by Petrova, Em
With the first wet lap of his tongue, Sarah curled her fingers into the sheets. The first nip on her clit had her driving her heels into the mattress, straining for more. When he dipped his fingers into her channel and licked her slit, her body became one giant, erotic sensation.
“Cris, get up here. I want more.”
“Mmm hmm,” he mumbled against her body.
“Now, mister.”
He opened his eyes and stared up the plane of her body, mischievous light dancing in his gaze. He pushed his fingers deeper and twisted, hitting her g-spot at the exact moment his teeth grazed her clit. Waves of sensation flashed and rolled over her. His eyes glittered as he sped up the rhythm of his fingers. Her heart raced in time with the motion. Sarah arched, throwing her head back as the tension crested and her orgasm crashed over her.
Cris kissed his way up her belly, laving his tongue over each breast, prolonging the sensation pulsing through her. She locked her legs around his waist, feeling the tip of his cock seeking entry. He rocked his hips and drove in, filling her completely. The fullness, the feeling of being complete, settled on her like a hot blanket of bliss.
Once again, he rode her with his whole body, rubbing his chest to her breasts with each thrust. Each time he rolled his lower belly against her clit, her body responded with a lusty shudder. Need, desire, and carnal sensation crowned with his up-thrust. Each time he pulled back, she tried to follow. Every one of his groaning breaths skimmed her ear and tickled her skin.
Sarah had no idea where the first orgasm ended as he stroked her to another. Her body trembled under his, matching the tremors in his arms as he held himself over her. His thrusts became urgent as he pounded into her. When she squeezed her eyes shut, stars collided with beams of light behind her lids.
“Oh, my God. Oh, Cris!” Her words came out half moan, half scream as a second wave flared.
“That’s it, baby, you feel so...” His words trailed away into a groan as he climaxed with her.
Cris collapsed on her, the weight of him welcome. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and toyed with the strands of her hair. Keeping her legs locked around his hips, Sarah played her fingers over the taut muscles of his shoulders and back. The quiet of the room broken only by their rushing breaths.
Body still humming, Sarah finally dropped her feet back to the mattress. Cris lifted from her and flopped onto his back, his breath gusting out in a satisfied sigh.
Her stomach rumbled above the sound of his sigh.
He chuckled, and then the sound grew to laughter. “You weren’t kidding. You really are still hungry.”
“Yeah, but this time it is for food. I’ll be hungry for you again later.”
Chapter Fifteen
The long, wonderful hours spent in Cris’s arms at the hotel was the stuff erotic dreams were made of. They’d ordered pizza in, and when it arrived, she admired the way Cris looked when he took the pie from the deliveryman. His skin gleamed in the pale light from the lamp on the table. Shirtless, shoeless, and indescribably yummy. His torso flared in a muscular, inverted triangle—lean waist giving way to a wide back and even wider shoulders.
She sat in the middle of the bed, the fluffy hotel-furnished robe modestly closed over her lap, but she’d let the top gape open, allowing glimpses of her breasts while they ate. Each time she flashed him, Cris licked his lips and swallowed hard. He allowed her two pieces of pizza before he tumbled her backward to the mattress again.
The alarm had gone off much too early this morning, pulling her from a sweet dream that had turned into reality when Cris pulled her close again.
As soon as they returned to her house, they’d fallen into bed for a quick nap and now she was running late for rehearsal.
Contentment filled Sarah as she let herself into the auditorium by the back stage door. Members of the crew were putting the finishing touches on the flats Sam had constructed as scenery for the play. Kit stood, his injured ankle wrapped in an aircast, on the fourth rung of a stepladder painting detailed fleur de lis on one backdrop that created ornate wallpaper for Mame’s parlor. A pretty sophomore sat on the floor next to Kit, brushing paint on the lower half of the flat. They both laughed as they worked. He looked up as Sarah crossed the stage and sent her a nod and a smile. Cris had done a great job raising his son to be a fine, respectful young man. Pride shimmered in Sarah’s chest as she returned Kit’s nod.
