The Seduction Vow

by Bonnie Dee

  She gripped his ass through those tight jeans, hauling him even closer, and was rewarded by his quiet groan against her throat. His mouth moved lower over her chest, across the swell of each breast. He glanced up, checking in with her, and Graci gave a little whimper of approval. He pushed her breasts above the cups of her bra. The exposure to his sight made them ache even more, her nipples painfully tight.

  When Neal cupped one breast and licked it, then covered her nipple with his mouth and sucked, the sharp, sweet ache shot confetti and fireworks through her system. Her pussy turned to jelly. Was it possible to come merely from having him suck on her breast?

  Graci pushed her hand through his soft, fine hair. Curls looped around her fingers, and his head was warm and hard underneath. She gently urged him toward her other breast. He obligingly gave it equal attention. More pleasure, more gasps of delight, and she wanted even more than that.

  She pushed him away. “I want…” She quickly stripped off her bra and the skirt she’d taken so long to shop for. Dressed only in her panties, she lay on the bed. Neal stripped to his boxer briefs and joined her there, lying face-to-face. The only separation between those parts that desperately wanted to click together was underwear.

  This was all so easy, as natural as breathing. How had she gone so far with Joey and not been desperate to break through that final barrier between them? Maybe her hesitation had been based on her Catholic roots, even though she’d sworn it wasn’t. But maybe somewhere deep inside, she’d known Joey wasn’t a man she could completely trust. Maybe sex meant too much to her to share it with him.

  Neal lay with his head resting on one arm, those blue, blue eyes focused solely on her, making her suddenly shy. She dropped her gaze to his right arm and stroked her fingers over the Celtic pattern circling his biceps. The ink was so vivid, it seemed she should feel more than skin, but smooth satin and light hair were all her fingers experienced. She leaned to kiss the tat on his neck, some odd gremlin or goblin. His voice vibrated into her lips when he spoke.

  “Yeah. That’s the one I regret. Stupid art, and a really stupid time in my life.”

  Graci smiled and moved on, sampling the salt of his skin and nuzzling beneath his jaw. He squirmed at the sensation, so cute that she wanted to tickle him more.

  Neal slid his hand down between them until he cupped her pussy. Her underwear was thin enough that the heat of his palm baked right through, and his finger easily found her clitoris. He circled it lightly. Her body contracted like one giant fist. So good. She wanted to purr like a cat and arch into his touch for more petting.

  But when he started to push his hand under the waistband of her panties, he paused.

  “Graci, how far do you want to go? I know what I’d like, but this is practically our first date. Is sex really what you want? I could just bring you off, or we could stop at making out.”

  Again with the options. She appreciated his caring but didn’t want to think that hard. She’d done far too much thinking over the past days. Now she simply wanted to float along on a wave of physical sensation. Maybe she didn’t need him to be so considerate. Maybe she wanted him to just do it.

  She leaned to kiss him and stroked his erection through his briefs, distracting him from all those questions. The bulge filling her hand was fine, but she needed more. She slid her hand into his briefs and gripped his weight and girth. She slid her hand up and down his length, and he groaned softly. Good. She continued to stroke him—long, slow glides of her fist.

  Then Neal slipped his hand into her pants to touch her, and that was really good. He rubbed her clit until her body twitched, and the tension within her drew tighter and tighter. So long since she’d enjoyed the feeling of a man’s hands on her. When he slid a couple of fingers inside her while still managing to keep the pressure on her clit, Graci nearly lost it.

  She couldn’t concentrate on doing the same for him, not when Disney-cartoon magic sparkles were gathering at the edges of her vision. Within seconds, she bucked beneath his touch, flying up out of herself in rapture. Too soon. That wasn’t how she’d meant for it to happen, but she’d needed this too badly.

  When the flashing lights faded away, she opened her eyes and resumed her stalled motion on Neal’s steel-hard cock. Oh, he needed this too. No doubt about it. But she didn’t want to make him come this way. Maybe it was time for one of those condoms and the next step.

