by Beth Andrews
“You’re upset about something. What is it?”
He stared out the windows at the dark night, saw her image in the reflection as she came up behind him. She laid her hand on his upper back. Her touch burned through his shirt, seared his skin.
“You can’t hide it from me, Jamie,” she said, her voice low and husky. Intimate. Too close for his comfort and peace of mind. His willpower. “I know you too well.”
That was laughable. He didn’t dare so much as crack a smile, though. Not if he wanted to keep his thoughts to himself. He may be open with most things, but his secrets were his own.
Sadie wouldn’t agree. She thought that because they were friends they should share every thought that came into their heads. Which was how he knew more than he ever wanted about her thoughts on politics, religion and, worse, every aspect of her relationships with other men.
Even now she watched him with an open expression as if he should simply lay himself bare to her. Rip his soul open and let her see inside his heart.
He turned, his fingers twitching with the need to touch her, really touch her like a man touched a woman. Wishing he could.
Why can’t you?
The thought, unbidden and irrational, slid through his mind like smoke.
Why couldn’t he have the one thing he’d craved for as long as he could remember? Just a taste of all he’d been missing. She’d leave in a few weeks anyway. Since she wouldn’t be staying here, he could control how often he saw her during those weeks.
And when she went, his life would return to normal.
She’d always left him feeling as if his emotions had been twisted and turned, his thoughts muddled until he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think of anything but her.
Always her.
His mother had once described him as a straight line, going from one point to the next without any fuss or muss.
He wanted to add some curves, some angles, to his route.
“I’m not upset,” he said, stepping forward until their bare toes touched. He trailed his finger down the softness of her cheek, had the satisfaction of her eyes going wide with surprise and confusion. “I just think it’s time for a change.”
* * *
I JUST THINK it’s time for a change.
Sadie frowned. Those were the words that had come out of James’s mouth. She’d heard them with her own ears, saw his lips moving with her eyes, but she still couldn’t process it. He hadn’t sounded like himself. The sentiment was way off. Plus, it’d been sort of sexy the way his deep voice had gone all rumbly, had rubbed across her nerve endings like sandpaper.
Like a caress.
And the way he’d skimmed his finger down her cheek? Her skin still tingled.
She prayed like mad he didn’t do it again.
Wished with all her might he would.
“But I...” Her voice cracked. She swallowed in an effort to work some moisture back into her mouth and tried again. “I don’t want you to change.”
“You love change,” he pointed out reasonably, which was so much better, so much more like him that she relaxed fractionally.
“That’s me, not you. You’re steady. Reliable. Dependable. Like...like...”
“A lapdog?”
She frowned at the edge to his voice. He didn’t usually get edgy, amped up, angry or overly excited. “Not a lapdog, no,” she said. “More like the sun. Always up in the east, down in the west, burning bright no matter how many clouds are hiding it from view.”
Besides her family, he was her one constant. She didn’t want that to change. Ever.
“As poetic a description as that was,” he said, “as steady, reliable and dependable as I am, I still want a change.”
“I guess that’s okay,” she said grudgingly. “If it’s not a big change.”
One side of his mouth kicked up in a heart-stopping grin, and he slid his hand around to cup the back of her head. His thumb pressed lightly against the tender point on her throat.
“So,” he asked in a rough murmur as he edged closer and closer until the soft material of his sweats brushed her thighs, his elbow grazed the side of her breast, “I have your permission?”
Her permission, she thought dumbly. To change?
No, she realized, her knees going weak. That wasn’t what he was asking. What he was asking was bigger, so much bigger than him deciding to switch his morning workouts to evenings or giving up his beloved smart phone.
What he was asking had the possibility of shaking up their relationship, cracking its very foundation.
No. Absolutely, positively no.
She didn’t want this. Didn’t want anything shook up. Sure, she was usually all for the next adventure, had no trouble going into a situation blind, but she had a feeling this was one of those times when she needed to keep her eyes wide open. Think through her options, analyze each step before making even the slightest move.
What was at stake was too important to risk. To lose.
“Sadie?” he asked quietly. Patiently. Waiting for her answer. Waiting for her to make the choice.
He’d never push her, never expect more than she had to give. If she gave the slightest indication she wasn’t interested, he’d let her go. Just like that. They could pretend none of this had ever happened. No hard feelings. No recriminations.
That’s what she needed to do. Because if they went any further, things between them would never be the same. But this was James. Nothing between them could ever be wrong. Could ruin what they had.
She laid her hands on his chest, felt the strong, steady beat of his heart, and it calmed her. Thrilled her. Nodding, the only answer she could form, she slid her hands up to his shoulders. His eyes darkened, his fingers tensing on the nape of her neck before tangling in her hair and tugging her head back.
Her lips parted on a soft gasp. But James didn’t close the distance between them. Anticipation built as their breaths mingled, as he scanned her face, his gaze dropping to her mouth for one long breathless moment.
“Did you ever wonder?” he asked in that low, not-quite-James voice. “What it would be like between us?”
