do?”

  “I want to hold exhibition games one weekend at the mall. I want him to donate the space and advertise the event.”

  Why couldn’t she say that earlier? At least her tongue seemed to work now. He wouldn’t care about her other reason, she figured. If she couldn’t make this exhibition happen, she wouldn’t graduate in May.

  He stopped her massage long enough to strip off his shirt. So much for her working tongue. She’d seen him shirtless before. She just hadn’t been expected to talk during the experience. Her mouth went dry.

  When he sat back, she eyed the rippling muscle and bronze skin. Not graduating suddenly meant little. What mattered was how she wanted to rub her nose in that perfect mat of dark hair on his chest. The urge was foreign, like someone else stuck the idea into her brain. She’d never been this close to male perfection. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be, since their proximity gave him ample opportunity to see her imperfections, yet at the same time, she wanted to curl up against his strong chest.

  When he placed her heel at the base of his palm, her big toe barely reached the first joint on his fingers. “Little feet are sexy.”

  He really is a nice guy. This is fun. She relaxed the last bit of nervous tension stiffening her spine and dug into the casserole.

  When she’d savored the last bite, he pushed her legs aside. She froze, unsure what he intended.

  “Lesson time,” he rasped, studying her face. “Be sure this is what you want, Amy, because in a few minutes, there’ll be no going back. I’m going to learn your body the way I learn a new car, so I know exactly what makes you hum. I’m going to figure out what it takes to make you scream and how to make you beg. And you can bet, I’ll memorize the sounds you make when you come, so I can play them in my head when we’re not together.”

  Dear. God. He had yet to really touch her and she felt more aroused than she’d ever been. One part of her brain was yelling, Hype! The other half was screaming, What the hell are you waiting for?

  “I’m sure.” Amy managed to force the words past her lips.

  “And all your orgasms belong to me. That’s the deal-breaker.”

  She managed to squeak, “Huh?”

  His grin looked so wicked, her sex clenched in response. “I mean, you may only orgasm with my permission. You have to agree right now, whenever and however I want to gi
ve you one, I’ll give you one. And you’ll accept however many I choose to give you. I’m not a one-and-done kind of guy.” She prayed she wasn’t making a wet spot on the leather couch. “And no cheating. You can’t give yourself one unless I’m watching. We do that on Sundays. Masturbation’s good for the soul.” He winked.

  Hell would freeze before she’d touch herself while he watched. “You can’t be serious.”

  “No better way to feel sexy than to climax. I won’t be with anyone else while we’re together and neither will you,” he continued. How many offers a week did he think she got, anyway? He must be projecting. “As long as you live here, you’ll not resist when I want to make you feel good. And when we end this, you won’t run to Lila and cry ‘foul’. Is that our deal?”

  She nodded, dragging her tongue across her dry lips, loving the way his eyes tracked the motion. “That’s our deal,” she affirmed, meeting his gaze. “And I’ll try to scare the gold diggers away.” Raising her hands, she waggled her fingers in a pathetic attempt to look scary.

  A smile flitted across his lips, but the expression in his eyes was serious. “I’ll pay, of course, but you will groom yourself to my liking.”

  She was so tired of blushing. This man talked about stuff she wouldn’t discuss with her mother as casually as she’d talk about football.

  His voice was low and hypnotic. The heat from the fire warmed her, yet chills raced down her spine. Her nipples hardened into throbbing darts, but nerves stiffened her spine.

  He stood. “Lesson number one. Let’s get started.”

  Now that the moment had arrived, she wasn’t sure she had the guts to take off her clothes in front of a man this gorgeous.

  “C’mon, city girl. Don’t tell me you’re gonna turn down the chance to sit in a hot pool and watch it snow?”

  Clearing her throat, she tried to stall. “Really? You just got the fire going.”

  “Bawk, bawk. C’mon, Chicken Little. Let’s get wet.” Shaking his head, he unfastened the waistband on his jeans.

  She was already wet where it counted, but she held on to the hope he’d be less beautiful undressed. Less perfect. Just one physical flaw would make her feel less awkward about her many, but she knew better. Drew would’ve had a fit if he’d known how often she’d dropped by Lila’s while the brothers were adding a nursery onto Colton’s bungalow. After an hour or so of hammering nails and throwing two-by-fours around like toothpicks, the trio usually took off their shirts.

  He shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips as casually as she’d take off mittens. Dark hair dusted his calves and thighs. When he straightened, she jerked her gaze to his face, feeling like an uncoordinated teenager. Her other first time had been just as awkward.

  “I’ll spot you the underwear.” He grinned like he knew she wanted to check out his cock, but was too embarrassed. “For now.” He took her empty bowl, placing it on the table. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her off the couch. The effort made muscles ripple and bulge in his abdomen and her feet got tangled, but she righted herself before she banged into him.

  She expected to go to his bedroom, which had to be behind the kitchen, but he sauntered toward the stairs to the loft. She didn’t think he’d fit into a twin bed, but she followed. He flipped a light switch. All she could see was their reflection in a pair of glass doors she hadn’t noticed.

  He looked over his shoulder and waggled his brows, a gesture he often made, one that always made her laugh. She was being an idiot. Eric De Marco wanted to get naked—with her. How many women had she seen fight for that privilege tonight?

  “Double-dog dare ya.”

  Her competitive nature kicked in. He’d either be all talk, or every woman’s dream. Time to find out.

  “Okay.” She pulled off her shirt and pried loose the button on her jeans before she could change her mind. When he opened the door, a blast of cold air nearly made her run for the couch and the fire. She could see the snow coming down thick and fast, and not much else. The glow cast by the lamps didn’t penetrate far into the darkness.