“You made it.” Pippa waved from across the stage. She lowered her voice as Sarah approached. “So was the fantasy suite fantastic?”
Sarah sighed. “Oh, yeah.”
Pip beamed a grin her direction. “Dying to know, but not going to ask.”
“Wouldn’t tell, anyway.” Sarah cast a glance around the stage at the kids working. In one corner, the female lead ran lines with the understudy for the male lead. The regular actor, Simon, was late again. For the third time in the past week. Brows pinched together, Sarah dug in her messenger bag for the director’s copy of the script and her every-present Sharpie. “I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed theater. The time before we perform when everyone in the cast is working toward one goal...magic.” Just like her Saturday night.
“I know what you mean. Hey, I want to make a small change to the opening party scene. The staging wasn’t working, but I think I have a fix.”
Sarah flipped open her script and together they debated Pip’s suggestion. Once rehearsal got going, she had to work around the scenes that included Simon since he still hadn’t shown up.
That kid finally strolled in an hour late. Nerves clamping down on her ability to breathe, she pulled him aside. She had to remind herself he was just a student. She was the authority figure. Keeping her voice low, she told him. “When you are late like this, you let your cast mates down. Consider this your final warning. You can be replaced.” She clutched her pen but kept the cap in place to resist the siren call of the soothing motion.
The boy’s expression clouded with a curious blend of rebellious teen squint and partially pissed-off young adult. “Whatever. I’m only in this play to get close to Mischa.”
Like Sarah hadn’t already figured out his motivation. But Mischa didn’t give the kid the time of day. God, it was like the little piss-ant was looking for a way out of performing. He wasn’t getting out of it so easily. “Just get in place, Simon. You’ve held up practice long enough.”
The rest of the allotted time passed with little incident. Students not involved in the scenes helped with the sets.
After everyone pitched in to clean up, Sarah dismissed the students. “Great work today, people. Full run-through rehearsal tomorrow at five and dress rehearsal on Tuesday. Don’t be late.” She sent a pointed look at Simon who flexed his hand, partially raising his middle finger at her. He stopped when she scowled at him.
The students trickled out, laughing and yelling back and forth. She stifled a yawn as she shoved her clipboard, scripts, and notebook into her bag. Light footfalls sounded behind her as she finished. She lifted her head as Cris sidled next to her. Blood pulsed heavily through her veins at the sight of the sexy smile on his lips.
He laid a hand on her hip. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
He nodded toward his son, engrossed in conversation with a pretty young girl. “Came to pick up Trip. You look tired.”
“Hectic rehearsal today. You on the other hand look...” She ended on a sigh.
Cris leaned toward her, studying her mouth, but pulled away before she could capture his lips and have her way with him. He shot a cautious glance toward Kit.
Kit and the girl who’d been chatting him up all afternoon approached. Kit’s brows raised toward his hairline as his gaze shifted from his dad to Sarah and back.
As Kit limped toward them, his tone was part wary, part surprised. “You ready?”
Keys jangled as Cris tossed them to Kit. “You’re driving. You need the practice. Can you wait for me in the truck? I’ll be right there.
Kit shrugged. “Okay. Hey, Ms. Willis, thanks again for letting me join the crew.”
“We couldn’t do it without you, Kit. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She addressed the girl by his side. “Jenny, do you have a ride home?”
“Yes, ma’am. My mom is waiting outside.” The kids turned and walked toward the exit.
Kit glanced over his shoulder, his mouth twisted to the side. Sarah had seen that exact expression on Cris’s face when he focused on something, usually her body. The door banged hollowly behind them.
She turned to find Cris studying her, not paying the least amount of attention to the kids. “Did you see his face? Do you think he suspects something is going on between us?” she asked.
Cris curved his warm fingers around her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “Does it matter?”
“A little. I’d rather not have students involved in my personal life. It’s why I’ve always avoided dating any of their parents.”