A denial would be useless. And a lie. But she couldn’t make herself admit it. Of course she’d thought of it. She was human, wasn’t she? Ever since adolescence, there had been a strong, physical attraction between them, one she’d been all too happy to ignore.
“I have,” he said into the ensuing silence. He placed his other hand on her hip, dragged her flush against him as he leaned down and murmured, “I’ve thought about it a lot.”
And he kissed her.
It was the faintest of touches, the brush of his mouth against hers, as if he was worried she’d bolt, or worse, disappear. He eased back, held her gaze for a moment and then settled his mouth on hers again.
Her eyes fluttered closed. She hadn’t known, had never imagined that his kiss would be so potent. That it would inflame her, have desire flicking along her veins like fire, burning hot and bright.
It was over all too soon. They stared at each other, both breathing hard from one simple kiss. And she knew all she had to do was drop her hands, step back and he’d let her go. That would be the end of it, the end of this—whatever it was. Whatever it could have been.
“Jamie?”
“Hmm?”
“I think...” She swept her tongue across her bottom lip, watched as his eyes narrowed. “I think I’m about to hit another of those bumps in the road.”
He smiled, the easy smile she loved so much. “Mind if I tag along?”
She rose onto her toes, pressing fully against the hard lines of his body, and tangled her fingers in the silky hair at his nape. Stopped when their mouths were so close her lips brushed against his as she spoke, his mustache tickling her upper lip. “I’m co
unting on it.”
His kiss was ferocious and so hungry she had no choice but to return it with equal fervor. The move of his mouth against hers, the light scratch of his whiskers and touch of his tongue, the taste of him all made it impossible to think, to consider the doubts and worries at the back of her mind. He stole it all, her words, her thoughts and her breath, with his slow, mind-drugging kisses, with the way his hand smoothed over her lower back, his other hand massaging her scalp.
Still kissing her, he lifted her in his arms. One of the dogs barked—once, twice—but even that sound seemed to come from far away. Sadie wrapped her legs around his waist, held on to his shoulders as he adjusted her weight, lifting her higher, his hands gripping her ass. He tore his mouth from hers and carried her into his bedroom, his strides long and determined.
He deposited her on the bed with enough force that she bounced once, then watched as he walked away. She was about to call him back, but he stopped at the door, jabbed a finger into the great room. “Out,” he told the dogs. “Both of you.”
Zoe went first, followed by Elvis.
Turning her head, Sadie watched his dark form as he shut the door then walked back toward her, flipping on the lamp next to the bed. The light brought with it a sense of reality, a vague hint of unease.
She was in James’s bedroom, lying...no, more like sprawled...on his bed, her lips still tingling from his kisses, her skin heated from his touch. “Wait,” she cried, holding her hand out when he approached her. “We need to...to set some limits. Some ground rules.”
Yes, that’s what they needed. He loved rules and regulations. Loved knowing what to expect. It would be better for both of them.
He climbed onto the bed, came toward her on his hands and knees, his movements slow and somehow predatory, his eyes glittering with intent. “No.”
Her mouth dropped, and she scrambled back until her head and shoulders were pressed against the wooden headboard. “What?”
“I said no.” He stopped, his knees on either side of her calves. “No rules. No limits. Not tonight. Tonight,” he continued huskily, his narrow gaze on his finger as he traced the tip of it up her inner thigh, “I want to touch you. All of you.” That finger crept higher. And higher until it slipped under the material of her shorts, his nail lightly scraping against the elastic of her panties. “Are you going to let me, Sadie?” He flicked his thumb over her center. She bit into her lower lip to stop from whimpering like a baby. “Are you going to let me do all the things I’ve dreamed of doing to you?”
Her breath shuddered out. Her fingers curled into the bedspread. Who was this man, this exciting, enticing man with the capable hands and heated kisses? She couldn’t resist him.
Bracing himself with his hands on either side of her chest, he leaned down, his mouth hovering over her breast. A torment. A promise.
“Say it,” he demanded softly. He exhaled heavily, his warm breath washing over her. Her nipple tightened and strained. He rubbed his chin over it, his beard scratching it through the material of her shirt. He lifted his head, pinned her with his hot gaze. “Say you want me.”
Her breasts ached, her core grew damp. “I want you,” she whispered, lightly touching his face, his familiar, dear face. “I want you, James.”
His grin flashed, and he skimmed his hands under her shirt, tugging the material up past her rib cage. He brushed the undersides of her breasts with his knuckles and then lifted the shirt off, tossed it aside. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs across her nipples in the faintest of touches.
He kissed her again, kept his weight braced on his arms when all she wanted, more than her next breath, was that hard body against hers, pressing her into the mattress. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, across his broad chest. When she grabbed the waist of his sweats and tried to bring his hips down to her, he resisted, lifted his head.
He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her jaw, down the line of her neck, his beard scratching her sensitive skin, bringing her senses alive. Lower and lower he went, his body sliding down hers, his lips firm and smooth as they glided across her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts.
