Going all the Way

by Carly Phillips

  He shifted off of her until he’d regained his footing, then lifted her right calf, tugging her toward him and farther down on the chaise. With a quick kiss along her instep, he hoisted her leg against him as he lowered himself. She hooked her foot over his shoulder, gasping when he surged unerringly inside her, so deep she could have wept with joy.

  But her new position didn’t leave her with a lot of maneuverability. Where she would have continued their pace fast and hard, David drew out each tantalizing stroke in a way that left her unsure whether to swear with frustration or praise his technique. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wiggling her hips to no avail. She could do little more than let the sensations crash over her, with such perfection they were almost piercing.

  When lights began to glitter behind her lids and her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest, she wanted to cry out that her body couldn’t take any more of the prolonged ecstasy. Why did he always seem to want more from her, spurring her relentlessly on to limits she felt unable to handle? Mercifully, the steady unyielding rhythm began to finally blot out all thought, liberating her to lose herself completely.

  He tilted his hips with each thrust, pressing against her in just the right way to increase her pleasure. A tingling started in her fingers and toes, a warning for the impending explosion. The glittering that had sparkled behind her eyes became a red-orange haze, and her orgasm coiled within her, shooting outward through her body like a sonic boom, almost devastating in its intensity.

  There was a slight cracking sound that suggested the lounger had surrendered under the onslaught of such vigorous activity, but Serena was too stunned to move, dazed emotionally as well as physically. How would she be able to walk away from this? From him? She became gradually aware that David was peering at her with an expression of concern.

  “You okay?” he asked. “That wasn’t too—”

  “It was incredible. And I would be content to lie here for about a year if it weren’t for the promise of food,” she teased, trying to focus on her body’s immediate needs instead of her misgivings.

  The reminder that they were expecting a knock at the door soon sent David into motion. Moments later, Serena reflected from where she rested inside on the sand-colored couch that the timing had worked out well. David had pulled on his shorts and was hunting for his check book when the doorbell rang.

  He paid for entirely too much when they were together, she thought, pulling a twenty from her purse. “Here. I got it.”

  “In my home? When it was my idea to order out? Forget it.”

  “David—”

  Walking away before she could argue, he beat her to the door. Not that she was much competition, considering she still didn’t technically have on clothes—there was something to be said for the easy accessibility of a sheet. Plus, she was so languid she could barely move.

  But the smell of food motivated her. Hungry even before the balcony interlude and now ravenous, Serena followed David to the kitchen as soon as he closed the front door, her stomach growling at the aroma of warm peppers and savory mushrooms embedded in a blend of melted cheeses. He set dinner down on the granite-topped black island that matched the lacquered cabinets. Good thing he probably wouldn’t be spending much time cooking in the colorless, contemporary room—he’d depress himself.

  David turned to one of the dark cabinets and pulled out a disposable plate.

  “What do I need that for?” Serena asked, winding a stretched piece of mozzarella around her finger.

  David laughed as he sat on the low-backed stool next to hers. “You’re just going to eat it out of the box?”

  “My way’s better for the environment.” It was tough to sound righteous while you were cramming the pointed end of a pizza slice into your mouth.

  “You’re so uncivilized,” he teased.

  So she’d been told. “Can’t take me anywhere.”

  “That’s a shame.” He smirked in her direction when he caught her licking some tomato sauce off her hand. “I was about to ask what you were doing for dinner Friday night and whether you’d like to join me at a fine dining establishment.”

  “Really?” Like a date? The thought unsteadied her, which could be viewed as ridiculous, considering all the meals they’d had together over the years and the fact that they’d just made raucous love on his now broken chaise longue. They should really be past first-date jitters.

  “Well, it would be me, you and a few other people.”

  She set down the second piece she’d grabbed, a sudden knot threatening to form in her stomach. “Which people?”

  “Me, Lou Innes—”

  “Your boss?” Egads.

  “One of them. He and his wife, Donna, will be in town the second half of next week.”

  “You want me to have dinner with your boss and his wife?” She flashed back to one of the rare weekends in her childhood spent with her father. He’d taken her to a company picnic, along with one of his supervisors and his little girl. She’d felt like a rent-a-child and had been acutely aware of every small thing she’d done all day that James had disapproved of. He’d obviously wanted a family that would make him look good. It had taken decades, but soon he’d finally have one.

  “And the CEO of Digi-Dial, Nate Filcher, and his wife,” David finished. “I haven’t been able to meet with him any sooner because his youngest daughter’s graduating from a private school up the coast, and the Filchers won’t be back until Thursday. Since it turned out Nate hasn’t actually signed with our competitor yet and is just considering it, this dinner could be crucial to my career.”

  No pressure. “I don’t think I’m the girl you want for this.”

  “You’re the girl I want, period.”

  Her heart thundered. Two-week fling, she chanted silently. This was a two-week fling before they resumed their regularly scheduled friendship—just sex on balconies and showering together, not company business dinners and significant declarations. Was he welshing on their agreement?

