Now, if he could just wrap his mind around the two different sides of her, his life would be peachy.
He didn’t have much time to think, though. Heather had laid her head back against the bench, sighing and smiling and then even giggling. He barely had time to admire the sight of her. It was like there was a glow around the woman, and it wasn’t from the twinkly lights in the sauna. No, she had a light that shone from her, and it was the first time he’d noticed it. He hoped it wasn’t the last.
He had to quit focusing on that shit. Instead, he wanted to admire her body. She didn’t seem quite comfortable in her skin, but he couldn’t see why not. She didn’t have the body of someone with her background. He knew, based on their past conversations, that she could have paid for any damn kind of body she’d wanted. Instead, it was like she was proud of the scars she had.
Only he knew that wasn’t true. She was ashamed of her body. How or why he knew…he couldn’t pinpoint. He only knew.
She had lovely round breasts with dark areolas and, even though she was trimmed below, she wasn’t completely nude…or sporting a landing strip as was all the rage. He liked women to look more natural, so he appreciated the hair, no matter how closely cropped it was. But, as he continued admiring her feminine hips, he noticed stretch marks along the sides of her body, her upper thighs, and her breasts. That wasn’t all, though. There were tiny cuts on the insides of her arms, lined up like matchsticks. They weren’t recent, but there was no hiding the scars.
No tattoos. No piercings. Just…Heather.
And, as fucking stupid as it was, he thought he might be falling for this woman.
Before he could give it any more brain time, Heather was sitting up again, giving him a quizzical look. At first, he figured she was going to start questioning him. Instead, her warm hand wrapped around his shaft, and he went from semi-erect to full-on hard in two seconds as his blood rushed to respond.
His first reaction was to call her Babe, but he thought better of it. Something told him Heather would not respond well to an endearment such as that. But his mind was half gone and it was getting difficult to think clearly through the rush of desire swirling through his veins. “Hey…we don’t have to. I don’t have a condom on me.”
Obviously. He hadn’t brought shit to the sauna.
She grinned, and a thought flashed through his brain. She looked like she wanted to eat him alive.
Turned out she did. “No need for one. It’s your turn.”
“Aw, you don’t have to—” But the next words turned to air as she slid his cock into her mouth. Holy hell. He hadn’t wanted her to feel obliged, but now he couldn’t give it any more thought. She was doing it, whether he’d meant for her to or not.
And, shit, was she good. He closed his eyes and let his head bend backward, allowing himself to enjoy the pleasant sensations her tongue, mouth, and teeth were creating, not to mention how she was cupping his balls with her hands. He’d stood up after squatting in front of her while she’d managed to get her wits about her and catch her breath. He’d been planning to sit beside her but now he wasn’t going to move.
Sweet Jesus. Her mouth, the way it gripped his cock and pulled him in and out, varying the pressure of the suction but never letting go, it was masterful. He’d never complained about blowjobs—they were all good, even when the girl hadn’t quite had the hang of it—but this one had to be in his top five. He didn’t want to think about if that meant Heather had had lots of experience giving them or if she was just a natural…
And why, exactly, did he give a fuck? She was here, with him, right now. That was all that mattered.
Maybe that was why he was enjoying it so much—because it was Heather.
She took him down deep into her throat and that was just too much. He let out a groan and shoved his fingers into her hair. And, as if she could read his mind, she seemed to make an effort to see if she could make it that much more intense. She drew him in deeper, harder, and faster, and then he could no longer hold his load.
He swallowed after a few seconds, trying to catch his breath, and realized he had gripped her hair as though it were rope and he was hanging off the edge of a cliff. He loosened his hold, sucked in a deep breath, and eased himself onto the bench next to her.
Goddamn. He felt insanely good and knew he had the stupidest grin on his face. He stole a glance at Heather. She brushed her bottom lip with her index finger and smiled at him, giggling, resting her head against his chest when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
The temperature in the sauna might be too warm for sleeping, but he was considering it. This hot woman—his best friend, no less—an amazing orgasm that still had his head swimming, and no reason to get dressed. It was awfully tempting.
