When Sparks Fly

by Helena Hunting

  Her fingertips press into the top of her thigh and her throat bobs with a heavy swallow.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling,” I murmur.

  “Nervous, desperate, turned on,” she whispers.

  “It’s okay to want some relief.” I sweep my fingers down the side of her neck. “But if you want me to stop at any point, just tell me, okay?”

  “Okay.” She nods once. “But I already know I’m not going to want you to stop.”

  “Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

  Her hand drifts up, fingers brushing over her nipple. “Here would be nice.”

  She sucks in a quick breath when I circle the other nipple and pinch it between my thumb and finger, tugging gently. I move in closer, my chest pressed against her warm back, and bend until my mouth is beside her ear again. “How’s that, Avery? Does it feel good?”

  She makes a deep sound, almost like a purr, as she arches into my touch.

  “Is that a yes? Or a no?”

  I start to move my hand away, but she whispers, “Yes. It’s a yes. I want more. Please.”

  “I should keep touching you?” I drag my lips along her skin, biting gently when I reach the base of her neck, tasting her skin for the first time. She’s sweet and warm under my tongue. Addicting. Enthralling.

  “Yes, please.” Her hand comes up, fingers twining in my hair as she tips her head, giving me better access to her neck. “I like that. Do it again.”

  “Which part? This?” I tug her nipple. “Or this?” And drag my teeth across her skin.

  She groans. “Both.”

  I nibble my way up her neck. “What now?”

  “I want you to make me feel good.”

  I allow my fingers to travel slowly down between her breasts and over her stomach. “Like this?”

  She bites her bottom lip. “Yes, please, exactly like that.”

  “Avery.” I circle her navel and her muscles jump and tighten, but this time it seems more like anticipation than uncertainty.

  “Mmm.” She shifts her hips, and the fingers still twined in my hair tighten as I take her earlobe between my teeth and tug. I slide my free hand under her chin and tip it toward me.

  My lips sweep across her cheek until I reach the corner of her mouth. She stills and sucks in a quick breath. “Declan?” She drags her tongue across her bottom lip, so soft and full and inviting. Wisps of uncertainty float away as her gaze lifts to mine.

  “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?”

  “Please. Yes.” She tugs on the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

  I brush my lips over hers, tentative at first. At the same time I ease my hand lower, dipping between her thighs.

  Her mouth opens on a gasp, and I slant mine over hers, sliding my tongue inside, stroking against hers in the same rhythm as my fingers swirling around her sensitive skin.

  “Oh, that’s…” Her nails dig into the back of my neck, and she rolls her hips. “Yes, please. Don’t stop doing that,” she murmurs against my lips.

  I chuckle and continue to tease her, taking my cues from the way her soft moans grow deeper, her lazy hip rolls become jerky, and her sounds grow needier.

  “It’s not going to be enough. I won’t be able to finish,” she groans into my mouth, biting my bottom lip.

  “Hey.” I disengage from the kiss, thumb smoothing back and forth across the edge of her jaw. “We have nothing but time, and I promised I’d take care of you, and I will. Tell me what you need so I can give it to you.”

  “I need more.” She almost seems apologetic, which I don’t quite understand.

  I press the heel of my palm against that sensitive, swollen nub and curl my fingers.

  I’m rewarded with a gasp of surprise followed by another sweet moan.

  And then it clicks: This is what Avery meant about hitting both buttons at the same time.

  “Is that better?” I shift, kneeling on the edge the tub, and nip along her jaw again, amazed at how natural it feels to be like this with Avery. I love how soft she is, how we both seem to give ourselves over to the intimacy of it.

  “Yes, so much better, thank you.” She skims my forearm, following a thick vein all the way down.

  She covers my hand with hers, pushing down, grinding harder against my palm.

  “You need more, still?” I murmur in her ear.

  She bites her lip and nods, hand curling over mine.

  “You tell me when it’s enough, okay, baby?”

  She nods, her hand still covering mine, adding pressure. We kiss and move together, Avery rolling her hips, her body pliant and liquid, her hums and gasps tell me she’s getting closer. And then she goes rigid; a low, primal moan bubbles up and breaks free. She shifts to grip the edge of the seat, forearm taut as she struggles to maintain some kind of control over her body.

  “Let go, baby, you know you want to.” I bite her shoulder, and like I promised, she comes, shaking and groaning. “So sexy,” I murmur in her ear as her body goes lax and she melts against me.

  “Holy crap.” Her head lolls and she nuzzles into my neck. I kiss her cheek and back down to her mouth, and she opens for me, tongue stroking in slow, leisurely sweeps for long minutes before we finally part. I could keep going, but the water is growing tepid, so I turn off the shower and grab her a towel.

  For a moment I worry that things are going to suddenly become awkward and uncomfortable, but she smiles up at me. “Thank you, I feel so much better.”

  “Absolutely my pleasure.” I lean in and kiss her quickly on the lips, lingering for a second. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” she calls after me.

  “To get your chair.”

  She scoffs. “I can manage getting from here to my dresser, I just need your help getting out of the tub.”