  “Come on, Serena. Don’t make me go alone. I’ll feel ridiculous there as a fifth wheel, and after all the great work you’ve put into the auction banquet, they should meet you.”

  Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. “So I’d be going along as…?”

  “My friend. And the girl genius behind Time for a Cure.”

  Put in that light, how could she refuse? Of course, she could still bargain. “Woman genius. And if I agree to do this, maybe you could do a favor for me.”

  “For instance?”

  She ran her hands over her eyes. “I-need-a-date-for-the-wedding.” The words came out in a panicked rush. A business dinner and a wedding in one week? As if that didn’t scream relationship.

  Vividly recalling the feel of him inside her earlier, with the wind rustling over them and the sounds of the city below, she decided that there was no social occasion that could make her feel any more intimately connected to him than she already was.

  David frowned. “Not sure I caught that.”

  “I told Meredith I’d bring a date to the wedding, but I don’t actually have one,” she explained. “I was wondering if you…”

  “Next Saturday?”

  She nodded. “At four.”

  “I’m there. I can’t believe you looked so nervous about asking.” His smile was gentle, making her even more nervous. “This is me.”

  “Yes. I know.” She stood suddenly. It would have been a good time to clear dishes or tidy up, if she’d used a plate or if they’d done any actual cooking in the mammoth kitchen.

  A drink. Neither of them had poured beverages. She swung open a few cabinet doors, realized that would be useless, and turned to one of the boxes on the counter.

  “Serena, are you nervous about my going to the wedding with you? We’ve known each other for years. Surely Meredith and James have heard of me.”

  Actually…James and Meredith had heard far more about Craig and Alyson and other members of Serena’s acquaintance, now that she thought a
bout it. Why hadn’t she mentioned more frequently the one person they’d find the easiest to relate to and approve of?

  He’s mine. Unlike her business, her relationships, her artsy friends or even her defense of her mother’s “embrace life” ways, David was not fair game for the well-intended but critical conversations her father instigated. David was a little corner of her life she kept to herself, and with him in Boston, there hadn’t been much to discuss, anyway.

  “Well, sure they’ve heard of you,” she said, unwrapping two cups and rinsing them with hot water. “James knows we went to school together. And he might know we’ve kept in touch.”

  “Might?” David looked surprisingly wounded by this.

  “Keep in mind, he’s not someone I talk to often.”

  “You’re right. And I guess it doesn’t really matter.” David slid off his stool to pull a two-liter bottle of soda out of the brushed stainless-steel refrigerator. Despite his words, his tone was still strained.

  She tried to get him to look at it from the inverse perspective. “Do you have that many conversations with your parents about me?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Sure. I mean, maybe not ‘that many,’ but they knew when I was visiting you on my past trips to Georgia and that you’re working on the auction with me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Then again, I’m close to my family.” He smiled ruefully. “But not in a cut-the-strings-already-you-nancy-boy kind of way.”

  She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to comment. Despite his determination to be independently successful, he was close to his family. It was one of the things she’d been reminding herself in the last few weeks—if she and David ever got truly crazy enough to try a real relationship, she’d need to win over his parents. What were the odds of that, when she couldn’t even win over her own?

  “They’re looking forward to meeting you,” he added.

  She shuddered, suddenly wishing for something stronger to drink than the still-fizzing carbonated soft drink she’d poured. When he touched her arm, she actually flinched.

  “Serena…”

  Feeling suddenly very claustrophobic in the tomblike darkness of the kitchen, she pulled away. “I had a great time last night, but I should probably go home. Work’s picked up some, which is wonderful, but I should get some actual rest in my own bed before the week starts.”

  “What if I promised to be on my best behavior and not pounce on you?”

  Even worse. She liked the clear categories: that they were together as friends, as had been the happy case in the past, as two people working together on a big event, or as two consenting adults in the midst of a torrid fling. If she woke up in the morning in David’s arms and couldn’t tell herself that staying the night had been a sexual thing… “Nah. I don’t trust myself not to pounce on you.”

  He followed her out of the kitchen, cajoling as she gathered up her scattered clothes. “Have they fixed your air conditioner yet? I wouldn’t want you to be too hot to sleep. You know you’re always welcome here.”

  Why did he have to push these things? Why couldn’t he just let her retreat! “I happen to be very comfortable at my apartment,” she snapped. “And I’m not sure I could ever say that about this place.”

  His mouth tightened into a grim line. “Go. But be honest about why you’re leaving.”

  She wanted to refute the accusation in his azure eyes, but found she couldn’t. Instead, she sighed. “I don’t really expect you to understand why I’m leaving. You go after what you want with single-minded determination, and I think obstacles just spur you on to try harder. One of us has to be realistic.”

  His tone softened. “I know you and I are different in a lot of ways, Serena, but we’re also different from your parents. For one thing, were they ever friends to begin with?”

  The question gave her pause. “I think it was more a case of instant sparks.”

  He traced his hand over her cheek. “You and I know each other, have been there for each other. We have a friendship. Something real and special.”

  “I know.” She managed a sad smile that felt as if it was tearing her in two. “That’s why I won’t risk it.”

