by A. C. Arthur
“Don’t talk,” he said, dragging his lips from hers, his teeth raking over her cheek, across her jaw. “Just feel.”
Oh, she was feeling, all right. Feeling dizzy, aroused, hot, anxious and a bunch of other words that were lost to her right now. Every physical reaction moved through her like its own private storm, filling her body with a tumultuous yearning she was sure she’d never felt before.
“Let yourself feel everything I do to you. Don’t analyze it—just let it be.”
Flattening her palms against the counter, she leaned back as his tongue trailed a heated path down her neck to her collarbone. Her breasts tingled, felt full and achy. They needed to be touched, wanted to be suckled. She arched her back and offered them to him, and he quickly accepted her offer. Deft fingers released each tiny button down the center of her sweater in record time. With what seemed like a magical flick of his wrist he unhooked the front clasp of her bra, and when her needy breasts sprang free he cupped one in his palm while taking the other’s plump nipple into his mouth.
The whoosh of air she sucked in too quickly filled her lungs then came gushing out with a strangled moan. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she shifted her bottom, trying desperately to alleviate herself of some of the building need.
His mouth seemed designed to punish today, raking teeth down her rib cage, over her stomach, stopping when his tongue dipped inside her navel. She was arched completely back, bowed like a ballet dancer on the kitchen counter, when his quick fingers flipped the button on her pants. Without direction Monica lifted her hips, allowed him to push the pants and her panties down until they stopped at her ankles. She toed her shoes off and sighed when the pants and undergarments hit the floor.
“That’s it, Queen, give me everything you’ve got,” he whispered as his hands pushed her thighs apart.
For an instant she felt brazen, like a temptress offering her wares. And he, Alex, the bronzed god that seemed infatuated with her body, looking down at her as if she was a feast for the taking.
That thought made her body hum all over. She moaned. He made a sound that reminded her of a growl, a primal sound that had her heart flip-flopping in her chest.
He touched her first, his fingers exploring her most secret part. Warmth washed over her plumped folds as he leaned closer, whispered something over her before dropping small kisses up, down, all over her aching center. Her nails scraped over the marble counter that had now grown as warm as her body.
When his tongue made one long stroke from the top of her juncture to the center Monica felt as if liquid fire now coursed through her veins. If she bit down on her lip any harder she’d definitely draw blood. Instead she opened her mouth slightly, tried to breathe as normally as she possibly could without hyperventilating. But it was a futile effort. Alex acted as if she were the most delectable meal he’d ever tasted. Every stroke was followed by a moan from him, his fingers moving over her with touches as light as a feather, sparking licks of heat up and down her spine.
His name tumbled from her lips. “Alex.” It sounded like a plea and she instantly wished she could take it back.
Strong hands moved to her thighs, lifting them slightly off the counter and pulling her closer to the edge, his tongue slipping deeper inside her. Her hips moved, worked in the same glorious circular motion as his mouth. Her head fell back, breath coming in fast pants, coherent thoughts flitting through her mind like a foreign memory. Her hands itched to grab the back of his head, to guide his motions to fit her growing need. She refrained and felt the twisting feeling of being lifted higher and higher. So high that when she finally fell it was as if she’d jumped from a cliff into the clouds and with breathless pleasure Monica sighed his name again—this time not feeling a moment’s trepidation.
Chapter 10
“I didn’t protect you last night,” Alex said, standing up straight between her legs. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
He was talking. She could hear him but wasn’t a hundred-percent sure what he was saying. Her thighs were still shaking, her nipples almost burning with need. Lifting her head she looked at him, saw that he was quickly undoing the button of his own pants and pushing them and his boxers down past his hips. Where it came from she’d never know, but he ripped a condom package open with his teeth then hastily donned the latex. The second she opened her mouth to speak, he thrust his length inside her and she swallowed whatever she was going to say.
This was different from last night, his strokes more fevered, moving inside her like a man with a mission. A mission to disperse as much pleasure on her as he possibly could, she figured. Well, he’d already done a good job of that. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders and let him take her higher again and again.
He wanted her to feel and she was doing exactly that. Feeling every thrust of his pelvis, every stroke of his tongue over her lips, her neck, with the sensitivity of a seasoned lover. This was exactly how she’d always thought it should feel, how sex should be between a man and a woman. It was everything she’d dreamed of but dared not believe possible.
No, it wasn’t the romance of the century—they were having sex on the kitchen counter, after all—but it was something. It was something much more than she’d ever thought she’d experience. And no matter how much Alex Bennett could annoy her, she’d have to give him props for being so skilled in this area.
These were coherent thoughts; they were analytical, the norm for Monica. And so out of place right now it took him lifting her completely off the counter, holding her around him as his length plunged deeper and deeper into her center, to wash all those thoughts away.
Their release came simultaneously this time. She could tell by the way he held her tighter, the guttural moans and raspy way he said her name, just as her thighs tightened around him, spasms of pleasure vibrating throughout her body.