* * *
Kiefer stirred, feeling almost well rested. It took him a second to get his bearings, and he realized his arm was draped over Heather. Just like the morning before, he felt a cool mountain breeze passing over his shoulder. Unlike the day before, though, he was perfectly happy to stay in bed, under the covers, curled up next to this woman’s warm body. Hell, he could stay here all day.
He pulled her closer, bringing her back up to his chest. She fit him perfectly, as though she were made for him. Her light hair filled his nostrils with the scent of vanilla, making him that much more reluctant to stir. Without giving it any conscious thought, Kiefer kissed her head before turning his slightly to the side, planning to go back to sleep.
Heather moved a little, though, and asked, “How long have you been awake?”
His voice was gravelly when he responded. “Not long at all. I just woke up.”
She was quiet for a few seconds before she said, “It smells good up here, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“I wonder what time it is.”
“Mmm. No idea.”
She was moving around, just a little, and at first Kiefer just thought she was adjusting, trying to get comfortable again. It wasn’t until he felt his dick waking up too that he realized she was moving around to get that exact response from him. “Think we have time before breakfast?”
He chuckled. “I always have time for that.”
Her voice sounded like a purr. “I’m so glad you said that.” It was going to take everything in him to not just shove his dick inside her right this second, but she seemed ready. He decided to check things out and then decide a course of action. He started by touching his lips to her neck. One kiss below her ear and she was sighing. He slid his hand up her belly to touch her breast. The nipple was rigid, and as he brushed his fingers over it, rubbing it between his finger and thumb, he heard a soft moan form in her throat. Yeah…no sense dragging his feet.
His hand left her breast as he brushed it along her abdomen to the spot between her legs—the true test of how ready she was. As his finger led the way down her slit, he felt her adjust again, parting her legs slightly to let him in. She let another noise of pleasure drift from her lips as he discovered she was slick below.
Definitely ready. There had been nothing to worry about.
Fortunately, he’d been smart the night before. He’d thought they might make love again before drifting off to sleep after returning to her room, so he’d placed his wallet, complete with two condoms, on the nightstand next to the bed, but he’d had no need to use them. They had fallen asleep not long after lying down.
He’d have to worry about coming up with more condoms later, but he was good for now. While he felt around behind him for the wallet, she turned her head and shoved her fingers in his hair. He could take the hint, so he began kissing her neck again while his hand groped for what he needed.
When he found the condom, he pulled it out of the wallet, which dropped to the floor right after. He brought the condom packet up to his face, though, and he quit kissing Heather’s neck. He bit down on an edge of the packet to tear it open and then he freed the condom from the package to slide it on his cock.
Seconds later,
he was gliding inside her for the first of many strokes. The first one, though…that was always a huge relief, because he knew release was near. Heather said, “Oh, yeah,” signaling him to keep going.
Like he could have stopped at that point.
He slid his hand down the side of her body to halfway down her thigh and then drifted back up, only he had one target in mind. Heather seemed to be enjoying the feel of just his cock assaulting her, but he wanted to make it as pleasurable an experience as possible. Her hands were back in his hair, but her left one she was moving more until her nails bit into the back of his neck. For some reason, it made him thrust harder, and she responded with more coos and groans.
And then he let his fingers massage her clit, and he thought she was going to implode right then and there. She grew louder and sounded more demanding, and by that point, he simply hoped he could hold out until she reached her climax. That was the danger at this point—that he wouldn’t be able to last.
Even though it felt incredible, he focused his attention on prolonging it, on not coming. He couldn’t help but enjoy it, and he was glad the condom muted the feeling a little, but he wasn’t letting himself give in entirely. After a few minutes of gently massaging Heather’s clit, she quivered and moaned and he knew by the way her legs clenched that she was climaxing. He didn’t let up the motion, wanting her to derive as much pleasure as possible from his double assault, but he felt at last like he could let himself go. It wasn’t long after that he felt the pressure build up to an impossible point at the base of his cock before it exploded and all rational thought, if it had actually already been there, rushed out of his head, replaced by a feeling of lightness and unbelievable happiness.