  I nab a towel to wrap around my own hips, and hopefully conceal the issue I’m currently rocking below the waist. “Most of the time I might agree with you, but you’re looking pretty boneless right now, so let’s not kill your afterglow with too much exertion.”

  She sighs but doesn’t argue, maybe seeing my point.

  I bring her chair into the bathroom and help her out of the tub, wheeling her to her bedroom.

  “I can help you get dressed.” I grab the panties and bra set neatly on the edge of the vanity and bring them to her.

  “I can manage on my own.”

  “Let me rephrase. I’d like to help you get dressed.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me getting all sketchy on you, Declan,” she says softly.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “But you are worried about something,” she presses.

  There’s a shift in the energy between us. The atmosphere is heavier now, laden down with new knowledge. There’s chemistry between us, the kind that’s going to be impossible to ignore moving forward, because judging by what happened in the shower, sex with Avery would be mind-blowing. But I have no idea how far we’re going to take this, or even how far we should. So I deflect with humor.

  “I’m worried about you falling on your face while you’re trying to put these on and breaking your perfect nose.” I drop to my knee in front of her and slide the underwear carefully up her casted leg.

  Getting underwear on is a bit of a feat with a broken leg and a cast that ends mid-thigh. It’s not a problem getting it over her foot and her shin, even her knee isn’t too bad, but Avery is an athlete and an avid soccer player, so she’s got some serious thigh muscles and that means it takes some work getting them over the last six inches. Normally this is when I’d leave Avery to manage on her own.

  But this time I don’t.

  15

  NOT WHAT I EXPECTED, BUT I LIKE IT

  AVERY

  Everything and nothing has changed.

  The energy around us is charged and electric as his hands disappear under the towel, along with my panties. My horrible, ugly granny panties. Which, based on what’s happening
inside Declan’s swim shorts, he doesn’t seem to mind.

  He takes my hand and places it on his shoulder. “Lift for me.” His voice is low and husky, and his tongue sweeps out to wet his bottom lip.

  It makes me wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth where his fingers were not that long ago. It also makes me wonder if that’s likely to happen in the near future. And whether it’s a good idea to continue down this path.

  I plant my foot on the floor and brace my hand on his shoulder, tilting my hips so he can pull my underpants up. I expect him to back out of my personal space as soon as my rear hits the chair again, but that’s not what happens.

  Declan’s fingertips trail up my sides, causing my skin to pebble in a wave. He pauses when he reaches my breast, eyes lifting to meet mine. “May I?”

  I glance at the clock on the nightstand. I have lots of time before Harley is supposed to be here. I suppress a grin. “Sure, go ahead.”

  He cups my breasts in his palms, thumbs brushing over the already taut nipples and leans in, nuzzling between them before he turns his head and bites the swell. His dark hair tickles my skin, a stark contrast to the way his stubbled chin chafes against my breast. “Hi there,” he murmurs into my chest.

  I laugh, because what other response is there? “Obviously you’re a boob man.”

  “I’m an everything man, but yours are particularly glorious, and I didn’t get a chance to properly appreciate them in the shower, so I figured I could do that now, before I finish helping you get dressed.” He kisses his way over the swell, circling my nipple with the tip of his nose before his lips brush over it. “If that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s definitely okay with me.”

  My chuckle fades and becomes a soft sigh as his lips part and his mouth closes over the puckered tip. His tongue sweeps in a slow, sensual circle, tasting me before he sucks gently. I exhale a shuddering breath as my nerve endings light up again, the sensation traveling down between my legs. He switches breasts, thumb and finger teasing the abandoned wet peak as he lavishes the same attention on the other one.

  Declan braces his hands on the arms of my chair, lips skimming my neck, teeth nipping at my jaw. I tip my head in the opposite direction, opening for him as he slants his mouth over mine. I sink into the lazy kiss and let it coat me like warm chocolate syrup.

  Eventually he releases my mouth and backs up only far enough that he can meet my gaze with an earnest one of his own. “I’m here for you whenever you need me, Avery, whatever you need me for.”

  I shiver at his words, but don’t have the chance to respond because my phone pings with a message, breaking the heavy tension.

  “That’s Harley.” Declan passes me the phone, and I quickly scan the message. “She’s going to be here in twenty minutes and I’m not even close to ready.”

  “I’ll leave your nipples alone and help you get dressed.” He pushes to a stand and adjusts himself. I can see the outline of the ridge pressing against the blue material of his swim trunks. If we had more time, I’d offer to return the favor.

  Declan helps me into my bra, adjusting the cups at least three times before he brings me my dress. My casted arm goes through first, then my working arm before he pulls it over my head and helps me smooth it down.

  “Do you want me to blow-dry your hair for you while you work on this?” He makes a circular motion around his face.

  I don’t have the time or the ability to do much with it on my own. “I can pull it up in a ponytail.”

  “I can still dry it for you; there’s a bit of a chill this morning.”

  I fully anticipate the hair drying experience to be something of a cluster, since I doubt he’s had much experience in this area, if any at all. But he’s surprisingly gentle and adept.