“I can run my own bath,” she protested even though the water was already run, fluffy bubbles all but dripping over the rim.
Alex had carried her into the bathroom, set her on the closed toilet seat and dared her to move. She’d obliged but he knew that was because she was still riding the euphoric wave of her release. He had to admit his legs were still a little shaky from his own release, but he wasn’t about to show her that.
“Do you ever stop arguing?” he asked, switching off the water and pulling his shirt over his head.
“I’m not arguing. Just stating a fact.”
He moved to her then, pulling her sweater from her arms and removing the bra that dangled beneath. “I ran us both a bath and now we’re going to enjoy it.” He removed her socks then lifted her up into his arms.
“You’re bossy,” she said but didn’t try to get out of his grasp.
“I’ve heard that before.”
Alex set her down into the water and watched with amazement as the questioning look on her face dissipated. She took a deep breath, exhaled then prepared to lay back against the lip of the tub.
“Not so fast,” he said then climbed in.
Water sloshed and bubbles did make their way to the floor as he positioned himself behind her, pulling her back so that her head rested on his shoulders, bubbles reaching up to just cover her breasts.
“I don’t bathe with men,” she said, but she leaned into him just the same.
“Then let me call the police now because it looks like that’s just what you’re doing.”
“You can’t control me.” Her voice was light, without the conviction she had when he knew she really meant business. In fact, she’d lifted a hand and was now cupping bubbles, bringing them to her face to blow them.
“Never thought I could. But I can enjoy you.”
He could also begin to really enjoy holding her naked body against him, but wasn’t going to bring that up just yet.
“You like bubble baths?”
She shrugged. “It’s one of my favorite indulgences.”
“It’s nice to know you take the time to i
ndulge yourself.”
“I’m not as uptight as you may think. I know how to make myself feel important. It’s a necessity for women in this day and age.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that we have to be able to please and appreciate ourselves instead of always waiting for a man to do it. Then we won’t be so disappointed when men do one of the things they do best, forget.”
And if that didn’t speak volumes about the humongous chip she carried on her shoulder, Alex didn’t know what did.
“Some men know how to appreciate, as well as please, a woman. But I don’t see any harm in a woman taking responsibility for her own satisfaction. Who would know best what pleases you than yourself?”
“Exactly. And this way I’ll always be pleased with the outcome.”
He let those words linger in the air a moment. “You haven’t been pleased much, have you?”
She was silent. “I don’t look for pleasure anymore.”
Her words were spoken softly and she’d stopped blowing the bubbles. Now she flattened her palms over them, pushing them away from her body. It wasn’t a terribly important motion, nothing for him to watch and contemplate. But he did. As a child Alex loved to put together puzzles, loved finding the pieces that fit and watching the completion of a job well-done in the end.
Monica had several pieces of herself that she thought she was doing a really good job keeping out of the public eye, but Alex saw them. Better than that, he could hear the different pieces in Monica the more he talked to her. Even if her answers were sometimes curt, or purposely obtuse, he knew there was something deeper, something really bothering her.
“Then maybe you should just enjoy it when it’s offered,” he said, lifting a cloud of bubbles in his palms and bringing them up to her face.
She stiffened against him instantly and he slowed his motions, caressing the bubbles along her cheeks, down her neck and over her shoulders until he felt her relaxing again. She’d thought he was going to smear them in her face, a joke of sorts, but he knew her better than to attempt that. The key to Monica Lakefield, he’d discovered, was to keep her guessing. If she could anticipate your next move, she’d be ready to counter it. But if she didn’t know what to expect, she might actually accept what he was trying to give her.
What that was, Alex wasn’t really trying to confirm right now. He was simply going with his gut, something he’d always done that had rarely let him down.
“How many women have you seduced in the bathtub?” she asked.
“Hmm, let me see,” he joked but noted she shifted against him as if she were uncomfortable with his impending answer. “None,” he continued seriously.
“You want me to believe you’ve never bathed with a female before?”
“What I want you to do is trust that when you ask me something I’ll give you nothing but an honest answer. I’m not a man that plays games, Monica. What you see is what you get with me.”
She sighed. “That’s different.”
“You’re different,” he said. “That’s why you are the first woman I’ve ever taken a bubble bath with.”
Monica moved again then berated herself for making that same mistake in such a short span of time. Moving only rubbed her back against his hard chest, had his thick erection moving like heated silk over the lower part of her back and just overall made her hunger for him once more. It was a silly mistake that her body kept making without her mind’s input.
And to top that off she was talking too damned much. He didn’t need to know what she looked for in a man, didn’t need to know the personal whys and hows of her life. That wasn’t what this was about. It was about two adults slaking a need. Period.
With that settled in her mind she reached for the soap, sitting up so she could wash and get out.
“You ready to get out so soon?” he asked in that voice that seemed to have gone a couple octaves deeper since they’d come into this bathroom.