  He turned and lifted her into his arms before stepping through the door. Unnerved by being manhandled all evening, Amy snapped. “I can walk, you know.”

  “But you’re so fuckin’ portable.” He rubbed the end of her nose with his. That damn grin melted her objections. “You can close the door.”

  She gave the door a shove and wrapped her arms around his neck, in case his arms gave out. Drew was Eric’s height, but he’d only made her feel short, while Eric made her feel delicate. The sensation was foreign to Amy. Being carried was weird enough. Being carried by a gorgeous, naked man into a romantic, snowy night added one more layer of unreality to this crazy evening. She closed her eyes, afraid when she opened them this time, the dream would end for good.

  When he stepped off the porch, snowflakes melted on her face and bare legs, making her snuggle closer to his chest. Her nipples hardened and her butt grew cold before he stopped moving. She opened her eyes, curious to see what kind of fiberglass big-boy toy he’d installed.

  The surprises just don’t stop.

  Massive, flat rocks formed a narrow patio in a small clearing. Though snow covered the ground, she could see the shapes of the stones because of the tufts of jutting grass in between. Tendrils of steam curled off the surface of an intimate pool, not much more than four feet across and perhaps seven feet long. This was no chlorine-filled hot tub. A light was submerged somewhere below, making the bluish-brown water glow. Thousands of tiny bubbles turned the pool milky. Close to the edge of the rough oval, the snow melted, leaving wet, bare rock. “Natural hot spring,” he explained. “A hundred and three degrees, year-round. I pump the water through the floors in the house, too, for ambient heating.”

  “That’s ingenious.”

  The stone was warm underfoot when he set her down. Eric plopped onto the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. “Can you swim?”

  “Of course.” Unsure whether to wrap her arms over her breasts or her belly, she tried not to let her teeth chatter. Though there was no wind, the temperature had to be thirty-two or below for it to snow. The air felt much colder.

  “Meet you on the other side.” He pushed off into the water. Wearing underwear seemed silly, an off detail in this dream where she was desired by the most attractive man in town. Amy took a deep breath and started wrestling the tight sports bra over her head. When she was naked, she sat down quickly, thrusting her legs into the pool. He reached the far side and turned. She was aware of his eyes on her less-than-perfect body.

  “How deep is this?” The warmth of the water made goose bumps crawl over her breasts and thighs. Bubbles clung to her skin underneath the surface, tickling her. Her legs and feet felt unusually buoyant. She couldn’t see the bottom, but was very aware he could see her breasts. She wanted to cover them, but he’d think she was an idiot. The idea he might be looking at her nipples made them ache. The ghostly light accented his sculpted chest. He looked like a nature god, lounging on his throne.

  His chuckle resounded across the water. “Over your head. About seven feet, I guess.” He stretched his arms along the rocks. His “I-dare-you” look was plain, even at this distance. She pushed off the edge, holding her breath, but she didn’t go under. The water enveloped her and seemed to carry her back to the surface. Kicking, she turned in a circle, looking around. Bare tree limbs, standing about six feet away in all directions, seemed as though they locked arms to keep out the rest of the world. Evergreens wore a light coat of snow, standing guard among their naked brethren.

  The warm water felt delicious. She tipped her head back, squinting into the silent sky. The falling flakes became streaks. The cabin was too far from the highway to hear any traffic noises. All she could hear was water gently slapping the rocks and her heartbeat. Her sense of privacy was absolute.

  The strange buoyancy kept pushing her nipples above the water’s surface. When she turned in his direction, though his eyes were shadowed, sh
e sensed he watched. Those fizzy bubbles caught in the hair covering her mound, making her hyper-aware of her sex.

  “I like kissing you. Can’t do that with you way over there.”

  When she came close, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms. His lips brushed one eyelid, then the other. The caressing touches spoke more of tenderness than sexual need.

  You wish. Keep your head on straight. Eric’s specialties are sex and avoiding commitment. Forgetting that would be stupid.

  He pulled her against his chest. With a start, she felt his hands move to her waist. The size of his hands almost made her believe she had a waist. “Careful of the ledge. Don’t scrape your knees.” She shrieked when they sank nearly a foot. Her knees came to rest on a shelf so low, now the water lapped around his neck. Her choices were to push upright, or go under.

  She pushed up, but the ledge was narrow. In order to get her balance, her thighs pressed against his chest. Even worse—or better, she didn’t have time to decide—her nipples were now pointed at his chin. His eyes were on her face, and the look in them made swallowing impossible.

  Cold air made an icy blanket on her wet skin. Her nipples could cut diamonds. When he lowered his eyes, anticipation sent jagged heat streaking though her, leaving thunder subsiding in her core.

  She had to hold onto something, so she dared to rest her hands on his shoulders. She felt awkward, unsure what to do next.

  “Let’s get that tense look off your face.” She felt his muscular thighs press against her knees, moving them wider.

  She stiffened. That’s not bubbles. A strong jet of water rushed against her folds. She tried to shift away from the stream, but he held her fast.

  “Relax, Amy. Let it happen.”

  The jet of water felt soft, yet the slender stream flayed her clit with insistent pressure. Holding her gaze, he rubbed his lips across one extended nipple. Slowly—oh God, so slowly she thought she’d die—he rasped her aching point. Raising his head a notch, he worried the peak with the stubble on his chin. Each prickling scrape sent daggers into her core. He nipped the hard bud.