by Roz Lee
She expected him to take over, to pull her body against his, but he didn’t. She wasn’t in control, far from it, but somehow the kiss remained mutual, a give and take of exploration that slowly escalated from interesting to carnal.
When he lifted his head, they were both breathing hard, and the air around them was thick with shared desire she couldn’t ignore. His thumb, stroking the pulse in her neck, made her knees weak. She could imagine his hands on her body, capable and strong, stroking life back into areas too long deadened to sensation.
“When are you leaving?”
“Leaving?” She couldn’t think with him touching her. She stepped back, and he let her go. Turning away from him, she fidgeted with the loom, anything to keep from putting her hands on him.
“Somerset. How much longer will you be here?”
She knew what he was asking. How long did they have to finish what their kiss had started? Endless, lonely nights reared up to remind her how long it had been since she’d felt anything at all for another person, and how dangerous those feelings could be. Yet, his kiss had awakened something inside her, something she desperately wanted to feel again if only for a short time. Taking a shuddering breath, she turned. He looked toward the front of the booth as if contemplating escape. She understood the feeling. The urge to run felt almost as strong as the urge to throw herself at him and demand he finish what he’d started right here, right now. Tourists be damned.
“A week.”
He nodded. “Long enough.”
Too long.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He didn’t appear any happier about the attraction pulling at them than she was.
“Meet me at the entrance tomorrow night after you close up. We’ll go somewhere where we can be alone.”
Unable to voice the refusal resounding in her mind, she nodded her agreement instead. When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she realized he couldn’t have seen her response. “I have to close up first. Around nine.”
“Close early.”
She nodded again. “Eight?”
Once again, he turned his attention to the outside world—a world that felt so far away she couldn’t ascertain if it was real or not. None of this felt real—the desire, the ache to be touched again.
“Eight,” he agreed, leaving without a backward glance.
She would have run, too, if she’d thought she would find the peace she was looking for in the sunlight.
CHAPTER FOUR
What the fuck was I thinking? He’d asked the question a million times since he’d invited—no, demanded—she meet him, and the only answer that made sense was he hadn’t been thinking. At least, not with the head that counted.
Just like he hadn’t been thinking when he had been with Theresa.
And look how that turned out.
He tapped his finger on the steering wheel, all the while keeping an eye on the entrance to the Renaissance faire. I should leave before she sees me. This woman is no different than Theresa. She won’t stay.
“That makes her perfect,” he muttered to the darkened cab of his pickup. “Fuck her then send her on her way.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman, which meant it had been too long. That’s all this was, an itch he usually scratched with one of several women he thought of as fuck buddies when his fist and a hot shower didn’t do the trick. He’d take care of her, make sure her itch was scratched, too.
The time readout on the radio console indicated he’d arrived twenty minutes early. Shit. Real cool, man. If that doesn’t scream desperate, what does? Still, he kept his gaze glued to the gate just in case she was as eager to get their evening started as he was. They had all night, he reasoned. His mom had Meggie for the night. But the more he thought about Shannon Perry, the more certain he became once would not be enough.
A woman wearing skintight jeans caught his attention. His libido, already primed, went on alert. Long, shapely legs—he easily imagined wrapped around his waist—moved with confidence over the graveled entrance despite the sexy heels she wore.
Why can’t you fall for someone like her? He allowed himself the luxury of enjoying the scenery a little longer. What could it hurt? His date wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes.
The woman stopped. No giant hobo bag for her. A cute little purse dangled on a gold chain from her slim fingers. His gaze traveled up, taking in noticeable curves beneath a sleeveless shell the color of moonlight. He let out a low whistle. The woman’s understated sexiness appealed to him more than he thought possible. She looked so different from the woman he had come to pick up it took him a full two minutes of admiring her to realize who she was.
Fuck!
“Shannon,” he yelled, stepping out of the pickup to wave to her.
Her smile nearly knocked him on his ass. She’d done something with her hair, tamed it so it draped over her shoulders and down her back in a sleek fall that brought to mind all kinds of carnal images.
“Steve,” she said, approaching the truck. “Am I late?”
“No. Right on time.” He opened the passenger door for her, pausing to admire her ass covered in dark denim.
“I took a few minutes to change clothes.”
Climbing back behind the wheel, he grinned at her. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I should have warned you. Dressing that way helps sell my products. No one wants to buy homespun cloth from someone dressed like this.” She gestured to her outfit.
I’m buying, sweetheart. Oh, man, am I buying. Steve swallowed hard and put the truck in gear. “People can be fickle.”
“Yes, they can be.” All the confidence he’d witnessed earlier seemed to have evaporated with her statement.
Instead of pulling out of the parking spot, he kept his foot on the brake. “Something wrong?”
She turned her head so he couldn’t see her face. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her purse lying across her lap. “I thought I could do this.”