Kiefer rarely felt in everyday life like he did in the moments just after orgasm. It was a short time of amazing bliss without any worries or cares or fears. It was a time where he had no doubts about himself or his place in the universe. Those moments were rare and so he thought he appreciated them more for that reason.
But here with Heather? Even better.
Once he felt like he had his wits about him again, he kissed her shoulder. He almost started laughing as he thought about it, how he had no fucking control over himself once he got to the point of no return. He often wondered what would happen if someone walked in on him at just that moment. How would he react? Would he be able to stop the orgasm or would it already be locked and loaded? Was he loud?
And why did he care?
He still thought it was funny and was continuing to smile when Heather said, “Wow.”
He was pretty sure she’d be able to hear the glee in his voice when he replied, “No shit.”
She turned her head toward him. God, she looked so content. She put him in the mind of a cat, ready to purr. If she’d been one, he wouldn’t have been able to resist scratching behind her ears. Instead, he kissed her on the temple. “Guess we better get ready for breakfast now, right?”
“Mmm. Yeah.” Heather stretched a little, prompting him to pull out the rest of the way. “But, first, why don’t we jump in the shower?”
“Sounds like a plan.” And he wouldn’t have minded if every single damn day started out like this.
Chapter Eleven
THIS WAS NOT good—not good at all. Kiefer was too sweet, too kind, too caring, and too thoughtful.
Heather could get used to him too quickly.
Yeah…this was not good.
But it couldn’t be helped. She was going to enjoy him for now and then, as promised, they were going to go back to being friends only. It would be tough, but it was the right—and the best—thing to do.
They enjoyed a long, slow shower together. The best part was how he’d worked the conditioner through her hair, finger-combing the strands until they were unsnarled, while warm water rained on her breasts. And then, after she’d rinsed off, she soaped up his back, massaging his muscles, fighting every urge inside herself to grab his ass and ask him to fuck her again and again.
It was a sweet moment and, for a change, she was hesitant to ruin it with her uncontrollable urges.
Yeah, there was breakfast to be eaten, but both of them seemed reluctant to join the rest of the group. She was combing her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed, while he slipped his sneakers on. When he was done, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. He looked at the reflection of the two of them in the mirror and said, “God, you are gorgeous.”
Heather frowned. Not only did she completely not believe it, she definitely didn’t want to engage in any conversation revolving around her looks. She forced a smile and continued pulling the comb through her hair. “No, I’m really not.”
She didn’t look at Kiefer to register the look he gave her. “You are. Why the hell would you even say you’re not?”
She couldn’t help the wry chuckle that forced its way up her throat. “Because I’m not. And I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Heather continued combing her hair and finally relaxed as she believed he was going to let it go. She moved over to the dresser so she could get closer up to put her foundation on. She heard him say, “That’s not a healthy way to think about yourself, Heather. I think we should talk about it.”
She hoped she didn’t sound angry, but at this point, she almost didn’t care. “If I can barely talk to my therapist about it, what makes you think I want to talk to you about it?”
He walked over to her, his voice soft and gentle. “Because I’m your friend.”
She turned her head to the side and made eye contact with him. A sigh escaped her lips. After searching his eyes, she nodded. “It’s a long story…and it’s not pretty.”
He shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. You can’t scare me off.”
A smile popped up on her face in spite of the inner turmoil she felt. She was really going to tell him…and it was one of her dirtiest, darkest secrets, something very few people knew about her, not even Katie. Oh, sure, her family knew—it was one of the skeletons they didn’t talk about, one of the shadows they loved to shove in the closet and pretend didn’t exist, but they knew. How couldn’t they know? Ah, but talking about it…that might involve putting forth an effort, might mean they’d have to communicate…might even have to give a shit about one another.