“I’m honored you’ve made an exception in my case.” His breath was a gentle caress on her cheek.
“You remember that line I kept drawing?” She stroked her hand along his jaw. “I’m glad you kept leaping across it.”
He claimed her mouth in a sweet, tender kiss, cherishing...worshipping her lips. The touching embrace melted the last iota of her cast iron commandment to avoid dating from the parent pool. He broke the embrace far too soon. “I’m glad I did, too. What should I tell Trip if he asks?”
A fair question, and she tumbled a little closer to love because he’d been concerned enough about her to worry about how to handle Kit’s potential curiosity. In some ways, Kit knowing complicated things, but in others, made it a lot better. She trusted Cris to handle it with discretion, and she trusted his son to keep the news to himself.
Breath gusted between her lips. “The truth. I’d never ask you to keep a secret from him. I do believe Kit’s mature enough to accept the idea of his dad in a relationship with the assistant principal.”
A smile danced across Cris’s face like quicksilver. “He is a great kid. But he’s probably impatient as hell right now waiting on me to get my ass out there. I’ll walk you out.”
He slipped his hand around hers, weaving their fingers together. The slight, endearing contact made her blood race. Electricity speared up her arm and lodged in the center of her heart.
As they moved past the flats Kit had painted, Cris asked, “Have you used the spotlights since they’ve been repaired?”
“Not yet. We’ll do a full dress run-through Tuesday, and that’s when we’ll have to turn them on. Mary Sherman moved a couple of them the other day so I need to be sure they are back where they belong.”
“Do you want me to look at them again?”
“I don’t think it will be necessary. They passed your inspection, so we should be good. Sam will be there to help Tuesday.”
Cris suddenly stopped, staring at the scenery. “What the hell is that?” He tore his hand from hers and then stalked over to one of the painted panels. When Sarah joined him, his body vibrated with tension.
Confused by his anger, Sarah said, “It’s one of the set panels Kit’s been painting. He’d done great work.”
“You said it was going to be building scenery stuff. Not this...this...this creative.” The flat wobbled when he jabbed his hand against it.
She studied the movable wall, trying to see what Cris was mad about. The scene had been painted exactly as it was supposed to be, depicting Mame’s parlor after her husband, Beauregard, was killed in an avalanche. Dark paint and ghostly highlights had given the flat a lot of atmosphere.
Sarah laid her hand on his arm only to have him jerk away from her. Stung, she took a step away. They’d been through this before, and Sarah had thought Cris was more accepting of Kit’s talent. “I don’t see—”
Cris threw his hand in the air and yelled, “God dammit! Of course you don’t see! It’s not your kid who’s painting his way to trouble. You swore he wouldn’t get anywhere near so much as a tube of paint.”
“Hey. Don’t get carried away. It’s just a set.”
“Maybe to you, but to me, it’s history repeating itself.” He pursed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at her. “You broke your word...a promise you made to me, Sarah.”
“But, it wasn’t even my idea. He approached Sam, and Sam put him to work painting. I had no idea you’d react so strongly to this.”
“He’s done. He is not allowed to work on the play any more.”
“Cris, that’s asinine.”
“No! He’s done.” He moved away from her outstretched hand.
Cold dread washed over her. “What?” You can’t mean that! I thought we’d settled this already. Being creative doesn’t signify a descent to craziness. What about Providence?”
“Providence might have been the biggest mistake of my life.”
Sarah shook her head and advanced a step in his direction. “You don’t mean that.”
He retreated, the action crushing her. “If I’d spent last night at home instead of fucking you in a hotel room, I might have seen the signs earlier. You encouraged him to pursue his ‘talent,’ to be creative.”
“He has talent, and it would be a shame not to explore it. What if Van Gogh’s father had refused to let him paint?
“He was a crazy bastard as well. I told you I didn’t want my son to become anything like his mother. Look at that painting. It’s exactly like her work when she went off the deep end.”