Steve shoved the transmission back into park and cut the engine. Silence engulfed them as he waited for her to climb out. He deserved to be left high and dry for the thoughts he’d been having about the woman. There wasn’t a gentlemanly thing about any of them. They were raw, primal…earthy. He’d imagined flipping up her hippy skirt and fucking her on the beach with nothing but the stars and the ocean waves as witness to their coupling. He’d imagined her naked in his bed, her hands above her head, surrendering everything to him. Seeing her in modern dress looking as if she’d stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, his fertile mind had already conjured a dozen more fantasies—none of which were going to be fulfilled tonight or any other night, it seemed.
“What did you think we were going to do?”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh that sounded like it came from a deep well inside her. “I thought we were going to have sex. Hot, dirty sex.”
He didn’t bother denying it. Instead, he chalked it up to the two of them having at least been on the same page for a while. “You’ve changed your mind?”
She nodded. “Yes. No.”
He couldn’t help the frustrated groan that passed his lips. If he could develop a decoder ring to make sense of the things women said, he would be a rich man.
“I wanted it. I still want it. I just don’t think I can go through with it.”
“Why the hell not?” Frustration laced his voice, but he was entitled, wasn’t he?
“Because. It’s been a long time. I thought I was ready, but now I’m not sure.”
“I can be convincing.” He half-laughed at his own joke.
“I’m sorry, Steve. I….” She took a deep breath then blew it out, letting her head fall back against the headrest. “You’re a nice man. Good looking, too. It’s just been so long.”
“Maybe if we got to know each other a little more? I got us a hotel room for the night, but we don’t have to use it. Why don’t we start with dinner, some place
quiet. Then if we decide we want to use the room, fine. If not, I’ll take you home. Where is home, by the way?”
“Here. I have a motor home.”
“Dinner? You can tell me what it’s like to live in a house on wheels.”
She rolled her head to look at him. “I was right. You are a nice guy. Dinner, some place quiet then we’ll see. Okay?”
He restarted the engine. “Then we’ll see.”
~~~
Some place quiet turned out to be hamburgers to go from a local restaurant. The closed beach parking lot didn’t pose a problem for a firefighter who knew the back way in. Parked so the bed of the truck faced the surf, they sat on the lowered tailgate covered with a blanket he had fished out of the big silver toolbox mounted next to the cab.
Shannon was all too aware of the man occupying the other side of the makeshift picnic table. He hadn’t said much since they left the faire, only inquiring how she liked her burger before placing their order at the drive-thru window. She’d been drawn to him from the beginning. The thought crossed her mind the attraction could be for the package—father and daughter—family.
Once upon a time, she’d lived the fairy tale. She supposed she was getting better, but it had taken years before she could look at a family and not have to fight back tears. It had taken even longer for her to get to the point where she could look on those families with anything but jealousy and a simmering rage at all that had been taken from her.
Reaching out to help a child then finding the nerve to hold her own against the girl’s father later on had to mean she was getting better. Almost normal.
No. She’d never be normal again, but perhaps she could find a measure of peace.
Steve stuffed a wad of french fries in his mouth and chewed. Typical male. He’d almost finished his meal, and she’d barely touched hers.
“What?” he asked.
Shannon jumped at his voice, embarrassed to be caught staring at his profile. He was one of the best looking men she’d ever seen. Mike had been handsome, but in a polished, executive way where Steve was sexy in a more primal way. Not that she didn’t think he was smart—he had to be in his line of work—but his job required more muscle than sitting behind a desk staring at a computer screen.
Mike had made up for his inertia on the job by going to the gym five days a week. Running on a treadmill had kept the spare tire at bay, but hadn’t necessarily built muscle. As his wife, she hadn’t complained. He knew a thing or two in bed, and she’d never not wanted him to make love to her. He didn’t go in for macho caveman behavior. His style had been more democratic. “Tell me what you like, Shannon. Does this feel good? If you want something different, just ask.”
She hadn’t thought about those days in years. If…. No, she never would have told him she wanted something different. He would have seen her desires as a failure on his part, not an invitation to be more adventurous in bed. She never would have done that to him.
But here she was with a chance if she would just take it. She’d bet her loom the man sitting next to her wouldn’t be the least bit democratic in bed.
“What are you like in bed?” She’d shocked him, and herself. He stared at her, his mouth open, another wad of greasy potatoes poised to stuff inside frozen in midair. She held her breath while the hand holding the fries dropped. He closed his mouth, his lips quirking up on one side, his eyes glittering in the late twilight.
“I should probably say something reassuring like I’m patient and undemanding, so as not to scare you any more than you already are, but I won’t lie. I’m demanding as hell in bed. I won’t leave you unsatisfied, but I take what I want. No apologies. I respect the word no, but there isn’t much I won’t ask a woman to do.”
His voice was thick, almost a feral growl that did all kinds of things to her hormones. Just once. Experience it once then I’ll know if I was missing something or not.
“If I say no, you’ll stop?”
He tossed what remained of his hamburger back into the paper bag they’d saved for trash. “I’ll stop.”