  She opened her eyes. Neal had propped himself on one elbow to look at her.

  “I’ll get a condom,” she suggested as she let his erection slip from her hand.

  His hand rested on her stomach, fingers tapping out a silent melody. “Maybe not tonight,” he said at last. “I’d love to do it. But I don’t think it’s time yet.”

  Are you kidding me? It’s time. It’s long past time. I have to do this. Tonight! But even as her lusting body protested, part of her relaxed in relief. Sex changed everything, either bringing people closer together or driving them apart. If she wanted to keep Neal as a friend, sex might ruin things.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I can at least finish you off. It’s not fair to leave you all worked up.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll survive. Maybe next time.” He speeded up the rat-a-tat beat on her stomach. “I’ve been thinking about you all week. I really like spending time with you, and I don’t want to be that guy you use to get over your ex. I’m starting to feel like an item on that list of yours. There’s no hurry. Let’s take it slow and see where this leads.”

  Graci couldn’t speak. He’d caught her labeling him as a transition guy. In all her agonizing over what her feelings were about sex, she’d hardly given any consideration to what Neal might want, or if he might feel used.

  He’d been like a prop in her personal play, but she no longer saw him that way. He really liked her, and he could envision a more long-term relationship with her. His feelings could be hurt.

  Suddenly, losing her virginity on a deadline had just become a lot more complicated. Maybe she simply wasn’t cut out for casual sex.

  Chapter Seven

  “So, have you nailed your ‘plus one’ for the wedding?” Tara rolled in with all the subtlety of a semitruck.

  “Keep your voice down,” Graci warned as she put a dish of empanadas in her mother’s oven to keep warm. “My family’s up in my business enough about this breakup. I don’t need to have my mom asking questions about my dating life.”

  “Ah, so you admit you’re dating Neal.” Tara moved closer, still swiping a towel over the same plate she’d been drying almost the entire time Graci had been cooking.

  “I admit nothing. We’ve gone out a couple of times. We may go out again. But I don’t know where we’re headed, or if we’re headed anywhere. And I’m certainly not about to ask him to go with me to a wedding, especially not one that’s still months away.”

  “You like him, though. I can tell. You started blushing when I said his name.”

  Graci didn’t answer as she started putting away ingredients. Sometimes silence was the only way to deal with Tara.

  “What’s he like? You guys have anything in common?” Tara lowered her voice at last. “I know you don’t have sex, but have you…gotten close? I bet he’s good with his hands.”

  “Who’s good with his hands?” Luis clomped into the kitchen and started rooting around in the fridge. “Is my little sis gettin’ busy?”

  “You keep your mouth shut. If you say something to Hugo, or, God forbid, Mom or Dad, I’ll—”

  Her brother turned from the fridge, beer in hand, and grinned, his dark eyes twinkling almost like the old Luis. “You’ll kill me. Got it. I swear I won’t say a word, if you tell me who the guy is.”

  A little shiver shot up Graci’s spine at the words “kill me.” She couldn’t hear them without thinking of Luis’s tour in Afghanistan. She was so grateful to have him home in one piece that she punched him hard in the arm. “Cut it out.”

  “His name is Neal,” Tara volunteered. “He’s a
musician and a teacher, and the exact opposite of Joey.”

  “Well, that’s good. That guy was a douche.” Luis sat on the edge of the center island and popped the top on his beer. He handed a second one to Tara as she hiked herself up beside him, legs dangling. They clicked bottles before taking a long swallow.

  Graci folded her arms and leaned her back against the counter. “I thought you liked Joey. You were always nice to him.”

  “I was nice to him because I didn’t have a choice. He was your fiancé. What’d you do with the ring anyway?”

  “I gave it back, of course. Why would I keep it?”

  “Could have pawned it,” Luis said.

  “It was your ring. You deserved to do whatever you wanted with it, especially after the way he treated you,” Tara added.

  “Fucking asshole,” Luis growled. “I’d seriously like to beat his smug face in.”