Sarah flinched away from the anger and hurt on his face. “Kit is fine. He was just following the art direction for the play. He didn’t create the scene by himself.”
“Stop! We’re done. He won’t be back. And you stay away from him, or I’ll complain to the school board.” Shooting her one last angry scowl, he stalked to the stage door and banged through it.
Sarah clutched her arms around her middle and fought the tears threatening to fall. Part of her wanted to race after Cris. To try to talk sense into him. The other part, a small hidden side of her, wanted to rail at him for making her fall for him, a parent, then raining shit down on her life.
This is what she got for bucking her tried and true system, for trusting her damned stupid heart. Well, never the fuck again. She blinked away the hot moisture slipping from her eye and scrubbed the back of her hand over the tears trailing down her cheek. She was never breaking her rules again. Not for anyone.
***
Cris vented some of his anger by slamming the door after he climbed in the SUV. He buckled his seat belt without a word to Trip, the click sharp and loud in the quiet cab. He chanced a glance at his son, his concerns immediately confirmed. Trip slumped in the driver’s seat, hands fisted on top of the wheel, staring at the stage door. Although the boy kept his face averted, Cris recognized the studied expression. Years of experience taught Cris to wait for Trip to open up. Still fuming, Cris leaned against the cushioned seat, folding his hands in his lap.
The longer they sat in silence, the more he regretted his harsh words to Sarah. He’d be damned if he let Trip follow in Larie’s footsteps. He’d shown signs of his old, happy self, the kid he’d been right before Cris had uprooted him and moved their asses to Granite Pointe. He’d rather upset the applecart by returning to Georgia. He could probably hire back on with the department there, even though it was a job he didn’t like nearly as well as his current position. Anything to get Trip back to a good place.
Trip dropped his hands to his own lap. He opened his mouth, slammed it shut again. “What’s going on with you and Ms. Willis?” He lifted a hand and tugged on the lock of hair behind his ear.
Dammit. This situation really made Trip uncomfortable. Another good reason to end it with the woman. Even though it hurt worse than a third degree burn.
“There’s nothing going on between that woman and me.”
“That’s bullshit. Inside just now, you wanted to kiss her.”
“You don’t have to worry.”
&nbs
p; “She’s... Jesus Christ, Deuce, she’s large and in charge.”
Damn! It had been a long time since Trip had called him Deuce. It used to be a running joke when Trip had been younger and the three generations of Bayfield men assembled. Cris’s mom referred to her men as Uno, Deuce, and Trip. If Trip was sliding back to his old ways, something must be right with him. And dammit, Cris meant to keep it that way.
“You’ve seen me kiss women before.” Including that moment just before they moved when Trip had encountered Cris’s naked overnight guest in the bathroom. That had been a little awkward, but the kid hadn’t been troubled.
Trip shrugged. “It’s always been casual for you. I’ve never seen you look at a woman the way you were looking at Ms. Willis. This seems more, um, maybe more permanent.”
“Like I said, there’s nothing between us.” Not anymore. Cris wished it hadn’t hurt so much to walk away from the woman. When he saw what she’d had his son paint, it had felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest and then stomped on with soccer cleats.
The lot was deserted except for their car. And Sarah’s. She hadn’t emerged from the building yet. He was about to tell Trip to wait when he finally saw the stage door open. Sarah paused just outside, pinning him with a glare cold enough to frost the windshield. Guilt washed up his chest that he’d turned the hot desire he’d seen in her eyes last night into frigid ire.
He squashed his remorse like an ant. Too damn bad. Cris eyed Sarah as she moved to her car. At least he’d waited long enough to make sure she was safe.
Her car started and her tires squealed as she sped out of the lot. Her taillights flashed as she braked and turned on the next corner.
Trip turned the key in the ignition and checked the mirrors. The shifter slid smoothly into reverse before the vehicle jerked into motion.
“Ease off on the brake a little, son.” Cris twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder to check the blind spots.