And that could never, would never, happen in Heather’s family. No way in hell.
She took a deep breath. Where to begin? She didn’t want to begin at the beginning, wasn’t ready to tell him her entire family history, so she instead said, “I’ve battled bulimia since I was a teenager.”
“Bulimia? You mean, like…”
His voice trailed off, and Heather didn’t know if he was on the mark or not, so she nodded, hoping to encourage him, but began talking anyway. “I, uh…have a, uh…oh, it’s hard to explain. For a long time, my therapist thought I might have Body Dysmorphic Disorder, and he’s still not convinced I don’t, but I’m not so sure.”
Kiefer seemed stunned, but he finally said, “What’s that?”
“It’s a kind of obsessive-compulsive thing…which is exactly why I don’t think that’s quite what my problem is.”
“So what do you think your problem is?”
She looked down at her hands, drawing in a deep breath. “I know what my problem is. My problem is that I was always an unwanted child.”
Kiefer tilted his head, touching her on the shoulder. It was comforting. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. My mom left when I was little. I barely remember her.” Heather let her mind wander back. She could remember the last time she saw her mother. She was maybe four years old, and her mom had been standing in that gigantic kitchen. She’d squatted down and kissed Heather on the forehead. “I love you, pumpkin,” she’d said, touching a finger to her daughter’s nose. “Be good for Daddy.” Heather hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but after her mother had been gone overnight, Heather asked her father when mommy would be home. He’d always answer with something noncommittal and
sound uninterested in further conversation. After a while, Heather got the hint and stopped asking.
The problem was her father. She’d had more than one nanny, and they were more parents to her than her dad, but by the time Heather was twelve—and her dad had gone through dozens of girlfriends, most of whom gave even less of a shit about her than her father—it was as though she was nonexistent.
She didn’t realize that she’d stopped talking and had begun introspecting until Kiefer said, “I never knew my dad.”
She nodded. “That’s tough. But I wish I’d never known mine.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to say he is a real rat bastard…and I guess he is, but he ignored me for the most part. He just didn’t give a shit.” She could tell that Kiefer had so many unspoken questions, but he was being patient and letting her work through it herself.
He did ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
She couldn’t help it. She snorted, but there was no real humor in it. “I have a little sister. My dad’s girlfriend got pregnant a couple of years ago. The last time I visited, my fucking father was actually being a real dad…and it made me sick to my stomach. I’m glad for sweet little Renee…but it breaks my heart that he couldn’t find it in himself to love me.”
She didn’t even feel the tear on her cheek until Kiefer wrapped an arm around her shoulder and wiped at it with his thumb. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Anyway, sometime after the nanny era, I was kind of a latch-key kid. But my dad…he’s rich. I guess you should know. He’s got more money than he’ll ever need, so there was always someone around to kind of keep an eye on me. At least when I had nannies, though, they pretended to care. He gave them enough money to act like it. I think some of them might have really given half a shit, but they were never around enough to make a difference. In all fairness, my first nanny, a sweet lady named Sandy—she was good to me. She showed me a lot of love, but I think my dad canned her. A disagreement, maybe.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her head rest against Kiefer. “When I started middle school, I became more aware of my appearance—you know, all kids do. You start noticing how your body is changing. Hair everywhere, pimples, boobs sprouting, stuff like that. Well, I noticed that I was chubbier than all the other kids in my class. And why? Because I wasn’t loved, so I found comfort in food. Yeah, I know that sounds so fucking cliché, but it’s true. One of dad’s cooks—back when I was nine or ten—made a comment one time about how I was such a good girl because I ate all the food on my plate…and I just ran with it. It was one of the few times in my life I was given any kind of positive feedback. I wasn’t the smartest kid in my class, not the most artistic, not the best athlete, not the prettiest…so I was ignored by everyone. I didn’t have friends. And even my dad’s money was no big deal, because I went to a private school and I was surrounded by dozens of kids even richer.
Seal All Exits (Tangled Web #3) Page 10