Shannon turned away from the waves of testosterone-laden desire shimmering off her date and stared, unseeing, at the ocean waves in the distance. Her body hummed with a need she hadn’t experienced in years. Not since…the fairy tale had ended. Had she ever felt this kind of tumult in her body for Mike? She couldn’t remember anything like it. Wanting him had been easy, sweet almost. Not turbulent like the feelings churning through her body for this man.
“I don’t want to think about it. I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think at all.”
The silence from the other side of the tailgate was deafening. She’d shocked them both—again.
“I can do that.”
He gathered their trash into one bag in record time. While he walked it to a nearby waste receptacle, Shannon folded the blanket and put it back into the toolbox. Steve slammed the tailgate shut then they both climbed into their respective sides of the cab.
In no time, he pulled underneath the hotel’s portico and handed her a plastic key card. “Room 311. I’ll park the truck and be up in a minute.”
She was grateful for the time alone, even if it only amounted to a few minutes. Despite his macho appearance, Steve was a gentleman. Somehow, she knew he’d given her this time to reconsider what she’d agreed to, and if she changed her mind, he wouldn’t try to convince her otherwise. Whatever happened from here on out was her decision—or rather, not her decision.
Like she’d told him, she didn’t want to think about it. She wanted him to take charge, to force her body to remember what it felt like to be touched, though not in the same way, exactly. She didn’t want sweet. She wanted hot, raw…earthy sex. Sex so powerful it was all her mind could do to process the sensations, much less think about the fact she was going to bed with a virtual stranger.
In the years she’d traveled with the Renaissance faire, she’d come to count several participants as friends. She suspected they all had their motives for not putting down roots, just as she did. They’d been supportive of her enterprise without asking her to explain her reasons for living a transient life—which was good, considering she didn’t want to invite questions. The less people who knew about her one night stand, the better.
The room wasn’t extravagant, but it beat the heck out of the tiny bedroom in the back of her motor home in both size and privacy. She set her purse on the dresser then sat on the end of the bed to wait. Did he expect her to undress, or would he want to do the honors himself? An image of his big hands working the small button loose at her nape sent a shiver down her spine. As erotic as that seemed, it would slow things down, and she didn’t want slow. She swept her hair over one shoulder so she could get to the loop fastener.
Down to her panties and bra, she pulled back the covers on the bed. The rasp of a keycard in the lock sent her heart racing. Straightening, she held the sheet in one hand while she fisted the other against her stomach. Doubts she should have listened to hours ago forced their way to the forefront.
What am I doing? I don’t know anything about this man.
The door opened. Steve stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His gaze landed on her. The blaze in his eyes burned her doubts to cinders. She couldn’t recall ever having a man look at her with such raw lust. She tightened her hold on the bedclothes like a drowning woman clutching a rope.
Steve tossed his keys on the dresser and toed off his shoes without taking his eyes off her. The movements were ordinary, yet intimate. The date portion of the evening was over. The time had come to put action to her words—but her feet were anchored to the spot.
“Come here.” He crooked his index finger at her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No, what? No, you won’t come over here, or no, you haven’t changed your mind?”
His voice sounded as strained as her thought processes were. “I haven’t changed m
y mind.”
He motioned with his hand again. “Then come over here.”
Somehow she managed to put one foot in front of the other enough times to move her in front of him. When his hands came to rest on her waist, she flinched. Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t question her jerky movement. She couldn’t tell him he was the first man to touch her in…years. He would run out the door before she could explain.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. Please don’t stop. Though fear threatened to paralyze her, she was determined, too. Something about this man drew her. He could make the numbness go away, and she desperately wanted to feel again. “Fuck me.”
His fingers dug into her skin. Her feet left the floor. Her back met the wall, and his mouth came down on hers. His hands molded to her ass, lifting her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and kissed him back.
He tasted of mint, and she instantly wished she could have brushed her teeth. He’d obviously popped a breath mint before coming to the room. When he broke the kiss in order to nibble his way down her neck, she forgot all about her lack of sweet breath. This was exactly what she wanted—to feel. And, oh, did she feel.
His mouth explored at will, never staying one place long enough for her to get used to the feel of him tasting her. “God, I want to eat you up,” he said, tonguing the hollow at the base of her throat. “But first things first.”
While his mouth set her skin on fire, down below, his thumbs slid beneath her panties to stroke her buttocks while his fingers crept closer to her throbbing heat. Finding her slit, he slid through the damp folds. She groaned. Closing her eyes, she let her forehead drop to his shoulder.
Oh, God. His fingers felt so good. He rimmed her opening with a blunt fingertip then dipped inside, teasing her channel until she bucked against him, wordlessly asking for more.
“So fucking wet.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. The not-so-gentle tug with his teeth telegraphed a message of want and need to her pussy. “I want you. Now.”
He supported her with one hand while he dug in his back pocket with the other. “Hold out your hand.”