She gripped the hard muscles of his arms, her fingers digging into his skin. His right hand cupped her breast, held it like a gift, an offering to himself. And he feasted, sucking her into his mouth. She arched her back, stabbed her hands into his hair to hold his head there.
He trailed his fingers down her ribs, across her stomach. Moved his attention to her other breast, shifted, knees pressing against her outer thighs. His touch was almost reverent as he stroked her shoulders, her arms, slid her shorts and underwear down and lightly scraped his nails along her inner thighs. Heat pooled in her lower stomach, her muscles relaxed only to tense when he gently touched her center.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit back a moan. She didn’t want to make any sounds, didn’t want to see. This was a fantasy, a dream. A surreal moment out of time. If she spoke, if she opened her eyes, it would be too real.
It would mean too much.
So she kept her lids closed, focused on the feel of him under her hands, the sensations of her body as he touched her, his light strokes bringing her closer and closer to the edge. As if sensing how close she was, he stopped.
And eased down her body to replace his hand with his mouth.
Her eyes flew open as she gasped. Her breathing grew ragged as she watched James, his dark head between her thighs, his strong shoulders bunching and flexing as he pleasured her. Pressure built, became almost unbearable. She squirmed, raising her hips in supplication. In a plea.
With a low growl that seemed to reverberate through her core, he gripped her thighs, lifting her to him more fully. His mouth danced over her flesh, his beard scraped pleasantly, and when he flicked his tongue over the most sensitive part of her, she threw her head back on a long, low groan, fisted her hands in his hair and flew. Pleasure coursed through her, taking her higher and higher, kept her soaring until she was spent, her body humming with aftershocks.
James kissed her forehead, her cheek and finally her mouth. His erection nudged her thigh, hard. Hot. But he just lay next to her and pulled her into his arms. Brushed her hair from her face, his touch incredibly gentle.
She could end this, here and now. She somehow instinctively understood that he was giving her a chance to change her mind, to walk away.
She couldn’t. It was going to change everything between them but, God help her, she couldn’t.
* * *
JAMES COULDN’T CATCH his breath. He’d lost that ability the moment he first kissed Sadie. He had the feel of her now on his hands, the taste of her on his tongue. But if this went any further, it had to be her choice. Her move.
He didn’t know what he’d do if she turned him away.
She rolled onto her side facing him, laid her hand on his cheek. He bit back a grimace. His chest ached. This was it. She was going to tell him they’d made a mistake.
He’d never seen her look so serious. Her eyes searched his and he opened himself for her, let her see everything he’d kept hidden, all of his secrets. What she meant to him, what she’d always meant to him, how much he cared about her. How badly he wanted her.
She kissed him, hesitantly at first, her lips warm and seeking. But she grew bolder, her hands sliding up and down his arms, her tongue flicking over his mouth. Though it cost him, he let her keep control. She tugged at the hem of his shirt and he leaned back so she could push the fabric up. He broke away long enough to shuck his shirt, then groaned into her mouth as she touched him.
Her hands were cool on his chest, her nails scraping lightly down his ribs. She pressed against him, her nipples brushing his skin, the incredibly soft skin on her belly against his lower stomach. His erection pulsed, leaped between them.
When her hands went to the waist
of his pants, he helped her pull them down, kicked them off. Her gaze swept over him like a caress. Watching him, she skimmed a finger down the middle of his chest and across his stomach. His muscles contracted.
She shifted, those fingers going lower, lightly rubbing the narrowing path of dark hair leading from his belly button, following it to the base of his penis. Her eyes heavy with desire, the flush of her orgasm still staining her cheeks, she smiled—a small, feminine smile full of power and triumph.
And she stroked him. His hips lifted. His breath wheezed out. When she added her second hand to the mix, he grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto her back. Reaching into the drawer of his bedside table, he took out a condom and covered himself.
Then he kissed her, settled his body on top of hers, where he’d always wanted it. Finally, those glorious curves and long, supple limbs, all that soft, sweet-smelling skin was his to touch and taste and pleasure.
He kissed her until they were both panting, their hands frantically moving over each other’s body, their skin coated with sweat. Until he thought he’d go insane with want, with need.
Holding his weight on his elbows, he waited at her entrance until she opened her eyes. Held her gaze as he entered her, inch by slow inch. Her eyes widened as he stretched her. Filled her.
Loved her.
He’d always loved her. And now he was showing her how much. After all this time, all the years dreaming of her, wanting her, the moment had arrived. He was making love to Sadie. It was real. She was hot and tight and wet for him.
For him.
His body demanded he plunge into her again and again, that he find his release. But he wouldn’t be rushed, wouldn’t let this moment be just about heat and flash. Not when he’d waited so long for it. He’d make it last, make it be enough—just in case.
Except she grabbed his ass and rolled her hips in a move that left him cross-eyed and shaking with the effort to hold himself back.
He stilled her hips with his hands, held her immobile while he drove into her, again and again, his pace slow and steady. Tension built. Her nails digging into his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her heels against the base of his spine. He moved faster, went even deeper until her body pulsated around him.