  “I’d like to help you.” Tara’s wide brown eyes narrowed. “You know he cheated on her, right? He didn’t just break up. He moved his shit to some bitch’s place. A woman from work, apparently.”

  “No. I didn’t know. Graci didn’t tell me that part, only that he ended it. Now I really want to kick his ass.”

  Tara shook her head. “Asshole.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Luis agreed.

  They drank in unison.

  Graci couldn’t help smiling at their show of support. Besides, Tara and Luis together had always been hilarious, like some old-time vaudeville team. When they weren’t bickering, they were in perfect harmony.

  “I heard you’re working for Hugo now you’re back.” Tara changed the subject. “How’s that going? You two were always like oil and water.”

  Luis shrugged. “It’s work. It’ll do for now.”

  “You have something else in mind?” Tara regarded him over her beer with that assessing gaze Graci knew too well. Tara always seemed to be full of big plans for other people.

  “Don’t know yet.” Luis picked at the label on his already empty bottle. “The tech work I did in the army doesn’t really translate to any job in the private sector. Not a lot of call to defuse IEDs. Right now, I’m happy working on cars.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” Graci shot Tara a look to silence her. The last thing Luis needed right now was to be quizzed on his future. He’d returned from his tour seeming exhausted. If all he wanted to do was work in Hugo’s garage while he regrouped, that was fine. No pressure. No demands. That was what he needed while he recovered.

  Tara took the hint and changed the subject again. “Did I tell you I was this close to landing a part in a touring production of Les Mis?” She held her finger and thumb an inch apart.

  “Cool. For what part?” Graci asked.

  “Well, for the chorus,” Tara admitted. “But I made it through two rounds of cuts.”

  Luis bumped shoulders with Tara. “Good job. I saw your commercial the other day, by the way.”

  “The soup one or another?” Tara asked. “I have a few now.”

  “No shit? Well, it was the soup one, where the kid comes in from playing in the snow and you feed him a big bowl of—”

  “Nature’s Goodness, the organic alternative,” Tara and Luis chanted in unison, then laughed. It was so good to hear Luis laugh again.

  “The company’s trying to reach a broader market. Tara’s commercial may go national,” Graci told Luis, proud to announce her friend’s good news.

  “Too bad I got paid a flat rate,” Tara said. “But if this takes off, I might become the face of Nature’s Goodness.” She flashed a toothy smile and framed her face with her hands.

  “That’d be cool. I hope you get everything you want.” Luis smiled at her, then hopped off the counter. “By the way, Mom said to tell you guys to please set the table.”

  “’Cause you couldn’t possibly do it, being a big tough man and all.” Graci pointed to the silverware drawer.

  Luis chuckled and went to get out the flatware.

  Just then, their mother exploded into the kitchen, fanning her flushed face. “Lo siento, mis hijas. I had to go outside for some air. These hot flashes are killing me! You think cramps are bad, just you wait.”

  “TMI, Ma.” Luis took the table settings and glasses and went to the dining room.

  “I’m serious. This is miserable. Feels like Texas in summer.” Graci’s mom waved away her complaints. “But anyway.” She turned her attention to coordinating the meal preparations. Soon all the dishes were whisked out to the table, and they sat down to dinner.

  Her father said grace, and everyone dug in, talking and laughing and passing dishes. As Graci looked around at her beloved and sometimes annoying family and Tara, she felt grateful for every one of them, even self-important Hugo. There was nothing quite like having your life in free fall to make you appreciate family. Men might come and go, but familia was forever.

  What would this table look like with Neal sitting at it? Would he joke with Luis? Talk to her dad about the Bengals’ season? Listen patiently when Hugo boasted about his plans for expanding to a second location? He would definitely compliment Mom on her cooking, not only because it was really good but because he was polite. He’d even told Graci he liked that bland fish she’d made the other day. Yeah, she could see him fitting in here, even if his tats might freak out her parents at first. He was a very personable guy.