  CHAPTER 12

  DAVID PACED in his San Francisco hotel suite after a shower Tuesday night, contemplating the room-service menu and his own lousy luck. Normally, the news that Doug Andrews, one of AGI’s partners, had come down with a sudden flu and was unable to represent the company at the technology convention would have been welcome. Well, maybe welcome was overstating it, since David didn’t wish the man ill, but David would have appreciated this opportunity. The fact that they’d booked e-tickets for him to fly out of Atlanta as the public face of the company meant that they envisioned his having a bright future, that they were testing mettle. That and everyone else more important was busy.

  Sighing, he sat in the paisley-swirled armchair by the window. He should probably put on something besides briefs and the white terrycloth robe if he was going to order dinner to be brought into the room. But he wasn’t really hungry, he realized as he stared out at a nearby marina. The hotel literature bragged about the view, but the one from his own apartment was better.

  Right now, the only view he really wanted was the sight of Serena. After she’d walked out Sunday, as tense as he’d ever seen her, he’d decided to give her some space yesterday. He’d call her about the auction with a couple of last-minute changes, and to tell her he’d wanted to hear her voice, but he’d planned to wait until Tuesday to try to see her again. David Grant wasn’t pushy.

  All right, he was pushy, but strategically so. He loved Serena’s bright energy, the way she lit up a room. He wasn’t trying to upset her and extinguish that light. Of course, when he’d come up with his give-her-a-day strategy, he hadn’t realized he’d be flying to the other side of the country at 5:00 a.m. Tuesday morning.

  After he’d found out, he’d called her late last night as he packed. The only thing worse than finding out he was losing two of the nights he could have been spending with her was that she’d actually sounded the tiniest bit relieved to have him on the opposite coast.

  He groaned in frustration, still feeling riled when the cell phone rang a second later. It was over on the night-stand, and he sat on the bed as he answered. “Hello?”

  Serena’s soft laugh cut through him, clearing the tension in its path. “Your company might want to invest in some interpersonal training. That’s some growl you answered the phone with.”

  The sound of her voice had him grinning into the receiver as he leaned against the headboard, kicking his legs out in front of him. “Well, I’m cranky. There’s this beautiful woman I was hoping to spend tonight with, and I’m here instead.”

  She sighed, a warm, pleased sound. She’d missed him, he realized. Maybe he was making progress, after all.

  “Must be tough,” she commiserated. “I’m sure she feels the same. But these vital business trips are the price of being big and important.”

  “Maybe if my relationship with the lady were a little different, she could come with me on a few of these trips. San Francisco is a beautiful city.”

  He was met with immediate silence. He’d gone too far.

  “Then you should be out exploring,” she finally said. “It’s not that late there, is it?”

  “Eight.” It was just after eleven back home, he thought. “But I’ve had a long day. The flight, the luncheon, this afternoon’s presentations. I was going to order room service and turn in early.”

  He heard the creak of springs and a soft swish and asked on a sudden hunch, “Where are you calling from?”

  “My apartment. I was going to turn in soon, but wanted to…check on you first. Make sure you got there safely.”

  She was calling from bed, he realized. And she’d wanted to talk to him before she went to sleep. They’d had lots of late-night conversations in the past, but tonight held a new significance. He couldn’t give her much more space than half a continent, yet
she’d still sought him out. Even if it was only through wireless-calling technology. He’d never felt so proud to work in the communication field.

  “I get back Thursday night,” he told her. “It’ll be after ten, but I could go straight to your apartment.”

  “I have a murder mystery event in midtown,” she said, sounding genuinely regretful. “It could easily go past midnight. But we’re still on for Friday, right?”

  He closed his eyes. “Very on. I plan to get you out of that restaurant as soon as possible.”

  She chuckled, then adopted a Marilyn Monroe-like tone of whispery naïveté. “But you said this dinner was important. Why on earth would you want to rush through it?”

  “To get to dessert.”

  “They probably serve that.”

  “Honey, my idea of dessert would get us kicked out of just about every public place in Atlanta.”

  Her breathing quickened. “That didn’t stop us at the park. Or your office. Are you sure you’re not one of those people who gets more turned on by the risk of being caught?”

  “I don’t need to get more turned on when I’m with you. You’re quite enough for me.”

  “Even my breasts?”

  He groaned. In the years he’d known her, she’d never seemed bothered by not being more endowed, so he could only assume she mentioned them now to torture him.

  “Especially your breasts. I could touch them all day. Your nipples are the same color as apricots when you’re aroused, but taste much sweeter. I like the way they get stiffer against my tongue, the sounds you make when I suck on them.”

  A small moan caught in her throat.

  He was very aware of his own demanding desire, his hard-on bulging at the thought of seducing Serena. “Are you touching your breasts right now?”

  “Would you think less of me if I admitted I was?” Her tone was breathless with naughty humor.

  “I’d be devastated if you said you weren’t. Do something for me—rub your thumbs around your nipples, in slow circles.”

  The brief silence was so suggestive it almost rang in his ears.