  While he manages the hair dryer, I swipe a coat of mascara on my lashes, dust my lids in neutral shadow, and dab a little concealer under my eyes and across the bridge of my nose, hiding the faded remnants of the yellowed bruises.

  “Okay, I need to know where you learned how to blow-dry hair, because that is not a skill set typically honed by any men other than stylists.”

  Declan chuckles. “That’s a bit of a sexist stereotype, isn’t it?” He takes the rounded brush and slowly drags it down the length of my hair, the dryer following along.

  “Based on all the pictures I’ve seen, you’ve never had long hair, so unless you secretly studied to be a stylist back in the day, I’m going to go ahead and say this is a skill set you’ve acquired for another reason.”

  “When I was a kid, my great-grandmother lived next door to us. She had really long hair, like down to her butt, even though she was in her eighties. When I was really little, like preschool age, I used to go over there and hang out while she watched The Price Is Right.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet.”

  “Well, she used to give me these candies that were coated in powdered sugar. They were imported from England and whenever she got to the end of a tin, she’d let me eat all the powdered sugar at the bottom, so don’t give me too much credit.” His expression softens and his gaze takes on that faraway quality, as if he’s reliving those childhood memories. “I always went there when my parents were fighting, which was often. Anyway, when she was in her late eighties, she fell and sprained her wrist. You know how bad sprains can be and how long they can take to heal.”

  I sure do. And so does Declan. We’ve both sustained a variety of minor injuries over the years. It’s part of the deal when you play a lot of sports, even if they’re recreational.

  “My parents didn’t want the responsibility of helping her with her hair every day. She would brush it, then braid it, and pin it to the top of her head like a crown. It was part of her daily routine, and I hated the idea of her cutting off all of that hair. It was part of who she was. I started getting up extra early in the morning, so I could go over there and help her before I had to go to school.”

  “That is honestly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Declan has always been an intensely loyal friend. He may be relationship averse, but the people he cares about always come first with him.

  Declan shrugs. “She always gave me a treat to pack in my lunch, like a chocolate bar, or something my parents never would have been okay with. It’d never make it to my lunch, either, because I’d eat it on the walk to school and be all hopped-up on sugar.”

  “Still, that’s pretty awesome. You two must have been tight.”

  Declan nods. “Oh yeah, I spent a lot of time there, and she was really patient with me about the braids. They turned out like shit for the first few weeks, but after a while I got good at it. When she was ninety, she fell again and broke the same wrist she sprained with the first fall. That was when my parents decided she should probably go into a home. She was super pissed, like man, she felt betrayed, but they got her a spot in the place right down the street from us, so I still went and visited her a lot. She was an awesome great-grandmother and a safe place for me growing up.”

  In all the years I’ve known Declan, he’s never really opened up about his family, and maybe now I understand a bit better as to why. With parents who fought and philandered on each other relentlessly, I can only imagine how desperate Declan would have been to have some kind of stable role model in his life.

  “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  “You would have loved her, and she would have loved you. I still miss her, even though she’s been gone more than a decade.” He turns off the hair dryer, unplugs it, and sets it on the vanity to cool. “Okay, you’re looking sexy as hell, and Harley is going to be here any minute. You want me to help get the rest of your stuff ready, so you don’t have to keep her waiting?”

  “That’d be great.” I let him gather my purse and my crutch and wheel me out to the living room, a little sad that he’s so quick to turn off his emotions, especially when I feel like he’s given me a little piece of himself after such an intimate morning together.

  He rushes
to change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before Harley arrives, and insists on helping me to the car.

  “Don’t let her overexert herself, and twenty minutes max on the crutches at a time, or she’ll fatigue her muscles too quickly and she’ll be sore,” Declan tells her on the trip down to the lobby.

  I’m a little annoyed by all the mother bird restrictions Declan is laying out for me. “I’m not a kid. I know my limits.”

  Harley and Declan exchange a glance.

  “Knowing and abiding by them are two totally different things,” Harley says.

  “Whatever, I’ll be fine.”

  Declan squeezes my shoulder. “I know you will, because Harley won’t let you push yourself too hard today. Have fun, be safe, and don’t overdo it. Send me dinner requests, and I’ll make sure we’re all stocked up.” He helps me into the back seat—I’m still not particularly comfortable in a car, let alone the front seat, not that I can fit in easily with my cast. “Message when you get to Spark House, so I know you’re safe, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  For a moment I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me, but he backs out and closes the door gently. He and Harley have a brief conversation. They’re too quiet for me to make out what they’re saying, but I assume it’s about what I can and can’t do.

  A minute later Harley slides into the driver’s seat. Her gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror. “You okay back there?”

  “Yup.” I give her a thumbs-up as she pulls away from the curb and heads for the exit.

  I glance back at Declan, still standing on the sidewalk, one thumb hooked into his jeans, the other sweeping back and forth across his bottom lip before he lifts it in a parting wave.

  The way my heart skips a beat makes me question how big the can of worms I’ve opened is after this morning. Especially considering how much I already want it to happen again.

  16

  BACK IN THE SADDLE

  AVERY

  “So.” I don’t have to see her face to see the arch in her brow. “How are things going with Declan?”