  Holy crap, what was she doing imagining Neal at a Ramirez dinner? It was one thing to have sex fantasies about him, but quite another to begin including him in a mental family photo. She had to get a grip and stop latching on to him like this.

  Keep things light and noncommitted—that was the ticket.

  Chapter Eight

  An evening breeze blew off the river, cutting right through her thin jacket. Graci shivered and hugged her arms around herself. Neal slid an arm around her back, warming her, his body sheltering her from the wind.

  “Had enough? We can stop walking any time you want,” he said.

  “No. I’m fine. It’s too beautiful to end it yet.” She indicated the illuminated view of the downtown buildings reflected in the dark water. The Riverwalk stretched four miles along the bank of the Ohio, all the way to Kentucky, if they chose to go that far. She was content to walk a good while longer with Neal’s arm around her.

  “Tell me more about your friends,” he said. “I don’t know Tara well, but from what I’ve seen, you two don’t seem much alike.”

  “We’re not. Opposites complement each other, I guess. We’ve been friends since elementary. We hooked up with the rest of our group in middle school. There were five of us who were really close for a long time.”

  “You fell out of touch after high school?”

  She nodded. “We went to different colleges, and Bree and Adya moved away. Tara went to New York for a while before she came back. Even though Corinne and I never left Cinci, we got busy with our own lives. That night we met you at the bar was the first time the three of us had been out together in a long time.” She didn’t need to mention the falling-out she and Corinne had had over Joey. “But it looks as if we’ll all be together again at Bree’s wedding in LA. Weird how you can drift apart from old friends, but when you see each other again, it’s like no time has passed.”

  “You grew up together. It makes you almost family.” He glanced at the skyline, and the lights glittered in his eyes. Graci snuggled even closer into his warmth.

  “My best friend as a kid was Matt Markovich,” he continued. “We stopped hanging out when I got heavy into music and he was all about sports. Hardly talked during high school, but when my mom died, he was right there for me. Underneath all our differences and the years we fell out of touch, he was still Matt, the kid I dared to eat worms and skipped school with, the guy who was ready to take the fall when we got busted for egging the vice-principal’s car.”

  A vivid memory of Adya suddenly popped into Graci’s mind. When the five of them had first started sitting at the same lunch table, Graci h
adn’t much liked Adya. Her delicate features and perfect skin made Graci feel like a short, squat, pimple-faced dumpling. Plus she was so stuck-up she hardly spoke to anyone except Bree. If there was anyone Graci would’ve voted off the island of their table, it would’ve been Adya.

  But that was before the awful day when Graci’s period started and she was stuck in the restroom with a stained skirt and no way out. At twelve, she’d barely begun the routine and didn’t carry any supplies in her purse. The messy disaster was of the ultimate humiliation for a young girl. She’d sat in the stall, crying, until a quiet voice floated through the door.

  “Graci, is that you? Are you okay?”

  Graci hardly knew Adya enough to identify the voice.

  “It’s me, Adya. No one else is in here. Are you having a problem?”

  “My period started.” Just saying “period” was embarrassing to her.

  “Here. I’ve got some stuff.” A second later, Adya’s hand came under the door, offering what she needed.

  “Thanks.” Graci took a breath and added shakily, “I’ve got a big spot on my skirt. I can’t walk around like this.”

  “Hand it out to me. I’ll rinse it in the sink.”

  “But then I’ll have a big wet patch.”

  “Hold on a minute. I’ve got something in my locker you can wear. I’ll be right back.”

  Daring detention points for being in the hall between classes, Adya had practically flown to her locker and back, bringing a pair of gym shorts. The shorts were so tiny they’d nearly cut off the circulation in Graci’s stocky legs, but they were clean and they covered her.

  After finally reaching her mother on the phone, Graci had gone home for the rest of the day. But she’d never forgotten how Adya came to her rescue, and she’d started to understand Adya was quiet because she was shy, not because she was a snob. When she did speak, she usually said something worth listening to.