This shouldn’t be a romantic spot; it shouldn’t have her feeling all mushy inside because he thought enough about her after their heated round of sex in the kitchen to run a hot bath and to add bubbles—which was really one of her all-time favorite relaxation methods. But that didn’t matter. He shouldn’t have done it, but he did and now she was confused all over again.
“The water’s getting cold.” A lie. Now he had her lying to him and to herself. She wanted to scream.
Chapter 11
Monica’s free speech with Alex continued throughout the day. They moved about the cabin as if this were a planned lovers’ getaway. He was always in the same room she was, and since the electricity was still out they had no choice but to talk.
There was something to be said for talking, Monica thought now as she changed into a nightgown and prepared to go to bed for the night. She’d learned things about Alex Bennett she hadn’t known before. Not that she knew all that much about him. More like she knew of his family but not about him, the man. What she’d learned surprised her and had her looking at him a little differently thann she had before they’d been stranded here together. Or maybe that was the sex talking; maybe she saw him differently because she knew him intimately now. Either way, she wondered how they’d go back to their normal lives after this.
Alex Bennett was not the pampered rich professional she’d first thought him to be. She’d learned that he was a very loyal and compassionate man who loved his family beyond anything else. He respected both his parents and treated his siblings as if they were his own children. She suspected his siblings didn’t really like that side of him, but as the oldest child herself Monica could certainly relate to feeling responsible for them.
He said he didn’t lie. She still found that hard to believe, yet everything he’d told her today stuck in her head like sales figures or projected profits.
Business was only his second love; his first was family. “I’d like to get married and have a family one day. Probably not as soon as my family and friends would like me to, but I’m definitely headed in that direction.”
“Really? Do you have the wife and the house all picked out, too?” she’d asked before her mind could censor the tone of her question. Yet something about the way he’d stated so matter-of-factly his plans for the future had her bristling.
Alex had only chuckled. “No, that’s what’s taking me so long. She has to be the right woman.”
“Ah, the perfect-woman search. I wonder how long you’ll have to look.”
He didn’t touch her but his gaze sent shivers down her spine as he zeroed in on her. “Not the ‘perfect’ woman. I said the ‘right’ woman. There’s a difference.”
She’d shrugged, hoping the unfamiliar feeling coursing through her at the moment would pass. It didn’t matter which woman Alex Bennett was searching for, she definitely was not the one. And didn’t want to be.
Monica was speechless, a new state of being for her. But when she walked into the living room, lit by only the warm orange glow of the fireplace, she couldn’t speak. They’d been using candles since the electricity went out yesterday so seeing them didn’t automatically suggest romance. But this roaring fire in the center of the big living area, a blanket spread out in front of it with a bucket and bottle of wine, did make her think romance. Moreover, it made her think this thing between her and Alex was going somewhere she didn’t want it to go.
“I thought we were going to bed,” she said, clearing her throat.
“Come and sit down for a few minutes.” He motioned her over.
He still wore the sweats he’d had on all day with the T-shirt that shouldn’t be sexy but most definitely was. Something about the way the firelight danced over his creamy caramel complexion made her nipples ache. His dark eyes now held flecks of light, the muscles in his arms were more pronounced, his glare seemingly hungrier. It was crazy, she thought, standing here worried about taking a step toward him. She was a grown damn woman; she had nothing to be afraid of.
“Have a
drink with me,” he stated when she was kneeling onto the blanket.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” She didn’t want him romancing her, or trying to get closer to her, for that matter. Considering they’d had sex a couple of times now and were still trapped in this cabin together, closeness probably couldn’t be prevented. But there was no sense in creating something that wasn’t there, or rather, couldn’t be there.
“I did it because I wanted to, Queen. Stop over-analyzing everything I do like you can figure out what my next move is.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
His answer was a lift of his eyebrow and Monica simply sighed.
“Okay, fine. I’ll have a drink with you, then I’m going to bed. I’m sleepy.”
“Really?” he asked. “Are you often tired before you go to bed then stalled for sleep when you get there?”
She’d almost forgotten he knew about her insomnia now. Another slip on her part. It seemed where Alex Bennett was concerned Monica was doing a lot of slipping.
“I get tired just like everyone else. Even though we haven’t done much today in the confines of this cabin, I still feel like I could lie down and get some rest.”
“What happens when the memories come back?”
No, she was not going to go there with him. Telling him about her past would undoubtedly open a door he’d never want to close. And that was not an option.
“I know how to deal with my life, Alex.” She took a deep breath, looked around the darkened room and felt the warmth from the fire ripple along her skin. “Why do you always think you can save everybody, fix everybody?” she asked. “You told me earlier about your sisters and how you help them out of scrapes all the time. Why do you do that?”
“I don’t like to see the people I love and care about hurt or in trouble. If there’s something I can do to prevent that or to make their lives easier, I do it. Don’t you do the same for your sisters?”